Sunday, 6th of Forelithe, Year 1417 Shire-reckoning
Somewhere in the Mines of Moria
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| Morhun the Orc |
"You can relax, Master Hobbit," came her calm, reassuring voice. "It is only a small grodbog, as Drodie calls them, and it is not as near as it sounds."
The stone walls and gaping caverns of Moria were continuing to play their tricks on my ears, and the pervasive darkness of the Mines only served to amplify my own anxiety. In a short while, however, the five of us were huddled around Drodie's lantern and munching on breakfast (such as it was), causing all memory of my frightful rousing to evaporate. Instead, I could feel myself starting to become positively sick for a sight of the Sun again, even after finding some relief yesterday in the Dwarf-gardens of Tharakh-bazan. The visitation had enheartened me at the time, but was now serving as a reminder of the beautiful world outside which would remain beyond our reach so long as the gondath remained undiscovered here beneath the earth. I hardened my own resolve as I ate in silence, wondering what sorts of thoughts might be going through the minds of my companions.
"Through many travels and trials have we come at last to this day," Gaelira suddenly remarked. "Today we begin our search for the lost treasury of the Dwarves, wherein we have reason to hope one of the surviving gondath still lies. We know that place is located somewhere beneath Celebdil, the Silvertine, that Durin's Folk call Zirak-zigil. No doubt the mines and tunnels which lie under that peak are extensive, but our quest must leave no stone unturned for it is our friend Lagodir's welfare which is at stake." We all nodded.
"How far down will we have to go, do you think?" I asked pensively. My knowledge of tales concerning Moria (or Dwarf-kingdoms in general, for that matter) had always been rather sparse, but what little I had heard did not leave me desirous to plumb the depths of the mountains.
"I suppose we will just have to go and see," Nephyn replied. I remember thinking she seemed remarkably chipper for having been almost fatally poisoned just hours before. "Do you suppose it will get warmer or colder the further down we go? I should think it would get colder to the point of becoming unbearable. When I was a child I would hear travellers talk of freezing lakes under the mountains by night at the Pony."
"Which makes me wonder how much travelling they really did," Lagodir scoffed. "Warmer would be my own guess."
"Oh really?" asked Nephyn with a sidelong look at the Gondorian. "So, you think our lore in the Bree-lands less reliable than that of your own country, is that it?"
"No," said Lagodir. "I merely think that, if you are going to rely on travellers' tales for your information of foreign places, that your travellers should have actually had some experience with the places in question. I doubt any living Man has ever been there, of course, but from the heights of Minas Tirith we can see the tumult of Orodruin that is called Mount Doom in the Black Land near our borders. Ever and anon do fire, ash, smoke, and dust burst forth from that peak; whence comes it, if not from the bowels of the earth itself? That is why I would wager the heat will increase the deeper we go."
"Perhaps it is merely some contrivance of the Enemy's wrath?" mused Nephyn. "Was it not also said that the Dark Lord's former Master, in the days when Middle-earth was young, could command the freezing winds of his northern realm to bring ruin upon his foes? Maybe what you can see from atop your city is something of like nature." Lagodir did not answer immediately, but from his expression I did not think he was convinced.
"It could also conceivably be both at once," said Gaelira, but it appeared I was the only one who heard her.
"The wiles of our Enemy are many and varied," said Lagodir after a pause. "Still, I know what I have seen, and I will trust the evidence of my own eyes before some uninformed conjecture."
"Oh, we are uninformed, now are we?" huffed Nephyn, but there was a smile on her face. "Tell you what: since we are headed inevitably down into the depths, let us make a wager for five gold pieces upon the point."
"It is considered uncouth to wager coin against a woman in my country," Lagodir replied.
"Ha! Timorous words if ever I heard them," laughed Drodie who had been listening all this time and was clearly enjoying the repartee. "Fortunately we are not in your country, are we, Man? You have both forgotten there is a Dwarf among you, and of course I know the answer to your silly question. However, this argument amuses me so I will withhold the wisdom of my people and see how it plays out. But you, Lagodir: I would fain call you craven, if only our friendship and your brave deeds in battle did not prevent me!"
"Moreover," said Nephyn with her chin held high, "I am not one of your fainting Gondorian females, so there is no need to be chivalrous with me! If you will not place the wager, then allow me to do so: I bet five gold pieces that the air will grow colder as we descend, not warmer as you claim." Lagodir looked up at her dark-skinned face from where he sat and a smile played on his lips.
"Very well," he said as he stood. He extended his hand and clasped it with Nephyn's at the wrist. "Five gold pieces it is, then. Come! Let us begin our search and see whether the alehouse lore-masters of the North are as wise as their reputations make them out to be."
Drodie chuckled long and low, obviously harbouring some secret knowledge he would not impart for the time being, while Gaelira said nothing. As for me, I could not understand why everyone was so cavalier: from everything said it sounded as though the next leg of our journey would end with me being either burnt to a cinder or frozen into a hobbit-sicle -- and I would prefer to be neither!
It was not difficult to discover a path which led south and downward, further into the depths under the Silvertine. Our going, as ever in the blackness of the Mines, was slow and despite our progress I felt continually more unnerved as we went along. It was as though I could feel the weight of Celebdil overhead, as if it might come crashing down on us at any moment to stop our intrusion into its bowels, but of course nothing like that happened. I mentally kicked myself several times for my weakness of will and over-active imagination as I followed the others.
We encountered a few cross-roads now and then at which times we were required to choose our way forward. At such points, Gaelira and Drodie would often confer quietly with one another, but it was usually Drodie who would prevail and lead the way on. He seemed to be favoring the roads which led down and to the right, but whether he was acting on some Dwarven legends surrounding Moria or nothing more than a hunch I never did learn.
We descended some stairs and then the path we were on began to wind this way and that. Every so often we would encounter loose stones or other debris which had us slipping and sliding downward, but eventually this became too frequent to cause any alarm. This continued for what felt like hours until we literally stumbled onto something which caught us all by surprise: a planked wooden floor.
"Ah, this must be where the mining-works began," said Drodie and he tested the stability of the platform with his booted feet. "Following these would be the surest way to located the deepest delvings beneath the mountain. After me, all of you -- and be careful."
The rest of us needed no warning: like so many other parts of Moria we had already seen, the scaffolding we now occupied was almost completely absent any kind of handrails. The scaffolding itself, however, was broad and sturdy as it ran steadily down, down, down toward the heart of the Silvertine. We followed Drodie in single file, our collective senses straining to detect any turn in the path or other hazard along the way. Just when I was beginning to wonder if we would ever find the end of that interminable shaft, we halted. Gaelira asked me to light a second lantern and I did so. As the light broadened a little, I beheld an impressive sight.
It was a massive, gilded door -- I thought it must have been truly grand and opulent at one time, but any trace of precious materials had been chipped off and carried away long ago. It had two great iron panels and it must have been large enough to allow half a dozen Men to walk through it at once shoulder-to-shoulder if both panels had been swung open. Though none of us spoke, we all somehow knew we had finally found the lost Treasury of Durin.
Without a word, Drodie strode forward, laid his hands upon one of the two iron rings and pulled. The weight and age of the thing obliged Lagodir to lend his strength to the task as well, but after much grinding and groaning the ancient portal was finally opened. In the dim light of our lanterns we could see the tattered remnants of several old, dried-out spider webs hanging from the passageway which led inside. We moved within, and I swallowed hard before drawing my dagger and following the others.
Once inside, we saw a space which was indeed fit for a mighty king of Durin's line. The ceiling was vaulted, supported by stone pillars that were richly carved. We saw many smaller strong-rooms, crates, and lock-boxes here and there, but they were all broken open and plundered. We spent some time searching among the debris but found nothing of any use.
"Bah!" Drodie exclaimed as he tossed aside a rotting leather satchel. "This place is as empty as the promises of Thingol Greycloak. Why did we ever waste our time on this wild goose chase?" I said nothing as I looked around; it certainly appeared as though our quest had ended in failure.
"Perhaps there is some hidden chamber or passageway that we have not yet found," said Gaelira, ignoring the Dwarf's ill-mannered insult to her distant ancestor.
"What about this?" came a voice. It was Nephyn, and she was staring at a blank space of wall on the far side of the treasury. There were two large braziers on either side, which certainly seemed odd, but the wall itself was unremarkable: it was of smooth and polished marble, but that did not seem out of place as the rest of the vault could well be described as palatial.
"What about it?" I asked.
"Seems an usual spot to position two braziers, does it not?" said Lagodir, becoming interested in his own turn. "I think perhaps young Nephyn is onto something. Everywhere else in this vault where you find two braziers it is always to frame an important relic or monument. See there, where two torches flank that statue of Durin the Deathless? And there, were they bestride that pedestal? It looks to my eye as if it once held some artefact or weapon of reverence. Yet here were have two braziers adorning... nothing; just a blank space of wall. That is quite out of character, and the Dwarves are normally very particular about such details. They would be especially so in a place like this, wouldn't you agree, Master Dwarf?"
"Aye, it does strike me as a bit peculiar, now you mention it," said Drodie. He looked up distrustfully at the stone wall from beneath his bushy eyebrows. Nephyn, Lagodir, and Gaelira had already begun examining the wall more closely and were prodding every inch, presumably to find some latch, hook, handle, or keyhole which might indicate something lay hidden behind it. I just stood there and scratched my head. Something about all this seemed oddly familiar...
Suddenly, without even knowing how I came to the realization, I shouted at the top of my voice:
"ZIRUP!"
The marble wall cracked down the center and swung open wide; the others had to move quickly to avoid being crushed by the magical door.
"Well played, Sir Padryc!" laughed Lagodir as he brushed himself off; he had been knocked to the floor when the wall flew open and struck him square on the rump. "It seems you have outwitted the lore-master and even our venerable Dwarf this time."
"Key begets key!" I cheered, admittedly feeling rather pleased with myself. "The crystal key which opened Falgeirr Twisttongue's crypt revealed another key: the one engraved on the necklace that was buried with him -- the one to this door! I suppose I remembered how we used words to enter Moria a few days ago so I just put two and two together and, well, there you have it."
"There you have it, indeed!" chuckled Gaelira. "Come friends, let us see what secrets lie within!"
The inner chamber behind the marble wall was very dim and smelled old (I do not know how else to describe it). As our eyes adjusted, we saw a number of torches hung on sconces throughout the vault, so we lit these to have a better look-about. What we found was not encouraging: everything had been shattered and stolen just like the outer chamber we had left behind us. Drodie kicked an empty strongbox in frustration.
"Is there no crevice of my peoples' ancient homeland that these maggot-folk cannot invade?!" he cried. "How in blazes did the Orcs manage to enter this place -- the most secret and protected of all Durin's treasuries? HOW?!"
"It was not Orcs," came a thin, whispy voice from somewhere -- somewhere within the chamber. We all froze and the hair on my neck stood on end as chills ran down my spine. Something was in here with us.
"Show yourself!" Lagodir shouted. The five of us drew our weapons as one body. My eyes scanned the poorly lit chamber rapidly while my mind cast shadows of fear that seemed to move on the walls before us. There was a silence. Then, we heard a slow shuffling from the far left corner of the room. A single, indistinct figure was moving there, and it was slowly coming toward us. The sound of my own quick breathing hissed in my ears like a bellows.
"It was not Orcs," the voice said again, but this time I sensed a weakness in it, as if the owner was out of breath. "It was the Emissary; the Man of Mordor." I shuddered uncontrollably at the name.
"Who and what are you?" Nephyn demanded. She already had an arrow at the ready, but she had not yet raised her bow, for we could not see who was speaking to us. "Are you friend or foe? We can help you, if you require aid."
"I?" the voice laughed at us, and something about that laugh struck true terror into my heart. "You cannot help me, lost ones. There is no hope for Morhun. No hope. But I have seen -- oh, yes, I have seen. Seen things you cannot stand to see. Things you would not wish to see."
"Be wary, Padryc," Lagodir whispered to me, " We have faced many enemies together, you and I, but I fear this one may not be entirely sane."
Good to know, I thought to myself as I raised my dagger. We still could not see whoever it was that was that owned the voice, and despite the presence of multiple burning torches, the light seemed to be dimming as that figure drew closer to us.
"I have seen the coming of the shadows," the voice went on. "The Emissary came and Morhun came with him. He came for the stones, sat with them for days in this very chamber. But Morhun, he betrayed the Emissary, yes. Morhun wanted one of the stones for himself, and so he was left here to die. And so he will, but not before he has redeemed himself by slaying you!" The figure stepped fully into the light at last, and we saw there a hulking, straight legged Orc with an emaciated face and a raging madness burning in his eyes! And crooked scimitar was in his right hand, but his left was clenched at his side.
"Uruk!" Gaelira cried. "Nephyn, your bow!" The huntress raised her weapon to fire.
"NO!"
The Uruk shrieked as it raised its left hand, where we beheld up a strange and wonderful thing. It was a glowing gemstone, teardrop in shape, purple in colour, and about the size of a smithing-hammer. At once it seemed to me as if every light in the room was doused. Time was slowed as faint and terrible shapes began to issue forth from the stone. I heard frantic whisperings as if they were inside my own head, and I instinctively dropped my dagger and began swatting at the sounds that were invading my mind. Nearby, I saw Nephyn clutching her ears, doubled over in agony. I could see that she was screaming for help, but no sound could penetrate the whirrings and whisperings that permeated my brain. Drodie was swinging his axe wildly at nothing while Lagodir seemed to be struck dumb, his sword falling to the floor from nerveless fingers. I felt as if I was drowning in a sea of noise while the hands and faces of long-dead ghosts were slowly rising to suffocate me.
But Gaelira was not cowed: she strode forward with her staff in one hand and the sword of her forebears in the other.
"Kuluvi ya karnevalinar!" she cried. Her blade flashed; the Uruk's hand which held the stone left its arm and clattered to the floor. As the stunned Morhun examined his dismembered hand, the sword of Gaelira passed through the heart, and it fell dead. Instantly, the strange visions faded from my sight, the light of the torches was about me, and the world returned to normal once more. We took some time to check that everyone was alright, and it seemed that everyone was, after a rest. Lagodir took the longest to revive, as he had become almost frozen where he stood for several minutes. Eventually, his eyes returned to the present, as if he had been wandering in some foul dream.
"I am sorry, I..." he muttered when he had returned to us. "I thought I was..." But nothing more could we get from him.
"What in Middle-earth just happened?" I asked as I retrieved my dagger from the floor where I had dropped it moments earlier. "I thought I had suddenly fallen into the Underworld itself and all the spirits of the dead were coming to take my life from me."
"You are not far wrong, at that," Gaelira answered as she kicked the lifeless body of Morhun. "It seems we have found what we came for, but not before the servants of the Enemy did the same."
"Would anyone care to render that into Common Speech?" growled Drodie as he and the others gathered themselves.
"We have found the gondath," Gaelira answered him. "Or, at least, we have found one of them, which is all we need for our own purposes, thankfully. But agents of the Dark Lord desired them also, though I am not sure why. From the ramblings of our recently departed friend here, I gather he was part of the bodyguard of this Emissary character who somehow located and entered this hidden vault in search of the Shadow-stones. Apparently, Morhun came to desire one of the stones for himself, and he was imprisoned here for his treason, but not before he did manage to steal one of the gondath. Poor wretch: he probably only thought to trade it for something of value. Little did he realize the power of that which he came to possess -- not until it was too late."
"You mean to say the gondath wield that kind of accursed power?" cried Nephyn, incredulous. "What was Elrond thinking, sending us off in search of something like that?"
"Lord Elrond would not have known the fate which befell the stones," Gaelira replied. "I think, also, that fate befell them only recently. Morhun spoke of an Emissary, a Man of Mordor, who came here and worked with the gondath for days. He must have corrupted them in that time, twisted them for his own purposes. From what we just witnessed, I would guess this Emissary was infusing the Shadow-stones with fell-spirits of all kinds. Such is their gift, you remember: to bind and hold things unseen to the eye."
"I have never heard of an Orc commanding such terrible power as this," whispered Drodie, his eyes wide with alarm. "May the ancestors protect us if we are come to such times!"
"No, I do not think that any more likely than you," said Gaelira. "I think, rather, that the stone itself, newly imbued by the Emissary with such malignant strength, was in command: Morhun was merely a vessel they used to amuse themselves. He was left here by his master to starve and perish, but the doom which he ultimately suffered was a worse one by far."
"What, then, do we do with this?" asked Nephyn as she separated the Shadow-stone from Morhun's severed hand.
"I will take that and guard it," said Gaelira. "The shades of the departed hold no fear for me, and we shall need all our vitality to return this thing to Rivendell. No doubt Lord Elrond will need to cleanse it first, but it should still serve our purpose, despite its defilement at the hands of the Emissary."
"And who is he, exactly?" I asked, still not quite following this sudden torrent of information. "I'm certain I've not heard of him before."
"Neither have I," Gaelira replied. "At least, that I know of. If he (or she) was able to pervert the gondath in such a manner then they must be a powerful sorcerer indeed, but whoever or whatever they may be is not our immediate concern: we must make all haste to return the stone to Rivendell. At once."
She tucked the Shadow-stone safely in the folds of her tunic as we made to depart. Everyone was a little shaken, but the terror of what we witnessed was enough to drive us speedily from that place. We retraced our steps through the mines under the Silvertine for several more hours, but eventually even the hardiest of us required rest. Gaelira was very reluctant to stop the march, but she finally relented after considering that we four had been subjected to awful things she could not understand. We found a little nook off to the side of the main passage where we set up camp, and so the day's adventures ended at last.
My final strength is quickly ebbing as I pen this account. I never cease to be amazed at the incredible things this Company has accomplished, but I am beginning to wonder just how much more of this I (or any of us) can continue to endure. Lagodir, especially, has suffered greatly in the short time I have known him, and I begin to fear for him. I think Nephyn senses this too, for I have caught her glancing at him and following his movements closely with her eyes (when I can see her at all, that is). I hope the recovery of that vile stone will be just the thing to finally end his torments and bring him the rest he has so valiantly earned.
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