The stony heights of the treeless hill rose up out of the darkened forest. This close to the stronghold of the enemy, the land felt foul, and even the trees seemed malevolent. Eleanor and her little company had approached the cursed place by night, the cloud-encumbered sky a welcome cover from hostile eyes. Haldir and a few trackers from Lorien had spread out to find their best route forward. Although it had only yet been an hour, still it seemed to Eleanor like an eternity since they had parted. The oppressive darkness of the Necromancer’s keep weighed upon all their minds like a black millstone. But there was no other choice. She would not leave Lanwyn to the nameless torments of the Dark Lord, and so she must assault this place and bring the girl out alive, or else she must perish in the attempt.
A skittering fall of stones from the ledge above announced the return of the scouts. Haldir dropped to the ground near where Eleanor, Rossiel, and Arwen sat, hidden from the view of the tower by a large outcropping of rock. “We have found a way in, but we must hurry. The dwarf was heard and taken, and it will not be long before the watch is doubled.”
A pit seemed to grow in Eleanor’s stomach. “Taken?” They had not even committed to the attempt yet, and already everything was turning against them.
“Aye, lady. The way up passes through a narrow pass in the rock as we must climb. Just above it is a small gate into the guard tower – that was where the dwarf was seen. But do not lose hope – if we must go into that fortress to save one prisoner, we may bring out both.”
Eleanor nodded as the scout finished speaking. “But if this cleft is so exposed, then how shall we pass it without alerting the whole tower to our presence?”
Rossiel spoke up. “My knowledge runs deep. My art can shield us from prying eyes, though it may draw the attention of whatever fell presence dwells in the heart of this place. But it will shield us from the eyes of the wall, and that will be enough for now.”
Turning towards the little group, she addressed them. “I cannot cloak an army in shadows, nor blind the sight of every sentry in the fortress. If we are to go in, we must take only a few with us, lest we draw the whole of the garrison down on us. Oswyn, you will come, and Eleanor, with a half-dozen of your stoutest soldiers. Haldir, bring a few of your most skilled trackers. The rest, remain out of sight, and prepare to aid us when we come out of the gate.”
With that, they began the climb towards the gate. As they clambered up towards the narrow pass in the heights, they heard a harsh, guttural shouting from the gate above. From the threats and curses, it had to have been the captain of the guard, come to inspect the vigilance of his sentries. Driven by some dark power in the fortress, the reckless hate Eleanor felt from the Orcs was daunting. But Arwen touched her shoulder. “Do not despair. Remember the words of my grandmother. Fear is the Enemy’s most potent weapon. The darkness in the tower might drive these slaves, but we are aided by a power they cannot comprehend.”
As they passed up the cleft, shielded by the art of Rossiel and the stealth of the trackers of the Wood, Haldir guided them past a large opening near the side of the path. At first, Eleanor resisted, wanting to crouch behind the rocky protrusion that shielded it from the view of the walls, but Haldir pointed wordlessly at the strands of thick webbing on the thorny bushes near the mouth of the cave, and she shuddered and moved on. Reaching the crest of the rise, they found one of Haldir’s scouts, bow half-drawn, watching the guards at the gate intently. Beside him, another tracker crouched, watching the pass, a green elf-stone clasped idly in one hand.
After a brief conference, Haldir rose to the edge of the rise and looked out over the expanse of bare ground between the rocky height and the gate. A howl rose nearby, and with one fluid motion, Haldir drew an arrow, nocked it to his bow, and loosed. “The beastmasters of Dol Guldur are out, searching the forest for the dwarf’s companions. There is no more time to delay!” Two more arrows streaked out from the rocks, felling the guards who stood near the gate. The watchers on the tower above cried out, and bows and darts replied from the top of the wall. The archers, however, had melted back into the forest as if they had never been there. Oswyn ran across the bare ground to the door, searching the guards for the key and throwing the door wide. As they rushed in, Rossiel’s feet tangled in a set of iron shackles left carelessly on the floor, and she fell heavily. With Arwen’s help, she rose again, and the little group passed swiftly into the corridors beyond.
As soon as they passed the threshold, an echoing cry of rage sounded in Eleanor’s mind. Turning, she saw her companions doubled over, clutching at their scalps as if some powerful will had overcome them. Fumbling in her pouch, her fingers caught hold of her ring, and with a mighty effort of will, she cast the raging sound away as if it had been a stone. Another howl sounded from outside, and Haldir pausing at the gate, sent another arrow passing out the open portal before slamming it closed behind them.
They paused, breathing heavily. To their left, a staircase climbed towards the wall and the upper rooms of the tower, while ahead, the room led to a long, shadowed hallway and the darkness beyond. There followed a long, dark descent into the caverns beneath the fortress, searching for the dungeons where Lanwyn and Thalin would be kept. With amazement, Eleanor realized that no alarm had been raised, and no search parties were scouring the halls to find them. With a sigh, she let out a breath and released tension she hadn’t realized had been building up within her.
As they passed through a dark catacomb, Eleanor pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. The hastily scrawled pen strokes gave the outline of rooms and caverns, hallways and passages. The map, copied from one of her master’s papers long ago, was a comforting presence. Up ahead, the markings told her that the caverns had been shaped for use as series of dungeon cells. Moving carefully forward, she found Thalin lying slumped in one of them, the rest empty save for the dead. The dead bodies of two guards showed her that the elven trackers had been thorough in their work. It took only a moment to force the cell open and bring the bloodied dwarf out, splashing water on his face to rouse him. He blinked blearily, and pushed them away in protest, but Eleanor heard the note of gratitude even in his protestations.
In that instant, a dark form hurled itself from a side passage, many legs scuttling and a massive, bulbous body shoving Oswyn to the ground and scattering the rest of the party. Eleanor had just enough time to see the fangs and eyes of a great spider, and then all was confusion. A cry and a clash of arms rang out ahead, and one of the trackers came flying back, blood streaming from a wound on her arm. Behind her, a patrol of Orcs came rushing into the fray. Eleanor rushed forward, driving her drawn sword towards the spiders face and forcing it away from Oswyn.
Frustrated in its attack on its intended prey, the spider lunged at Eleanor in a rage, but one of her honour guard interposed himself, his spear keeping the beast at bay. With a whir of steel, Thalin was there, his axe biting deep into the creature while a green-feathered arrow suddenly sprouted from one of its eyes. With a shriek, it fell lifeless, and Eleanor turned towards the rest of the battle.
The Orcs had fallen back, and several were running shrieking towards the relative safety of a side tunnel. Most of those fell with arrows in their backs, but a few disappeared around the corner.
Haldir came forward, a tracker already bandaging a grievous wound in his leg, his great bow of Lorien slung back over his shoulder, and Arwen by his side, elven-light shining in her eyes. Eleanor checked the comforting presence of her ring on her finger, its green gem glinting in the torchlight while the wrought silver band seemed to writhe around her finger as the shadows played across it.
As they pressed forward, an oppressive weight seemed to fall across them, and the company quailed as the shadows suddenly seemed deeper. Once again the fell voice that had vented its anger upon them as they crossed the threshold of its place of power cried out, their minds wilting before its anger and malice. Gathering her inner strength, Eleanor focused her mind, as Mithrandir had taught her so long ago. The voice cried out again, from somewhere very close, but she pressed her will against it, and the moment passed. The shadows still pressed closely, and the air was thick with a faceless malice, but she could move forward again, and the rest of her party with her. Guarding the passage ahead was a large orc, holding a leashed wolf. Eleanor rushed it, catching it by surprise and parrying its wild blow with her sword. Beside her, Oswyn buried his axe into the wolf’s skill, while one of the archers shot the Orc. Up ahead, a narrow passage led to another block of dungeon cells.
Henamarth appeared from one of the side passages, where he had been scouting ahead. “Be wary. These passages lead into caves in the mountains, and I would not wish to get lost in them.”
Great webs stretched across the tunnel, and coated the walls, but Eleanor and Rossiel took the lead, hacking through the strands until they stumbled into a room lit by torches. The carved stone walls were partitioned by iron bars, most empty. But in one, Lanwyn sat, curled up in a ball against the cold and cringing away from the light. The room was otherwise empty, though the shadows curled around them threateningly, as if the meager torchlight was the only thing preventing them from smothering the little party.
As Eleanor searched for some way to open the cell door, Lanwyn gave a little whimper, pressing herself back against the wall and burying her face in her hands. The sudden wave of fear washing over the room turned her heart to ice, and her sword fell clattering to the floor from her nerveless hands.
The fear threatened to overthrow her mind and send her fleeing in terror to the darkest hole she could find to hide in. It warred with a sudden despair, for surely the fell power that controlled this fortress had noticed them, and would shortly snuff them out as if they were no more than stinging flies. For just a moment, she wanted to sit down on the floor, and wait for the end to come. She owed Lanwyn that much, at least.
But then some spark of light and memory in her mind kindled the fire of her will. A faroff memory of brightness and goodness and the trees of the Golden Wood sprang unbidden into her soul, and she crouched down, retrieving her sword. To her surprise, it glowed with a faint green light, as wholesome as the speckled sunlight on the forest floor. The light pulsed in time with her pounding heart, and she saw with fascination that the ring on her finger pulsed along with it, a speck of green fire that defied the darkness.
Turning around, she faced the oncoming horror, her mind calm and her own again, despite the ever-mounting pressure of the faceless malice that permeated these caverns. At the far end of the cavernous room, a dark shape stood, indistinct in the shadowy illumination. A dark sword was in its hand, and black robes and a hood obscured its form. But malice and terror and hate surged from it in waves. Beside her, the rest of her little party knelt or cowered. Rossiel and Arwen alone remained standing, but the strain on their faces told Eleanor that it took the whole of their will and power to do so.
Eleanor took an unsteady step forward, raising her sword. Behind her, a bowstring sung. Haldir, borne down to the floor by fear and overwhelming power, had still managed to loose at the fell presence. But the dark sword rose, and sparks flew as the arrow struck it. Mirthless laughter filled the room, and the torches dimmed as if they could not stand to be in the presence of this thing.
“Creature of Mordor, I defy you.” Her voice was unsteady, and shook with fear, but she forced the words out. “I deny you your power. Depart from this place.” But she stood in the center of the power of the Necromancer, and her challenge held no force to drive the wraith from her. It spoke an ancient word, dry as cracked bones and full of hate, and her sword broke in two. Her ring flickered as unsteadily as her words had, and dimmed until only the faintest spark could be seen. Despair rose in her again, but she met it with steel and determination. If she must die here, then she would die like the daughter of kings she was.
And then suddenly, the room was filled with light, and the unmistakable presence of power. Eleanor’s ring surged to brightness again in answer, and she felt the same presence she had encountered on the edge of Lorien, though it seemed a lifetime ago. The wraith stopped in its tracks, the light searing into it, allowing no shadow for it to hide. For a moment, all was still in the little room, and then the fell creature fled, shrieking a wordless cry of rage and fury. The light faded, and all went dark.
**********************
Alarm bells clanged as the little group groped in the darkness, trying to find their way back towards the exit. Arwen found a torch and lit it, and though she winced at the light, and looked fearfully around lest they draw further unwanted attention to themselves, Eleanor was grateful . Rossiel picked up a key from the ground, biting back a cry as the metal burned into her skin with a cold fire. Rushing to the cell door, she unlocked it, and Eleanor rushed to Lanwyn’s side. The girl was shivering in the cool air, her shift tattered and rent in many places. Bruises marred her face, and her eyes stared blankly as she looked up at Eleanor.
“I’m here, Lanwyn. Let’s get you out of here.” She reached down, but Lanwyn cried out and backed away, trying to curl up into a smaller ball in the corner of the cell. No words escaped her mouth, but her wordless panic froze Eleanor in her tracks. Then Arwen was there, speaking comforting words in an ancient tongue, and Lanwyn quieted. Eleanor lifted her to her feet, and – supporting her weight with her shoulder, they made their way out of the cell.
Henamarth led them back through the narrow cleft, avoiding the great woven webs in the main passage. Borrowing a shield from one of her soldiers, Eleanor sheathed her broken sword and followed as quickly as she could make Lanwyn move.
They reached the upper levels without incident, and paused just outside the entrance to the guard chamber. Beyond they heard many voices shouting, and the pounding thump of many feet as they climbed the stairs or returned from the top.
“This is it,” Eleanor whispered. “One last push, and then we are free.” Beside her, Lanwyn slumped to the ground, and Eleanor dropped her shield to pick her up in both arms. And then the party burst through the door. Nearly twenty Orcs crowded the room, barring the door shut from the inside. Nobody was prepared for the sudden onslaught of Eleanor’s band. Rossiel and Eleanor’s guardsmen surged forward, pushing brutal attacks to the side or catching them on upraised shields, while Oswyn and the archers opened a gap towards the door. A crazed beastmaster broke through the line, his great club swinging at Lanwyn, still held in Eleanor’s arms. Eleanor turned to catch the blow on her mailed shoulder, and then one of her honour guard drove the Orc back.
In the center of the room, a massive Orc chieftain rallied his troop around him, holding firm against the onslaught. One of the trackers went down, and the chieftain’s blows drove one of Eleanor’s soldiers to his knees. But then arrows flickered from the great bows of Lorien, and two of them pierced his body. Oswyn swung his great axe, and all was still for a moment. Then the Orcs broke, and the room became chaos and panic, and the stench of fear and blood rose up until Eleanor thought her stomach would rebel at the pressure.
And then they were through the gate, and into the forest. Eleanor felt the pressure of eyes as unseen watchers marked their path, but she was past caring. Lanwyn was a limp weight in her arms, and behind them, the Orcs milled in confusion while one of the lieutenants shrieked in impotent rage. There would be a long march ahead, concealing their tracks while they attempted to make their way back to Lorien unmolested. But they were free of the shadow of the dreadful fortress, dashing down the slope to the safety of their waiting companions.
*********************
Lanwyn and Eleanor sat around the smoldering coals of the campfire. They had finally shaken off the pursuit of the Orcs from Dol Guldur, and their journey back towards Lorien was nearing its end. Although there had been many chances for conversation on their journey, Lanwyn had rebuffed all of them. Her eyes were still haunted, and her face drawn. She woke in the night often, screaming for her brother, or for Eleanor, or other names that Eleanor did not recognize.
But tonight she had stayed by the fire, staring into it as it burned low instead of going to her bed. Eleanor remained with her, silent but there, hoping that her presence would be a comfort.
The girl’s voice startled her out of her thoughts. “There is more like that, isn’t there?”
Confused, Eleanor looked up. “What?”
“More like that…that thing. In the caves. Evil that walks in the shadowy places of the earth. Like that spider in the forest, too. It’s everywhere, isn’t it?”
“Yes. No place is fully safe in this age. But I can see you safely to your home. Dale is as safe as a place can be in these times.”
Lanwyn thought for a long while. “It’s getting stronger, too. Isn’t it?”
Wordlessly, Eleanor nodded.
“And you fight it?”
“As I can. Where and when I can.” She sighed, sinking back into her troubled thoughts.
After another interminable silence, Lanwyn spoke again. “I want to come with you.”
“What?” She could not keep the shock from her voice.
“I want to come with you. That evil is out there. It is growing stronger, and hiding in Dale won’t protect my family from it. I want to come with you and fight it.” Her voice shook a little bit. Afraid maybe, or angry. “Things like that, they shouldn’t exist. They do, but they shouldn’t. The world should be a safe place, a happy place where people don’t have to be afraid of whatever is hiding in the shadows. It isn’t right now, and I want to fight it. Maybe I can’t fix everything, but I want to do something.” Her voice was stronger now, filling with passion. “I want to do what you do. I want to stop being a scared little girl from Dale now, and start being part of the light. Let me come with you and fight the shadows.”
The ghost of a smile grew on Eleanor’s face. “My master is in Lorien as we speak, Lanwyn. I will bring you to meet him. There is much to do in the fight against the Shadow, and we can use all the hands who will help us.”
The end of Chapter 3.
Watch the playthrough of the quest here!