MISSION TO DOL GULDUR
by Jay of Lasgalen

Author’s Notes: sorry for the long delay in updating - I have been away on holiday (two weeks in Cornwall!) and have been having MAJOR problems with my computer. If you like the new story, PLEASE review - or you won’t get the next chapter!

If you get this update it means I’ve managed to coax the chapter out of my computer (most of the story is written, I just can’t access it!) and have posted it from somewhere else. Fingers crossed .........


Chapter 3 - Dol Guldur

Legolas walked Pavisel some distance away from where he had left his companions. When he judged he was far enough away to distract the orcs without endangering the others he let out a loud yell. Shouting in a mixture of Sindarin, Quenya and Westron, and with Pavisel’s neighs and whinnies, they made a very satisfactory noise. For good measure, he set Pavisel to kick with his rear hooves at some of the trees they passed, and rode straight through the undergrowth.

Accustomed to moving silently, even he couldn’t quite believe the din they made, although it broke his heart to cause such damage to the forest. Behind him he could hear the orc patrol start to chase delightedly after him. It sounded as if most of them, nearly a hundred, had fallen for the trick. Still yelling a variety of war cries, curses and insults, even snatches of songs and poetry, he led the orcs deeper into the forest. He kept Pavisel’s pace slow enough for the orcs to keep pace, so they would not give up, but fast enough that they would not get too close. He particularly did not want them to realise that the army they thought they were pursuing was in fact one lone elf. They could know nothing of his people, nothing, if they thought even an army of elves would make anything like this racket. Pavisel alone sounded like a herd of wild horses. The orcs were firing wildly now, blindly shooting through the trees. They could not see him, so were focused on the noise he made. Few arrows came near, but one or two - more by luck than judgement - were too close for comfort.

At last, one got lucky. As he pivoted Pavisel to lunge through a thicket of dry, rustling branches, a stray arrow caught the horse by his foreleg. With a neigh of pain and fright he reared high, flailing with his hooves against the sudden pain. Legolas wrapped his hand in Pavisel’s mane and gripped tightly with his knees. With another whinny of fear, the horse reared again, his rider still clinging to his back like a burr, until finally, whispering soothing words, Legolas was able to calm him. He could hear the orcs pursuing him screeching delightedly - they knew they had hit Pavisel, at least, and hoped to find the pair of them injured and helpless. It was time to leave the orcs, and head back to the rest of the patrol.

He slid off Pavisel’s back, and with a glance over his shoulder led him away to the left, heading south of his original direction. Suddenly he froze, and pulled Pavisel into a thicket of hazel trees. He stood in front of the horse to hide him from sight, pulling the hood of his cloak up to cover his own face and hair. As long as they did not look straight at him, the drab greenish brown should conceal him. Standing motionless, he watched as one of the groups of orcs following him passed within feet, harsh voices in full cry, still intent on the chase. Their booted feet trampled the undergrowth, crushing plants and saplings underfoot. If they had known their quarry was so close, he would not have stood a chance, but they continued on, oblivious.

When all sounds of pursuit had faded he let out a breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding, then inspected Pavisel’s wound. The arrow was not deep, but had torn the muscle. He just hoped it wasn’t poisoned. With a swift movement he pulled the arrow out, causing the horse to snort and toss his head. Murmuring softly to him, Legolas took out a small pouch on his belt and tipped a little fine brown powder into his hand. There was no water available, so he spat into it, mixing a dark paste. He smeared it over the wound and Pavisel twitched his shoulder as it stung.

"All right, my beauty, you’ll do for now. Now we just have to get back and find the others." With one hand on Pavisel’s mane, he moved soundlessly to the south, before looping back towards his companions, using the cliff he had climbed earlier that day as a guide. He was about halfway there when he became aware of something coming towards him. It certainly wasn’t an orc, but it didn’t sound like a forest creature either. Moving behind a tree, Legolas waited until it came into sight.

"Alfiel!" he hissed. "What in the name of all the Gods are you doing? I thought I told you to stay there!"

"You told me to deal with the orcs. I have. I came to find you, I feared something had happened."

"It did. One of their arrows, a lucky shot, hit Pavisel. It’s not too serious, but I don’t want to ride him."

"No matter. Come up behind me on Fanuidhol." Alfiel leaned down and extended his hand. Gripping his wrist, Legolas vaulted up behind him. He turned to Pavisel.

"Come now. Follow us." Obediently, Pavisel walked after Fanuidhol. With a soft command, Alfiel urged Fanuidhol forward, back to where he had left the rest of the patrol.

When they reached the clearing, Taniquel stepped forward. She looked drawn and extremely worried. "Alfiel, thank goodness you’re back!" She sounded frantic. Then she noticed Legolas, seated behind him. A mixture of emotions, relief, joy, then fear and worry again flitted across her face. "Eléntia" she said softly.

"Eléntia? What about her? Has she returned?" queried Alfiel.

"An orc patrol came back past us a while ago. They spoke of a captive, taken to Dol Guldur. Legolas, we thought they’d caught you, but it must be Eléntia."

Legolas dropped off Fanuidhol’s back. "We go after her, now. I’m not leaving her there. You’re sure?"

Taniquel nodded unhappily. "They sounded delighted. They said ‘it’ would be questioned by the masters - whatever they are."

"All right. Dol Guldur is about a half a day’s journey from here. Eléntia left just after dawn. If the orcs you heard knew about it, she must have been taken soon after. There was certainly no sign of her when I went off with Pavisel. Elthan, Math’rin - I’m not sure if we should all go after her. I think it’s best if you stay here as back up if we need it."

Alfiel shook his head. "No. I don’t think so. It’s when we split up that things go wrong. We should all go - when we find Eléntia we’ll need to get out of there quickly - there won’t be time to come back here and regroup."

Legolas considered his words. "Very well. You’re right. I’ll take Bahnfrei - I don’t want to ride Pavisel yet if I don’t need to." In a matter of moments they had collected weapons, gear, and supplies, leaving no sign of their passage. Swiftly, silently, they rode out - each deeply concerned for Eléntia and for what they would find at Dol Guldur.

~*~*~*~

As Eléntia regained consciousness, she rather wished she hadn’t. She was slung like a hunter’s kill around the neck of a foul-smelling orc, her head resting intimately on its shoulder. She stayed limp, listening, absolutely furious with herself for being taken like the greenest recruit.

She had been scouting along a path the patrol could take to the south when she had stumbled on a group of orcs standing on the path. They had been waiting for her - even before she had fired at the orcs in front of her she heard others move from the trees behind. They had laid a trap for her, and she had walked into it like a novice.

Firing two arrows simultaneously at the orcs ahead, she drew her knife and managed to finish two more that rushed at her. Waving her knife threateningly before her as a warning to the others not to get too close, she reached behind with her other hand, seizing a handful of arrows. With a movement like lightning she sheathed the knife and fired again at the orcs surrounding her. She managed to fell several more of the creatures before they overwhelmed her. A harsh blow on the back of her head sent her to her knees, stars dancing in her vision. A second blow dimmed the stars and they faded into night.

Now, down over the centuries, as clear as a bell, she heard the voice of the captain who instructed the army recruits in battle techniques. They had been learning of the less glorious outcomes of battle - injury, death, and capture.

"There are only three rules to remember if you get captured by orcs. The first rule is: don’t."

The trainees had all laughed nervously, confident that none of them would be careless enough for such a fate.

"The second rule is: act stupid. Don’t let them know we understand some of their speech. Don’t let them know you’re conscious if you can help it. Listen. Observe. Learn as much as you can, about where you are, what they are planning. Your information could be vital. Remember, you could escape, and your companions will be doing everything they can to free you. Many captives we do rescue.

Rule number three" he paused then, looking at them all sombrely. "You might not escape. Sometimes, no matter what, nothing can be done. You might be alone, far away from Lasgalen. The odds might be too overwhelming. Or there may be no companions left to rescue you." He gave the trainees a moment to consider that, then finished with: "Remember that, before you become too overconfident, and think it can never happen to you."

Over the years she did indeed meet elves who had been captured and lived to tell the tale, but not many. She also learnt more than she wanted to about rule number three - graphic detail of torture and mutilation, whole patrols taken, where there was no one left to raise the alarm, whose fate was forever unknown, or sometimes whose fate was all too well known.

The orc carrying her shifted its grip, and its claws dug into her leg. She bit her lip hard to stifle a gasp of pain, but must have made some slight movement, which an orc to her left noticed.

"‘Ere, Fagnor, you didn’t ‘it it ‘ard enough! It’s waking up!"

"Just in time to meet the Masters, then. We’re nearly there."

Eléntia, still limp, wondered what the Masters might be. She clung to the fury she felt with herself and the curiosity - it helped to keep at bay the utter terror that lurked in her mind.

By slitting her eyes open she could see they were approaching Dol Guldur. They had left the trees and were crossing a stretch of bare, barren ground that lay before the tower. When they reached it, the orc flung her on the ground. "Filthy elf! You can carry the next one!" As it dropped her, her head fell back against the wall striking the place where she had been hit before, and she blacked out again.

~*~*~*~

By riding hard the elf patrol reached Dol Guldur by late afternoon. The tracks had become hard and stony, and thickets of savage brambles crossed the path. The thorns scratched the horses and the legs of the elves even through their clothing. As they drew closer they came across felled trees, many of them. Mighty oaks hundreds of years old, beautiful birches and elms, and by the pools and streams graceful willows had been cut down. The pools themselves were choked and stagnant, cluttered with debris and filth. The stench from the fouled water was nauseating. Legolas stopped in shock. "They’re poisoning the forest. Destroying it!"

Spoil heaps polluted the clearings, piles of litter, food waste and excrement. Huge flies buzzed slowly through the air, and there were signs that rats had gnawed at the rubbish.

"I came down here long ago when the Necromancer was here," said Alfiel. "It was never like this, never! It must be the work of the orcs."

"They delight in despoiling the land. I fear it will grow worse as we approach the Tower." Legolas shook his head in sorrow. At length they approached Dol Guldur. They had not caught up with the orcs, who had pressed ahead tirelessly.

The land surrounding the tower had been cleared of trees, the ground bare and barren. They halted at the edge of the forest, concealed by the few remaining trees and their green and brown clothing. Dol Guldur was about a furlong away, in the centre of an area of open ground nearly four acres in size. There was no hope of approaching unseen, not even by night - the full moon would flood the clearing with light.

Roughly halfway to the tower, strung out around the clearing, orc sentinels ringed the tower, facing outwards to the trees. They were the larger creatures they had seen earlier, and were armed with spears, swords and bows. Nearer the fortress were nearly a hundred of the smaller goblin soldiers from the Misty Mountains. They had no idea how many more might be inside - or what else might be there. It was clear that any rescue was going to be very, very, difficult.

Eléntia had been dragged to the base of the tower, and her wrists and ankles manacled to rusty chains hanging from the walls. Her head was bowed. Her hair had come loose and was falling over her face, and they could not tell if she was conscious or not.

"How do we get close enough to rescue her?" breathed Elthan.

Legolas shook his head. "I don’t know yet. Maybe at nightfall, before the moon rises. We need to think."

~*~*~*~

This time Eléntia was not out for long, because when she came round the orcs were still chaining her wrists to the tower walls, using heavy, rusty chains that looked like they had seen years of use. She stayed limp, head down, feigning unconsciousness, listening to the orcs’ foul speech.

"What’re we going to do with it? Do you think we can …."

"No, none of that! I’ve got orders - questions first, don’t harm it. But after - " it gave an evil chuckle, sending shivers down Eléntia’s spine - "after, well, we’ll see, won’t we?"

The orc quoting its orders - and who would give orders to an orc? Who were the Masters? - moved away, and the ones who had captured her muttered resentfully.

"Fagnor, I’ve had enough of this! Wake it up, let’s get a move on!"

One of the orcs, she thought the one who had been carrying her, picked up a spear from the ground and jabbed it viciously into her side. She could not prevent a cry of pain, and lifted her head. She spat at the orc, and gave vent to her anger, fear and disgust with a torrent of abuse. The orcs could not understand what she said, but could surely judge it from the tone of her voice. One - Fagnor? - came closer. She recoiled, but the movement made the chain on her ankle clank. It was loose. Taking the opportunity, she kicked the orc as hard as she could. The pain that shot through her foot was nothing compared with the satisfaction she felt as it gave a roar of pain and hobbled off. The others laughed in derision, and infuriated, it turned on her with a knife. For one incredulous second she thought it was going to kill her there and then, but instead it slashed repeatedly at her, cutting her across her arms and chest. She screamed, she couldn’t help it, hanging limply, the chains around her wrists dragging at her arms.

Suddenly the slashing stopped and she heard the orcs growling at one another in warning. She stayed motionless, panting, the cuts burning like fire, trying to suppress sobs of agony and hopelessness. Slowly she managed to stand, and lifted her head, hair falling lankly about her face. There was a stir of movement among the orcs surrounding her as a figure, cloaked in blackness, approached. A wave of pure evil seemed to emanate from him, and the terror she felt intensified a hundredfold. She tried to back away, but was held fast by the chains.

The figure turned away from her, seeming to look across the cleared ground to the forest. It spoke in a low, hissing whisper. "I see you. I see you watching your friend."

With a sudden spark of hope, she followed its gaze. Hidden by trees at the edge she could see the rest of the patrol. All of them. They had come for her, they had not abandoned her. No matter what the orcs or this other being did, she was not alone.

As the black figure finished the litany of its plans for her, her spirit quailed again, but the flame of hope could not be quenched. Eléntia lifted her head, looking straight at the others. Across the distance that separated them, as clear as words, her message was unmistakable. Help me.

Now the black robed figure turned its attention back to her. It raised one hand, the sleeve falling away to reveal a bony, skeletal hand. She pressed herself back against the wall of the tower, as it extended one finger to touch her, a feather-light caress. She had time for only one thought. "Ai, Elbereth, help me!"

~*~*~*~

While Legolas and his companions watched, one of the orcs surrounding Eléntia prodded her with a spear. Her head rose, and she spat a curse at it, a stream of invective that impressed Alfiel. The chains on her ankles were still slack, and her foot rose, kicking the orc, hard, between the legs. It howled and staggered away, taunted by the jeers of its fellows. She paid a high price for her defiance. Enraged, the orc spun round and slashed at her again and again with a long black knife. She screamed and sagged in the chains. Taniquel flinched and looked at Legolas. "We must do something to help her, and soon!"

As the orc raised its knife again, one of the others grabbed its wrist. "Don’t kill it, remember. The master wants it alive. He wants to question it. If you’re good, he might give it to us after to play with." Scowling, the orc lowered the knife, satisfying itself with a heavy kick at Eléntia.

Suddenly the orcs fell silent and backed away, cringing and cowering. A tall figure, much taller than even an elf, emerged from the tower. It wore a long black cloak, with the hood pulled forward so nothing of the face could be seen. The five elves watching felt a deep dread fall on them. "What - what is that thing?" mumbled Elthan. There was no response. They all seemed transfixed by the dark figure. It raised its head and stared straight at them, but still only darkness could be seen beneath the hood. Legolas felt a cold fear grip him, and a chill of recognition.

"I see you," it said in a sibilant whisper. "I see you watching your friend. Do you fear to come closer? Do you fear to see what will become of her? She will stay here as our prisoner. Do you know what slow torments we can inflict, so she will tell us everything she knows about your defences, your realm, your King? Do you recall how orcs were bred from elves, long ago? My orcs will welcome fresh new blood to breed with. She will serve us for a very long time - for you will never free her!"

Crouching in the undergrowth, those listening felt a chill of horror. They all knew what orcs did to captives, who were tortured until death was a release, had heard stories of elves taken by Melkor, maimed and mutilated until they were bound to his will. There were dark tales of females enslaved as brood mares, propagating the foul race. Elthan caught his breath on a note of terror, but Alfiel was gazing at Legolas steadfastly.

"We have no choice. You know what you have to do" he said softly.

"No! There must be something we can do! Wait until nightfall, take them by surprise - just one or two of us, slow and stealthy - " he broke off, aware that Alfiel was shaking his head sadly, Taniquel was looking at him with pity, biting her lip, and that Elthan and Math’rin would not meet his eyes. "I can’t do it."

"You know what you must do" repeated Alfiel. "You are her captain, her prince - and the best shot of all of us."

Slowly, with a sigh, Legolas nodded, accepting the inevitable. "I know."

The dark figure had turned from them, back to Eléntia. She raised her head and looked straight at the hidden watchers, fear and pleading in her eyes, as the hooded shape stretched out its hand and touched her, almost gently, on the forehead. She
gave a long wailing scream of pain, loss and despair, and those listening flinched. "You must do it now!" pleaded Alfiel.

"I know!" he cried. Hands shaking, Legolas rose to his feet, fitting an arrow to his bow. As he sighted along the shaft he became still, focused, intent. He drew a deep breath and held it. Motionless, he breathed a silent prayer to Elbereth and loosed the arrow. It flew true. Eléntia slumped between the chains, the arrow embedded deep in her chest.

~*~*~*~

As the creature touched her, Eléntia felt fire sear through her head, obliterating all coherent thought. All hope, memory and joy were gone. She gave just one terrified scream as despair, hopelessness and utter terror engulfed her.

Then fresh pain pierced her heart, bringing in its wake calm, silence and peace. Pain and terror were gone, as stillness and finally darkness opened and welcomed her.

~*~*~*~

Quicker than sight, he sent another arrow into the black robed figure, then another. Both passed straight through, and struck the wall of the tower behind it. The orcs wailed in dismay, but the black figure gave a high keening cry of anger and fury that chilled those listening and watching to the bone. "You missed him!" exclaimed Taniquel in disbelief.

Legolas shook his head. "No. I didn’t miss. I hit it, I know I did. Let’s go." He sounded shaken.

The figure reached forward, and ripped the arrow out of Eléntia’s breast. It inspected it, then with a brutal gesture snapped it in half, throwing the pieces to the ground. Legolas heard a hiss, then the cold voice cried, "Do you think to harm me? I know you, Elf! The royal house of Mirkwood, of Oropher and Thranduil. We will hunt you and all your kind down for this! Begone!"


TBC


Author’s Notes: Oh dear, poor Elentia! And poor Legolas! What will this do to him? And what have the Nazgul got in mind?

You know what you have to do to find out ........ :)

PS: I’ve also written an alternative ending for ‘To The Ends Of Middle Earth’ - check it out!

Responses to reviewers:


Little My - glad you like my O/Cs - especially Taniquel and Elentia.

Jocelyn - I’m afraid you’re right about Alfiel. I rather regret that now, as I’ve come to like him and Tirnan in the course of this story.

I LOVE the latest chapters of ‘Nudge’, but oh! the suspense! especially when it looked like he’d died! I’m also enjoying the new story - great fun (I especially like the Poo sticks bit!).

Treehugger - cliffhanger? What cliffhanger? You’ll have to wait and see what happens to everyone - but if you’ve read ‘To The Ends Of Middle Earth’ you’ll remember what happened to Alfiel.

I’m really enjoying ‘Hall of the Wood Elf King’ and the latest story (sorry, can’t remember what it’s called) - poor Legolas is getting all embarrassed!

JastaElf - Glad you like the new story. I got Pavisel (Legolas’ horse) from Melanie Rawn’s Dragon Prince series (it’s the name of a dragon there).

I need to go and catch up on your stories - haven’t been there for a while, I’ll review if possible, I promise.

Enigma jade - Glad you like it! Have you read and reviewed ‘To The Ends Of Middle Earth’? If not, why not?!


Jay