Ai, Valar it has been so long! Well, I rewrote this chapter because I found it horrid, so here is the new version.


Chapter 8

A day had come and gone since Gimli’s news had reached the Elf’s less than enthusiastic ears. Anxiety, but also frustration had doused his already low spirits. But after a night alone to his thoughts, accompanied only by the trickling of spring water and the gentle glow of starlight, he had resolved to keep his irritation to himself. At least, he thought, to the best of his ability. After all, Gimli wanted to give his friend a good experience among his Dwarven kindred. Legolas did not wish to disappoint his sturdy companion, either by his fouled mood or by his fear of being trapped beneath the earth. As the night waned, he had readied himself for the coming day, resolved and accepting of whatever this forced time with the Dwarves would bring.

************

The halls and passages were alive with sounds and scuttling as the Dwarves made their separate ways to wherever each began the day. Legolas walked without pause, ignoring some of the more curious looks cast his direction. It seemed the news of his ‘illness’ was a source of bewilderment and gossip for the more talkative of the inhabitants. Hushed whispers and sideways glances clung to him like his own shadow. But the Elf strode on purposefully, acting as if he had seen or heard nothing.

“Master Legolas! You’re up and about again, I see!”

Legolas’ pace slowed as the voice registered in his mind. Mistrust flared up inside him, but when he turned, his face was as unreadable as ever.

“Greetings, Master Kori,” said the Elf. “Indeed, I am. I was just on my way to find Gimli and ask if there was anything I could do to make myself useful.”

Without missing a beat, Kori took a step forward.

“I’m sure there is something for you here. It is unfortunate for you, being forced to stay with us for such a length of time. But there is much to be done in Aglarond. In fact….” He paused a moment as if thinking. “There is one thing that needs doing. It would be a bit of a stretch for one of our kind, but you look to be the perfect height.”

“What is it?” Legolas asked. His emotions battled beneath his ‘mask’ of calm. No matter what this Dwarf had said previously, no matter the apologetic appearance, Legolas had lived too long to be blind to a double motive in even the most seemingly innocent of souls. Kori seemed a mite too eager to help too often. And that was a rare trait in any Dwarf. Aside from this, the overseer had sent the Elf into the deepest bout of Sea Longing he had endured in a long time. Legolas swallowed hard, as if the taste of salt had not yet left his mouth.

“Well, you see,” Kori began, “about a month ago, we carved our way into a large cave deep within the mountain. To our immediate dismay, there were no jewels to be found, but soon after we stumbled on something we did not expect. Upon further investigation, we discovered that a stream of some sort runs above the stone of the cave’s ceiling. The stream would be an excellent reserve source in the event of an emergency shortage. The only trouble is it’s a good way above our heads. Even you would need a ladder, but being one of…um…advanced stature, you should be able to access the stream nicely and far more speedily than we could. Already there are channels dug into the cave floor to route the water.”

Kori paused, his gaze suddenly sweeping the Elf’s face. His dark, bristly brows rose a little in what appeared to be an almost sarcastic display of an apology.

“Of course, I realize my request does not come naturally for one of your kind. A hammer and pick never quite sit well in the hands of an Elf. But you’re definitely tall enough that it wouldn’t take long for you finish the job. Dwarves are not very gifted in the way of balance, as you know. The stream is small and should be easily accessible. Are you up for the task?”

Legolas hesitated. He wanted to do something to keep him active and to hinder his mind from dwelling on his frustrating situation. But the thought of venturing deep into the bowls of the mountain caused a bolt of unease to pierce his chest. Elves and dark holes beneath the earth simply did not go together. And what was more, his faith in Kori had all but disappeared the moment Legolas had tasted of the sea in his mug. The Elf leveled his powerful gaze over the Dwarf before him, searching for some sign of treachery hidden there. Something like mischief danced beneath the friendliness of Kori’s dark eyes.

“If you still feel unwell, I am sure that I can find something less strenuous for you to do,” said the Dwarf. The look that accompanied the suggestion was innocent enough, but beneath the concern, something other than pity lurked. Legolas had seen it as surely as if a banner had passed between Kori’s eyes.

A challenge.

“No, Master Kori,” began the Elf, returning the same message. “I am recovered. Lead the way.” His response had betrayed nothing, but in his deep, blue eyes, it had been spoken.

I accept.

****************

Stifling. That was the word that came to Legolas’ mind as Kori led him by torchlight deeper and deeper into the earth. The cavern’s smoothed walls had grown slowly wilder and untouched the farther they went. Without the light of the torch’s fire to guide them, the darkness would have been total. A sort of heaviness weighed on the Elf’s heart with each step. His ingrown aversion to the depths of the earth was making every breath a struggle. The ground began sloping downward, and the floor became slick with sediment. A small voice inside him whispered urgently for him to turn back, to escape this dank pit and the horrid Dwarf leading him ever deeper into the darkness. But he did not heed its pleading. Instead, he lifted his chin a little higher, and strode on.

Suddenly, the ground leveled off and Legolas found himself in the cave. The floor was muddied, and water dripped from the ceiling, creating an empty, echoing melody. Just as Kori had said, small channels leading to vacant pools had been dug into the ground to contain the flow once freed. Kori waved the torch slowly this way and that, as if inspecting the job his workers had left behind. Then he turned and faced the Elf.

“Listen,” he said.

Legolas did so. There was a low gurgling sound coming from above him.

“That’s what we need you to reach,” said the Dwarf, lifting his torch high, and shedding light on the rocky roof. The ceiling was about 3 feet above Legolas’ head. He would need something like a ladder to stand on, or perhaps he could find a large box….A grin hidden in the darkness stole over his face at the sudden memory.

“Now, I know it is a bit high, even for you,” Kori stated. “My workers used a ladder in the far corner over there. Some of them attempted to break through already as you can see by the smattering of stone chips round about. But, as I’ve said, the height was simply too much of a strain for them. They left their picks and a hammer down here as well.”

The Dwarf made his way to one side of the cave and sure enough, the harsh orange light of the torch revealed the needed equipment exactly where he had said. Moving over to the wall, Kori waved the flame back and forth, searching. Finally, he found what he was seeking. Another unlit torch was placed in a small iron ring protruding from the wall. It was a good foot above his head.

Standing on the end of his toes, Kori lit the torch and faced the Elf once more.

“Well, I believe that’s it,” he said, grinning. “It is all yours, my friend! Now, if you need any assistance, I shall be overseeing the clearing of a new branch of caverns to the east side. As soon as the water is freed, the rest will take care of itself. Any questions?”

“I cannot think of any.”

“Very well, then! I shall leave you to your work.” With a bow, Kori turned and began marching back up the path. Legolas watched him go, with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He was now left alone, with nothing but a pick, a hammer, and the sound of gurgling water. The Elf couldn’t help but wonder if this would turn out to be another one of Kori’s ‘accidents’.

He stood there in the semi-darkness for a long moment, listening, feeling. But this only caused his heart to beat faster and his breath to quicken. Blasted mountain.

Enough of this, he told himself mentally. Move.

Legolas made his way over to the tools. He knelt down, hefting the hammer in his hands as if testing the weight of a weapon. His eyes followed the ladder all the way up to its top, judging the length and sturdiness of the object. The ladder was solid and the rungs were wide; obviously they were made for Dwarven hands and feet. The Elf knew he would have little problem scaling it. He chose a pick that looked the least used. A feeling of satisfaction washed some of his foreboding away. No matter what the Dwarf had said, Elves did indeed use picks and hammers, although perhaps not in the same way. Some of his kindred were sculptors, fashioning beautiful images out of a mound of shapeless stone or wood. Dwarven hands formed chiseled walls and hefty columns. Impressive as they were, they were not beautiful to his Elven eyes.
To see my kindred in Imladris once more, Legolas thought as he mounted the ladder and began to climb. Their craftsmanship is truly something to behold. But…they are almost all across the sea by now.

As he had surmised, within moments the ladder was scaled. The sound of the burbling water above him eased the tension within his heart still more. In his mind’s eye, Legolas could see the Nimrodel, could hear the songs the Elves sung of her and the stream that bore her name. This brook had a different voice: one of stone and earth. Yet the unmistakable voice of the water soothed him.

He set the pick, lifted the hammer up for the first strike, and began.

***********

Sweat dripped off the end of his nose. Legolas ran a hand over his face, but perspiration was soon trailing down again. His neck was beginning to stiffen from its prolonged position, and his hands were growing numb from the repetition of the strikes. But this was not what was causing the beads of liquid to pool on his forehead.

The cave had grown steadily hotter. Elf as he was, the heat had not bothered him for a long time. But the intensity had increased to such an extent that even he felt its force.

Legolas stopped working abruptly, rubbing a wet strand of hair from his eyes. Something was not right. He leapt off the ladder, landing lightly on his feet. Quickly, he dropped the tools and swiped the lone torch from its ring. He then made his way to the far side of the cave.
Legolas blinked furiously, the amount of heat growing more staggering the closer he got to the stone wall. Never in all his days had the world felt so hot! By the time the Elf reached the wall, the temperature was nearly unbearable. Hesitantly, Legolas placed a hand on the rocky surface. He instantly regretted it. The Elf jerked his hand away, swearing aloud. It was almost as if a fire had been lit within the stone. Legolas swore once more as he looked down at the blisters now forming on his hand from the burn.

A noise suddenly drew his attention from his stinging fingers. He paused, still glancing at his hand, listening intently. It was coming from beyond the stone. It was distant, but approaching fast. A hissing. The light around him turned from a shadowy orange to a deep red. Legolas looked up. The cave wall was glowing, casting everything in an angry crimson. The floor began to tremble and a rending groan sounded, muffled only a little behind the rock. The Elf took a step back in alarm. Some evil was at work here. This was not something of rock or stone. This was of malice.

Legolas dropped his torch and began backing away, gaining speed as he went. He made for the entrance passage just as an explosion ripped through the cave wall.

The blast seemed to rip the earth out from beneath his feet. The Elf was thrown headlong into the passage. He landed hard, rock and debris raining down on him. Dust and smoke hung heavy in the air, and sweat stung his eyes. He attempted to stand, but the ground was rocking too violently. Stone crashed around him, and Legolas realized with sickening certainty that the cave was going to collapse.

Suddenly, a new noise joined the already tumultuous chorus of sounds. Shrill cries and shrieking voices began shouting in the cave, echoing off the remaining walls. The Elf knew that sound only too well from his hated trek through Moria.

Goblins.

Struggling to his feet, Legolas turned and looked back into the cave. Through the fog and rain of debris he could clearly make out the Goblins scrambling into the newly blown entrance like ants from a disturbed ant-hill. Their voices combined with the groaning earth were almost deafening. Dirty steel weapons were held in their hands, and their small bodies and bowed legs were protected by random pieces of armor. They filled the cave, screaming, scurrying about, completely frenzied. One caught sight of the Elf and gave a loud cry, pointing his sword in his direction. At least 20 pairs of Goblin eyes turned and fixed on him.

Legolas’ hands went to his back, but the familiar feel of knife handles was not there. Cursing himself beneath his breath, he turned and stumbled back up the passage. The tremors were becoming fiercer. He looked around for something, anything resembling a weapon. Seeing no alternative, the Elf stopped and scooped up a stone.

The Goblins were now in pursuit. They seemed to feel nothing as stones and dirt poured down on their heads. The lust for blood and the light of killing was in every slanted eye as they clambered over large rocks and scrambled towards their prey.

Legolas took aim at a particularly ugly creature and threw, scoring a direct hit full in the ghoulish face. The Goblin fell where he stood. The rest of the filthy horde kept coming, shrieking in rage over their fallen comrade. Legolas ran a few paces back, grabbed another rock, aimed, and tossed. A small, sniveling Goblin yelped in surprise as he fell from the blow.

The game of stop and go went on. Legolas would dispatch one of the foul creatures and then hastily retreat several paces, only to repeat the process once more. This went on for some time, until the rocks grew less and less and he was forced to begin pulling torches from the walls and launching them into the midst of the Goblins. A blast of cool breeze at his back told him he was coming out of tunnel. Relief flooded through him. Weaponless, he stood precious little chance against the frenzied horde at his heels. Hoping that someone would hear him, he began shouting out an alarm.

“Goblins! Goblins have breached the cave! Arm yourselves!”

A hissing noise was all the warning Legolas had as a Goblin arrow shot past him, barely grazing his shoulder as it passed. The shaft clattered against the wall, falling harmlessly to the ground.
The end of the path was in sight now, and already a few curious Dwarven faces were peering through the entrance. Immediately they began bellowing out an alarm, and by the time Legolas had raced into the open cavern half a dozen fully armed Dwarves had arrived, with more running down the halls towards them.

Legolas turned to face the coming storm.



*There you go! I hope to right more soon, but my sister is very...firm when it comes to keeping me from Lord of the Rings.*