Ringspell

Chapter 14.
The Great Halls...

It took a moment for Aragorn's eyes to adjust to the dim light. He blinked several times, trying to rid himself of the bright wall behind his eyes, and the dark spots in front of them. When finally, his vision returned, he saw the first of many wonders, to be found beneath the mountain.

The hall into which they entered, was not unlike that of Dol Guldur, in terms of its size and structure, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Dol Guldur had been unadorned and run-down, this place was an image of immeasurable wealth and power; a testament to the glory of days past. Every surface of the great hall was gilded in gold and mithril, every object encrusted with jewels and shimmering stones. The floor on which they walked, appeared to have been tiled with countless millions of tiny, dark rubies, little more than shards, laid down in thick layers, and polished into perfect smoothness.

Several large, double-doors were spaced along the far wall. There was also one, set in the middle of the wall to the right, and one to the left. All the doors were swung wide open, a welcoming sight. Also welcome, was the pulse of life under the mountain; Elves were wandering in and out of the large doors and several groups of a half-dozen or so, loitered around the hall, engaged in cheerful, casual conversation.

Pillars supported the roof of the giant hall, though more slender than those in the ante-chamber of Sauron's fortress, and far fewer in number. In the centre of the space, stood a fountain, fed by an underground spring.

Now, it must be said, that this was not a fountain such as would be found in any garden in Minas Tirith, or even in Rivendell or 'Lorien; the fountain was made completely of shining, pure mithril, reflecting light into the water and painting dancing ripples on the walls. The metal had been sculpted into a huge statue, several times taller than Aragorn.

It depicted a fierce Elven-warrior, bare-chested, astride a prancing steed, with bow drawn, arrow pointed towards the sky. Perched magnificently on the shaft of the Hunter's arrow, a clawed foot wrapped around the arrow-head, sat a giant bird of prey, it's wings spread gloriously about it's noble head, ready to take flight. Behind and to the side of the Hunter and his familiars, stood an enormous mithril tree, it's branches hanging low to dip delicate metal leaves into the fountain. Water must have been fed to the top of the mithril tree, as it dripped gentle droplets of artificial rain down on the Hunter, causing the room to be filled with shimmering reflection. It was an exquisitely crafted, delicate thing, the size and beauty of which Aragorn had never before seen.

"That," Boromir said "is truly magnificent."

Aragorn nodded mutely.

"How long did it take to make that thing?" Pippin asked.

Legolas said he did not know, it had been there for much longer than he had lived.

"It must be worth a fortune." Boromir whispered.

Aragorn threw the Captain of Gondor an irritated glance. It was, he thought, terribly inappropriate to think of putting a price on the beautiful work of art.

They lingered there, awestruck, for a few more moments, before Legolas moved them along, leading them past the fountain and out through one of double doors at the far end of the hall.

On the other side, it became apparent that all three huge doorways in the back wall of the first hall, led to another directly behind it. This was longer and more narrow that the chamber they had just left, and it's sides were lined with many doors, some open, some closed. It was obviously the central passageway, at least of this level, and as they passed down the long hall, several dozen Elves were seen, striding up and down the ruby floor, going about their business. The Fellowship barely noticed them though, driven to distraction by huge murals that graced every inch of the walls.

The paintings were stunningly vivid, the paint swathed over the stone in thick, decadent layers, and they were incredibly detailed in their depiction of the great conflicts of history. In one giant picture, Elves and Men were entrenched in gory battle against an endless tide of orcs that poured from the Black Gates of Mordor. In another, the Wood-Elves did battle amongst themselves, a vicious, blood-thirsty struggle for power against a backdrop of a burning forest. At the far end of the hall, where there was no door, an entire wall was devoted to the earth-rending struggle of the Gods against Melkor, the Enemy of the World, who appeared in the shape of a great black cloud, that spewed forth flame and lightning, roiling over the faceless, skeleton-like figures of his Maian generals. One of them, Aragorn knew, was Sauron.

"Through here, Aragorn."

Aragorn looked for the source of the words. Legolas and the others stood in one of the doorways on the left wall, waiting for him. Amazingly, Aragorn only then realized, that their group was not complete.

"Where is Gandalf?" He asked, looking up and the hall, for sign of the old wizard.

He looked back to Legolas, who gazed back at him with mild amusement.

"Gandalf left." The pretty Elf explained. "With Ada. While you were admiring the fountain." He added.

Aragorn felt a sudden urge to kick himself. It was unlike him, to be so easily distracted, and he promised himself he would not allow it to happen again.

"Where did they go?"

Legolas shrugged, he did not know.

"To Ada's library, I would guess."

Aragorn still felt unsatisfied; he had no idea where Thranduil's library was, and the inability to find Gandalf, should he need to, made him edgy. Nevertheless, everyone else appeared more than happy to let the old Man disappear, and so, sighing, Aragorn followed his friends through the open door.

The door had led them to a relatively small hallway, though still wide and tall enough to allow the passage of a Mamuk, should one choose to go there. It stretched out for about fifty meters before turning into a wide, steep flight of stairs. They began the trek down to the next level of Thranduil's underground palace and it was here that Aragorn first noticed a large gap that ran along the top edge of the wall, between it and the roof. Wandering to the other side of the stairs, he found a similar space. The gaps were about four inches wide and cut perfectly along the entire length of the hall. Through them, light poured down into the passage and Aragorn marvelled at the ingenious light source. He asked Legolas about it, but the Elf gave only a brief description, as though the light had never been of particular interest to him.

"The walls are all several feet thick, but mostly hollow." The Prince explained, "The light is fed by a system of mirrors from holes bored into the sides of the mountain." Legolas shrugged. "It works well enough. But then, I have never been given the task of climbing into one of those holes, to clean the mirror."

Aragorn began to scoff, before he realized the Elf was being serious.

"The bore-holes are placed out in the open, to allow the most sunlight. It is not uncommon for dirt and rain to make it inside. Of course, nothing ever makes it down far enough down to come out through the walls, but if a mirror becomes dirty, we all go without light until someone wipes it."

They continued down the stairs seemingly for ever, before finally stepping out of a door, and into another huge, long hall. This room was noticeably plainer than those of the first level, though still well-built and spotlessly clean. They travelled across the open space and immediately entered another door, that led to another set of stairs.

They moved down to the next level.

On arriving, the company found themselves at an intersection, where three hallways met the foot of the stairs. Legolas led them to the right and they followed the long straight passage for several hundred meters, passing innumerable closed doors as they went.

Eventually they came to a halt before a large double-door, it's solid, wooden surface, ornately carved into a wall of vines that twisted around thin lattice. As with everything Aragorn had seen under the mountain, the door was beautiful.

Standing outside the doors was a Hunter, dressed in deep red and with a large, nasty looking knife at his hip. On seeing Legolas, the guard bowed low, greeting his Prince in elvish, before taking a long key that hung from his belt, and unlocking the doors, pushing them open and standing back, to allow entry.

To be continued...