Ringspell

Chapter 6.


Home, sweet home…


The inside of the fortress was massive. A grand, sweeping staircase, carved from solid black rock descended into the huge antechamber, the ceiling of which was supported by row upon row of thick pillars, made of the same black stone, standing eternally at attention. To either side of the stairs, doors stood taller than two men on end. Four doors lined the left wall of the chamber, four on the right. The only disturbance in the foyer-like cavern was the sound of the Fellowship’s footfalls, echoing loudly around the space, as they tentatively stepped beyond the threshold and entered Dol Guldur.


"I don’t think we should be here." Frodo said, his voice quivering with fear.


As he spoke, so too the great hinges of the open doors let forth again, with their deafening squeal. As one, the Company turned to face the portal - just in time to see the giant doors swing shut, with an ear-splitting boom. Blackness enveloped the room for a moment and it suddenly seemed terribly cold in the old fort. Then, unbidden, a thousand candles that lined the walls, circled the pillars and swept up the giant staircase sprang to life, sputtering briefly before settling to fill the ante-chamber with a warm, almost welcoming light.


Aragorn’s trepidation got the best of him, in light of this seeming life in the fortress and he was no longer able to follow Gandalf blindly into this, the heart of the Shadow of Mirkwood.


"Why have you brought us here, Gandalf?" He demanded. "Good people have no business in a place such as this."


The others, muted by fear, nodded their agreement.


"Have patience, my friend."


Gandalf spoke calmly, trying to placate the Ranger, whose hand had not left the hilt of his sword for some time.


"All things may not be clear to you now but you will understand in time, that there are reasons for all that we do."


Aragorn was not buying the Wizard’s words.


"I cannot accept that." He said. "I want to know what we are doing here and I refuse to go further until you tell me."


"Apparently not all of us share your sentiment, Aragorn."


Boromir pointed towards the back of the chamber, where Legolas stood before the last of the doors on the left wall, his hand on the large, iron handle. As they watched, the young Elf pushed the door open and without a backward glance, stepped through. Gandalf moved to follow.


"Come quickly, now." The old Man said. "We do not want to be left behind."


Aragorn’s hesitation fled his mind as concern for his friend took over and he hurried, along with the rest, toward the door Legolas had entered.


Beyond the doorway lay a long, thin corridor, lit, as was the ante-chamber, by a multitude of candles, lining the walls. Legolas was nowhere in sight. They moved down the hallway cautiously, Aragorn leading in front of Gandalf, with Boromir taking up the rear, as was his custom. After several minutes, they came to a junction, where the corridor went off in two directions, one left, and one right. While the leftward hall was well-lit, the candles on the walls of the right corridor lay cold and long dead.


Aragorn hesitated at the intersection.


"Follow the light." Gandalf advised quietly from behind. "Where the Elf goes, Dol Guldur will light the way."


Armed with this new knowledge, however disturbing, Aragorn hurried down the left hallway, turned right at another intersection, then left, then left again. It soon became apparent that they were in a maze of criss-crossing halls and passageways and despite the aid of the candles, Aragorn found himself struggling to maintain a sense of direction.


They traveled down several steep flights of stairs, no longer intersected by any other passage, before, abruptly, the path they were following ended, at another large door. This portal was closed tight, but a crack of light shone beneath, indicating that this was the path their friend had taken. Half-expecting it to be locked, Aragorn reached out and was surprised when the door opened without protest.


Inside, they found what looked to be a natural cavern beneath the fortress, carved out not by hammers and chisels, but by the inexorable force of water, over thousands of years. A large lake flowed through the cave, emerging from beneath the wall closest to the door and disappearing around a curve. Unlike the rest of Dol Guldur, this space was not lit by candles, but an eerie light shone, seemingly from the beneath the water. The air was deathly cold.


They skirted the edge of the underground river, making their way around the bend, to find their lost friend standing before a short pillar, on top of which sat a large, smooth, dark orb. The object glowed and seemed to pulsate, as though it had a life of its own.


"Ah! There it is!"


Gandalf pushed past Aragorn, rushing towards Legolas and sweeping the orb into his possession, just as the young Elf reached out towards it. Legolas' face distorted with anger and he glared at the Wizard, as though prepared to fight for the thing, but the passion fled as soon as Gandalf wrapped the orb up, in the ample folds of his cloak. The old Man looked at the Elf for a moment, something akin to pity in his eyes, before turning and heading back the way they had come. He glanced back over his shoulder. Legolas hadn't moved.


"Come Legolas." He prompted, gently. "There is nothing more for you here."


Reluctantly, the young Elf took a step in their direction, his face clouded with sadness and the company moved slowly up the stairs, through the winding passages, back to the foyer of Dol Guldur.


Though the front doors were still firmly closed, the open space of the antechamber was a welcome sight for the Fellowship, all of whom had felt, keenly, the claustrophobic nature of the narrow passages beneath. They breathed deep the cool air and spread themselves around a little, enjoying their space. Frodo sat down on the first step of the staircase, exhausted, fingering the ring that hung heavily from his neck. Sam, ever concerned for his friend, sat next to him.


"We have to stop. Frodo needs to rest to rest for a bit." He said.


Aragorn nodded and turned to Gandalf.


"Is it safe here?" He asked.


"Oh yes." Gandalf confirmed. "We could probably find somewhere warmer though."


"There are rooms upstairs."


The company turned their eyes to Legolas, who had spoken for the first time since entering the fortress. Gandalf motioned for the Elf to go ahead.


"Lead the way." He said.


Legolas mounted the stairs and led them through a series of large rooms, all of which contained little in the way of furniture, until stopping before a large set of double doors. He pushed the doors open and, as usual, the room beyond was instantly lit, this time not only by candles; a large fireplace set into one of the walls had burst into life and the room was filled with a bright, cheery light. Looking around, Aragorn was shocked to see that this appeared to be the master bedroom of the fort and, unlike the rest, this room seemed to have once been lived in.


In the middle of the large space sat several cushioned chairs and a luxurious lounge, set around a long, low table. There were also several large wooden desks, presumably where the enemy had once sat and drawn his plans against the world. Amazingly, the surfaces were still covered with parchments, as though the owner had left in a great hurry. At the far end, directly across from the entrance a huge bed, covered with layers of red and black satin stood on a landing some feet above the rest of the room, accessible by stairs that descended on all sides. Satin and velvet in the same dark red and black was draped over every object and hung in thick, decadent folds from the walls and pillars, capturing the warmth of the fire. All in all, Aragorn decided, the room was quite comfortable and would serve them well.


Almost immediately they entered the room, the company began to find places suitable for rest; all four hobbits fought for space on the lounge, while Gimli, Gandalf and Boromir all snuggled down comfortably into the cushioned chairs. Aragorn looked around and, loathed to lay his body down on what was obviously Saurons' bed, decided to explore the fort, curiosity overcoming tiredness.


On his way out he was pulled up by Legolas.


"Where are you going?" The Elf asked.


A strange air had come over the young warrior, there since they had first seen Dol Guldur at a distance and Aragorn was at once concerned and fascinated by it.


"I thought I might look around a bit." Aragorn looked closely at his friend. "Would you care to join me?"


Legolas nodded and they headed slowly back towards the foyer. They walked in silence, accompanied by the rhythmic clop of Aragorn’s boots on the stone floor. When they reached the great antechamber, Legolas turned to the Ranger.


"Was there anything in particular you wanted to see?" He asked.


Aragorn suggested he might like to see the view from the parapet, and Legolas led him to the left-hand door, closest the entrance. They passed down several thin hallways and climbed innumerable stairs, candles lighting the way as they went, before coming out on the highest parapet of the keep. As they stepped out into the cool night air, torches, set at intervals along the wall burst joyously into flame and this time Aragorn had to ask.


"Why does it do that for you?"


Legolas gazed out over the roof of the forest. Silently. It was all Aragorn could do to control his frustration and he ground his teeth audibly. Legolas, unperturbed, maintained his muted vigil. Aragorn decided to try a different approach.


"You know this place and it knows you."


It was more an accusation than a question and he instantly regretted his tone. Legolas however, was moved to respond.


"I have been here before."


It was obvious that the young Elf wanted the conversation to end there, but Aragorn could not contain his interest


"When?" He asked, and then thought of a more pertinent question. "Why?"


Legolas sighed quietly. When he spoke, it was little more than a whisper.


"I want to tell you, Aragorn…"


"But?"


Legolas hesitated for what seemed an eternity.


"I am afraid." He finally said.


"Of what?"


The Elf turned and laid his beautiful eyes upon Aragorn, a move which never failed to stop the Ranger’s heart.


"If I tell you what you want to know, you will no longer think me your friend."


Aragorn’s questioning was halted in its tracks. He narrowed his eyes, contemplating the truth of the Elf’s statement. This was a possibility he had already considered; that this noble Prince might have some secret association with their enemy. As long as it was only a suspicion, it could be pushed from his mind, discounted as paranoia; but should the lovely creature now confirm it, how would he react? Was it true that he would no longer call Legolas ‘friend’?


- The friend of your enemy is your enemy - The voice in his mind advised. His reverie was cut short; the Elf had decided for him.


"Forget it, Aragorn. It is of no importance."


The finality of Legolas’ tone forbid further discussion and Aragorn stood quietly beside him, admiring the star-filled sky and trying hard not to think. He failed.


It seemed the more time he spent with Legolas, the more questions were raised about the quiet Elf.
Even before the meeting at Rivendell, Aragorn had already known more about Mirkwood's Prince than most. He knew that he was about five hundred years old and that he was the sole heir to Thranduil's throne. He also knew that there was some question as to his parentage; Thranduil's beautiful wife had been kidnapped and the King had thought her stolen by Sauron and brought to Dol Guldur. When he came to retrieve her though, he returned not with his queen but with a small child. Few believed that Thranduil, whose love for his bride was renowned in the land, would have fathered a child with another female and it was generally accepted that Legolas was an orphan, adopted because the King was without an heir.


Beyond that, the only thing known for certain was that Legolas was terribly mistreated by the one he called 'father' and his life under Thranduil's wing had been a constant struggle for acceptance and even survival.


Aragorn came to a decision. No matter what Legolas might say, he would still be his friend. Nothing in this gentle, suffering creature's past could erase the feelings Aragorn harbored for him and, infatuation aside, this Elf had already saved his life and the lives of others in the Fellowship, more times than Aragorn could count.


The knowledge that he might not have seen another day, were it not for one who fought by his side obliterated all doubt and reservation and left room only for friendship and loyalty. Mustering his courage, Aragorn asked the question that burned in his mind.


"Are you Saurons' child?"


For a long time the Elf did not move or speak and Aragorn feared he had made a terrible mistake.


Finally, Legolas responded.


"Perhaps you should return to the others, Aragorn." He said flatly.


Stunned, it took Aragorn a moment to realize he had just been callously dismissed. Feeling put-out, he turned and without farewell, left the Prince to his secrets.


The whole way back to Saurons' room, Aragorn regretted, fiercely the accusation he had made. He had thought Legolas would answer him gladly and now he felt stupid for it. The Elf had made it clear he did not want to discuss the matter and when pushed, had retreated swiftly into his shell. The thought of awkward silences hanging between them again made Aragorn want to hit himself.


Despondent, he returned to the huge bedroom and, finding the rest of the Fellowship fast asleep, he laid his blankets on the floor and succumbed to exhaustion.


To be continued...