Middle-Earth Role Playing Campaign

"And enter the Trollshaws," added Mîriel. "The only consolation there is trolls aren't as well organized as Angmar, so they will not be actively hunting us. But we are not out of the woods yet, so to speak."

"Much better to be out of Angmar than in it," said Bradlegar. "And I'd love to see the sun again."

Before leaving, they entered the cavernous room again and searched through it, for they had neglected it the night before after discovering the trolls' secret room. Nothing of value they found there, and after opening a crate containing an assortment of rotting heads they decided against further exploration.

"Before we leave," Luinár suggested, "we should search this cave for mosses and fungi that Mîriel could use."

Rhôn was not at all enthusiastic about the idea. "You not guy who has to go around with nose on floor here!" he rumbled.

"Besides," said Mîriel, "this place is inhabited, not like the Sparkling Cavern. The only reason you found gefnul and jegga back there was it was able to grow undisturbed."

Luinár protested, but Rhôn and Mîriel held firm: it was a waste of time to search the troll-hold for plants, and dangerous to do so outside, where they could be seen on the mountain. She eventually agreed, reluctantly, and accompanied the others outside.

Overnight the weather had changed again, and was now warm and pleasant. Not a trace of snow was to be found, despite Bauglir's prediction just the day before of a storm. "This is a strange occurrence," he said, "as if the Witch-King had brewed up the storm for some reason, then decided he did not need it after all. But look there! See what strange clouds form to the north between us and Litash."

Strange clouds they were indeed, dark and roiling, but staying in one place, neither advancing nor retreating. Then there came a low, ominous sound, almost too low to be heard, but forceful, echoing about the entire pass.

Rhum.

They looked at each other, wondering what it might be. "Drums," said Bauglir. "What they are trying to say, I do not know."

"Drums or not, we should be on our way, and quickly! The pass is protected by Orcs, but they are not out during the day. It will take more than clouds and drums to stop me now!"

The low noise rumbled again. Rhum.

"Let's see where this path leads," said Luinár, and concentrated for a while. Then she exclaimed, "We are in luck! I have cast a path lore spell and see this trail runs for about a mile and a half. It descends to an elevation lower than where we are now, then down a steep bank where it meets a good road."

"Oh, good!" said her sister. "We get to travel the main path so they know where to look for us!"

"But I doubt we will be molested on that road," said Dennenor.

At Dennenor's suggestion, Bauglir cast a shade spell to reduce the misfortune they would be seen. And with Luinár, Rhôn, and Dennenor in the lead, they rode the path from the troll-hold down to the main road. Still the ominous sounds rolled through, always spaced half a minute apart. Rhum. Rhum. Rhum.

In less than twenty minutes they reached the steep bank that separated them from the road. In turn, some riding, some leading their horses, they each traversed this last obstacle and at length all stood together on the road. A good road it was, with a clean, smoothed surface. To the north it descended into the valley, and southward rose into a pass between two mountain peaks.

Rhum. Still the drum rolls echoed through, but now were joined by the sounds of many horns. Bradlegar pointed above.

"Crows!" he called. "I don't like the way they're flying, for they appear to be coming toward us!"

"So let's ride!" said Mîriel. "The most dangerous things in the pass are Orcs, and they're not coming out during the day!"

And with that they kicked their horses to a trot and began the ascent of the pass. Behind them the drums rolled and horns blew, and the crows followed their passage.

"This is the pass I have seen in my visions twice before," said Dennenor. "I think we are safe here and will not be attacked. But we should take care as we leave it, for in both visions I saw danger behind and ahead!"

Dennenor was right: although sounds of battle came from the north and their progress was followed by the crebain, nothing challenged them as they rode. They passed by a large cave without giving it a second glance, and within two hours reached the summit of the pass. Two watch towers stood there, one on either side of the road, but they were crumbling; their crowns had been broken and rubble lay scattered about the base.

Now the road began to descend before them, and on they rode, hearts rising as they realized they were finally escaping the Witch-King's realm. Still the crebain pursued, but they paid them no attention.

But now they came upon a series of curious sights. Half an hour from the summit they saw the body of a warg laying at the side of the road; Mîriel guessed it had been dead two days. An hour later they startled a pack of wolves feasting on a kill of some sort, the animals scattering as the group clattered toward them. Too little remained of the animal to be identified, so they picked up the pace once again.

An hour after that they passed by broken wagons scattered about the road, overturned and empty, the contents apparently untouched. "Twenty-three wagons," said Bauglir as they left them behind. "That means at least twenty-three people, if not more, perished back there."

And within half an hour they came upon the bodies of a dozen Easterlings, each pierced through as if by a spear. They hauled up short at the sight of them.

"Easterlings are riders," said Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn. "Where are horses?"

"Over there." Bauglir pointed to a clutch of dead horses fifty yards ahead of them.

"Like the warg we saw earlier, these men have been dead for about two days," said Mîriel after a quick look at the bodies.

"What could have done this?" asked Dennenor. "It appears as though something very destructive roared through here within the last couple of days."

"Not Orcs," said Bradlegar. "Look over there." He motioned to the other side of a small stream to yet another cluster of bodies. But they were of Orcs, not men. Crossing the stream, they rode over to the bodies to examine them. All showed the same strange puncture marks they had seen on the Easterlings. But there was something even more interesting near the bodies: a trail several feet wide, a furrow almost, rose on a steep angle up the mountain side.

Luinár dismounted and examined the trail closely. "I can see footprints here like those of an Orc, possibly an Uruk, that has come up this trail," she said. "But it could not have made this trail--that has been done by something larger."

"Do we really need to know what made the trail?" asked Bradlegar. "What's the risk of following it compared to the risk of not knowing what made it?"

"There's something dangerous up there, and I don't like not knowing what it is," Luinár responded.

Dennenor dismissed the comment. "We made it out of Angmar unhampered by a lack of information."

"True," she replied, "but there were many times information would have speeded our progress. It will not take us long to ride this trail and discover what made it." And with that she mounted her horse again and began riding. Bradlegar followed, and reluctantly the others did also.

They had gone only thirty feet when Luinár pointed to scuff marks on the ground, as if something had been dragged, and pointed out dried blood as well. Then Rhôn called for a stop and motioned everyone over to him. Solemnly he pointed to the ground, urging the others to look there.

A giant three-clawed footprint with a fourth claw in the back, nearly ten feet from tip to tip, was clearly visible.

"I don't like the look of that," said Bradlegar. "Nor of this!" He pointed to three distinct holes a little further on. "Whatever it was that came up here, it's left claw marks right in the mountain's rock. I think it was dragging something. And on either side"--he pointed to sand and dust that had been blown about--"the trail has been dusted down."

"As if the creature had wings," said Dennenor. He spoke what the others up to now had been avoiding. "If this was a dragon, why was it walking up the mountain and not in flight?"

"Bradlegar says it was dragging something," said Bauglir. "I suspect it may have been hauling something very heavy back to its lair."

Luinár spoke. "And it was a dragon."

Everyone turned to look at her. "How can you be so certain?" asked Bauglir.

"I cast a tracks lore spell just after I saw the footprint," she replied. "Dennenor was right, we are following the trail of a dragon. It is about a hundred feet long, and bright red."

This revelation had a sobering effect on the others. They stood silent for a minute, gazing at each other, trying to determine what they would do next. Bauglir spoke first. "Now we know why the pass is not full of troops - anything that can catch Easterlings on horseback is very fast indeed. And a dragon is fast."

"And why Angmar was willing to let us escape through the southern pass," Mîriel added. "They figured we wouldn't make it."

"Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn does not want to make camp with dragon so close," said the Wose.

"Then we attack it in its lair," said Mîriel.

"Are you mad?" asked Bradlegar. "Sure, we've taken towers, trolls, and Orcs, but a dragon? A huge, fire-breathing dragon?"

But the Hobbit's voice was all but ignored, for suddenly everyone else was talking of taking on the creature. "We have more of an advantage attacking the dragon in its lair than when it is in full flight," Bauglir was saying.

Mîriel, always the planner, added, "Yes--if we get get close enough and you can inflict enough damage on it to prevent it from flying, then just keep pounding on it!"

Even Dennenor, not normally the one to rush into things, said, "Every time we launch into a foolhardy maneuver like this, we have actually come out of it quite well--the mine, the tower, Durax."

"So like we did at the tower, I call for a poll," said Araquenval. "I say we attack."

Bradlegar jumped at the opportunity to be heard. "I'm not too sure about this," he said.

"Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn wants good night's sleep. Sleep better with dragon gone."

"I'm in favour of a frontal assault," said Bauglir. Then he smiled slightly and added, "While invisible and from behind!"

"A dragon is dangerous and a threat to the people of Middle-Earth," Dennenor declared. "It is best it not be around."

"Ah," said Mîriel. "Dennenor wants the glory! That's all right by me--I'll be content with its treasure!" But even as she smiled, she shook her head. "I don't know how I'll put you all back together, but I'll come along and help as best I can."

Now Luinár said the unexpected. "Except for the Hobbit, you're all stupid!"

Bauglir looked at her with some surprise. "You're usually the one to recommend going in where others fear to tread!"

"But we're talking about a dragon here!" She looked at Bradlegar. "But if he's willing, I'll follow."

The Hobbit was taken aback. "I was actually going to follow you!" He paused, thinking, knowing they had already lost the poll. "But let's go. I think together we can take it." He pulled the multicoloured arrow from his quiver and examined it. "Fael-Linnis said I would know when to use this. I'd don't know if this is the time or not, but it gives me confidence."

Luinár grinned, then called out with mock authority, "Dragon, come out with your wings up, or I will send in my Hobbit!"

But Bauglir was gazing up the trail, almost oblivious to the others speaking around him. "Treasure," he was saying to himself. "Treasure! The wealth of kings is up there. I will surely get my share of it."

Having decided they were going to attack, they spent nearly an hour in conference, discussing tactics, reviewing spells, examining Mîriel's supply of herbs. She examined again the phial they had taken from Durax, and this time determined the pasty substance it contained was the deadly poison acaana. "If the dragon is unable to resist this," she said, "it will die very quickly." She handed it to Bradlegar. "Spread this on an arrow, then shoot it. It's possibly our best chance." The astonished Hobbit took the phial and gingerly put it into his belt pouch.

Mîriel then pulled a moss from her pouch, broke it into sections, and gave a piece each to Luinár, Dennenor, Bauglir, and Bradlegar. "It's possible for people to get badly hurt out there and I can't go out and stand underneath the dragon to save you. When eaten, this will cure a broken bone in seconds. But remember to set the bone first before eating, or it will heal crooked."

Remembering Dennenor had eaten the last of his kathkusa in the fight with the trolls the night before, Luinár asked Bauglir if he would give his leaf to him. The nobleman agreed, but reluctantly, muttering how this upset his attack plans and how he wanted a portion of Dennenor's share of the treasure. The Elf accepted the kathkusa but said nothing about sharing his lot.

"Fear is our greatest problem," said Dennenor. "Many a tale is told in Imaldris of how great fighters approached a dragon with confidence, only to turn and flee at the first sight of the foe. Were such a thing to happen here, it could well cut our attacking force in half, with the best fighters turning to run."

"I can help there," said Mîriel. "Once we are in range, I will cast an area protection spell on Bradlegar. As Fael-Linnis said, he is stout of heart, and I suspect the least likely to flee in terror. If you stay within ten feet of him, you will benefit from the spell and improve your own chances when you first see the dragon. If enough of us are able to stand our ground, we should then enter its lair and scatter, and attack from all sides. But if more than three of us run, the others should run also."

"I think we are ready to kill the dragon," said Araquenval. "Let's go!"

They mounted their horses and began a careful ride up the path left by the dragon. Steep was the grade, and the climb difficult, and it took some twenty minutes to reach the far end. It was an eerie ride, too, for they heard no other sound, not even birds or insects; indeed, there seemed to be no life at all in the land. At length they came to a ledge, about six feet deep and nearly twenty wide. There a huge hole, almost thirty feet wide, was cut in the mountain side. A smooth walled tunnel led back from the opening and down, but not even Rhôn could tell how far it went. From the tunnel wafted a stale and unpleasant smell. Their horses became restless, pulling on the reigns. Each dismounted in turn.

"Shall we go in on horseback?" asked Luinár.

"No," Mîriel replied. "Their hooves would make too much noise. We'll have to hobble them here on the shelf and go in on foot. Let's hope the dragon isn't out and about right now!"

Rhôn was gazing intently into the opening in the mountain. "Tunnel is darker than night of Angmar," he said, "and Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn cannot see its end. But if group takes torches or lanterns, they may betray our approach."

"Then how would we see to fight?" asked Dennenor. "As an Elf, I can see in starlight, but not in a darkened room."

"When battle starts we light torch or lantern, so others can see," said Rhôn.

"First things first," said Araquenval. "Even now we know not the extent of the tunnel. I will ask Burzot to fly in a distance and check for me." He called forth the bat from the helmet where it had been sleeping. Burzot flew in a considerable distance, but before it went out of range its master called it back.

"It extends further than three hundred feet," said Araquenval. "I would think much further, for not even Burzot could find the end. To him, it seemed to go on forever."

"Let's see if I can figure this out," said Luinár, quickly removing her armour, for she could not cast spells wearing it. She concentrated a minute, then surprised and apprehension crossed her face. "It is longer than any of us expected!" she exclaimed, reaching for her armour. "The path lore spell told me it runs for fully half a mile inside the mountain. It ends in a large cavern, where I saw a lake and an even larger cavern beyond."

Dennenor started. "The vision I saw that night upon the paluntundo when I looked into the olorondo of Fael-Linnis! We were passing by a large lake, and Bradlegar ran past me when we saw a treasure of incalculable wealth. I ran after him, and there the vision was cut short by a creature I did not even see." He looked at the Hobbit, and with uncharacteristic sternness, ordered him, "Bradlegar, whatever you do, do not run ahead of us alone!"

Bradlegar said nothing, but the expression on his face said he would not be running anywhere, no matter the reason.

"One thing is for certain," said Mîriel, "if we take this journey, there is no retreat. Once we enter the dragon's lair, we must fight."

"Then let us go!" said Bauglir. There was an urgency in his voice, and to Mîriel he did not seem to be his usual measured self. "Once we have killed the dragon, we shall plunder its treasure and all be rich beyond our dreams! And I can dream big!"

"Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn can see in dark, so he will go first," said the Wose. He entered the tunnel, and the others followed, some eagerly, some with growing anxiety.

The tunnel indeed was dark. Less than two hundred feet in, the light from the entrance seemed to fail altogether, leaving them in utter blackness. They groped along as best they could in the blackness, ears and eyes straining. Even in darkness so absolute, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn could see a short distance in front of him, so he led and the others followed. Araquenval sent Burzot out again, using the bat's sonar to be his eyes and ears. Fortunately for them, the floor was smooth, and they did not step into pits nor trip over loose rocks.

The air was thick but uneven, for they often ran into pockets of foul smelling gas. Every once in while they would feel something from the ceiling brush on their faces. Cobwebs, Luinár thought.

Suddenly something on the floor flashed in the dark and a loud crackling noise echoed through the tunnel. "What was that?" gasped Bradlegar, as quietly as he could.

"I'm not sure," came Bauglir's voice in the darkness. "It flared up when I stepped on it. We may have just rung the front door-bell."

"We're still a fair distance away from the end of this tunnel," whispered Luinár. "Let's keep going."

So they ventured on while the darkness grew all the more oppressive. Their very breaths seemed to echo now on the walls, their footfalls sounding to them like hammers striking the ground. Slowly, carefully, they groped forward, one hand on the shoulder of the person in front, the other held out beside to feel for the wall.

Another bright flash erupted from the floor. More loud crackling. They all stopped short and Araquenval muttered something in Elvish. After a moment's pause, he said, "That's the second one. Both times it's been a spell caster that set it off."

"Just the luck of the draw, I would think," said Mîriel. "We are seven, and four of us can cast spells. Let's keep going."

Another five minutes of groping in the dark, then Araquenval stopped. "Burzot informs me the tunnel is coming to an end. Just ahead of us is the first cavern."

The cavern may have been a short flight to Burzot, but it took the group another five minutes of careful walking before they felt the air about them suddenly become cooler and somehow less oppressive. Somewhere ahead water dripped down from an unknown source, hitting the rocks below with a ping that seemed to be magnified a hundredfold.

"Now in cavern," came Rhôn's voice. "Can see big lake ahead."

"Wait," said Araquenval. "I want to use the olorkorna." The others stood silently, waiting for him. He spoke again sooner than expected. "That was a waste of a good intuitions spell. I imagined myself running forward, shouting for the dragon to come out. I could see nothing, then suddenly I fell into something very cold and wet."

"Elf ran into lake," said Rhôn. "Stay to left. And recall vision of Warrior Elf. Little man saw treasure, so must be some light down here. Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn now passes you rope. Hold on to rope or go for swim."

He did as he said, passing the rope back to the others, then leading them in a wide arc to the left. Immediately behind him was Luinár, and behind her came Dennenor, Bradlegar, Mîriel, Araquenval, and Bauglir. The ground was slick here and sloped to the right towards the lake, but thanks to Rhôn's careful path finding and the rope no-one lost their footing.

At last the long, dark journey was rewarded. From a huge cavern beyond came a soft glow, and at the back of that cavern was a shelf. And on that shelf, even from this distance, all could see a great hoard of treasure. The dragon was nowhere to be seen. They stopped a short distance back from the entrance to the larger cavern.

"We should break out the kathkusa," said Luinár, speaking in low tones. "Just put it to your mouth--don't eat it yet." Rhôn and Dennenor followed Luinár's advice, gripping the last of the orange leaf between their teeth.

"We should also get more information before running in," murmured Araquenval. "I'm sending in Burzot." The bat flew in, but executed only two small circles inside the lair before flying directly back to is master.

"What did he see?" asked Luinár anxiously.

Araquenval whispered back. "He didn't see a dragon. There are large stones in there, like icicles made from rock. They hang from the ceiling and rest upon the ground. To the right where we cannot see is a large pillar that seems to run from the floor to the roof. So large is it that three of us could hide behind it. Wait ... I shall now try the olorkorna again."

Once more Araquenval peered into the blue stone, and again he spoke sooner than the others expected he would. "It appears the dragon is wary and clever," he said, still talking in quiet tones. "Using the olorkorna, I envisioned that I lit a torch and boldly walked into the lair. No sooner had I crossed the threshold than a great flame surged from the floor, and the spell thus ended. But three times can the stone do the intuitions spell, so I shall try again."

This time he spent a full minute with the stone in his hands, but his report was disappointing. "I stood back at a distance and called out, 'Oh great Dragon of the Pass, we come bearing gifts and information from the Witch-King. Do you deign to converse with us?' But I received no response, other than a laughter from the chamber beyond, so loud it seemed to shake the very foundations of the mountain."

"Yet your effort was not entirely wasted," said Mîriel, "for you have confirmed at last the dragon is indeed inside. He appears to like using fire, so now you can do something useful, like casting a spell or two that could protect us from it."

"Truly I would," Araquenval replied, "but last night I stored a confusion spell, and to cast others I would have to forfeit it."

"Well, before we do anything else, I will cast the protection spell we discussed earlier." Everyone waited for the few moments it took for her to prepare and cast. "There. As long as you stay within ten feet of Bradlegar, you will be less likely to panic when you first see the dragon."

"Thank you," said Araquenval. "Please stay here. I want to move back a few feet and light the lantern."

Leaving the close quarters of the group, Araquenval carefully stole back toward the entry tunnel, out of range of the others should the dragon decide to target him with a spell. But even as he did so, one of his feet slipped on a greasy stone and went out from under him. The Elf stumbled. Keeping his grip on the lantern, he put out his hands to break his fall, and the lantern clattered on stone floor.

Then in response there came an immense noise from the great cavern that shook the entire mountain and crashed about their ears, and the sound of the dragon's laughter made them feel suddenly very small and insignificant. It boomed again and the dragon spoke. "Come, come, my little urchins. Step forward that I may see you better!"

As Dennenor had feared, at the first sound of the dragon's voice many of them were struck with terror. Mîriel and Rhôn both froze in their tracks, completely overawed. Luinár and even Dennenor himself were seized with a tremendous panic, and turned and blindly fled from the dreadful clamour. In the dark their panicked feet followed the downward slope of the cave floor, and they both ran pell-mell into the freezing cold lake. Dennenor recovered quickly, making the surface and swimming toward shore, but Luinár in her plate armour sank like a stone to the bottom.

The dragon's laughter roared like a thunder crash through the mountain. "Leaving so soon, are we?" he taunted. "Scattering like roaches under a rock!"

Araquenval, Bauglir, and Bradlegar held their ground. The Hobbit gritted his teeth, pulled an ordinary arrow from his quiver, and applied the acaana poison to it from Durax's phial. While Bauglir looked about nervously, searching the great cavern for the dragon, Araquenval quickly lit his lantern and addressed their hidden adversary. "Oh great and powerful dragon, do you mind that I am lighting my lantern? I hope not ... some of my foolish friends appear to have splashed into your pond. We would like to pull them out--if you do not mind, of course! We are not quite used to be being in the presence one so awesome as yourself."

The dragon's voice rolled back to them, less mocking than before. "Who are you that speaks with such a silvery tongue? You're very clever, you." It paused briefly, as though thinking. "Did that old villain Skorba send you? I bet he wants my treasure too, doesn't he? Skorba was always very covetous."

Over by the lake, Dennenor made it to shore and climbed out. Luinár hit the bottom moments after running in: the water was just over her head. She tried to take a step toward shore, uncertain even which direction to go, but the weight of her armour was so great she could barely move. Panic crept in as she realized she was trapped underwater. But Dennenor, unaware Luinár was in mortal danger, stood watching at the edge of the lake, trying to determine what was happening.

"Is Skorba so weak that he now sends mice after the great Corlagon?" The mocking had returned to the dragon's voice. "Is he so foolish he thinks that I, the mighty Corlagon, am so feeble a mere party of humans can breeze in here and abscond with my riches?"

Brashly, Araquenval switched to Morbeth and taunted, "As a matter of fact, the great Skorba informed me he believes you to be somewhat of an imbecile."

Bauglir could scarcely believe his ears. "Stupid Elf!" he muttered under his breath.

Corlagon, too, obviously understood Morbeth. Hearing Araquenval's insult, he let loose a roar than nearly deafened the group; even Luinár, struggling for her life beneath the waters of the pool heard it. And suddenly Araquenval was yanked forward against his will and walked jerkily toward the entrance of the lair.

"Stupid Elf!" cried Bauglir again, running to grab Araquenval. But the Elf was under the dragon's control and with a deft swing sent Bauglir spinning backwards. Corlagon pulled Araquenval to the very entrance of his lair, and suddenly the Elf was engulfed in a fierce jet of flame that surged upward from the floor.

"Oh dear, did I put a ward there and not remember?" boomed Corlagon's voice from inside, mocking and unrepentant. The fire burned through Araquenval's backpack, destroying much of its contents, but the magical robe he wore resisted the flame. Hearing the commotion, Dennenor reached for his two-handed sword, then to his dismay realized he had dropped it in his initial panic. Churning noises bubbled from the lake behind him. "That beast even has allies in the water!" he thought. He pulled from its sheath the usriev he had carried in with him, thinking its long, slender blade would be of little use against a dragon.

Get that armour off, or it will be the death of you, Luinár thought to herself, still trapped beneath the cold waters of the lake. Desperately she scrambled for the straps that held on her breastplate. Strange lights formed and swirled in the wet blackness around her and she heard a faint ringing like a bell being sounded in the distance. With a mighty thrust she wrestled the heavy breastplate over her head and let it go, then with only seconds left shot to the surface. Frantically she splashed about, battling the frigid waters that seemed to be pulling her down again. Then her foot touched the something solid--the bottom. Knowing she was now close to shore, she fought her way to the edge and scrambled out. There she collapsed on the ground, gasping, trying to catch her breath.

Making his way back toward Corlagon's lair, Dennenor caught the glint of something lying on the ground. Approaching it, he was delighted to discover his sword laying where he had dropped it. He sheathed the usriev and picked up the sword, then continued his careful walk, arriving back at the entrance to the lair to see the smouldering remains of Araquenval's backpack on the ground. Mîriel and Rhôn were still standing where they had been before he took flight, while Araquenval and Bradlegar had made it inside the lair and were hiding behind the great pillar. Luinár and Bauglir were nowhere to be seen.

From his hiding place behind the pillar, Bradlegar pulled out the arrow of Fael-Linnis, loaded it into his bow, then peered around the column to a cluster of stalagmites and stalactites at the far side of the chamber. Something shimmering red was moving like a river among the stones. He looked back at Araquenval and pointed. "Over there!" he whispered. He popped the breldiar flower into his mouth.

"Excellent, my little friend," said Araquenval. "I am sending you over there." Bradlegar noticed the Elf held in his hand a paper the colour of light sand, and from this Araquenval read, although his face showed he was still smarting from the pain of his burned back. The paper flared when the incantation for the long door spell was complete, and Bradlegar felt an abrupt jerking sensation as though he had been pushed and pulled from both in front and behind. Suddenly the wall in front of him was different. He turned around and there in front of him, shining crimson, was the tail of biggest creature he had ever seen in his life.

Back at the lake, Luinár finally caught her breath, grabbed her sword, then got up and walked toward Corlagon's lair. By now her sister had finally recovered from the shock of hearing the dragon for the first time. Mîriel looked into the great cavern and there saw Dennenor running over to a large pillar to where Araquenval was standing. The Elf seemed to be staring toward a cluster of pillars deep within the cavern. She turned her gaze there and caught a glimpse of the dragon slithering like a snake among the stones.

Corlagon spoke again. "I think you're getting a little too close, my little worm! Let's see if I cannot persuade you to ... burn!" A small, brilliant ball of light materialized in mid-air about halfway between their respective hiding places. Araquenval and Dennenor watched it, transfixed. It darted to and fro a few times, then suddenly zipped over to the pillar and exploded in a large fireball. Fortunately for the two Elves, the fire was weak and did little harm, but Dennenor again was spooked and ran back to the entrance of the lair. Halfway across he stepped on another ward, narrowly missing its jet of flame as it shot up behind him. Running flat out past the entrance to the lair, he crashed full force into Luinár coming the other way, knocking them both off their feet to the stony floor.

Araquenval stood his ground and cast the confusion spell he had prepared the night before. Although he felt the spell go off, it seemed to have no effect at all. Mîriel, feeling courage suddenly rise within her, ran into the lair and over to Araquenval, hiding with him behind the pillar.

Behind the dragon, Bradlegar suddenly felt an tremendous urge to shoot the arrow he had tended since leaving Nan Fastataurë. Raising his bow, he whispered, "Yavanna, Fael-Linnis, Elbereth!" A streak of blue flame spurted from the magic arrow and Bradlegar loosed it from his bow. It sailed fast and true, piercing the thick scales of the dragon's hide, burying itself up to the fletchings in its back.

Then came a roar that seemed to lift the entire top off the mountain. The whole cavern shook as Corlagon bellowed his rage and pain at being struck with an arrow of dragon-slaying. And before he could recover, Bauglir suddenly appeared in front of him, reached out, and touched him on an arm with the palm of his hand. A tremendous icy blast of cold pain crashed through his chest and the great dragon roared again in fury. He backed away from Bauglir, who suddenly winked out again.

Seventy-five feet from where the mage had cast his ice-bolt, Bradlegar watched in horror as a great red wall suddenly surged toward him. As quickly as he could he darted away and down the length of the cavern wall, but the breldiar was working against him, slowing him down. The red scales struck him and slammed him against the cold rock. Bradlegar was trapped, pinned between the mountain and the angry dragon.

"Insolence!" roared Corlagon. "Come out where I will crush you!" He moved forward, furiously searching for any sign of his harassers. Behind him, Bradlegar fell to the floor, a searing pain ripping up and down his left side. Teeth gritted, the Hobbit crawled away as fast as he could with a broken hip. Tears filled his eyes as he painfully wrenched the bone into a position he believed felt proper, then gulped down the edram moss Mîriel had given him earlier.

Back at the pillar, Araquenval retreated out of Corlagon's line of sight and closer to Mîriel, who handed him kelventari for the burns on his back and arkasu to speed his healing. A strange and wild cry sounded from the entrance, and they turned to see an incredible sight: Luinár, dressed in little more than a thin under-garment and boots, burst into the room screaming a battle-cry, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn close behind.

Now the dragon stretched his wings and flapped them hard three times, rising into the air. Although he was still unaware of the Hobbit behind him, the gusts his wings whipped up sent Bradlegar tumbling. Grateful for the healing power of the edram, Bradlegar quickly regained his feet and retreated even further, backing up against the shelf where the dragon had his treasure stored above. Dennenor ran into the room, but again the sight of the dragon overpowered him and he stopped cold in his tracks.

Corlagon hopped free of his hiding place and settled down to the ground again, this time in the open. "I have done toying with my meal," he snapped. "Now it's time to feed!" He fixed his gaze on Luinár. Then he roared again, but this time from pain: Bradlegar had planted another well-aimed arrow into his back. The others moved in. From behind the pillar came Araquenval, dashing out strike him another glancing blow with an ice-bolt, while Luinár, charged on kathkusa, slashed open his other forearm. Black blood spurted from the wound. Corlagon flapped his wings again, blowing Rhôn and Luinár away like leaves in front of him. Nimble as a cat, the great dragon sprang backwards and up, landing fifty feet away on his treasure shelf.

"That was a waste of a good poison," muttered Bradlegar, for his second arrow was the one he had laced with acaana. He darted from the ledge wall and over to the cluster of stones where Corlagon had first been seen. Hastily Araquenval cast another ice-bolt, but it glanced off the dragon's hide and he scarcely seemed to notice. From the pair of stalactites where she had been blown, Luinár sprinted over to assist Araquenval, but when she was just a few feet away from him she tripped on an unseen stone and stumbled to the ground.

"Let's add some more light to the situation," called Mîriel, and a brilliant flash erupted on the dragon's nose. Corlagon blinked, then started, for Rhôn's boomerang had sailed in from the right and struck him on the side. But he kept his gaze on Araquenval and Luinár. "You two are right where I want you!" he growled, then pounced off the ledge at the pair. His right foot crashed down on Luinár, pinning her underneath.

Araquenval looked up in terror as the dragon's huge open jaws bore down on him. A horrible odour filled the air. Then suddenly everything was dark and the Elf felt a dreadful burning pain in his legs as the dragon's teeth bore into him. Corlagon raised his head, Araquenval's bleeding legs dangling limply out of his mouth. The lantern that up to now the Elf had been carrying fell and extinguished upon the floor.

Corlagon felt another stinging jab in his back. Where are these infernal arrows coming from? he thought furiously, still not knowing Bradlegar was hiding among the stones. Then came a jarring punch to his right leg: Luinár, fortunate the dragon was merely pinning her to the ground with his foot, had swung upward with her sword and struck hard. The dragon's leg jerked upward; Luinár rolled free. And Bauglir appeared again with yet another ice-bolt that smashed and stung on his hide. He dropped Araquenval out of his mouth and the Elf fell ten feet to the rock floor, alive but unconscious.

Now the dragon was being assailed on all fronts. Bradlegar fired yet another arrow into him, while in front and at his sides Luinár, Rhôn, and even Dennenor had all run in to engage him and were landing heavy blows. Bleeding now from many wounds, Corlagon retreated once more to the safety of his treasure shelf. But he was still within view and range of Bradlegar, who from hiding place fired again and struck.

While Mîriel ran over to give arpsusar to Araquenval and bandage his wounds, Luinár, Dennenor, and Rhôn scrambled up the steep wall to the shelf where Corlagon had retreated. But the dragon did not notice them, for he was looking up into the dark recesses of the roof above his treasure trove. Then he leaped high into the air, beat his wings twice, pinned them to his side, and shot out to safety through a hole four hundred feet above. Bradlegar fired one last arrow at the fleeing dragon but it did even slow him down.

"Victory!" shouted Bauglir wildly. "Victory! His treasure is ours!"

"Our horses!" cried Bradlegar. "They're still outside on the shelf!"

"Then we should go get them!" said Luinár.

"The horses can wait!" Bauglir shouted. "Besides, they could well be gone by the time we make it back to the ledge! Let's get at the treasure!""

"We'll need the horses to get it all out," retorted Mîriel, still tending to Araquenval. "And it's not like anyone else will be coming in to carry it off. They would have to get through us first!"

Now conscious due to Mîriel's healing touch, Araquenval spoke. "I can cast a running spell on someone, perhaps Luinár. With a lamp, she should be able to make it back to the ledge within five minutes to check on the horses."

Hearing this, Luinár looked at him, then almost immediately turned her gaze to the Hobbit. "And I could carry Bradlegar as well," she said. "He's so light I would scarcely notice him. That would get both of us there as soon as possible."

"Yes!" cried Bradlegar, elated at the unexpected offer. "And I can hold a torch for you so you can concentrate on getting there!"

So a torch was quickly lit, then Luinár waited for the minute it took for Araquenval to cast the running spell on her. Then she hoisted Bradlegar up and set him upon her shoulders, and the two took off like a flash up the tunnel.

"I still want to check out the treasure!" cried Bauglir as they departed.

"If you want to be here all alone if the dragon returns, go right ahead," said Mîriel. "Rhôn has already left, and Araquenval and I will be following!"

"And I shall be with them," said Dennenor, "to protect them in case the dragon is indeed at the ledge."

Bauglir watched as Luinár and the two Elves lit a lamp and jogged out of the lair. He waited until they were past the lake, then cursed and followed them.

The wall flew past Bradlegar in a blur as he held on tight to Luinár. He could only wonder at how she could run so swiftly, burdened as she was with his weight. As swift as a galloping horse they went, and in spite of the uphill grade of the tunnel Luinár did not tire nor slow. The amazing journey lasted but a few minutes, in vivid contrast to the long, careful hike they had made on the way in, until at length a pinpoint of white light appeared in the distance and quickly grew.

"Slow up," said Bradlegar as they approached the ledge. "I want to get off and prepare an arrow."

"I'll stop here," she said, and did so, then bent low to the ground to allow Bradlegar to scramble off. No sooner than his feet touched the ground than he dropped the torch and pulled out his bow and loaded. Carefully the pair crept to the entrance and hesitantly looked out.

The horses were still there, alive but obviously terrified. Quickly Bradlegar scanned the sky, not once but twice, for any sign of the dragon. None could he see, but noting the distress of the horses he ran over and comforted Sara as best he could.

"Do you hear that?" asked Luinár.

Bradlegar listened for a moment. "Hear what?"

"The birds," Luinár replied. "The birds are calling to one another again. When we came up here earlier I did not hear a single sound, not of birds or insects."

"Yes," said Bradlegar. "Yes--I can hear them. But somehow the songs don't seem glad. It's almost as if they sound tense and anxious. Perhaps that's why the horses are so scared."

It took him a few minutes, but eventually Bradlegar was able to coax a reluctant Sara to her feet. In that time the others arrived, all relieved to see Corlagon had not take out his rage on their beasts and supplies. The run had not calmed Bauglir in the least. "Let's get back in there and search the treasure!" he said, as soon as he had verified the horses were still there.

"Patience!" said Luinár. "We'll have to get the horses calmed down, then we can take them back with us to the lair."

"And maybe get one of those wagons we saw back there," said Mîriel.

"The wagon will have to wait," said Dennenor. "The trail up here was too steep for one to be pulled up it."

Calming the terrified horses took the combined efforts of the group nearly twenty minutes. That accomplished, each mounted his horse and calmly urged it into the tunnel. Most did so, but some were reluctant, rearing back at the foul odour within. Bradlegar's pony, catching the smell for the first time, abruptly turned and bolted down the trail, Bradlegar barely able to hold on.

"Does this mean I get a share of his treasure?" asked Bauglir.

"Don't write him off just yet!" Luinár snapped, wheeling her horse around to charge off after him in a burst of dust and flying gravel. Mîriel also turned around, fixed her gaze upon the fleeing pony, and swiftly cast an animal handling spell.

To Bradlegar's astonishment, no sooner had Sara reached the bottom of the hill than she came to a gentle halt. "I don't understand this!" gasped Bradlegar as Luinár rode up from behind. "I just went to ride her into the cave and off she ran like scared rabbit! And now she's stopped and seems just as calm as can be." He shook his head several times.

On an unheard command from Mîriel, Sara turned around and began climbing the hill again. The confused Bradlegar just held on, wondering at his pony's odd behaviour. Luinár followed behind.

"Are you all right?" Mîriel asked Bradlegar as she brought his pony up and on to the ledge.

"I am," the Hobbit replied, "But I don't know what got into Sara just now. I've never seen her act like this."

"Are we quite ready to go now?" asked Bauglir, then without waiting for a reply rode into the tunnel. The others followed, Bradlegar and Sara included, for Mîriel kept her spell going until she was sure the pony was well inside. Once within, the noise made by the shod hooves of the great horses was near deafening. But they were not concerned about trying to surprise the dragon in its lair, so they ignored the din and rode on, the way lit by a torch and a lamp.

Soon they arrived at the lake cavern, but before they entered the lair itself Mîriel called a halt. She paused a moment before pointing to an area on the floor. A rune was there, barely visible to all except Mîriel who had cast a spell to detect it, but its location was obvious, for it was between the two wards that had been triggered by Araquenval and Dennenor. Once he saw it, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn found a small rock and tossed it on the rune. Another intense flare erupted from the floor, burning itself out in a few seconds.

"That's the last one," said Mîriel. She laughed. "I wish I know how to make those--I would put half a dozen of them up that chimney of his! But we can leave now leave the horses here and check out the treasure."

"It is safe to leave them by the lake?" asked Bradlegar. "I mean, what if the dragon comes back this way?"

"I doubt he would," Mîriel replied. "It appears he normally enters and leaves through the chimney above his treasure pile. Also, by coming in that way, he is in full flight, with all the tactical advantages that offers. Coming down the tunnel we took, frankly, would be foolish."

"Then let's go!" cried Bauglir. "His treasure lies there, waiting for us take it!" And he ran into the lair.

The others followed, and quickly all had climbed up the steep sides of the ledge. There they stared in awe at the glittering sight before them: meticulously arranged in neat, ordered piles on the shelf were bows and crossbows, arrows and quarrels, swords, shields and spears, lances and axes, armour, necklaces and rings, plates and cups, harps and lutes and flutes. Off to one side sat an enormous pile of copper and tin coins, encircling a carefully built tower of gold coins. Mîriel gasped as she scanned the hoard with her spell of detecting essence magic, for every piece without exception glowed, some brightly, some dimly, but all radiating magic.

"There is so much here I do not know where to begin," said Dennenor.

"Let's start with the weapons first," said Mîriel, "so we can outfit the fighters in case the dragon returns. Then we can move on to the other items."

"Regardless of what we decide to keep or discard," added Araquenval, "we should remove as much as possible, to suggest to the dragon we absconded with it all and then left."

Luinár, Dennenor, and Rhôn quickly gathered together the weapons and armour, enough to outfit a regiment: eight swords, three sets of plate mail, five longbows, seven short bows, three crossbows and a heavy crossbow, sixty quality arrows and forty quarrels. One set of plate mail was very well made, constructed of overlapping plates, weighing little more than a similar suit made of rigid leather. Strange as it seemed, there was no one among the group who needed or could use such a treasure: Rhôn could not wear it; Dennenor's dragon hide leather and Luinár's plate protected them better; it was too large for Bradlegar; and the spell casters would not touch it. Figuring it would fetch a handy price for the right buyer, they added it to the pile of items to haul away.

Luinár claimed the heavy crossbow and Dennenor one of the others, and the remaining two Luinár put on her horse. Bradlegar filled his magic quiver with the good arrows and took another quiver as well.

Suddenly a cry erupted from one side of the trove. "Truesilver! It's made of truesilver! This is worth more than the rest of the hoard put together!" The others rushed over to see what had caught Bauglir's attention. Laying on the floor, untouched to now, was an enormous war hammer with a brilliant silvery coloured head and a heavy black handle.

Rhôn picked it up and his eyes widened. "Hammer has power even Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn can feel," said the astonished Wose. "See here, runes carved into head."

Dennenor reached for the hammer and Rhôn handed it to him. Examining the runes, the Elf said, "The language appears to be like Nahaiduk, but I cannot really read it. But they seem to say this hammer has a spell of protection bound into it, and there is something else to do with the slaying of undead creatures."

"Allow me to examine it," said Araquenval. Dennenor gave the hammer to him, and the mage looked at it intently for about a minute. "I cast a text analysis spell on the runes," he announced. "The language is an archaic one that was once spoken by Northmen. The big runes say Wolton Tamma, or 'Hammer of Wolton'."

"Perhaps Wolton is a Northman name for one of the Valar," said Mîriel.

"It is possible," Araquenval replied, "This is a holy artifact, a hammer of slaying undead, for any undead creature stuck by it will become truly dead. The protection spell Dennenor saw is one that causes the hammer to glow if it is within five hundred feet of such a creature."

Transfixed by the hammer, Bauglir stared at, muttering, "We could buy a whole city with this thing! I could see myself in my house, controlling the little fools. I would say, 'Go over there and dig a hole,' and he would, because I would own them!"

By now the others were used to Bauglir's introspective passions and were ignoring him. "None of us can use this well enough to fight with it," said Luinár. "Let's add it to the stack."

Returning to where they had collected and sorted the weapons, they turned their attention to a pile that contained several spears, lances, and a javelin. When Luinár explained the javelin was a throwing weapon, Rhôn picked it up and with surprising expertise sent it sailing across the shelf. He was impressed at how well it flew, for he had given it a gentle toss to avoid having it strike the far wall. Moments later he and all the others were astounded when the javelin vanished from where it had landed and suddenly reappeared in Rhôn's hand. Both Mîriel and Araquenval rushed to examine it.

"There is strong magic here." said Mîriel.

"Indeed," said Araquenval. "It seems to have a returning spell bound into it. It should return every time to the hand that threw it."

"Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn test this," said the Wose. He threw the javelin hard, sending it into the darkness of the lair beyond the shelf. They heard it clatter on the floor some distance away, but moments later it was back again in his hand. He grinned broadly. "Woodman likes this weapon! Wants to keep it," he said.

"I think you're the best one to use it," said Luinár. "Bradlegar's the only other one among us who can really throw something, and most of the time he's firing arrows."

Bradlegar confirmed Luinár's comment. "Sure, Rhôn can have it!"

From the treasure it was becoming apparent a troop of Dwarves had once engaged Corlagon, probably in a battle over his hoard. In addition to Dwarven swords and spears, there were also Dwarven shields and twenty battle-axes of various types. The shields were mostly round, but there were also large wall shields large enough for a Dwarf to take cover behind. These were embossed on the front with faces of horrific creatures staring back at the opponents. Many even had small eye slots cut in them where the creatures' mouths had been painted. But like the plate mail they had discovered earlier, the shields were really no better than what they had already won in Angmar.

"That's got all the weapons sorted out," said Mîriel. "Now I want to look for things that might be useful for me and Araquenval." Immediately she turned her attention to three ancient necklaces made from lapis lazuli. Although they were very old, almost certainly from the Second Age, they were not of Elvish manufacture. Mîriel, Araquenval, and Bauglir each examined one. Comparing notes, they decided all three were the same: an essence spell adder that gave the wearer some protection against essence magic. Luinár put one on, and the other two Mîriel added to the pile.

In his long lifetime Corlagon had collected some musical instruments: five exquisite harps strung with silver wire, a some fine silver flutes, and one very odd lute. Like all that Corlagon had, the harps were magical, made in such a way as to never go out of tune. Bradlegar and Dennenor took one each; the others they left behind. The lute was a garish thing, covered all over with strange decorations and painted whorls, and was out of tune. Carved into the front was the word "Lutacaster," while on the back was the inscription, "Gorbychov."

"I suspect 'Lutacaster' is either the one who made this, or the name of the thing itself," said Mîriel. "'Gorbychov' is probably the fool who owned it at one time. I think we'll take this with us. There's probably an Elf in Rivendell who would pay for this--or pay to have it destroyed!"

Suddenly there came a cry from Bauglir over by the coin pile. "Five hundred pieces of gold! Five hundred exactly! And ten plates and cups made of gold as well that could well be worth more!"

"We'll add them to the pile," said Mîriel. "Over here, Bradlegar's found a couple of silver rings and a gold ring. The gold ring is rather plain, and one of the silver rings also, but the other silver ring is set with a gem of some sort."

Dennenor smiled. "Perhaps we could rebuild the dragon's tower of gold pieces using the tin ones!"

"Too late for that, I'm afraid," said Bauglir. He had just come over from the coin pile, carrying all the gold he could clutch in his hands. "The tower no longer exists, so I doubt we could rebuild it."

"Let's get all this over to the cavern by the lake," said Dennenor.

They split into two groups, one on the shelf and one below, and spent the next half hour passing items down and carrying them out of the lair to the lake cavern. By the time they were finished the only thing left of any value was the pile of tin and copper that had once encircled Corlagon's lovingly built tower of five hundred gold coins.

They gathered beside the lake after moving Corlagon's hoard there; it somehow seemed safer than waiting in the lair. "Do not throw anything into lake yet," said Rhôn. "Swords may be useful for Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn to skin dragon after it is dead."

"That's assuming he comes back," said Bradlegar. "He was bleeding pretty badly when he flew out. He may have died up there on the mountain."

"I suspect he got out in time to prevent that," said Mîriel. "That's probably why he left. And there's no place like home for healing, so once he's well enough to fly again, he'll come back to rest."

"Speaking of healing," said Bradlegar, "I took a couple of nasty knocks back there when the dragon backed up and crushed me against the wall. That moss you gave me saved my life, but I'm still bruised and smarting from it."

"And I could use some of your healing arts, too, sis," said Luinár.

Mîriel checked the pouch of Fael-Linnis and from it retrieved several hard brown nodules. "This is rewk," she told the others. "I'll boil some up. It's not that powerful, but it will take care of your bruises and sore muscles."

They lit a fire and set a pot of water among it, and when it was boiling Mîriel threw in three of the nodules. After letting them boil for a few minutes, she asked for mugs and carefully filled them. The first she offered to Bradlegar, who cautiously drank the contents.

"Feeling better?" asked Mîriel when the Hobbit had drained the mug.

"A bit. Could I have another?"

"Certainly." She gave him a second mug, and then a third. When he had finished it, Bradlegar said he felt cured enough that he needed no more.

"I'll do up a few more of these," said Mîriel, and true to her word boiled three more and gave the resulting tea to her sister. Then she prepared two more for Araquenval.

"So what do we do now?" asked Bauglir when the fighters had finished off the rewk. "Wait for the dragon to return?"

"I think we should," said Mîriel. "I have an idea. How about we take all the spears and lances he has collected, bury them face up on his ledge, and cast an unseen on them? That would make a pretty surprise for him when he flies down and lands!"

"It's an amusing thought," said Dennenor, "but too difficult to put into practice. The floor of the shelf is made of stone, making it nearly impossible to bury spears in. Besides, the dragon is old and tough. I suspect he would just snap the spears like sticks when he landed on them."

"Besides, I am tired," said Araquenval. "Many spells have I cast today, and now require rest."

"I likewise," said Bauglir. "Maybe those who are not so tired, such as those who seemed to be nowhere when I was fighting the dragon, should now make themselves useful and stand watch!" And he found a place to lay down and promptly went to sleep.

"Dark here when fire go out. Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn make watch here, look up tunnel. Others watch in dragon-lair."

Mîriel decided to sleep in the lake cavern, as did Araquenval, who stored a light mirage spell before resting. Luinár slept among the pillars of stalactites and stalagmites in the lair, close to Bradlegar who hid there to keep watch. Dennenor kept watch with him, but from a vantage place by the big pillar.

The lair fell eerily silent. A regular drip, drip, drip of water resonated in from the lake cavern beyond, but other than their breathing neither Bradlegar nor Dennenor heard anything else. The thin light on the shelf filtering in from Corlagon's chimney began to fade. Araquenval awoke from his meditations, came into the lair, and sent Burzot up the recesses of the chimney. The sun set and the light failed completely, leaving the watchers and sleepers in utter darkness.

A torch flickered from the lake cavern, then Mîriel, Araquenval, and Bauglir and stole into the lair over to the pillars where Bradlegar and Luinár hid. Mîriel awakened her sister. "How long should we keep the watch?" she asked.

"We should not leave before tomorrow afternoon," said Luinár.

"I agree," came Dennenor's voice in the darkness. "I would be willing many days to wait for the dragon's return, so we could kill it and be sure it is gone from Middle-Earth."

"You may be," said Bradlegar, "but right now I want to get some sleep. It's been a rough day."

"Good idea, little one," said Mîriel. "Dennenor, you should rest as well, for both Araquenval and Bauglir are here to watch now."

"I have prepared an illusion spell," Araquenval announced. "I will watch the chimney from below the shelf, and at the first sign of the dragon's return I will cast the spell. It will appear close to the place where he picked me up in his mouth, and look like a broken wagon with the dying embers of a fire beside it. If any of you see this, you will know I believe the dragon has returned."

Bauglir's voice came from somewhere in the darkness. "I have invoked the invisibility spell in my cloak, and will also be watching from below the shelf, at the opposite end to Araquenval's position."

"Rhôn is still watching at the entrance to the tunnel," said Mîriel. "I'll return to the lake and wait there."

Mîriel waited for Bauglir and Araquenval to take up their positions before leaving the lair, taking the torch with her. Bradlegar buried himself among the stalagmites and tried to sleep. Weary though he was from the battle and events of the day, his rest was troubled, for he dreamed only of huge teeth and serpentine shapes slithering on the ground about him. To the others it seemed to take forever for the black night to pass, but eventually a dim light filtered down the chimney and shimmered on the shelf below. It heralded the start of their first day out of Angmar, but in a place perhaps more dangerous than any they had seen in the iron lands.

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Guided Tour

Day 22: A Bad Day for Corlagon

Day 20: Descent to the Southern Pass

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Based on events played to January 16, 1998. Accesses since September 30, 1998: