"I'm getting worried," she began. "The longer the dragon stays away, the more he will have healed when he returns."
"Maybe we scared him," came Bauglir's disembodied voice. "Maybe he's not coming back, and we should go."
Dennenor voiced his disagreement from his place behind the pillar. "I am not prepared to leave just yet. I was wondering, though, if there is any sort of spell that could be cast to determine the dragon's fate."
"Yes, there is," Mîriel replied. "I can do a dream spell. I will need to sleep for eight hours, but it is the best way we have of figuring this out."
"You'll not be sleeping by the lake, though!" rejoined her sister. "Come over to me and Bradlegar. We'll watch over you."
Mîriel joined her sister and the Hobbit among the stalagmites, prepared her dreaming spell, then settled down to sleep. Dennenor and Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn changed positions: Rhôn by the pillar, where he could sleep, and Dennenor by the lake, to watch the tunnel. Once there, Dennenor began to wonder if he had made the right choice, for the sound of the water lapping against the rocky shore bothered him in a way he had not expected it to.
The light on the shelf gave the watchers something to see, but it made the silent vigil no less stressful. But less than two hours after Mîriel had cast her dream spell, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn was suddenly snapped out of his sleep. A strange sense of foreboding surrounding him. He looked about in vain for a reason.
At the same time, back among the stalagmites Bradlegar's keen ears picked up a noise high above them. He readied an arrow in his bow and nudged Luinár. "I hear something up there!"
Picking up the heavy crossbow, Luinár searched for Araquenval, but in the gloom she could not see where the mage had hidden. Then her heart jumped: the light had suddenly disappeared. From space above the shelf came the sound of a rushing wind.
"Murder! Thief!" roared an immense voice over the noise of the wind. Dust scattered off the shelf, blowing in a great cloud into the lair. From the ceiling burst an awesome spectacle: an enormous dragon in full flight, wings outstretched on either side of its ruby red body. Down he soared from the chimney, effortlessly winging over the empty shelf into the lair beyond. So swift was he that the watchers in the cavern barely had time to turn their heads as he flew by, circling past the great pillar and heading to the lake cavern, where Dennenor stood watch all alone.
But as he came around the pillar, Corlagon's eyes met Rhôn's, and in that instant each recognized the other. The dragon executed a spectacular mid-air acrobatic, turning about in an instant, landing on the ground just a few feet in front of the Wose. Two great yellow eyes glared out of the gloom for a moment, then the great dragon lunged forward.
Rhôn desperately jumped aside as tooth and claw snapped just inches away. Bradlegar swiftly moved around a stalagmite and fired. If Corlagon noticed the arrow, he did not show it, for he lowered his head and lunged again, aiming one of his great horns at the squat woodman. It struck Rhôn a terrible blow about the head, ripping apart his strong leather helmet. The warrior crumpled to the floor.
From his post at the far end of the lake cavern, Dennenor heard the roar of Corlagon's fury, and sword in hand carefully stole around the lake toward the lair. In the gloom the dragon's tail and hind legs were visible, and he could see the beast back up and hunch down, as if to leap. Suddenly it paused and bellowed a roar; Bradlegar's second arrow had stuck Corlagon directly on the side of the head.
Dennenor wasted no time. Knowing the dragon's attention was focused in front, he stalked quietly until he was up beside it, immediately behind the right leg. With all his strength he brought the sword up, around, and down in a great arc, aiming for Corlagon's hip.
It was a master-stroke. The sword cleaved through scales, ripped apart muscles and tendons, tore open arteries, separated bones. Corlagon roared again, the same immense bellow he had sounded when struck with the arrow of Fael-Linnis. The great caverns shook from the clamour, as if the whole world was coming off its hinges. Loose rocks dislodged from the ceiling and fell about the mighty dragon as it crashed to the floor, its severed limb falling away like a broken tree. A jet of hot black blood sprayed from the gaping wound, releasing a foul gas from somewhere within that left Dennenor gasping and coughing. Down came Corlagon's huge head, smashing Rhôn's shoulder, jerking away again as the dragon convulsed and bellowed and writhed. The writhing tail snapped around, catching Dennenor behind the legs, sending him flying to the ground. Frantically he scrambled away from the dangerous contorting body.
Then all was quiet. The convulsions and the bellows ceased, and the body of Corlagon the Red lay still upon the floor of his lair. The great dragon was dead.
Mîriel ran over to Rhôn. Out came the herb pouch of Fael-Linnis, and from it came edram for his broken shoulder. Carefully checking Rhôn's skull for any sign of fractures, she found none, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she gave him arkasu to help him sleep and speed his healing.
Bauglir suddenly appeared, looking mildly upset. "I had a perfectly good fireball all prepared," he exclaimed. "Then suddenly the dragon fell over and I did not need to cast it."
"Fortunate for Rhôn the dragon fell when he did," retorted Mîriel, "or we would be burying him, not healing him! As it is he will sleep for some time."
While Rhôn slept, Dennenor carefully sawed off one of Corlagon's six foot long horns. "I name my sword Ristalókë, Cleaver of the Dragon!" he called when the labour was finished. "By this sword and by this horn shall I and all who come after me remember what we have done here today! These shall become heirlooms of my house, to be passed to my children when I depart for the Undying Lands, and to their children, until the all the days of Elves in Middle-Earth are passed."
Four hours later Rhôn awoke, complaining of a headache. He looked around, gazing in wonder at the body of the Corlagon. "Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn remembers dragon looking at him, then jumping. All dark after that. What happened?"
"The good news," said Mîriel, "is I think a large portion of the Witch King's defensive strategy in this territory is lying over there in the corner."
"I suppose he'll figure it out the next time he casts his mind this way to talk to his pet," Dennenor added.
"At least he'll know we've left Angmar!" quipped Mîriel. Everyone laughed.
"Now we need your help, Rhôn," said Luinár. "While you were asleep I cast a food finding spell, and it tells me there are various lichens and mosses all about the lair. I think some of them may be useful to my sister for her herb pouch. Will you check them out for me?"
Rhôn agreed, and he went through the great cavern, checking all manner of nooks and crannies, at times investigating a place pointed out to him by Luinár, at others searching where his nose led him. A rancid mound of bat droppings yielded enough jegga to make three doses of the deadly poison. A small cluster of mushrooms growing in one corner of the shelf turned out to be zulsendura, and because of Luinár's spell they found two more areas where they were growing, bringing the total number of mushrooms they found to eleven. Mîriel, Araquenval, and Bauglir were given one each, and the remaining eight were given two apiece to the others.
Luinár called Rhôn's attention to something her spell had found up the walls of the lair, and when he looked there he could make out the distinctive texture and colours of the gefnul lichen. They were out of his reach, so Araquenval cast a levitate spell on the Wose. He slowly rose twenty feet up, retrieved enough for six doses of the powerful healing plant, then floated down again.
"That reminds me," said Bauglir. "I want to go up the chimney and see if anything is happening outside." He concentrated, then left the ground and flew up the chimney, the first person ever to make such a journey in either direction and live to tell the tale. He was back in less than five minutes, a troubled look upon his face.
"Down here everything's quiet," he reported, "but out there things are downright strange. I was checking out the top of the chute. There is a natural depression up there--it looks like the dragon has done a fair amount of digging--and about are trees in which all sorts of birds are gathered. I could have sworn they were speaking, and speaking in the Common tongue. And not just speaking, but shouting! I think we should leave here, for they were saying, 'The dragon's dead! All hail, the dragon's dead!'"
Araquenval, though, smiled when he heard this. "I think I know just what to do," he said. Suddenly he vanished.
"What are you doing?" asked Bradlegar.
"Quiet, please," came the reply. "I am concentrating."
After a few minutes in which they heard nothing further from Araquenval, they turned their attention to other matters. Rhôn picked up his nearly destroyed helm, marvelling at how little had come between him and certain death from the horn Dennenor now held, then set to work repairing it.
His concentration was broken a few minutes later by a staccato thud - thud - thud - thud - thud from the shelf. Luinár and Bradlegar ran over and climbed up to see what had happened. Over twenty large black crebain, quite frozen, had plunged down the chimney and crashed on to the floor of the shelf. A couple had frozen solidly enough and fallen fast enough to break into pieces on impact.
"Whatever Araquenval was planning to do, it looks like he succeeded!" Luinár called to the others. Then she and Bradlegar climbed down again.
A few minutes later came the rhythmic sound of fluttering wings from the shelf. "It looks like a bat," said Dennenor, peering over. "And it appears there is something tied to it."
"It must be Burzot!" exclaimed Bradlegar. Again he and Luinár ran over to the shelf and climbed up. The little bat fluttered about them briefly, then landed on Luinár's shoulder. A piece of paper had been tied around its body. Luinár carefully removed it and Burzot flew away, back up the chimney.
"Bauglir," called Luinár, "you may want to come over here. Araquenval says he needs your help at the top of the chimney."
"That is interesting," said Bauglir. "What possible assistance could he need from me? That by itself is enough of a reason to go!" He cast a spell and flew up the chimney, returning a few minutes later. To everyone's surprise he was actually smiling!
"Silly Elf," he said, rather amused. "He cast a too few many spells today and got himself stranded up there. I cast a levitate on him so he could make it down. It will take a few minutes, but he will be joining us today."
Five minutes later Araquenval floated down to the shelf. He looked at dead birds scattered all around, nodding.
"Well, what happened?" asked Bradlegar. "And why did Bauglir have to go up and help you?"
"After I did the invisibility spell," said Araquenval, "I cast flying so I could ascend the chimney, preparing a cold ball as I rose. As I suspected, when I arrived at the top several large birds were flying around, all in a cluster. Bauglir was right; they actually were speaking in Common, crying to one another, 'The dragon is dead! The hoard of Corlagon is waiting for all takers!'
"I flew up until I was level with the flock circling the great hole in the mountain, still maintaining my distance, and waited until more had joined them. Then I launched the cold ball directly into the centre of them. It appears some two dozen birds froze and died, tumbling out of the flock and falling down the hole. The others scattered, and I called out to them as they retreated, 'I bear a message from my master Corlagon, and he says, "Come and try to take my treasure, for I am waiting!" '
"Then I went to fly down the chimney to join you, but my spell faded unexpectedly, and I was forced to cast landing to prevent falling. I landed safely beside the hole, then found I was weary and unable to cast powerful spells. So I wrote the note you got and sent it down with Burzot."
The others listened to this tale with interest, and when he was done they congratulated him for his successful attack on the crebain. Then Luinár invited Bradlegar to ride with her up the tunnel to check for any sign of intruders. The Hobbit agreed, and with some enthusiasm. They got Sara and Luinár's horse, and together rode the long passage to the ledge.
The others spent three more hours in Corlagon's lair. Araquenval found a quiet place to rest, for he was tired after casting so many spells. Picking up a sword, Rhôn-Hari-Rhôn went to work on the dragon's body. Two hours later, with much effort and after a couple of false starts, he had skinned two sections of the hide, one giving him a piece one large enough for perhaps a pair of greaves, and another much larger piece he said he would work into something later. Then he and Dennenor fiercely slashed away at the rest of the hide, rendering it unusable for any who might happen upon it in the days and months to come.
The others sorted through the treasure again, finding the best items and loading them on to the horses. Then they cast the remainder, mostly swords and shields, into the depths of the lake. When Araquenval awakened, they gathered together their belongings and mounted their horses, and left the caverns for the last time, leaving behind only a few thousand pieces of tin upon the shelf, and the body of Corlagon to decay in the lair.
"Bradlegar and I have been observing from here the damage the dragon did outside," said Luinár when the others arrived. "I am very grateful we did not encounter him out here in the open!" They all looked around the valley below them, surveying the overturned carts and the bodies of men, horses, and Orcs.
"Well, now that we have decided to leave this place," said Mîriel, "we should do so with all possible haste. I want to put as much distance between me and this mountain as possible before sunset!"
It was tricky work, leading the horses laden with treasure down the gravelly slope of the dragon-furrow. But they made it to the road safe and sound, then rode away as quickly as they could. Having spent much of the previous two days standing about, tied nose to nose to prevent them from bolting, the horses were eager to run.
They rode hard for two hours, for the road was still in good repair, although the further they travelled into the Ettenmoors it appeared the rougher it would become. Then Mîriel called for the others to slow down. "There's movement on the road ahead!" she called. "It may be wolves."
"We can handle wolves!" responded Luinár, who had also seen the shapes and drawn the same conclusion. She and Dennenor kicked their horses into a gallop and charged. Only one of the five surprised wolves survived the brief clash that followed; the last ran away so swiftly that not even the good riders had a chance of catching up to it.
"We can let it go," said Bauglir. "It will do no more harm to us than the birds. I have been listening to them all afternoon, and it seems they are spreading far and wide the word of Corlagon's hoard suddenly becoming available."
"And quite the hoard it is!" laughed Mîriel. "All ten thousand pieces of tin!"
The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. The sun! For the first time in the longest time they actually saw the sun. Pale though she was through the thin clouds formed high above the pass, her soft glow was welcomed by all. Yes, the sun had been visible in Nan Fastataurë as well, but that was in another place, another time. To see her now, after the interminable cold and grey of Angmar (still visible as a dark cloud-bank to the north) thrilled them deeply, and gave them courage to ride on.
They began their usual search for a defensible campsite. But though the sun could now be seen and the climate more favourable, the terrain was nearly as bleak as the Nan Angmar. It was another hour's ride before a copse of thin, spindly pine trees about forty yards in diameter came into view.
"It will make a place for us to camp," said Luinár. "But we should check it out first, to make sure other unfriendly people have not camped there already."
"I can do that from here," said Mîriel. She cast a long range nature's awareness spell, detected nothing but a few birds and a family of foxes resting in its den, and declared it safe.
"Should we light a fire?" asked Bradlegar, as they began setting up the tents.
"There is no good argument against it," said Bauglir. "The Orcs that live on this side of the pass will find us just as easily with or without one. And we should be especially alert in our watches tonight. The Skuth-Rugrai are well named, for it means 'Night Murderers.' They are reputed to move quietly and swiftly under the cover of darkness." Then he left the camp to refill his water skins at a stream flowing nearby.
"Once again, he hands out advice to the watchers but does not offer himself for a watch," observed Araquenval. The mage stored a long door spell, then vanished. After a few moments, he spoke. "I neglected to do something that would enable you to see me after I cast the invisibility spell. Could I borrow someone's cloak?"
"You may use mine," said Dennenor, removing his cloak and holding it out. It appeared to come off his hand of its own accord and assume a shape.
The sun finally set and the group settled down. Dennenor, Mîriel, and Luinár took the first watch, and Bauglir sat up with them a while studying the stars. Eventually he retired to his tent.
The foxes and owls came out as the moon rose, but they saw little else. When Araquenval awakened from his trance, Mîriel and Luinár went to bed, leaving the Elves to keep watch. Even though it was night, because of the stars they could see almost as well as in the light of day. Araquenval let Burzot out to feed. The bat stayed within the trees hunting for insects, not bothering to venture beyond the grove.
Two hours on, Dennenor, watching to the south, glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and looked that way for several minutes, seeing nothing, until another movement to the right of where he saw the first again caught his eye. Leaving the safety of the trees, Dennenor moved out on to the moor, darting nimbly from rock to rock, keeping his attention on the place where he had beheld the furtive movements. He saw it again, this time as a creature of some sort that ran on two legs between a pair of rocks. As quickly and silently as he could, Dennenor returned to the grove, crossing through the camp to where Araquenval was keeping watch on the other side. His robe lay on the ground in a heap: the invisible mage was nowhere to be seen.
"Araquenval?" whispered Dennenor as loudly as he dared.
"I am here," came a reply.
"There is movement on the plain on the south of the camp, made by a creature I cannot identify. Take Burzot out; he may be able to give us a clearer picture."
"I will do that. Go wake the others."
While Dennenor alerted the sleeping members of their group, Araquenval ventured to the south side of the copse. Burzot flew along behind, but steadfastly refused to move out of the trees when ordered to by his master. Leaving the bat behind, Araquenval left the grove to scout around. A small cluster of bats was flying toward him, while on the ground he saw the same furtive movement that had alarmed Dennenor. To Araquenval's eyes it looked like a dark, hooded figure darting low to the ground. Instinctively he hid behind a boulder, though he was already invisible.
Back in the camp, the others were now awake. Mîriel cast a strong nature's awareness spell, and immediately said, "Orcs! Seven of them. They're running in a line directly for our camp!"
Bow at the ready, Bradlegar caught sight of one as it darted toward the copse. He fired. A shriek sounded from beyond the trees, followed by cry from the other Orcs, terrible to behold. Bauglir moved over to where Luinár was waiting with her sword. "I've been waiting for this moment," he remarked, then held out his hand and released the cold ball spell he had stored a few hours before. One Orc crashed headlong to the ground, while one beside it slowed considerably.
Invisible, Araquenval waited on the plain, and as the line swept past he cried out in Orkish, "Elves behind us!" Two Orcs, one on either side of Araquenval, stopped dead in their tracks, each glaring at the other and snarling something in a Orkish dialect the Elf could not understand. One sniffed at the air. "Smell funny!" he said. Raising his axe, the Orc advanced on his companion, but bumped into Araquenval. Swiftly the Elf invoked his stored long door spell to make good his escape.
The four remaining Orcs pressed on, one to engage Dennenor, two on Luinár, the last running around the camp in a flank attack. Dennenor immediately killed the Orc attacking him while Bradlegar swung around and shot the one arriving from the side. It cried out from the pain. Hearing the outburst, Bauglir strode over and dispatched it.
Seeing two Orcs advancing on Luinár, Rhôn ambled over and thumped one of them with Trollfist. But it returned the blow, hard, and once again Rhôn tumbled to the ground, his leather helm taking a deep gash. Luinár hit the other, and Mîriel cast it asleep with the spell stored in her ring, then Luinár dispatched the Orc that had sent Rhôn unconscious.
Out on the plain, the two remaining Orcs squared off against each other. But neither got a chance to strike, for Dennenor ran over and killed one of them, ending the standoff. The last Orc prepared to take a swing at the Elf, then suddenly found itself completely soaked: Araquenval had launched the water wall spell from the ring he had taken from Durax. Dennenor held his sword out for the dripping Orc to see. "This sword has killed a dragon," he said, "and now it shall kill you!"
And it did.
While Bradlegar and Bauglir kept a lookout against other unexpected company, Mîriel tended to Rhôn's wounds. She cast a spell to heal the bruising he had taken when struck, then asked Dennenor and Luinár to carry him into his tent. "I do not know how that man can take so much damage and still fight," she said, shaking her head in wonder. "That is the third major head wound I have treated for him since we left the mine."
Araquenval reappeared. "Now, let us see if this sleeping Orc has information we can use," he sad. "Luinár, would you be so kind as to awaken him?"
"I would be delighted to!" Luinár replied, delivering a couple of swift kicks to the slumbering Orc. It opened its eyes and looked about, still groggy from the sudden deep sleep followed by the sudden rude awakening. When Araquenval determined he had the Orc's attention, he cast the spell he had prepared.
"Tell me if other Orcs come this way," he ordered, in Orkish. But despite the master of kind spell and the command, there was no response. "Do you speak Orc?" the Elf asked.
"You speak Orc?" the prisoner responded. It was having difficulty finding the correct words.
"Get up!" Araquenval ordered. The Orc slowly got to its feet while Dennenor and Luinár moved in behind.
"Raise your hands." The Orc did as ordered, raising its hands above its head, an adze gripped in the right. "Drop your weapon!" The adze fell to the ground.
Suddenly the Orc longed forward, grabbing Araquenval around the throat. "I take you with me through dark door of death!" it cried. Luinár swung her sword, and the Orc fell to the ground, its claw-like fingernails ripping gashes in the Elf's neck as it went. Araquenval clutched his throat and collapsed.
In ran Bauglir. "What happened here?" he demanded. "I thought you were supposed to be interrogating him, you fool!"
"He didn't want to answer any of our questions," said Luinár. "Mîriel! We need bandages over here!"
"I hope they're not for the Orc!" Mîriel called from somewhere within the camp.
"They're for Araquenval--the Orc got him!"
Mîriel came running. Araquenval was rolling about on the ground, making strange sounds. "Calm down!" Mîriel ordered. "You are going to be all right."
Araquenval settled himself and Mîriel applied a bandage. Leading him back to the camp, she had the Elf sit by the fire while she brewed her last stalk of arpsusar. The drink healed the worst of the damage, then Mîriel sent him to bed to rest.
"If I am to rest," said Araquenval, "I might was well make it worth my while, and yours also. I can make four of you people invisible. Any takers?"
"My cloak will allow me to do that," said Bauglir.
Bradlegar also refused. Since Rhôn was already asleep, Araquenval cast invisibility on Dennenor, Luinár, Mîriel, and finally himself. Then he returned to his tent to rest.
"Well, that has certainly upset the order of watches for the remainder of the night," observed Mîriel. "My sister and I have each done one, and Rhôn is in no condition to help out."
"I require rest," said Dennenor.
"That leaves you, Bauglir. Luinár and I are going to continue our interrupted sleep."
They disappeared into their tent before Bauglir had a chance to protest. Fortunately for him and Bradlegar, the remainder of the night was quiet.
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