Chapter Twelve

As luck would have it, the rock that was rapidly descending straight down toward Legolas, lying unconscious on the ground, instead hit the top of a short rounded stone on the other side of the trail. It brought the toppling rock to a sudden stop a mere six inches above Legolas’s face and chest.

All was not well, however. The fallen boulder continued to vibrate in tune with the shaking mountain. It scraped back and forth on the smaller rock and threatened to fall to one side of it or the other. If it sipped off to the left, it would slam onto the ground and kill Legolas where he lay. If it slipped to the right, it would be wedged into a small crevice created by the round rock and an upright boulder next to it, thus remaining safely above the elf. Only Eru knew which way the boulder would go.

It was then the mountain began to slow its movements. The boulder, hanging precariously over Legolas, also slowed its pitching and grinding and remained balanced on top of the round rock. Had the elf been aware, he would have heaved a huge sigh of relief.

When the mountain made one final shudder before coming to a complete stop, the fallen boulder slid to the right, anchoring itself in the crevice. In doing so, it had dropped another five inches, almost grazing the elf‘s nose.

As a hushed stillness swept over Orod Moru, the howlers gradually released their hold on the standing rocks and gathered themselves into a small group. They looked around for their leader, momentarily worried that it may have met its death among the shifting stones.

The leader soon emerged and bent down to examine the spots of black blood in the snow. These Drughu had been transformed by Morgoth into beings possessing immortality, but like elves, they could be killed.

These creatures cared nothing for one another in the traditional sense. They felt no love, no friendship, no grief and no sorrow. They just knew that the larger their numbers, the more successful they were at surviving.

Over the centuries, various accidents had claimed the lives of many of the creatures. Most of those had died in the early years before they learned first to survive and then to rule Bl;ack Mountain. Now two more were gone. Due to the nature of their creation, those that died were not being replaced. What was lost, stayed lost, and their numbers were dwindling.

The leader let out a curse at whatever gods were responsible for taking more of their number. It would have been furious, if it had been aware of what had befallen the other half of the group.

Those creatures, who had been sent to the snow line to await Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir had jumped down onto the narrow ledge that Legolas had fallen onto earlier. They were hoping to work their way along, unseen, and get ahead of the trio to surprise them.

The howlers did possess the ability to feel a kind of cruel enjoyment of what they did to their captive prey. Seeing the shocked faces of the three they were after now would have been most enjoyable. Taunting them all the way back up to the cave with remarks about what was about to happen to them would have been even more enjoyable.

The howlers’ plans were interrupted, as the mountain had begun shaking. Then a large section of the lower ledge had broken loose and fallen away, taking with it all but two of the howlers that were walking along it. Those two had grabbed on to scant handholds, as the rock ledge disappeared below their feet.

After several moments of struggling to gain their footing, the hold of one creature gave way. It stared in horror at the broken-off piece of stone it clutched in its right hand, as it plunged after the falling ledge to its death on the rock-strewn slopes hundreds of feet below.

The other creature finally managed to make its way up the cliff face. Crawling over the lip of the ledge above, it lay quivering in the snow, trying to gather its strength. After doing so, it would go to inform its leader of what had happened.

Far above, the leader came and stood with the other howlers in this half of the group. It wanted to blame someone for what had occurred, but even it understood dumb luck. Only this unfathomable mood of the mountain was responsible.

The leader looked down at the fallen boulder that lay across the path. Due to the shifting snow that had piled up all around the large rock, it looked as if the boulder had crushed the elf. His snow-covered legs were sticking out, but the rest of him was buried beneath the stone‘s gigantic weight.

Realizing that even if the elf could have been pulled out from under the stone, he would be dead meat and of no use to the howlers as a meal. The howl of frustration and anger that emanated from the leader was soon echoed by the other creatures, as they, too, came to understand that their golden prize was now lost to them.

The leader continued to stare at the rock, as the falling snow gathered upon it. “Curse you, elf,” the creature snarled. It didn’t seem to remember, or perhaps it didn’t care, that it was two of its own that had dropped the elf in the path of the boulder. Even if they could not partake of the elf’s flesh the way they had hoped, he at least hadn’t survive to escape the mountain. It wasn’t much of a consolation right then, but it was better than nothing. “Curse your elven soul.”

With a resignation borne of many years living on the unpredictable mountain, the leader turned and headed for the cave. It knew from past experience that the bones and skulls carefully arranged inside of the cavern would be scattered about in total disarray and would need to be rearranged back to where they all belonged. The hideous display served to remind the creatures of their superior ability to survive, when other beings had come to destroy them.

Besides, the howler thought, all was not lost. The golden-haired elf that had been the ultimate prize may have been snatched from them, but soon the rest of its group would be bringing the human and the two dark-haired elves to the cavern. Their flesh may not have been considered quite as sweet to the howlers’ way of thinking, but that flesh would be savored nonetheless.

~*~*~

Finally finding their footing on the now solid ground, Aragorn and the twins nodded to each other. They had no idea what had happened up above or anywhere else on the mountain for that matter, but they were ready to go and find out if whoever it was they had heard cry out was still alive and able to be rescued. Perhaps the howlers were shaken up enough to give the three brothers the advantage.

The trio started upward once again. There was no mistaking the fact that the trail had been altered by the violence of the quaking. More than a couple of times they found rocks strewn across the their path, some whole and some broken, and that made it necessary to scramble over or work their way around them. A few more such violent episodes like this and the trail would disappear altogether.

Aragorn idly wondered how often this shaking happened. If the rocks were rearranged so drastically every time it happened, he could only imagine what the mountain had looked like in the beginning. Perhaps the ridges that had been formed, such as the one they were now traveling on, hadn’t existed. The mountain might have been much more rounded. Would the ridges even exist in a few centuries? Aragorn shook his head. Why was he even thinking about this at such a time? It was trivial compared to what they were planning to undertake. He turned his mind to the task at hand.

Elladan was surprised that during their trek back up the mountain, they had not encountered any of the howlers. The only look he and his brothers had had of them was the indistinct one of black shadows in the misty fog just after Legolas had fallen over the edge of the cliff.

He had no idea what they really looked like, but he had then and still had the unmistakable feeling that they would be hideous to behold. And behold them he had no doubt they would sooner or later be doing.

The fallen rocks in their path and the deep snow made traveling the trail a second time much slower than the first time they came this way. But the three brothers made their way steadily upward.

Aragorn, now in the lead, had no sooner started marching determinedly toward their goal, when he tripped over something and pitched forward. It was only his outstretched hands that kept him from slamming down face first on the large boulder stretched out across the trail. His hands did slip on the snow covering the rock, and he hit his chin lightly on the stone before he could stop his forward progress.

The ranger sat down and rubbed this chin, as both of his brothers knelt down beside him.

“Estel, are you all right?” Elladan asked.

“I think so,” the man replied, still rubbing his affected body part. It had all happened so fast that the man was more surprised than anything, though his chin did hurt a bit.

When no worried inquiry of reassurance came from Elrohir, which was unusual, Aragorn and Elladan looked at him. The younger elf was staring down at the ground. His eyes were wide, and then he began swiping at the snow with both hands like a dog trying to dig up a bone.

~*~*~

When Legolas opened his eyes, he had to blink several times to get them to focus. All he saw was darkness, but it seemed close, like it was hovering right in front of his eyes. He tried to raise his right arm so that he could rub his eyes and try to bring back some semblance of vision. The back of his hand hit something hard. He turned his hand over and lifted his palm until his fingers encountered the hard surface.

Moving his hand up and down, it dawned on him that what he was feeling was stone. His hand soon made its way up to his face, and he found that the stone was only about an inch above his nose. No wonder it seemed so close. He closed his eyes again.

He thought back to the place where he had hidden after escaping from the cave. He tried to recall the details of that place. It had been under a fallen rock. That part was right. But... Hadn’t it been a bit roomier? And had’t he been on his stomach? How did he end up on his back with the fallen rock so uncomfortably close to crushing him?

He couldn’t think clearly. His shoulder was hurting more than he remembered it doing while in his hiding shelter, and there was something else, too, wasn’t there? He screwed his face up into a frown. Oh yes. He had fever---from infection. Yes, that was it. Things were beginning to come back to him, although he still couldn’t quite figure out how he ended up in the position he was in.

Had the howlers given up looking for him? Surely not. He imagined they were exceedingly angry at him for escaping. They did not seem like the kind of creatures that would give up so easily. They had made it quite clear to him how important they thought he was to them. The archer imagined they would keep looking until he was discovered.

Maybe they had found him and were just waiting for him to come out so they could pounce on him. Did they know how much elves hated being surrounded so closely by stone? Was this their way of making him pay for getting loosed and killing the two creatures, who had been charged with guarding him?

The elf was not prone to panic, but the idea that they may be waiting him out until he crawled screaming from the oppression of being under the rock was almost too much to handle. He took several deep breaths, both hearing and feeling his cold breath against the rock hovering right above him.

‘I must get out of here.’ It then occurred to him that he had said that before. In the cave? Yes, but somewhere else, as well. The truth hit him. He had gotten out of his hiding place---and been captured! The agony of his injured and infected shoulder had driven him into the arms of oblivion. So where was he now? And where were the howlers, who had recaptured him?

Those questions were making him dizzy. His mind was in no condition for rational thinking. Besides, there was really only one question he needed to figure out the answer to. What did he do now?

Legolas may have tried to sort out the answer to that all important question for a moment or an hour. He couldn’t be sure which. He only knew that no solution seemed to be at hand.

The prince’s confused thoughts were interrupted, when he felt something hit his left foot. Thinking it was one or more howlers toying with him, he kept quiet. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of knowing they had come upon an elf unaware and startled him. He’d simply wait them out. If they wanted him, they would have to drag him out just as they had done before. He prayed to the Valar that he would not panic and disgrace himself before that happened.

TBC