Chapter Two

Aragorn ducked his head aside just in time, as a lizard sailed mere inches past his face and then landed on the floor. The grayish green reptile scurried away, leaving a trail of tiny footprints in the dust.

It had happened so fast that Legolas, who had seen it coming, didn’t have time to call out a warning. He had been sure that the ‘attack’ was unintentional. The creature was just trying to get away from being trapped or injured by whatever had caused the disturbance, as the man moved too close to the lizard’s hiding place.

When the elf laughed, Aragorn gave him a stern glare. “He could have bitten me,” the ranger stated in an effort to gain a little sympathy from his friend. The fright had his heart pounding.

“I think if that was its intention, you would be nursing a bite mark right now. Or perhaps it would have frozen in fear, clamped down and would still be hanging off of your nose.” Legolas laughed at the mental image that remark conjured up. “You simply frightened it.”

“That makes two of us.” Aragorn couldn’t help but run his hands over his face, making sure no damage was done, even though the lizard hadn’t really touched him. He was sure that odder things could happen in a place like this.

Legolas looked down on the floor to see where the small reptile had gone. He didn’t see it, which was hardly surprising, but what he did see made him frown. He bent down to investigate.

Curious, Aragorn moved next to the elf and bent down, as well. “What do you see?”

The elven archer rubbed the dirt away from a spot on the floor, his frown deepening. “Help me move this stone,” he said to the ranger, indicating which one he meant.

The pair pushed the stone aside and then did the same with several others. The last one took a lot of effort before it finally toppled over a shorter one next to it.

Closer inspection by both Legolas and Aragorn and more displacement of dirt and dust showed a three square foot cut in the marble floor. In the middle of one side was a hole with a latch in it.

Aragorn placed his forefinger down in the hole and tripped the latch. That side of the square popped up enough for he and Legolas each to get a hand under it. The two friends looked at each other.

“There is a lower level,” Legolas stated, “and this appears to be the entrance.” He had to grin at his statement of the obvious.

Aragorn grinned right back. “Of course there is. A place like this wouldn't exist without one, especially if Morgoth built it.”

Legolas easily recognized the tone expressed in those words. He felt like rolling his eyes but knew that would only encourage his friend.

The man shrugged. “Well, we have to find out what’s down there. I mean we’re here. Tell me that an open invitation like this doesn’t intrigue you.”

As he spoke, he and Legolas continued to raise the section of marble, revealing a stone staircase that descended down into inky blackness.

Legolas gasped and fell backward, almost losing his balance. His eyes were wide.

“What is it?” the ranger asked, not sure exactly what had befallen his companion but feeling that whatever it was that caused such a reaction in this elf was most likely not good.

“There is something down there.” The archer’s tone was flat, betraying no emotion whatsoever. There was no fear in his eyes, but they were still wide and staring.

“Something evil?” Aragorn was well aware that elves were much more sensitive to the darker things of the world than mortals were.

“Yes and no,” the elf replied. “It is not of Morgoth or even Sauron. But, it is not natural either.” Legolas looked into Aragorn’s eyes. “I do not think we should disturb it.”

A hissing, slithering sound reached the two friends.

“I think it’s too late for that.” A knot of fear had formed in the ranger’s throat, but he was still determined to find out what was down there. He swallowed past the knot, willing another one not to form in his stomach.

Leaving the cover in Legolas’s hands, he walked over near the far wall of the tower ruins and returned with an old torch. It remained to be seen if the pitch it contained had long since dried up, or if it would still burn. He held the torch beside the nearest stone and began striking it with a piece of flint.

At first, nothing happened, and Aragorn groaned. Without the torch, there was no way they could even attempt to go below. Their investigation of what lay beneath them would end before it began.

The ranger tried again. Then a large spark landed squarely in the center of the pitch. With the help of a gentle breath from Aragorn, a small flame struggled to life before it finally became strong enough to use against the darkness below. Grinning in triumph, Aragorn rejoined the elven archer.

Knowing it wouldn’t do any good to argue against going down those stairs, the elf tried to push the cover over backwards, so it would lie flat on the floor. It didn’t go past vertical, even though there was no chain to hold it upright.

Reaching to his right, Legolas picked up a small chunk of rock and then placed it into the angle between the lid and the floor. There was no guarantee a latch to release the lid from the underside could be located if it slammed shut. Legolas hated dark, underground places to begin with, and he had no intention of allowing them to become trapped down there.

The ranger nodded his approval before thrusting the torch downward, holding his head to the side to keep the smoke out of his eyes. Then he slowly began to descend the steps, taking several minutes to reach the bottom.

The torchlight flickered strongly, but the darkness was so encompassing that the light barely reached the walls on either side of them.

“I know that this isn’t exactly the kind of place that inspires confidence, but look at these walls, Legolas.” Aragorn ran his hand along the rough black rock. “I think the stone used to build the tower was quarried right here below it. Would Morgoth have needed to do that?”

“Possibly,” Legolas replied, finding it hard to form words around the lump in his throat. He forced himself to continue. “It would have been easier than bringing it in from somewhere else. And there seems to be plenty of it.” He looked at the ranger. “Did you think Morgoth, if it was him, would just snap his fingers and the tower would appear?”

“I have no idea how he would have done it. He was the equal in power to Manwë, after all.” The idea that the first Dark Lord could make the tower, or anything else he put his mind to, spring up from nowhere wasn’t farfetched to his way of thinking. However, the stories about Morgoth were passed down through the ages, and often those tended to be embellished with time and repetition.

“We need proof, if indeed there is proof to be found here,” Aragorn declared. “Let’s continue.” He moved forward, and Legolas, not about to let himself become swallowed in darkness, swiftly caught up and kept pace.

As they moved, Legolas’s eyes darted around him. He knew the place would be dark, but he had no idea it would be like this. The blackness seemed to be pressing inward, as if it was trying to smother the torch. The light appeared small and insignificant, as did the two who carried it.

The elf’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel sweat starting to break out on his forehead and upper lip, and he hadn’t even been down here but a few moments. The elf fought to keep the suffocating feeling from seizing his heart.

He wanted to run, to scramble back up the stairs and flee the ruins without so much as a backward glance. Every fiber in him begged for just that response. Straining to gain control of his emotions, the elven archer fought the urge, his pride forcing him to remain calm, outwardly at least.

A few yards farther on brought them to a cross passage. The path they were on did not continue straight on.

“Right or left?” Aragorn asked.

“I matters not,” Legolas replied. He felt things would not go well no matter which way they turned.

Aragorn closed his eyes then turned left and continued moving into the pitch black. Taking a deep breath, he almost gagged on the thickening air. This might prove to be harder than he had imagined, but he forged ahead anyway.

Behind him, Legolas‘s keen senses were beginning to scream at him. The elf was as courageous as anyone, but there was a big difference between showing courage and taking foolish chances. His friend was no fool, but he did tend to be over-adventurous at times.

Perhaps the chances Aragorn took were because of the fact that he was mortal. Death came all too soon to humans, and Legolas thought they should do all in their power to continue their short lives as long as possible instead of risking it on adventures whose outcomes may not be worth the cost. On the other hand, Legolas realized that such adventures made the ranger feel more alive.

The elf sighed. His resolve to follow his friend was becoming harder to maintain. “Estel, this is not a good idea,” the archer whispered. “We should go back. There is something down here with us, and it bodes us ill.”

“Probably just rats.”

It became aware of the presence of others in the tower above as soon as the covering over the stairs was lifted the first time. It’s tongue flicked in and out, as It once again sniffed the air.

There was most definitely a presence above. Hissing, It moved forward, Its massive body slithering silently over the rock in the inky darkness.

Even the minutest difference in Its environment could be detected, no matter how far away these changes were taking place.

There was the smell of fresh air, repugnant to Its sensitive nose. A tiny speck of light was there, as well, irritating Its equally sensitive eyes. Balancing that was the odor of creatures coming towards It.

Anyone else might have mistaken these things for illusions born of long isolation in utter darkness. After all, being in such a place could easily make one imagine things. But It knew better. It was so attuned to Its home that such tiny alterations were noticed and noted.

There was no doubt now. Something or someone was coming, and It knew that dinner would not be far behind.

Aragorn jumped when he felt something touch his shoulder.

“It is only me, mellon nin,” Legolas said.

The ranger let out a sigh of such profound relief that he actually sagged, putting his left hand against the wall to keep from sinking to his knees.

“Sorry,” came the contrite voice of the elf, who had tightened his grip on the ranger’s shoulder to help steady him.

Straightening up, Aragorn said, “I didn’t realize I was quite so tense.”

“In this place, it would be impossible for you not to be tense.” He had felt the knotted muscles in his friend’s shoulder and wouldn‘t have been the least surprised to find that his own muscles were tight.

After taking a few more breaths, Aragorn asked, “Did you want something?” He was pretty sure the elf hadn’t gripped him for his own sense of security.

“I heard something up ahead of us.”

Aware that their voices might carry if spoken at their normal volume, both were speaking in hushed tones.

The ranger had heard nothing, but he was not surprised the elf had. “What kind of sound was it?” Did he really want to know?

“A hiss.”

“Snakes maybe?” the man asked.

“Only one, I think, and a very large one at that.”

“Define large.”

“Huge,” the elf replied flatly. “Gigantic. Enormous.”

“I get the idea,” Aragorn interrupted. “Thanks.” He let out a sigh. “Meeting any size snake in this place is not a pleasant thought, but huge, gigantic, enormous is not good.”

Just then, the ranger heard the hiss, and it sent shivers down his spine. If sound conveyed size, then Legolas’s descriptive definitions might well have been understatements.

TBC