Cast of additional characters and aliases

Strider Aragorn's alias

Anborn Faramir's alias

Mattias the eldest son of the witch

Gordash the middle son of the witch

Curtik the youngest son of the witch

Bregus the witch, also called Mother, the shuv'ni (another word for witch) and puri dai (tribe elder)

Bäla Bregus' dead husband, a former shuv'ni and puri dai

Kattica Mattias' wife, and a shuv'ni apprentice

The Hunting Trip

Chapter Nine: Serpentine Smoke

The shuv'ni's heart was dark. It had grown cold with her evil over long years, starting even before the births of any of her sons, though it took her many more years to reach the level of sinfulness one could truly call depraved. As no human is immersed into immorality from their start, it would be fair in judging her to consider that Bregus had been made this way. By her own greed as well as by the will of her husband.

She had not been born to cruel intentions. Indeed, she had once had a decent soul. Her family were good people, always gentle in their ways, traveling quietly without disturbing the lands or the people who lived in those places, making the most out of what they could manage, and generally being happy in their ways. But there was something in her that wanted more. Being the last of five children and the only female among them had made her restless. Her brothers all had strong personalities, and her mother doted on them. Bregus was ignored for the most part, left to her own devices. She was a girl-child, and so she had little to garner the notice or respect that came easily to the males in her family. Such was the way of the clan. Unless she lived long enough to become puri dai, she could expect little more for her life then this. She would grow up, learning the skills of the women-folk, groomed to be selected one day at the gatherings, and traded off by her father for a horse, or some goats, or a good hunting dog. She could expect to be sized up for her breeding potential, and she knew she was seen as little more than one would see an object. Her potential for more was never considered, and all she could hope was to grow old enough to be seen someday as having some wisdom. But for her, a future as puri dai was far, far away, and impatiently she wanted what her male siblings had then: authority and power. And that desire is initially what corrupted her. She was smart and she saw that there were ways that she could attain her desires, and with shrewdness, she went about getting them. She made it known that she wanted to study under the shuvanis, for male or female, these sorcerers had power and respect within the tribe. She usurped the place of the shuv'ni apprentice in her clan. No one suspected the fatal fall by that girl was of Bregus' doing. And so she manipulated her way to their attention, and took over the role as the witch's apprentice. Gladly she immersed herself in it. She went to the healer tents when the gatherings came and learned their craft through white magic, following their teachings under the stars and the moon. She learned of the herblore that would give her powers to heal. She was taught to read cards and stones. She learned to make charms and to speak incantations. She grew to understand the Spirit Worlds, and she learned of animal guides. She could interpret dreams and sought out ways to foretell future events. But she was young, and though knowledgeable and bright, and a bit talented as well, she remained an apprentice. It would remain this way until her years had proven her skill. But this angered her. She was impatient. She did not want to wait so long.

It was at one of the gatherings that he had seen her. He read her and saw what she wanted. Already a great shuv'ni for his tribe, Bäla spun his spell and chose her. She easily fell. Had she tried, she could have warded off his magic. But in her eagerness that was youth, and her rebellion to be free of her elders and their constant blockades to her desires, she allowed herself to become a victim of his lust. Bäla was much older than she was and she saw in him a mentor, a lover, and an escape from the drudgery of her life in her camp. She became a part of his clan, joyous in her freedom from the complacent nothingness her life had been. He was her savior and she allowed him to take her. He was practiced in the black arts, and she let his evil corrupt and mold her into an image he made, pliant to his will and his charms. Inside, a part of her mourned the loss of her gentler self as the study of her white magic was pushed away. But then she remembered what she would be without him, and she brushed aside her inner feelings, berating herself for experiencing anything but pride at what she was becoming under his tutelage. She remained tainted by his seduction. Her animal spirit latched onto his and she became enthralled to his powers and studied within the confines of his allure until her powers became the equal of his. And when he was done, her spirit was intertwined with his and she became a part of him. They grew to be a perfect match for each other.

Together they ruled their clan, slowly growing darker with the harm they created. They manipulated their children and fellow tribesmen, making them believe their hearts were good, elevating themselves to places of higher authority within the tribal gatherings through their maneuvering. They held their family captive, just as he held her, and none among them had any choice but to obey, not even realizing other opportunity existed. The elders about them who could rule over them died, falling to diseases that somehow the two shuvanis could not contain. Anyone who stood in their way seemed fated. And so they were promoted by their people, and she enjoyed it. She loved seeing them bow to her whims. Her dreams were fulfilled.

And in fairness, the magic of Bäla and Bregus did not take harsh form while they ruled. Not unless need required it. Their wants were simple: to be free to roam as they chose, to live as their custom dictated, to raise their children and live off of the land as needed. If a villager from a neighboring town objected to the loss of his livestock to their camp, they did not let that worry them. The husband and wife shuvanis conjured their magic, and the problem was appeased. The mysterious illness that befell the villager was none of their concern. Under the shroud of this protection, they went on their way, and no harm ever came to their union.

And so it seemed that in her own menacing way, she felt warmth for her family. She knew that was what a mother was supposed to feel toward her children and her tribe. She called it love. She protected them from harm, and she thought that this was her duty. She grew to know of no other way, and with him they enjoyed many years of seeming peace as they became puri dai, the tribe elders and the leaders of their people.

But then he died. It was a mortal death, nothing unique. Age brought it on, but she was not prepared for his end. She had grown accustomed to his presence and his power. In his absence, she found that her clever mind was not as sharp as she had once thought and that many of the decisions she had thought were theirs together were really his. He had manipulated even her, she realized. But despite these revelations, she mourned deeply the loss of him as she found that for the first time, she was alone. Bereft, she began to wonder what had become of the sweet child she had been.

As she mourned, her thoughts for her personal gains grew dimmer over the long years, and as she came to weep for both him and the loss of her own soul, she began to consider taking her own life so she could join him, or at least go on to find again her old spirit. That was when the dreams began to come. He returned to her there and she found happiness returned. Joy befell her as she was with him again. She grew well in his companionship, even if he no longer really breathed or touched her with real hands and she realized that even in death, his power was still strong. He still held her. She was glad, satisfied for the moment. He was there in her dreams, her husband, her lover, and that was all that she cared about. After so long a time, he possessed her heart still and she yielded to the guidance he gave her. And so it seemed her yearning for him had not dissipated with time. If anything it grew stronger. She forgot about the child she had been and her mind began to wonder what it would be like to have him back again, if only it could be done. She began to crave him. Such a thought was enticing. She knew she could not go on further without him in some way. Only the dreams sustained her.

But the soothe of her dreams was short-lived, merely a few years, and as she noticed her body failing with age, the dreams started to foretell the darkness that would consume her at her own death. The comfort she found in his embrace in this twilight world became menacing and horrible. He showed her the pain and torment he endured when he was not in her arms. Nightmares of his torture plagued her, and they became more consistent, returning with greater frequency though they were unpredictable in their attack.

"Help me!" he would scream to her, though she was helpless to run away or offer aid. Hideous demons tore away at his body and engulfed him in charred blackness. She could hear herself call out to him. And in the dreams she would reach out, crying, as real tears rolled down her sleeping face. She could almost feel the warmth of his body within her arms, almost feel the touch of his hair against her cheeks, almost smell his musky scent in her nostrils. But then looking down on her comfort, she would see he was gone, replaced by the blackness and emptiness of devilish spiders propelling themselves upward to attack her. Recoiling, she would flail her arms in answer, pushing back the terror that tried to steal her away into its wretched void.

Her life was waning and she feared these dreams. They told her of her doom, her penance for a life of black magic and harm, and it was a terrifying vision. Within the confines of the vardo, her cries could be heard. In her waking hours, she could control so many things, but at night when the dreams came, she was helpless to escape. They took possession of her mind as if cast there by a spell deeper than any she could conjure. They taunted her with their seeming reality, and they always came when she least expected them. They left her feeling weak and helpless, and infinitely old. The vision in the dreams showed her that all her wicked ways would be repaid, and when she found death, the demons would come. Her foul deeds would be avenged, and that was a terror beyond all else to her.

She grew uncertain of herself. Trouble visited their campsite more often and her family wandered wider territories as their welcome became less warm in the lands they visited. She was forced to make choices to guide her family, and they were not always wise. Sometimes her decisions were far more harsh than need be, and instead of illness befalling a provoked villager, death more often came. Fortunately, her family did not see the harm that she caused. She hid it and had them leave, disguising them in blackness. And the bile of her hatred grew stronger for the protection she offered them.

She told them they were being persecuted. She told them there was danger. She said they needed to flee to find the salvation that would protect them. And they believed her every word. And when the dreams came that showed her how to use the heart of an immortal and the heart of an unborn to rejuvenate her own soul, she began to believe it too, for she knew if she died, the family would splinter apart. In her own way, she saw her salvation as theirs.

And now it was here. Her salvation. Their salvation. The elf was delivered and with him came the delivery of the one who would serve host as the body to her dead husband. It was delightful in its simplicity. He was a perfect fit. Her joy at finding this one named Anborn could not have been greater.

****

Kattica froze in her stance along with rest of the Romany in the camp. There was movement, she could see, but it was slowed, as if the people about her were moving through molasses. Without the amulet in hand, her mind felt once again dulled, and she felt her thoughts drifting into a muddle of nothingness, caught again in the witch's magic. She realized the spell Bregus had cast on the tribe was one never intended for humans. It was a fleeting incantation, using mental skill over rites of the spiritual circle. Normally used only on creatures of the wild to slow their running pace and make them easier targets, it was a hunter's spell. Its use was questionable, debated at the gatherings, and agreed that it was called upon only in desperate times, of famine or illness. The magnitude of Bregus' skills, to cast a spell over so many simultaneously, surprised her. The only good thing she could recall of the spell was that it had a short-lived hold. In a minute or two the camp would be back to normal, and in the confusion of her thoughts, under the haze of the other spell, she understood none would remember being halted this way. Trying to push the fog again invading her mind, she re-focused her energy on what was occurring and on regaining her power to move more freely. And yet, she was unable to do anything but watch the horror unfold before her. Her heart raced as she struggled against it, trying her best to remain alert, to follow the events, and to find a way to undo the evil that was about to come. For herself, she knew her only hope remained with the amulet that her grandmother had given her, now laying at her feet. She had to get it back. She had to touch it. It would free her from Bregus' powers. But until she could reach it, she was stuck here, only able to observe mutely and try to discern Bregus' intent over these kind-hearted strangers.

In her effort to reach her amulet, Kattica turned her body. She was now facing Strider and Anborn and could see fully their actions. It took but a moment for them to notice the sluggish state of their table companions, and then another moment more to grasp that the same affect was everywhere about them. It was curious to Kattica that they were not affected. But then, she reasoned, they had not been attacked the night before either and that probably had much to do with the potency of the spell.

Strider rose as he saw the old woman step down from the wagon, marching toward the fire. "You there," he called out, "old woman." But Bregus ignored him as she dropped her parcel into the burning embers.

Anborn also stood, but it appeared neither he nor Strider had discerned the old woman's intent. He simply spoke. "Who are you? What goes here?" In her thoughts, however, Kattica was panicked, screaming for them to flee, to run quickly from the camp. But her fumbling mind could not get the words out to warn them. With justification, they were confused by the disruption of activity in the camp, and Kattica could see that her elder used this to her advantage. She knew their failure to move would entrap them. Within seconds, Kattica's fears came true.

Immediately, smoke shot up from the burning parcel. Even in her dull mind, Kattica was surprised at the speed and containment of it. She saw Bregus complete the magic, pointing to each of them in turn, saying, "Li' sa' kaulo eer, sapmullo! B'e-g themengeder!" As if in compliance to the command, the smoke wafted with demonic speed to each of the four simultaneously, a separate wind dividing and guiding it along. She watched in terror as she saw it whirl around Strider and Anborn coiling about like two serpents, and then drawing back as if to strike. In a tremendous rush, the smoke broke apart from its shape and billowed again into a cloud, encasing their faces and torsos. Small swirls within each cloud emulated the shape of the snake a dozen times over, and the creatures about in the smoke prodded at their eyes, mouths, ears and noses, seeking an entrance into their bodies by any of these routes. She could see the creatures aggressive prodding, thrusting at the eyes of the men, piercing into their noses, coiling around their ears, sliding across their lips. She could see the creatures gliding through entrances to their clothing, slithering down their bellies and into private spaces beneath, and she could only imagine the terror of being invaded this way. The men did not stand idly, kicking and flailing about in their fights. They shut their eyes to the attack, hands flinging up to push away the transparent menace that licked at their ears or noses or bodies, and yet they were helpless as their enemy had no true body to be pushed back.

"No!" she heard Anborn gasp out as he struck out at one form curling against his thigh, another at his waist, and then she saw the serpentine smoke enter his body as he called out. He choked mightily, and with each inhale, more and more of the snakes leapt down his throat. He retched and grabbed his neck, and his eyes grew wide in terror, as the attacking creatures continued to plunge into his body, curling in and out of his nostrils as they overtook him. His legs buckled, and she saw him fall to his knees, still suffering the sickening sound of his gasps. He was quickly followed by the mirroring sounds and sight of Strider rolling to the ground, and behind her, where the dwarf and elf stood, she heard Legolas call out his companion's name. And then more of the same choking hacks could be heard. Being so close, it was almost worse, for the sound of the rattling torment in their lungs made Kattica nauseated and repulsed. She saw the men's faces contort in their struggle, coughing violently again and again against the harsh air that they breathed. And as they took in more of it, the haze about them faded and their struggles slowed. Their breathing grew less labored, as their bodies froze in their stance and within a minute they again inhaled normally as if nothing had been trying to cause them their harm. But worst of all the horror Kattica had been forced to witness thus far was what she saw happen to their eyes as they surrendered to the smoke. They dissolved into nothing, and she could see everything that they felt was wiped away. They were completely blank and pliant.

Kattica watched in silence, though tears came to her eyes. Bregus walked with her quickened steps to their sides, practically dancing in her mirth at their frozen stares and laughing gleefully at the sight. She stepped before Anborn and knelt. His appearance so likened Mattias' that Kattica was surprised she had not noticed it earlier. The old woman lingered long before him, gazing intently into his eyes with a hungry smile, caressing his face, and then pulling him closer and pressing her cheek into his. Drawing back, she ran her hand over the contours of his lips, uttering gentle words before pushing herself up and moving on. And then she stooped down to Strider whispering in his ear as she touched the dark man's shoulder. Kattica realized this was a repeat of what she had witnessed the night before, and she came to recognize that the old woman's touch was very important in casting this spell. With horror she watched as the old woman rose to step near her, and she was afraid for a moment Bregus might stop to ponder the ragged condition of the girl's expression. But to her relief, the older witch walked past the girl, ignoring Kattica's slow motion actions to reach the amulet. So intent was the elder on her next move. The girl grimaced as she continued to fight against the spell. Bregus made her way to where the dwarf stood, and Kattica was blind to what was happening at her back. Gimli and Legolas were behind her. Yet her proximity had its advantages and the girl could hear the old woman's instructions. "There is nothing here worthy of fear. Listen to my words and follow them. You will hear only the good in what I have to say." Involuntarily, Kattica shuddered. She remembered that the old woman had said much the same to her the night before, just as she remembered the blankness that overtook the faces of her people.

The length of the hunter's spell was waning, for Kattica felt her limbs slowly coming alive. Her mind continued to fight its freedom from the fog and the witch's control. With as much speed as her slow-moving body could muster, she stretched further to pick up the amulet. She desperately wanted it. She had to try to help these people, for she realized in this slowed state that Bregus was moving about far faster than she could. She pushed herself to stretch her fingers to reach the carved stone. Perhaps there was still a chance she could save the elf? And then, she had it!

Immediately, with the charm in her hand, she felt her torpor lift, and her sense of herself was back. She looked back to see if there stood yet a chance for those behind her. Kattica gasped out a cry. She saw to her relief that an escape was still possible. Bregus was now moving from the dwarf to the elf, and the old woman recognized and saw the same thing the girl did. The cloud of smoke yet hung over Legolas. He still had not been claimed by its poison. The sound of her voice reverberated through the camp like a bell, and somehow it had a power that truly surprised her. The spell abruptly ended. Instantly, not slowly, the people came back to life!

With a snap of her head, the witch sent a wicked glare at the girl, and Kattica blinked both in amazement at the suddenness of the renewed actions, and the fear that she now felt for Bregus' anger. It sent a chill up the girl's spine, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. But the shuv'ni was too distracted for the moment to do anything beyond making her move against the elf. Like the black witch, Kattica focused her attention on Legolas. With a small smile, Kattica saw him attempt his flight. In her mind she cheered him on. She knew that if he could get out of the circle of the pentacle Bregus had made the night before, he would be free from the powers of her darkness, though it was unlikely he would know this. As long as he remained within the camp, within the magic circle, near her touch, he was susceptible.

Kattica saw Bregus scowl as he ran, but simultaneously, the old woman did not appear fazed. She reached into her deep pocket to retrieve an object there. A secret smile gleaned her lips at the discovery of what she sought. And then she continued her pursuit with the speed of youth.

****

Legolas had seen the smoke approach in the shape of a snake, and he immediately drew back further from his companions. With those few steps, he was granted an extra moment to see how the smoke attacked, if through no other means than by the example set by his friends. "Gimli!" he cried out as he saw the dwarf overtaken, but it was too late, and already he could hear the rasping hacks of his friend's coughs. He watched and absorbed it, seeing the assault, and he searched his mind for a means of fighting it. And then the cloud was upon him, and he had time for nothing else. He had his own battle to fight!

He held his breath to the creature and was surprised to see it break apart into smaller versions of itself. The smoke stung his eyes, and he saw the quick flicks of snakes driving themselves there. Tears streamed down his face as his eyes tried to wash away the haze that attacked him. Momentarily his hands flailed about in an involuntary gesture, and he was forced to shake his head, attempting to free himself of the smoke, not knowing in which direction he could turn to get away. And then he stopped and waited, barring his eyes and ears from further attack, and deciding prudence could potentially deliver him over panic. It was a warrior's tactic, and he hoped it would work. He could not see. He could not smell. He could not touch or taste, but he could hear, and with this one sense available to him, he waited for an indication that it was safe again to breathe. He felt the coils of the snake ringing about him, but in his motionless state, the creatures fell away, their tactic to coerce him into the weakness of crying out failing. But still, he remained unmoving.

He heard his friends' gasps and the sickening sound of their choking noises. Slowly the gags ebbed, replaced by the sounds of normal breathing, and he almost then opened his eyes to see if the smoke had cleared. But then he heard a voice, a laugh, and light steps and it frightened him. It belonged to the old woman and it was brittle and cruel, twanging in its depths with evil intentions. Malicious and cold it was, and he felt himself shudder at the sound of it. He heard the shuffle of footsteps, and he knew she was approaching, speaking to them each in her own vile way. He knew he did not have much time left.

Outside of the voice, all sound had ceased. It was the thing that had alerted him to the trouble in the camp, the cessation of noise. But then he heard a gasped cry from the girl, Kattica, and he snapped to attention at her vocalization. It sent a jolt through his body as he heard the ambient noises return suddenly to the camp, as if that noise had the power to wake them. The clinking of plates and utensils, the stirring of food in the pots, the sound of children laughing again, the trampling hooves beneath the bodies of grazing horses, they all came back as if they had never stopped. Regarding this as a positive thing, he tasted the air.

But still it was wrong! The air remained tainted and thick with the noxious fumes and the creatures resumed their attack on him. He began to grow desperate, fighting against the smoke once again. He knew there was little other choice and so he picked a direction and ran. Fearful that he would trip, his eyes opened to slits to see his way, all the while enduring the snakes' stings at them. He knew that he had been seen, as he heard the voices of others point him out, yet no one came to his aid. Tears streamed from his eyes and his lungs felt ready to burst, but he was marvelously near the edge of the camp. A few more steps, one more leapand then suddenly he collapsed. Unexplainably, his legs gave way and he tumbled and rolled to the ground, scraping his hands and his knees in the fall. In the background noise, among the mumbling voices of the camp, he heard a small tune being sung. It was a wordless thing, almost flat in the intonation of its note patterns, and it followed no set pattern or beat. It was a vile noise and he recoiled at the wickedness within it. His legs seemed to be numbed by it, and fight as he did, they would not respond to his rousing. And all this while the cloud of smoke was upon him, prying at him while he held on to his lingering breath. He felt himself failing in his fight. He rolled to his back as he tried again to escape, using his elbows and hands to drag himself away. He could see the old woman approaching him, and his eyes grew wide in fright. Her song was growing louder, and his arms gave out too, losing all of their strength to her noise. He dropped to the ground, a helpless weight, unable to do anything but succumb to attack.

"Legolas!" he heard Gimli cry, and he looked up briefly to see his friend's arrival at his side, followed immediately by Aragorn and Faramir.

But his air was spent and Legolas could no longer hold on. His head was growing light from his lack of air, and he knew he would pass out at any moment if he did not inhale. Relieved at the sight of his friends, hoping that they could be of aid to him somehow, he drew a breath. It was small in comparison to what his body screamed for, but he thought with that much he might be able to buy himself more time. He was wrong. The serpents took the opportunity offered them and pressed it. His inhale was enough to allow the snakes entrance to his body. Immediately, he choked, gagging and hacking as his lungs rebelled into spasms, helpless to a greater invasion that occurred with the violent gasps. He saw and felt the creatures enter him and he tried to cry out. It felt like poison to him. He could see others gather about him as he fell against the dwarf in his fight, gathered into his friend's arms in the attempt to comfort, yet no one among them offered aid. His friends waved their hands in the air to the smoke, and yet still, the venomous air invaded him. The snakes roiled about in his chest and his eyes filled with tears as he fought for air. His weakened arms pushed against the invisible foe as it entered his body, squirming in the dwarf's arms as he gagged, trying to find his freedom from the smoke's invasion. He fought against taking another breath, but he knew it was a futile effort. He could not stop himself, and vaguely he thought this must be what it felt like to drown. In his plea for his friends' help, he was able to force a few small words from his throat before the need to inhale again overtook him. With a raspy voice, he fought out, "Help me please smoke!" before more air entered him and hurt him.

He coughed deeply, with the full capacity of his chest, and felt sickened. His breaths came in gasping sputters, releasing the noxious toxins into his bloodstream. The grey tentacles penetrated his body. He could feel them sliding down the back of his throat, reaching down into the core of his body. At his side he heard Aragorn speak in a calm voice, grasping his arms to his side to allay the fight, "It is safe, Legolas. The smoke has cleared. Breathe! Breathe!"

He had little choice. His legs did not work, his eyesight was blurred, and his lungs and throat ached at the strain of his fight. He choked still with even greater violence as the sinuous air swirled about in his body. His eyes widened at the attack, and he felt true panic as he found himself unable to escape it. And then he inhaled once again, and his struggle dissipated. It seemed now that the air was filtering clean. His coughs were slowing and he felt his body accepting the gulps of oxygen he took in. His arms fell away from his fight.

But he felt something else. Distant, remote, as if his body and mind were separating from each other, living apart in completely different places. His body calmed from the spasms that he had suffered as it took in the air now offered it. But he also knew his mind was not connected to this action. His tear-filled eyes fixed into a blank stare that he seemed unable to avoid and he saw and heard everything about him in finite detail in the next moments. He saw the girl drop down to his side, troubled feelings registering strongly in her eyes, He saw the old woman step up behind her, looking on with a wry smile, pushing something into a small pouch tied to her side. He saw many of the Romany gather about him, including the three brothers and the genuine looks of curiosity and concern on their faces.

"Legolas?" he heard Gimli's worried call at his side, but he did not answer. He could not answer. He felt frozen and incapable of doing anything that would cause his body movement from this place it was fixed in, though he wanted desperately to speak.

Legolas felt the dwarf stir. "What do you make of this?" he heard Gimli ask, obvious concern in his voice.

"I know not. He is much now like how he acts to the sea-longing. But there was smoke, as if in tentacles, and he was crying out against it only seconds ago. I am at a loss to explain it," the former Ranger said with a frown, checking Legolas' pulse and looking deeply into his eyes.

"And yet you did not see any smoke, did you? You could not, for there was none here." It was the old woman who spoke, and Legolas saw Kattica jump, almost as if she did not realize the elder stood behind her.

"But" Aragorn began, yet his eyes darkened, and he looked for the moment as if conflicted. Then his eyelids fluttered, and he uttered softly in concurrence to the old woman's statement, "Nay, I did not see smoke."

Legolas felt Gimli nodding his agreement, as he heard Faramir, slowly echoing the words, "There was no smoke."

Trapped in his frozen body, Legolas' mind rebelled. His face twisted slightly as he tried to speak up. There was smoke! How can they say there was not? They fought it too! He worked to muster himself back, to fight for what he knew. His brow furrowed as he tried to form words, but then the elder woman bent over, supporting her weight on the shoulder of Kattica as she reached out and touched his neck, as if attempting to register his pulse. An electric shock ran through him and he saw the old woman react to it too. Through his fixed gaze, he thought he saw Kattica jump back. But it was too late to think much more than this. He felt his thoughts recede further, as if in a tunnel, as he heard the old woman speak as she examined him, holding his face between her hands, "Perhaps it is sea-longing. I have heard tale of this affliction. Very tiring it must be. He does look fatigued, does he not? I doubt he will remember much of anything when he awakens, and I would imagine it would be best if he were to sleep until it passes."

He heard the words, and they seemed to take possession of him. Traveling down the long corridor that separated his body from his mind, they followed him as he grew helpless to their effect. Suddenly, every muscle of his body felt crushed with exhaustion, and his troubled thoughts melted into a blur. The words he had been trying to say fell away, and he found himself light-headed and hopelessly weakened. Only the repetition of her words escaped him before he lost all control. "Sleep" Legolas drawled in a whisper, and with that his eyelids fell heavily and his head lolled forward.

"Legolas?" he heard Gimli distantly prod, but the elf had nothing more within him, and the dwarf's call was met with no response. Legolas slipped away, collapsing deeply and effortlessly into the oblivion she laid out for him.

"Li' sa' kaulo eer, sapmullo! B'e-g themengeder!" "By the gods I command you, snake spirit! Seize these foreign souls!