LOTR Fan Fiction: The Witch of Angmar - Part #18

The Witch of Angmar

Legacy of the Fellowship

Part Eighteen

The Dungeons of Carn Dûm

I

t was dark and damp inside the cell. A deep chill – one that came from the absence of sunlight, year after year – permeated the stone. Peri sat, his knees pulled up against his chest, staring into the darkness. He was sitting on his folded cloak, in an effort to make himself more comfortable; yet the fetid, sunless cell was starting to erode his endurance. 

This was the end of their journey. After a terrifying trek north, whipped and menaced by Morwyn’s servants, the sight of Carn Dûm had made Peri’s step falter. Its dark towers loomed against a backdrop of barren mountainside and pale sky. He would have fallen if Salrean had not been there to grab hold of his arm and keep him moving. The hillmen had herded them in to the base of the fortress, but had not taken them before the Witch of Angmar as Salrean had predicted. Instead, they had dragged their prisoners deep underground, down endless moss-covered stone steps to this vile, airless dungeon.

Peri had lost track of time since their arrival at Carn Dûm. At least four meals had passed, although the time between them was long enough for hunger to twist their stomachs cruelly. The food the goblin guards brought was barely palatable: hard, coarse bread that stuck in their throats, and foul tasting gruel and water that tasted of iron and mould. Yet, Salrean and Peri were so hungry that they ate it without complaint.

Perhaps she will leave us here to rot, Peri thought; despair consuming him. I will never see daylight again.

“Peri,” Salrean’s voice intruded upon his dark thoughts. “You have not spoken in a while – are you well?”

“Not really,” Peri replied, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his knees. “Much longer in this place and I will go mad.”

Peri heard a noise beside him as Salrean inched closer to him. A moment later, he felt her arm settle around his shoulders.

“I am sorry, Peri,” she said, her voice laced with sadness. “This is all my doing. I should never have agreed to my father’s plan.”

“‘Tis too late for regrets now,” Peri replied, leaning against her. The warmth and solace the simple contact brought made his eyes sting with tears. “We all knew the risks.”

Salrean squeezed her arm around him tighter in response. “I know,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “I just wish that I had not been so eager to please my father. Ethorn was right – he is unpleasable. It’s the Red Book my father wants, and he would go to any lengths to get it.”

“He would not send you into danger if he didn’t think there was hope,” Peri replied. “I agree that he is ruthless and ambitious – but you are still his daughter. If you do not return to Farnost, he will grieve.”

“Perhaps,” bitterness tinged Salrean’s voice. “Yet, these days in the darkness have made me realize things that I had not wished to see before. If we survive this, if we see daylight again, I will no longer do my father’s bidding without question. The days of acting as his puppet have ended.”

***

Rose heaved the iron lid open and peered down into the inky depths beyond. Suddenly, she did not wish to go a step further. She would have preferred to stay out here, in the open air.

Yet, Salrean and Peri were inside the Witch of Angmar’s lair – and remaining here would not help them.

Wishing she had a torch to light her way, her stomach knotted in dread, Rose sat down at the edge of the trap door and lowered herself gingerly down into the darkness. Her feet reached the rungs of an iron ladder and she gripped onto it as she climbed down under the earth.

The open trap door above cast a little light for the first few feet, before darkness swallowed her. Down she climbed, at least ten yards, before she stepped onto a cold stone floor. Glancing up, Rose took one last look at the pale window of light above and struggled to calm her fears.

She had never liked the darkness. If only Azil were here, she would not feel so alone – so frightened.

Steadying her breathing, Rose turned then and unsheathed Sting from its scabbard. The blade was dark, telling her that there were no goblins about. Yet, although this knowledge was welcome in one sense, she found herself wishing the blade glowed brightly. At least, she could have used Sting’s glow to find her way in the darkness.

Rose began to walk, waving Sting in front of her as she did so, in an effort to prevent herself from colliding with any objects.

After a few steps, the blade clanged dully against stone and, reaching out, Rose discovered a damp, stone wall. Keeping Sting held tightly in her right hand, she felt her way along the wall with her left. After a few more steps, the floor started to slope downwards.

Although the blackness was impenetrable, Rose realized that she was in a long stone tunnel that stretched down into the roots of the mountain under Carn Dûm. Glad of her silent Hobbit feet, which barely made a sound as she journeyed further away from the secret way in, she focused on keeping her breathing steady and letting her senses of hearing, touch and smell compensate for the fact that she was now travelling blind.

The further she journeyed, the steeper the corridor became. The dread which Rose had managed to control initially, surfaced once more. How much further would she have to travel down before she could claw her way back to the surface?

Eventually, however, the long corridor came to an end.

The wall that Rose had felt her way along, fell back and she stepped gingerly down onto a set of worn steps. Before her, for the first time since climbing down into the tunnel, there was a little light here – for she stood on the edge of a wide cavern and a subterranean lake. A weak shaft of light, full of drifting dust motes, pierced the darkness from high above. The light illuminated the cavern – revealing the conical stalactites that hung from the high roof, and the dark surface of the lake in its centre.

Blinking like a mole surfacing from its burrow, Rose gazed around the cavern. A narrow path led around the rim of the lake, and on the cavern walls she could see numerous tunnel entrances, like the one she had just emerged from. If she ever made it back here, after saving her friends, she would need to remember which tunnel led to the secret entrance. Rose paused for a moment, and dug into the small leather pack she carried on her back, pulling out a woollen scarf. Her mother had knitted it, three years earlier; it was one of Rose’s favourite items of clothing and she was loath to leave it behind. Yet, she had nothing else to use as a marker.

She knelt and wrapped the scarf around one of the many stones littering the floor of the cavern, before placing it to the left of the tunnel she had just exited.

I will make it back here, she told herself. We all will.

Rose descended the steps to the path ringing the lake.

She did not like the look of that lake – it was too dark and still – and she imagined all manner of foul creatures lurking beneath its black surface. As such, she was careful to make as little noise as possible as she skirted the water’s edge.

However, as disquieting as this cavern was, there was a greater issue that drew Rose’s attention – one that made her heart start to race and her mouth go dry with fear.

There were at least a dozen entrances along the cavern wall. Which one should she take?

There was no way to know. Each tunnel entrance looked identical – there were no markers or signs. Rose needed to get into the base of the fortress, from where she could make her way to the Witch’s Tower. Yet, these tunnels could lead anywhere.

She padded along the path, pausing at each entrance a moment before continuing. Reaching the far edge of the cavern, she then turned and retraced her steps.

She had no choice – she would just have to choose one of the tunnels and hope for the best.

You can always return here and take another path, she told herself, provided that the tunnel you choose does not lead to certain death.

Rose stopped at the third last tunnel from the far end of the cavern and took a deep breath.

She would take this one.

Glancing back at the subterranean lake that rippled slightly as a breeze from one of the tunnels caressed its surface, Rose squared her shoulders and climbed the steps to the tunnel.

Inside, she stepped into pitch black once more. She did not like the smothering darkness but this time managed to suppress her panic. As before, she made her way along the tunnel using her left hand as a guide along the wall, and waving Sting in the darkness with her right.

To her relief, the tunnel sloped upwards immediately. Finally, she was heading back towards the sunlight.

Rose climbed for a long while before the tunnel levelled out. When she reached its end, her legs were heavy with fatigue. She leant for a while against the chill wall, recovering from the climb, before taking a measured couple of sips from her rapidly emptying water bladder.

I should have refilled it in the lake, she thought – before realizing that it was probably a good thing she had not. Best not disturb whatever lives in that place.

Now that the tunnel had ended, Rose felt her way around the surrounding wall, realising that she was in a wider space. Her flagging spirits lifted when her fingers fastened around the handle of a wooden torch that hung from a wall bracket.

Grinning in the darkness, Rose removed the torch from the bracket and fumbled in her pockets for the flint that she always carried. She struck the flint against the wall and, eventually, managed to light the tallow torch. Tender flames flickered to life, suddenly illuminating her surroundings in a warm, golden glow.

Rose looked around her, and saw that she stood on the edge of a great stone gallery. A number of unlit torches hung from the walls, lining a long column of massive pillars that stretched ahead of her. She set off between the rows of pillars, grateful for the torch that now lit her way.

Rose had been walking for a short while, when Sting started to glow – it was very faint, but the eerie blue was unmistakable. The sight did not frighten Rose as much as in the past, for if Sting had awoken then perhaps this was the right tunnel after all. Yet, she still gripped her sword’s hilt tightly at the sight of it.

Rose slowed her step, her gaze darting around her.

She had only travelled a few yards further when a sound made her skid to a halt. A strange whispering echoed down the empty gallery, and moments later a chill breeze ruffled Rose’s hair.

What was that?

She was still standing there, trying to decide whether she should continue, when a huge shadow, at least twice the size of a man, detached itself from behind one of the pillars. The whispering echoed towards her once more and Rose felt her blood run cold.

Barandur had warned her that many dangers lurked in the tunnels under Carn Dûm. She had seen the haunted look in the seer’s eyes when he had spoken of it. She suddenly wished she had taken more notice. She wished they had questioned him about it.

Rose stepped hurriedly backwards, readying herself to turn and flee – her gaze riveted on the looming figure that stepped out into the torchlight.

End of Part #18

Be back for Part #19 on 7 March!

BOOK REVIEW: BLOOD SONG (Raven's Shadow Book #1) by Anthony Ryan

I really enjoyed Blood Song - it's one of the those classic epic fantasies that carries you away with it, making it hard to put down! 

The novel follows Vaelin Al Sorna from boyhood to manhood through a series of trials, intrigue and battles that makes the reader feel as if you're right there with him.

Blurb: 

We have fought battles that left more than a hundred corpses on the ground and not a word of it has ever been set down. The Order fights, but often it fights in shadow, without glory or reward. We have no banners. 

Vaelin Al Sorna's life changes forever the day his father abandons him at the gates of the Sixth Order, a secretive military arm of the Faith. Together with his fellow initiates, Vaelin undertakes a brutal training regime - where the price of failure is often death. Under the tutelage of the Order's masters, he learns how to forge a blade, survive the wilds and kill a man quickly and quietly. 

Now his new skills will be put to the test. War is coming. Vaelin is the Sixth Order's deadliest weapon and the Realm's only hope. He must draw upon the very essence of his strength and cunning if he is to survive the coming conflict. Yet as the world teeters on the edge of chaos, Vaelin will learn that the truth can cut deeper than any sword.

***

The characterisation is one of my favourite things in this book. In many ways, the storyline is nothing new: young boy joins warrior order, after being abandoned at the door by his father and grows up to be one of the most formidable warriors the world has ever known - yet it is Ryan's telling of the story, and the way he makes us care about the characters, which makes it entirely unique. 

In many novels where the main character must join an order or train to become a great warrior or wizard, I find myself wishing the writer would hurry it up - but not with Blood Song. Vaelin's time as an apprentice brother in the sixth order is beautifully told, without going into too much detail, and is what allows the reader to forge a bond with him; it sets the tone and pace for the rest of the book, as well as over-shadowing the whole story with a sense of foreboding. 

The tale of the Witch's Bastard, that appears half-way through the book, was also an interesting addition to the story, adding a 'fairy-tale' element to the novel - even if, once they read the fable, many readers will guess what's coming...

Ryan's writing is effortless and absorbing to read. I loved the way he brought the supporting cast of characters - especially the other brothers of the order and the female characters - to life. The king, who manipulates him into doing his bidding is chillingly manipulative without sliding into a 'arch-villain' stereotype, which would have been easy to do - and the princess is a fascinating character I'm sure we'll hear more from in the next books!

Blood Song is a gripping adventure that is sensitively written - a story about a warrior, a killer, who must come to terms with who he is, a man who must break free of his past and make decisions that will cost him greatly, in order forge a new life for himself.

Highly recommended for all those who love epic fantasy!

LOTR Fan Fiction: The Witch of Angmar - Part #17

The Witch of Angmar

Legacy of the Fellowship

Part Seventeen

The Way In

T

he goblin turned to Rose, watching her silently. Even after days in Azil’s company, she found his bulbous eyes with their topaz irises and pinprick pupils disconcerting. It was almost impossible to gauge his feelings, or even begin to guess at what he was thinking.

On the last stretch of their journey to Carn Dûm, Azil had grown quiet and introspective. Now, as the ancient, dark towers of the Witch-king of Angmar’s fortress rose against the eastern sky, the goblin looked as if he would prefer to be anywhere in Middle Earth than here.

The pair stood on the edge of a rocky gully, with the woods behind them. There was no one about; although Rose felt exposed out here and knew that they would have to move on soon.

Rose glanced down at her sword. Even now, she could see the bright blue glow of its blade, visible even through the leather scabbard that encased it. It had glowed ever since they had captured Azil. She had just begun to get used to the eerie blue light surrounding them at night.

“I have brought you to the fortress,” Azil said, his gaze flicking to where Carn Dûm’s dark shadow rose beyond Rose’s shoulder. “I will leave you now.”

“You kept your word,” Rose replied with a tremulous smile, “as you said you would. Thank you Azil.”

The goblin’s pale gaze flicked back to her. He nodded and started to back away from her, eager to return to the relative safety of the skeleton woods.

“Go now,” he hissed, “before one her servants spies you.”

Rose nodded, her mouth suddenly dry from terror at the prospect of what lay before her.

“Will you not come with me, Azil?”

The goblin froze, mid-shuffle.

“What? You promised me that this would be enough – why do you ask this now?”

“I did,” Rose replied evenly, trying not to let her fear show in her voice, “and I know I cannot demand more. Yet, if you would accompany me into Carn Dûm, and help me rescue my friends, we might stand a chance. As it is, I don’t know how I will manage it on my own.”

“She-hobbit,” Azil hissed, his wiry frame bristling from head to toe. “I did what you bid. I have brought you to Carn Dûm. That is all. Don’t ask anything else of me!”

“Please Azil,” Rose spread her hands and took a step towards him. “You know things have not worked out as we planned. Salrean and Peri should be here with us now. I was never supposed to venture into those tunnels alone. The seer, who told us about the secret entrance, also told me that the way in is dangerous. How will I ever make it through on my own?”

“That is not my concern,” Azil looked truly angry now. His thin face was twisted, his eyes narrowed into glittering slits. “What do I care if you and your friends perish here? You are all nothing to me.”

“But I thought we were friends?” Rose demanded, horrified.

“I don’t have friends,” Azil snarled. “Is this your idea of friendship she-hobbit? Dragging me into danger with you?”

Rose did not answer. The goblin had backed a few yards from her now. Another step or two further and he would be gone. She realised then that it was hopeless. No amount of pleading would make Azil change his mind.

Salrean and Peri were right – he is a selfish, cunning creature, incapable of truly caring for anyone else.

“Very well, Azil,” she said, forcing a smile, although dread was making her feel ill and cold inside. “I can only ask. I wish you good fortune for wherever your road leads. Goodbye.” 

Azil’s face twisted even further, and Rose thought for a moment that he would curse her. Then, he turned and melted into the shadows, without another word; leaving her alone.

Rose took a deep, shuddering breath and tore her gaze from the boughs where the goblin had disappeared. She was on her own now, she would not be able to look to Azil for assistance.

She turned her back to the woods and pulled up the cowl of her cloak before beginning to pick her way down the side of the gorge. Her feet slid on the loose shale and she had to grab on to tree roots to steady herself during the descent. All the while, her gaze flicked left and right, making sure she was still alone.

By the time Rose reached the bottom of the gorge, her heart was thundering so loudly she was surprised Morwyn herself, ensconced in the Witch Tower, could not hear it.

A chill mist curled around her ankles as she picked her way across the open ground towards where the first of the sharp rocks climbed the mountainside. She was half-way across, her gaze riveted upon her destination now, when she heard the thump of booted feet and the clang of shields and spears approaching from the east.

A patrol.

Rose gave up any pretence at stealth and bolted for the rocks. She flung herself behind the first one and flattened herself against the cold ground, just as the men rounded the corner and clattered towards her. There she lay, hardly daring to breathe, waiting until they passed by. She could hear the rough voices of men, accompanied by the hiss and cackle of goblins – and although she wanted to see how many of them there were, she did not risk a peek over the edge of her hiding place, in fear that a few of them had lingered behind the rest.

Only when the sound of thundering feet and clanking armour and weaponry faded into the distance, did Rose dare get to her feet and continue on her way. Her legs were shaking as she climbed the razor-sharp rocks, and she had to stop intermittently to regain control of her nerves.

You can’t go into Carn Dûm like this, she berated herself. Look at you – you’re so frightened you can hardly walk!

Up and up, she climbed, grateful for the tendrils of mist that crept up from the valley floor below, for at least the mist concealed her. Yet, as she climbed, her dread turned to worry. Barandur had spoken of a rock, hidden in the middle of the others, darker than all the rest.

They all looked the same to her.

The rocks were densely packed; some so close together that even Rose could not squeeze herself between them. She was often forced to make detours around some clusters, while trying to make sure she was still heading for the heart of the rocks, as the seer had instructed.

Rose searched all afternoon, but did not find the way into Carn Dûm.

Sweat trickled down her back, and her vision eventually speckled with exhaustion, but she doggedly continued her search. However, there was no rock darker than the others. They were all the same; sharp, grey rocks made of a pitted volcanic stone. As hard as she looked, Rose could not find one that stood out from the rest.

Eventually, the light began to fade. The mist thickened, obscuring Rose’s surroundings and making it impossible to continue her search.

Fighting tears, Rose collapsed in a narrow space between two rocks.

It was hopeless, she would never find the secret way in.

She lay on her side, eyes clenched shut, and attempted to stem the panic rising in her breast. Despite that she was sweating from exertion, the cold had deepened with the setting sun. It would be a chill night, and she would not be able to light a fire. It would be a long night out here in the shadow of that evil fortress.

Perhaps Barandur had lied. The fear that had been growing in her mind all afternoon, surfaced. Maybe Rendur had been right, after all. She had preferred Barandur to Salrean’s ruthless father, but that did not mean he had not fooled them all.

Rose sat up, leaning her back against the rock behind her and drawing her knees up against her chest. Just the thought that she might have spent the afternoon searching for a way in that did not exist, made her feel ill. If there was no secret entrance then they really were all doomed, for Rose could not venture any closer to Carn Dûm without risking capture.

The last rays of light disappeared from the world and an icy, still night settled over Angmar.

Huddled up in her cloak in an attempt to keep the chill at bay, Rose tried not to dwell on her predicament. She also tried not to give rein to her fears and worries.

There is no secret tunnel into Carn Dûm.

Salrean and Peri are dead.

I will never return home to the Shire.

With an effort, Rose pushed such bleak thoughts aside. Her fears would not help her now. Despite her misery, Rose felt her stomach grumble in protest. She had not eaten since that morning. All she had left in her pack was a small pouch of seeds, nuts and dried fruits. Once that ran out there was nothing else; as such, Rose took a measured handful and ate her light supper slowly, chewing each mouthful as if it were her last. Rose finished her meagre meal and took a measured gulp of water from her half-empty bladder. Azil had trapped a few rabbits on the journey here, ensuring that they had not gone hungry, but without his help she would surely starve if left to her own devices.

Curse that goblin. Tears stung Rose’s eyelids. Why did he bother saving my life before, if he was going to abandon me here?

She should never have expected loyalty from such a creature. The fault was her own. He could not be something he was not. It was a miracle that he had kept his word and led her to Carn Dûm. He had plainly been terrified of going anywhere near the fortress for fear of being recaptured and brought before his king.

Do not blame Azil for the mess you’re in, she told herself wearily. It was my decision to travel north with Salrean. I could have refused Rendur but I did not. Not all adventures are like those in the Red Book. Not all adventures have happy endings.

The night passed slowly, as only cold nights can. Rose did not sleep. She was afraid that if she did, the cold might claim her. The darkness and bone-numbing chill brought bleak thoughts and galloping fears – ones that were easy enough to dismiss in daylight; but in the darkness they loomed like wraiths.

Eventually, a grey dawn lightened the eastern sky.

Rose ate another handful of nuts and seeds before rising stiffly to her feet. A day of searching lay before her – she would not give up yet. If she walked away from here without knowing for certain that no secret way in existed, she would never be able to live with herself.

Peri’s in Carn Dûm, somewhere. She rubbed her stinging eyes and mentally prepared herself for the day ahead. I will not leave him there.

The dawn took its time to reach Rose’s hiding place, between the shadows of two huge boulders. She waited until there was enough light for her to see clearly; it was a hard enough search without squinting in the half-light.

As she waited, Rose continued to stretch her cramped limbs. She felt like a very old hobbit this morning – not like one in her tweens. The cold and damp had tightened her muscles and stiffened her joints. She stretched her back and leant her neck back in an effort to loosen her shoulder muscles, her gaze turning towards the sky as she did so.

Rose froze mid-stretch.

There, rising high above the surrounding rocks, its pointed tip thrusting into the lightening sky, was a rock – different to the others. It was almost black and made of a smooth, gleaming stone, unlike the others that were rough and pitted.

Despite her fatigue, Rose’s face broke into a grin.

There it was; the rock Barandur had spoken off. She had slept under its shadow all night without even realising.

It took her moments to skirt the edge of the boulder she had slept next to before reaching the base of the great, dark rock behind it. Moments later, she discovered the shallow cave at the rock’s base – and entering the cave she found an iron trap door.

She stood there for a moment, staring down at the trap door that was rusted with age and encrusted with mildew, and was suddenly overcome by warring hope and fear at what lay beyond it.

Yet, come what may, there lay the way in to Carn Dûm. She must take it.

End of Part #17

Be back for Part #18 on 21 February!