“It’s a riddle!” he exclaimed. “Speak ‘friend’ and enter! What’s the Elvish
word for friend?” “Mellon,” Gandalf intoned and the doors groaned and
rumbled from years of not being used, as they reluctantly swung open and
stone grated on stone, to admit the trespassers.
Gimli flitted in and proclaimed to Legolas in an animated tone of voice,
“Soon Master Elf, you will enjoy the hospitality of the Dwarves- roaring
fires, mouth-watering meat and mead off the bowl. This, my friend, is the
home of my cousin, Balin, and they call it a mine. A mine!”
“This isn’t a mine- it’s a tomb!” Boromir countered in a low voice.
Then Gimli saw the corpses of his kindred, gasped in horror, and howled his
denial of the scene before him, “No! Noooooo!”
Legolas bent down to pluck a black arrow from the skull of a dwarf’s corpse
and examined it.
“Orcs,” he asserted and flung away the arrow in disgust. Everyone drew their
“We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here. Now get out
of here. Get out!” Boromir hollered.
Suddenly, a lurid, olive-green, sinuous tentacle that grasped her around the
ankles and lifted her high into the air- out of their reach, caught Arwen
the Fair, unaware.
“Estel!” screamed Arwen, fighting fiercely against her assailer; but to no
avail, for her strident cry was abruptly cut off as the massive tentacle
swung round and flung her maliciously against the stonewall, where she hit
her head with jarring impact and fell silent.
Aragorn was in a sudden fit of murderous rage. Boiling wrath seethed through
him and his smouldering eyes narrowed with blazing fury. To say that he was
bloody furious would be an understatement. The others had never seen him
this riled up and incensed, as he was usually the serene one. When they saw
the anger written in his chiselled features, they beheld a sight that they
would not forget anytime soon. The Elf-princess of Rivendell heard his
outraged bellow before she lost consciousness.
“Arwen!” Aragorn roared. Enraged, he moved like lightning and unleashed his
anger full force, as he whirled around and swept out Andúril from its
sheath, like a crimson flame and with a fluid and puissant* stroke, he smote
the jade-green, putrid anomaly that was clutching his beloved with a
colossal, extended arm. The monstrosity let out a shriek of unadulterated
agony and twenty other groping and towering arms rippled out of the bubbling
and frothing water to attack Lord Elessar, as Lady Undómiel fell from its
severed grip into his possessive and protective embrace. The monster now
reared its head above the water to reveal a gaping maw* with protruding,
elongated fangs and a rancid stench emanating from it. However, Legolas shot
it, Gimli skewered it and Boromir slashed it, before it could harm Aragorn
and his lady, whose limp form was now held tightly in his arms.
“Into the mines!” Gandalf yelled, already rushing the Hobbits there.
Legolas covered their backs and further stalled the mutant by aiming an
arrow straight between its bulbous eyes. When Legolas darted in at last,
Gandalf tried to think of a word that would shut the doors, but in an
anti-climatic turn of events, the fiend obliged them by reaching out its
many coiling arms and slamming the doors, bringing down some rubble that
blocked out the light, causing a stygian gloom to settle in. As the debris
fell at them, they crouched down to the floor with their hands over their
heads; Aragorn hugged Arwen close to him, covering her body with his,
sheltering her from the collapsing wreckage.
*puissant – powerful
*maw - mouth
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.