Chapter 23. The Master of Esgaroth.

The trail led them ever deeper into the bleak wilderness, through canyons and over steep tors, round boulders and cliffs and beneath sloping walls.  Ever did the dread press upon them, beckoning and repulsing them; and ever did Dúrfinwen stare, or groan, or laugh behind her gag at them, rolling her eyes and leering.  They had bound her to Isilmë’s back, for he was the only steed willing to bear her; even Hammer would not suffer her presence, and the draughts shied when she was near.  When they would stop to rest Legolas would try to get her to eat or drink; she would laugh cruelly at him, or beg him to let her go; whenever Gimli was near her she would cry out for mercy and death.

The tracks they followed soon led them to less gruesome, but far more terrible discoveries.  The marks in the earth, as though a dragged barrel had scored it, housed tiny bones; at first they thought the bones were from small animals, but then they came upon an infant’s skull, and the twisted remains of a little child’s hand.  They recalled then Dúrfinwen’s words, how the Master ate children, and full resolved in hatred for that vile man they pressed on, though Tamin, sitting upon Hammer’s back with his own dear Master, wept to think of the poor small things in desperate torment writhing.  His tender heart was wrung, and burned from within; betimes he also gazed upon Dúrfinwen, slumped and drooling on Isilmë’s back, and the pain and bewilderment in his eyes tore at everyone’s soul.

Two evenings following Dúrfinwen’s fall from the precipice, as they huddled in the cleft of a rock round their inadequate fire, Bandobras, who was keeping watch, ducked into the alcove; he crept quietly up to them, his brown eyes grave; and in a low voice he whispered:

“There’s a mort o’ torches over the next ridge, folks; I’m a-thinking it might be Malbeach and his men.”

Tamin gasped, and Legolas glanced at Dúrfinwen and asked carefully:  “Are they on the march, my Bandobras, or do they rest?”

“They’re on the move, Legolas,” said Bandobras.  “Marchin’ straight toward us from the east, as though we were in their way.  Bet they’ll be here in an hour’s time.”

“Blast!” muttered Gimli, kicking dirt over the fire to smother it.  “And the beans are nowhere near done.”

“I’ll cover ‘em,” said Bandobras; “hopefully there’s enough broth to let ‘em soak.  But if this group of men come upon us we’ll have more to worry about nor our suppers, and that’s no exaggeration, Gimli.”

“If I have to die in the wilderness, I would rather do so with a full stomach,” grumbled Gimli.  “Well, it cannot be helped, I suppose; we are hid fairly well in our cleft, and if they pass by this road of bones, retracing their foul steps, all we need do is to keep silent and let them go.”

“How many are there, do you think, Bandobras?” asked Legolas.

“Hard to say,” shrugged the Hobbit.  “I counted a hundred torches; there could be more men than lights, you know.  Leastaways I don’t see how we could fight ‘em, so we mought as well let ‘em pass us by.”

“If they leave the Master’s stronghold here in the east,” said Legolas thoughtfully, “perchance we when we gain it may find aught there to instruct and strengthen us, and so return on their heels, picking off stragglers as they go; I should rather a good score fewer return to Esgaroth than their full strength.”

“Not a bad idea,” grinned Gimli, fingering his axe blade.  “Same stakes as usual, my friend?”

“Now that is hardly fair,” chided Legolas mildly.  “We will slay from a distance, so I will have the advantage; and I have taken two barrels of wine off you already.  I shall give you a handicap of five.”

“Hmph!” said Gimli.  “Handicaps!  I need them not.  The same stakes, I say; I am anxious for retribution, and my axe cries for the blood of men.”

“If you insist, dear Gimli!” smiled Legolas.  “But I yet believe you to be at the disadvantage.”

So Bandobras sealed his pot, and they all drew back further into the cleft; the horses were unnerved by the steep walls of rock surrounding them, and shifted uneasily, setting up echoes in the twisting and cavernous canyon.  “Hush, Isilmë; hush!” Tamin begged his little white horse; Isilmë’s broad short ears swiveled, and he showed the whites of his eyes.  “Be still, O do; or you shall have that dreadful man upon us!”

At last the steeds settled, and stood though still nervous at least quietly; Dúrfinwen however became more agitated, groaning and gnashing into her gag, and thrashing about, her eyes wild and frightened.  Strangely, she would suffer only Legolas to be near her; so Bandobras, Gimli, and Tamin slipped out of the crack and left them together with the horses.  “We will scout round on the cliff above the men,” said Gimli; “we will watch their progress, and warn you if they seem to be coming too close.  But we have set up our camp right off the trail, and as men are methodical and unimaginative creatures, I will wager Aglarond’s riches they shall pass by not one hundred yards from you.”

“The fewer of us in the cleft, then, the better,” agreed Legolas, and settling Dúrfinwen upon a pallet, he let them go, smiling at Tamin encouragingly.  The boy was troubled, and looked from his lord to the erstwhile mercer with fear in his eyes; at last, at a muttered command from Bandobras, he followed the Hobbit and the Dwarf up the ridge.

Dúrfinwen was quiet, crouched upon the pallet, chewing at the gag, her dark eyes darting to and fro.  Legolas sat facing her, his back against Burnt Toast’s furry legs, watching her with pity and affection mingled.  It grew darker, and the wind whistled round them in the rocks and crags; Dúrfinwen shivered, and looked up, her eyes catching at some strange light; then she shuddered deeply and closed her eyes, twitching as though in pain.

“Are you uncomfortable, Dúrfinwen?” asked Legolas kindly.  He reached forward to touch her leg, but she jerked back, shaking her head, her eyes black and burning.  The gag cut deeply into her sunken cheeks, and she had chewed at the rag so hard the edges of her mouth bled; her blood and saliva mingled leeched palely into the cloth.  Her thin arms in their borrowed tunic strained at her bonds, and Legolas’ compassionate heart was wrung; he recalled the dream he had of her, the jolly fat baby he remembered surprising upon his mother’s knee; the flossy brown curls waving round her head, and her dimpled mouth laughing and cooing.  His eyes stung with tears, and his throat tightened; no longer did her fair face echo that pretty child’s; no longer were her cheeks pink and creamy, nor her eyes sparkling and vivacious; her stubbled head wobbled on a scrawny neck, and she was filthy and drab – his fashionable mercer, who had labored with joy in his tucking-mill, choosing for herself the silks and satins and brocades best suited her skin and hair and eyes – yellow, and rich red, and the shimmering olivey green gown she had proudly displayed to her amused lord’s eyes, all trimmed in gold and plum:  “There!  Now I daresay I shall eclipse bride and groom alike!“  He, laughing at her and her lighthearted and wicked vanity; she, casting the green gown carelessly aside and pouncing upon a vibrant turquoise for “little Melima.”  “For it is her first grand ball, and I wish to have the boys all fawning round her!”  He could not stop himself; tears rolled down his cheeks at the bright happy memory, and he felt as though his heart would break.

How had they come to this?  He, thin and ill and ensorcelled by evil dreams; his friends, following grimly along; his esquire, crushed and dismayed; his vassals, dead and mad and gone.  Esgaroth, denuded and evil; Dale, suspicious and remote; Eryn Lasgalen and Erebor, hanging in the balance upon the tenuous thread stretched tight between them.  He thought then of Malbeach and Renna, of Malbeach’s black dead eyes, and Renna’s cruel beauty, and the tears evaporated in the heat of his wrath:  They should not be suffered to treat people so; they should be called to account, and given their just due of pain and torment.  But deep in his mind he heard Renna’s trembling voice:  “He came after me with a poker – he will beat me, or give me to his men – “  “Whore she may well be,” he thought, “and well deserving of justice; but I will wager equal to Aglarond’s riches if Malbeach is not at the heart of this.”

He realized that Dúrfinwen was watching him, her dark eyes intent; there seemed to be a glimmer of intelligence behind them, and she did not appear to him to be afraid.  So he leant carefully forward, and loosened the gag at her mouth; she did not bite him, or draw back; but licked her lips with a tongue swollen and chewed, and stared at him hard.

“If you are serene, Little One,” he said softly, “then you may keep the gag from your mouth; and if you are thirsty, I will get for you a skin of water.”

“Blood, an it please you, pretty man,” she whispered; her low sultry voice made Legolas’ skin prickle, and he shivered.  She gave to him a slow strange smile, her dark eyes hooded and kindled from within; she nestled down onto the pallet.  “How cozy,” she said.  “Just us two – the harlot and the hornet.”

Legolas stared at her; his battle with Ushtâk had been before her unexpected and inexplicable appearance in Mirkwood.   “How did you – “ he began; but then a noise at the entrance of the cleft alerted him, and he turned, expecting one of his companions; but silhouetted against the dimness was a man’s shape, with eyes that gleamed redly at him.  Legolas leapt to his feet, fumbling for his sword; and Dúrfinwen laughed, shrill and hysterical.

“Look!” she cried, struggling to sit.  “It is he; it is the harlot!  O how delicious!”

Legolas stared at the intruder, then to his horror he recognized him.  “Malbeach!” he hissed, drawing his weapon; behind him one of the ponies snorted.

“Ah,” said the man; Legolas could see that he was smiling, his gaze ardent and admiring; his red doublet was muddy and torn, and his dark curly hair waved wildly round his face.  But he looked happy and expectant, and smoothed the blood-colored velvet down over his chest, flicking his tongue out to taste his own lips; Legolas shuddered.  “How pleasant to see you again, O glorious Prince of Mirkwood!” he purred, and touched his hair.  Legolas was reminded of a vain coquette and he cringed, expecting the familiar roiling in his entrails; however his surprise and anger appeared to have taken the nauseous edge off of him, and standing firmly he gripped his sword, listening hard for any other interlopers.  But Malbeach was alone, and bold in his vulnerability, mocking Legolas’ strength. He let his gaze rove over Legolas’ form, then tut-tutted.  “You have got too thin, O radiant prince of the Firstborn,” he said, shaking his head mournfully.  “Yet even in your present state you are far fairer than any woman I have met.”  He glanced coolly at Dúrfinwen, who was watching him intently, her breath rapid and shallow.  “Barring your lovely little plaything, of course.”

Dúrfinwen whined, and twisted away from him, scrabbling in her binds to the back corner of the cleft; she looked frightened.  Malbeach smirked at this, and giving Legolas a sidelong sly look he stepped boldly forward.  “Stay back,” warned Legolas, putting the tip of his sword to Malbeach’s chest.  “I shall hesitate not to slay you!”

“Such impetuousness!” whispered Malbeach with a soft laugh.  He showed his palms to Legolas.  “Do you see?  I am unarmed.  I cannot hurt you.”  He leveled his gaze at Legolas; his black eyes were concerted, and seemed to bore into Legolas’ own; he smiled sweetly, and Legolas blinked and shook his head, feeling the wool gather behind his eyes.  “Will you not put your weapon aside?  I wish only to parley with you, O Prince Legolas, fairest and purest of all Elven royalty.”  His eyes flickered then; a dark shadow passed over his face.  “Though shall I question your purity?” he asked, his voice growing cold and hard.  “You did after all meet my lady wife alone and in an empty room … did you not?  And my dear Renna is not known for her reticence, as I am certain you have amply descried.”

Dúrfinwen made a strange noise behind them; Legolas did not dare take his eyes off Malbeach, though he felt hot with shame, and mortified that the man knew of his midnight assignation; his head seemed to swim, and it was as though through a thick blanket he heard Malbeach say:  “What is it, harlot?  Did you desire that prize for yourself?  Whores, the both of you; I saw you submit yourself to my men – “

“Liar,” Dúrfinwen sobbed; Legolas could hear her writhe on the pallet.  “Liar – muck, muck!  The infant-eater, the infant-eater!”

“Quiet!” Malbeach hissed; his eyes flickered with fear, and the hands he held out to Legolas in parley shook.  He fixed his gaze on the Green Knight, his expression hard; a wave of weakness swept over Legolas, and his knees trembled; his sword drooped.  A fog obscured his gaze, and his ears roared; desperately he tried to collect himself, to raise his sword and face his adversary, but a weight as though of some huge hand seemed to rest on him then, and it was from a distance he heard a woman’s voice say:  “On your knees, Legolas … that is it … crawl to us … crawl …”  He blinked hard, struggling to clear his vision; at first he thought he saw double when he from his knees descried two people and not one before him, but then he realized Renna stood by her husband, her face tender and sweet, her stolen hair tumbling round her bare shoulders and breasts.  His eyes met hers, and the compulsion to touch her nearly overwhelmed him; he even reached for her, his hands heavy and numb, and he heard Malbeach laugh. 

But then there was a sudden exclamation, and they both turned; as though light floods a windowless room his vision and hearing returned to him, and he scrambled for his sword; however they had fled, and when he crawled trembling and cold to the lip of the cleft, all he could see was their retreating backs, scrambling and lurching down the muddy, rocky track.  Malbeach had Renna by the arm, and was dragging her cruelly along; when they reached the bottom of the hill he threw her to the earth, and though she reached for him with supplication he kicked her, and left her writhing in the mud.  She looked back then, and Legolas felt the weight of her gaze upon him; he closed his eyes, not wishing to slide back into that terrible craving; then he heard men’s voices, and the clatter of boots on stone from far off, and cautiously looked; Renna was gone, and the voices were receding round the edge of the canyon; the men had inexplicably passed by.

Legolas sat back on his heels, his mind reeling; he was stunned by their audacity, and by his own weakness.  “How did they find us?” he wondered aloud.

“Crawl, hornet,” grated Dúrfinwen behind him, her voice echoic and hollow; she gave a guttural laugh.

Legolas turned and scrambled back inside; his fear made him angry.  “How did you hear of that?” he demanded, sheathing his sword; she was splayed on the pallet in a most immodest fashion, her stained breeches mocking him.  Her eyes were dull and dark, and her mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile.  He took her by the front of her tunic and shook her.  “How did you hear of that?  How did you know?  And how did Malbeach find us here?  What are you doing?  Who are you?”

She but smiled at him, and turning her head she reached her mouth to his hand which grasped her; she flicked it with her tongue, and he released her quickly; it felt as though her saliva had burnt his skin.  He stared at her; her eyes seemed much too dark, and flecked with red; they were not mad but evil:  Not Dúrfinwen’s eyes at all.

“Muck,” she rasped.

Legolas leapt to his feet with an oath, and threw himself at the packs; she started to laugh again, a low earthy cackle that raised the hair on the back of his neck.  He found a kerchief and shook it out; turning to her angrily he said:  “I know not who you are, nor how you see from her eyes; but your spying stops here!”  She fought him then, thrashing and biting at him; but he put his knee on her chest and held her down while he bound her eyes; then he put her gag back on, and rolling her away from him, he covered her with a blanket.

He stood, his hands in his hair, looking round a little wildly; he met Hammer’s eyes, large and brown and liquid, and with a groan threw his arms round his destrier’s thick, glossy neck.  “Hammer,” he whispered; his horse was warm and solid, and he could feel the beast lipping at his hair, its breath moist on the back of his neck.  “O Hammer, what shall I do?”

Hammer, like most horses, did not reply to his master’s questioning; but for a moment, with his face tucked into the fragrant mane and his body pressed to the beast’s powerful chest, Legolas felt the horror fade a little; his vision receded, and he was flooded with warmth.  He saw in his mind’s eye the hills above his demesne – cataract-split, mist-girt, wheeling with hawks and speckled with game; his stepped orchards and vineyards, heavy with fruit; the sound of the bells pealing in his campaniles, and the high, joyful chiming music echoed back from Osgiliath and Minas Tirith.  How had it come to this?  How had he, prince of Elves for ages watching the endless wheel of the stars, become so solidly steeped in mortality?  Was it, as Faramir had dreamt, his Doom?  “He dreamt of death,” said Legolas into Hammer’s soft neck; the destrier whickered, and tugged at his master’s sleeve.  “’Twas my death truly, and also the death of those undying, then.  Well, if I am going to die, I had best do so in the midst of razing evil, and take as many of the miscreants with me as I might!”

He stood for some time, his arms round his steed’s strong neck, relishing the smooth living flesh beneath his cheek, and the steady drum of the horse’s heart beat.  His mind worked backward, there in the damp cramped cave, and the cleft and its dirty rock walls faded; he drifted to Meduseld, to the wind-swept fields, Piukka’s muscles bunching and stretching in his canter, the rhythmic huff of his old destrier’s breath, the pounding of mighty hooves on the earth; Éomer laughing beside him as they raced.  “East, due east!” Éomer cried, flinging one green-clad arm to the rising sun, and the two cantered on, their horses evenly matched, grey to black, both of them filled with the ecstatic peace that only a good run can give. 

Legolas knew not how long his reverie lasted; but when he heard the soft sound of little feet outside the cleft, and Bandobras’ piping voice, he seemed to awaken; he pulled away from Hammer’s warmth as though from a downy pillow, refreshed and calm.  He turned to look, and beheld his esquire, bright face dimmed, and the Blue Knight, full of Hobbity good sense and giving the Elf prince a keen look.

“Well!” he said.  “You look better nor you’ve looked in a mort o’ weeks.  Get some rest, did you?”

“I did, Bandobras,” said Legolas smiling, and held out his arms to his esquire; Tamin flew to him, accepting his Master’s kiss and clinging a touch longer than usual during their embrace.  Legolas determined then to make sure Tamin got back to Rohan with his little white horse, so Éomer could have a good look at Isilmë, and tell Tamin what he thought; that Legolas no longer expected to regain that rich and windy land was irrelevant.  “I shall send him back with Gimli,” he thought; “though I must be sure to tell him that, ere my Doom is laid upon me.”  “And I dreamt peacefully of Rohan and wind and sun, and my heart is lighter; for now I am determined in mind and know what to do.”  He looked past them.  “Where is Gimli?”

“Still on watch,” said Bandobras.  “Wanted to make sure them troops really went away and didn’t leave no spies.  Oh, and he wanted me to be sure and tell you that you’re two behind him already; he found a couple of stragglers and relieved them of their heads – not that them silly men are using their heads, but still, awful hard to do nothing when you’re shet of it, you know.”

“Good for him,” said Legolas with a smile.  He saw Bandobras and Tamin looking curiously at Dúrfinwen’s blanketed form, and said:  “We had visitors while you were away.”

“Oh?”  Bandobras’ eyebrows rose.  “A few stragglers yourself, eh?  Catch up to Gimli, or pass him mebbe?”

“Sadly, no,” admitted Legolas.  “’Twere Malbeach and Renna, alone and unarmed; and yet the Green Knight was unable to dispatch either of them.”  He shook his head in disgust.  “I know not what it is,” he said; “I know not how their influence overtakes me.  But though I had sword in hand, they did bring me to my knees, and near took me.”

“Took you?”  Bandobras started.  “You didn’t, er – “

“No, Bandobras,” said Legolas firmly.  “Something unseen alerted them, and they withdrew ere they could work their nefarious charm against me.”  He ruffled Tamin’s sunny hair and smiled.  “And I am not ill,” he said brightly.  “For the first time in many weeks – over a month, now, is it not, Bandobras? – I am not ill; in fact, I am hungered, and desire to eat – roast mutton, I think, larded liberally with rashers and rosemary, and new green peas in butter and cream, and waxy potatoes with dripping-gravy.”

“And wine,” said Tamin innocently.  “You cannot have mutton without red wine, Master; you know you cannot; you said so yourself, and so it must be true, Master!”

“That is so!” said Legolas, and falling to his knees he took both Hobbit and Elf-child in his arms and embraced them.  “Had I one wish to be granted now, ‘twould be for mutton and wine; and I should eat ‘til I felt my stomach would burst, and drink ‘til my head nodded; and let the two of you tumble me into my bed, where I would sleep uninterrupted for eight – no, ten! – hours, and waken with a head-ache, to be soothed by the Blue Knight’s good strong milky tea, and mine esquire’s cooling hand upon my brow.”

“That’s a good plan,” grunted Bandobras, wriggling out of the Green Knight’s embrace; “but remember, you’d have Hirilcúllas there, pushing papers on you that need your signature and seal; and Galás too, funning you for drinking too much.”

“Do not mind him, Master,” said Tamin, putting his arms round Legolas’ neck and kissing the Green Knight’s cheek.  “When we get home you may eat mutton and drink wine all you like, and I will chase both Hirilcúllas and Galás away; and when you are recovered from your indisposition, we shall ride up to Westering Sun Hill and falcon and hunt and ride and we shall have such a splendid time – will we not, Master!”

Legolas’ heart twisted within him, for he had deduced that Dol Galenehtar in future would have no lord save a seneschal; he grieved to disappoint his Tamin so he said:  “We shall; we shall!  And you shall grow to be a great knight, O Little One; you shall be as Fastred has said the Black Knight of Dol Galenehtar, eclipsing even your lord with your valor and beauty!”

“I shall not,” said Tamin indignantly, drawing away and putting his hands on his hips.  “Eclipse you, Master?  I never!”  He frowned at Legolas; then his face changed, and he said thoughtfully:  “Cherry pastries … I shall feed you cherry pastries, Master, when you awaken with your head-ache.”

“Thank you, my Tamin,” said Legolas gravely, giving to Bandobras a surreptitious wink.

There was the sound of a tread on stone from outside, and they turned; Gimli came in, wiping his axe, a look of satisfaction on his face.  “They have left,” he said.  “Leaving three behind – three, Legolas; ha ha!  You will have to work quick to catch me up!”

“I am irretrievably in your insolvency, O Gimli son of Glóin,” said Legolas politely.  “Did you see the Master and his little whore?”

Gimli made a face, and glancing cautiously at Tamin said:  “Yes – yes, I did.  They were, erm … rewarding the troops.”

Legolas paled.  “Willingly?”

Gimli grimaced.  “Not from what I could see,” he muttered.

“Were the troops stealing from them?” asked Tamin innocently.

“Only from Renna,” said Gimli, throwing a rather panicked look at Legolas and Bandobras, who both were appalled.  “Malbeach appears to have a – a more firm grip on them.”

“I see,” said Legolas, his face very white. 

“Well,” said Bandobras loudly, glancing shrewdly at the oblivious Tamin, “we can’t do naught about that now – so – erm, you were about to say, Legolas, why’ve you got Dúrfinwen all trundled up like a dumpling?  Don’t look too happy, she don’t; she’s all a-thrashing about and grunting, and no blame to her.”

“Not to Dúrfinwen, certainly, but to another,” said Legolas, and he strode to where his struggling mercer lay.  He threw back the blanket, and looked down upon her with the others.  “I know not how,” he said; “but I am certain Malbeach sees what she sees.”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Bandobras.  “That would explain how he found you, then.”

“WHAT?” roared Gimli, turning on Legolas with hands fisted.  “How did he – did he – did they – “

“They have, as my Bandobras would say, run off,” said Legolas with a sigh.  “And no, dear Gimli, they laid not a hand on me.”

Gimli’s shoulders slumped.  “Well, that is something, at any rate,” he growled, and casting down his axe, he squatted by Dúrfinwen’s thrashing form.  “Sees through her eyes, does he?” he muttered.  “Well, yes, that would explain how he found you … but still … why did he let you go?”

“Why indeed?” shrugged Legolas.  “Dúrfinwen heard we pressed east; perchance he wishes to leave us to the horrors of this land, thinking we shall not escape, and our danger to him put to naught.  After all, we do not know whether he has left men behind to guard his stronghold.”

“Or even if there is a stronghold,” said Gimli.  “Why we press east I do not know, save for the dreams that lead you there.  But east you say and east we shall go, for we have not determined Belegtilion’s fate yet.”

“I am not sanguine about what we might find,” said Legolas sadly.  “Well, let us see to those beans, my Bandobras!  I am hungry, and we have a ways yet to go.”

The beans were, as Bandobras had promised, tender enough sealed in their little pot; to the Hobbit’s satisfaction Legolas had two helpings, and drank a quantity of water; the Green Knight’s cheeks were yet sunken and pale but he seemed in better spirits than he had in many weeks.  Then they drew lots for the first watch, and Gimli took the first; they rolled in their blankets, and slept. Even Legolas slept, deeply and dreamlessly; though in the pale chill hours before sunrise he must have dreamt of something pleasing, for he awoke with a smile on his face.

The next day dawned dark and dim, murky and misty with a dispiriting drizzle.  Lashing Dúrfinwen once more to Isilmë’s back they pressed east, following the meandering trail through cliff and canyon.  The day grew ever darker not lighter, as though the sun would fain pierce the gloom; and ever before them they felt the press of some lurking malevolence.  At last Legolas and Tamin smelled Man, and dismounting they crept carefully through the twisting canyon, down a steep decline, leaving Gimli and Bandobras with the horses; peering carefully round a looming rock wall, they saw, black and steaming, a great crack in the earth, the height of ten men and as wide as a great house; on either side of the crack were stationed two guards, both drinking from jars and throwing rubbish at each other, and laughing and cursing.  The little vale before the cleft was filled with waste – discarded food gone rotten; old clothes; bones still with flesh upon them – and stank of decay and death.  The two Elves withdrew silently, and crept back to their companions.

“Only two?” Gimli said, puzzled, when they related what they had seen.  “That seems strange, especially since Malbeach knew we were out here.  It is most likely a trap.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me none,” agreed Bandobras.  “Probably a bunch of men hiding in that there hole.  Well, the trail leads right to it, don’t it?  Seems to me the only way to find out what Malbeach gets up to out here is to go in.  Think you and Tamin can pick the men off quiet-like with your bows?”

“Of a certainty,” said Legolas.  “Come up to the corner and wait; Tamin and I will dispatch the guards, and then we will leave the horses and go within.”  He patted Hammer’s thick glossy neck.  “I would not compel the beasts to go inside that cave!  If aught happens to us, at least they might escape.”

So they drew closer to the vale and the cleft, and let the horses stand; their steeds were very nervous, and shifted to and fro uneasily, showing the whites of their eyes; but Legolas soothed them and said:  “Wait here for us, my children!  And if danger approach you, O Hammer, lead them to Erebor; there the Dwarves will succor you.”  Hammer nuzzled his master, and patting the destrier’s nose, Legolas took Tamin round the corner.

Dispatching the guards was the work of a moment; with pull and nod and twang Legolas’ and his esquire’s arrows sank into the guards’ throats, and the men fell gurgling to the earth.  Tamin flitted back to fetch Gimli and Bandobras, and Legolas stood cautiously before the cleft in the earth.

All the malevolence, the stench of death, the heaviness and stupor seemed to emanate from that dark crack.  It steamed and stank; it pressed upon him all the horror and loathing his nightmares had conveyed.  Yet when he peered into its depths Legolas descried light as though from a low fire; he strained to listen, but heard naught except the soughing of air around the rocks and debris.  He heard footsteps behind him and turned; Tamin had brought Gimli and Bandobras, and Gimli had unbound Dúrfinwen’s legs and was leading her stumbling beside him.  She whimpered and struggled, her hands tied behind her back and her mouth and eyes wrapped tight; but she strained away from the cleft, as though she too could feel its evil.  Legolas took a deep breath, and smiled at his companions.

“Well,” he said, surprised to find his voice so strong and cheerful.  “Let us go in.”

They nodded soberly, and hugging one damp and slimy wall, they descended into the cleft.

To their surprise it did not narrow as they pressed downward; but it grew warmer and brighter, and the foul stench thickened like smoke until even Gimli pulled his cloak over his face to try to stifle the smell.  In the dimness they could descry further filth:  decaying bodies, clothing, bones; and over everything, beneath their feet, seeping from the walls, the oily, stinking ooze, steaming and slick.

They paused at a sharp right turning; they could see that the light and warmth and fetid stench emanated from round the corner, and they were all filled with dread; the stinking air moaned and sighed about them.  Legolas collected them with his eyes, bidding them stay back, and they nodded; slowly, cautiously, Legolas pressed his cheek to the slimy wall, and peered round the corner.

The cavern was lit by a huge smoking fire in the middle, stoked with wet rubbish and glowing with bones; bones littered the floor, big thigh-bones and tiny finger-bones, skulls from men and children and beasts; there were even the remains of a lion, torn to pieces and rotting.  But wound round the warmth of the flames, gleaming wetly and undulating, muscles roping and twisting, covered in oily sludge, was a huge, grey dragon, its black eyes fixed upon Legolas’ face.  It lifted its head; it was legless and serpentine, an ancient and repugnant worm, steaming in the heat of the flames; its dull scales dripped with slime, and venom flowed from its fanged mouth, which was fixed into a snakelike smile.  Its long, thick, forked tongue flicked out twice, tasting them on the air.  Steam issued from its nostrils as it chuckled.

“Good evening, Little Yellow Hornet,” it said, and its voice was low and silky and amused.  “Do not skulk in the shadows!  Come, pay obeisance to the Master of Esgaroth!”