Strider stirred restlessly in his sleep when his body innately sensed another presence nearby and in his dreams he felt a slight pressure upon his shoulder.  It seemed as if he had only just fallen asleep, but the gentle, yet firm hand that shook him would not be deterred.  Strider’s eyes slowly rolled open to find the sightless white orbs of Tharcuru staring down upon his face.  The firelight cast jagged orange-red patterns across her tattooed features and silver hair and Strider’s sleep lulled gaze first thought her face covered in blood.  A surging rush of adrenaline pumped through his body and he was shocked into full wakefulness by the fearsome sight of the ancient woman.   With a racing heart and tensing muscles, his upper body sprang upward and he braced his weight upon his elbows.

          “Is it time?”

          “No, young warrior,” she answered softly, pressing his shoulders back down onto the fur rugs and preventing him from rising fully upright.  “There is yet one thing I must do before we leave.”

          Her hand moved to his worry lined forehead and she lightly brushed aside the dark strands of hair that had fallen into his face.  And then touching the area just above his nose, she began to move her fingertips across his brow in small, soothing circles.

          “I must speak to the Firstborn.”

          Strider looked back up at her with a mixture of fear and curiosity but he nodded slightly to convey his willingness to comply with her request.

          “What do you wish me to do?”

          “Just lie still,” she whispered as her fingers continued to gently massage his forehead.  “Close your eyes and listen to my voice.  You will drift for a time while I speak with the Elf.”

          “Yes,” he murmured, but even as he spoke he could feel a dull heaviness pulling down upon his eyelids and a deep drowsiness soon overcame him.

          Tharcuru began murmuring in the speech of the Hidden Men and her body slowly swayed back and forth as the words became a low, rhythmic chant.  The flames in the fire pit behind her danced higher, sending flickering shadows across the cave walls and ceiling.  The heady aroma of the dried leaves burning within the fire permeated the cavern and thin tendrils of smoke rose up gracefully to the roof.  The flames suddenly peaked, hissing and snapping and her chanting monotone abruptly ceased as her ancient body went as rigid as stone.  She had risen above the planes of earthly existence and now crossed over into the Shadow World.

///////////////////////////////////

          Legolas once again found himself alone and adrift in the vast, gray emptiness of the void.   He had heard the words Tharcuru had spoken to Aragorn about wishing to talk to him and he slowly turned around and around, searching through the dense clouds for the Drughu Woman he knew was coming for him.  He could sense her presence nearing, yet all about him was a thick, murky fog and an eerie stillness.  He turned again as her soft, husky voice called his name and then she emerged from the deep shadows of the mists and  slowly glided toward him.

          “Prince of Mirkwood,” she addressed the Elf as she came to a halt before him.  “Heed my words, for our time is short.  You will face a test of strength unlike any other you have ever before attempted.  You must confront a force of evil that is both formidable and daunting.  Are you prepared to accept this challenge?”

          Legolas’ expressive face churned with conflicting and powerful emotions.   The very thought of returning to meet the terrifying evil that had so recently touched his soul sent waves of fear and panic racing through his mind, yet deep within he knew he had no choice but to do so.  He lowered his head to avoid looking directly at the unnerving and haunting eyes of the witch-woman and his troubled thoughts overwhelmed him.  He could only perceive his limitations; his weaknesses and shortcomings.

          “I am frightened, ancient one,” he murmured, his soft voice admitting his disquiet.  “I fear I will not have the necessary valor to withstand this evil and I will fail you all.”

          Tharcuru moved closer to the Elf and placed her hand under his chin, raising his head up until his gaze met her own.  “It is wise to be frightened, Child of Ilúvatar,” she replied.  “Your fear will heighten your senses and serve to reinforce your inner resolve.  It will give you the courage and strength needed to do battle with this evil.  Your spirit is very powerful, young Elf.  Do not underestimate your worth.”

          Legolas lowered his eyes once more; he felt appallingly ashamed and chastised for indulging in his misguided feelings of self-pity and doubt.   He knew in his heart that there was no other course to follow.  He must conquer his fear of this ancient evil and he must do whatever was required of him to insure that It was vanquished.  Order must be restored to the world.  There were others far greater than he willing to sacrifice so much more – he could do no less.

          “What would you have me do?” he asked.

          “I do not yet know when or where this final conflict will occur, but we leave shortly for the caverns beneath the Palace of Mirkwood.   I feel Its presence growing ever stronger.  Once we are inside the underground warrens, I shall be able to use this heightened awareness of Its power to find Its lair.  When we do confront It, the Nameless One will try to strike first at the one among us whose psychic power is untapped and untrained – your reluctant host and mortal friend.

          “You must protect him with your strength of will.  Shield his mind from the false fears that this evil will try to project into the young warrior’s thoughts.  Help him to fight the darkness and shun the madness or the Nameless Thing will drive your friend to raving lunacy.  Aragorn has a warrior’s heart and a strong, determined will of his own, but he will be no match for this creature of the abyss.  It will be up to you to guard and protect him, for his sword will be greatly needed to deliver the ultimate blow to our enemy.

          “You must be strong, too, young Elf when you confront your visage.  It will be difficult to watch this creature use your body to cause harm to your friend.  You must not falter at the sight of your ill-used form, even though it may be hurtful for you to look upon.   Remember that as long as this evil remains within your earthbound shell, you cannot return to it.  But at the very moment It departs, you must flee the safe haven in which you now dwell and return to your own body at once.”

          Legolas’ brow wrinkled with concern.  “But how do I accomplish this?” he asked.  “I do not even know how I left it.”

          “You will hear my voice within your mind at the time of transference telling you to flee to your body.  At that time, you must concentrate your every thought and fiber upon one single purpose – to be inside your body.  Only you know how your body fits; focus upon this and this alone.  Feel your flesh, your heartbeat; know your lungs are filling with air and you are breathing with life.  If you do this, your soul will unerringly return to its sanctuary and you will be whole once more.”

          Legolas nodded his understanding.  “And after I return to myself, will I be weakened, unsteady?”  His imploring eyes searched her white face.  “Will I be able to fight alongside my companions?”

          “I cannot say,” she replied.  “I feel certain that It is neglecting your body’s basic need for food and water.  Its evil power is driving the muscles, making them function, but It is not replenishing the energy It is rapidly expending.   It does not know that a physical body needs to eat and drink - even an Elven one.  You may find that your body is in too weakened a state to function.”  She shook her silver head.  “I just do not know.”

          “I see.”

          “Do not let this unsettle you or sway you from your resolve.  You are an immortal and possess the power of the Eldar.  You will prevail.”

          Legolas smiled ruefully.  “Yes,” he agreed.  “I shall.”

          Tharcuru placed her palm along the side of Legolas’ face.  Her opalescent eyes seemed to penetrate through him and into his very soul.  Legolas reached out and similarly touched his graceful hand to her pale cheek.

          “I leave you now, Firstborn.  We shall not meet again.  By the time you are fully restored to your body, I shall be dead and no longer of this world.”

          Her hand slowly lowered from his face and then she stepped away from the Elf and moved back into the swirling mists.  A moment later she was totally obscured by the dark clouds and Legolas found himself once again floating within the sleeping mind of his trusted friend.  

/////////////////////////////////

          Strider pushed aside a large branch and struggled through the dense tangle of vines and underbrush.  He hacked away at the leaves and ferns with his Elven knife and managed to clear a small passage through the foliage large enough for a person to squeeze through.  He glanced back over his shoulder to see Mithrandir and the ancient woman carefully making their way through the dense brushwood following the shorn pathway he had recently forged.

          It was not yet dawn and the sky overhead was still pitch black, but the moon’s pale luminescence was enough to allow the three sufficient light to see by as they maneuvered through the forests and made their way to the caves and tunnels of the palace’s lower foundations.  Strider halted momentarily from his slashing and hacking and looked up to the hillside above.  He could see the flickering torches at the gates of Lasgalen shining brightly through the thick stand of trees.

          ‘It reminds me of the night we were separated.  I could see the torches of my home, yet I could not reach the palace.’ Legolas’ voice commented within Strider’s thoughts.

            The ranger did not reply, but as he chopped away another low lying bough and broke through the woodland barrier blocking their progress, the Elf spoke up again.  ‘The cavern entrance should be just beyond these flowering vines.  You will see a slight overhang shielding the opening.’

          Strider stopped and turned back to face his two companions.  “Legolas tells me the cave entrance is just up ahead.”

          Tharcuru moved forward and took hold of Strider’s arm, staying his course.  “Wait.  I sense great danger there, young warrior.  The Evil Daughter lies within.”

          “Evil daughter?” Strider asked.  “And who or what is that?”

          Strider actually felt Legolas shiver within his mind and then a  corresponding shudder, cold and icy, rippled through his own body.  Legolas, what is it? he thought to the Elf.

          ‘Ulkûrzlûb!’  The Elf’s fearful voice rang within Strider’s mind and the ranger’s hand moved to his sword.

          “One of Shelob’s abominable brood,” Tharcuru replied.  “She, too, is a giant spider and thoroughly vile.  This monster has made her nest here and now protects the Nameless One.”

          Mithrandir stepped forward.  “She will try to blind us with the Unlight of Ungoliant.  The Staff of Anar will allow us to move through the darkness, but we must be on our guard.  She is likely to have others by her side and they will do everything within their power to prevent our passage.”

          ‘I was very nearly her next meal,’ came Legolas’ strained voice.  ‘Had it not been for the troll, I….’

          “The troll!” Strider exclaimed aloud.  He glanced quickly at Mithrandir who was staring at him with an expectant frown.  “Legolas speaks of a troll,” he shrugged, indicating he knew nothing more.

          Anything else I should know about? he questioned the Elf.

          ‘At least one exceedingly nasty goblin.’

          The Elf went strangely silent.  And? Strider prompted.

          ‘Shriekers.... Aragorn, their screams are….’  After what seemed a very long time, Legolas continued in a quiet, haunted voice.  ‘I was sinking into madness…..their hideous wails were tearing apart my mind…..’

          I am here, Legolas.  Strider’s firm, commanding thoughts blanketed the Elf like a warm cocoon.  You are safe.  They cannot reach you now.  He thought to say more, but Tharcuru was speaking and he turned his ear to the woman’s voice.

          “We will find all manner of evil within,” stated the Drughu Woman.  “The Nameless One has summoned any and all who would serve Its dark purpose.  The journey ahead of us will not be an easy one.”

          Mithrandir withdrew Glamdring from its scabbard and gripping his brightly glowing staff in his left hand, boldly stepped forward toward the deep blackness within the cave.  He looked over his shoulder to Strider and Tharcuru.

          “Stay close to the light.  If we can elude Ulkûrzlûb, so much the better,” he paused, gazing significantly at Strider.  “If not, keep your sword ready.”

          Strider nodded, clasping Tharcuru’s forearm and moving her into a position of cover between himself and the wizard.  He, too, withdrew his sword and with one last look behind them, followed both into the cave.  The soft glow of Mithrandir’s staff surrounded them with a yellow halo of pale light just bright enough to see the stone pathway beneath their feet.

          “What I would give for your keen Elvish ears, mellon nin,” Strider murmured under his breath.

          All three instantly halted when the unexpected sound of a demanding voice issued from within the depths of the unlight.  “Who is there?”

          ‘Adar?!’ came Legolas’ incredulous voice.

          “King Thranduil?” Strider called into the darkness.

          “Beware!  She is upon you!” the Elven King shouted, but too late.  The giant spider suddenly emerged from the inky blackness and charged straight for them.