chapter 6 the king under the mountain lotro

CHAPTER 6 THE KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN LOTRO SKIN

They did not accost us, but I knew Khamul was watching. Often, I would catch sight of a cape or a silhouette upon a hill, if only for a moment. The fact was, at least two of the Nine were in pursuit of us, and it was the only weapon we possessed which could do them real harm. I took to carrying the Witch King's dagger at my hip, though Beren was opposed to my doing so. The hand print of a wraith was a dead space on my shoulder, and the scar on my arm from where I had been scratched by the Nazgul blade would turn cold as ice in the evening and early morning, though rarely in between. While my head recovered quickly, my more general malaise refused to lift. We met no new monsters and heard no nightmare screams, but the journey was difficult in other ways. It was thirteen days of hard travel between Weathertop and Rivendell. I hid it well enough, and for reasons known only to hobbits, Sam named the remaining pony Butterscotch. I wasn't in any condition to travel, my body felt drained and lifeless, and the head wound pulsed with every placement of a hoof. We had lost a pony, but its partner and Carfax were sufficient as long as Beren stayed on foot. I didn't want to delay any more than was absolutely necessary. 'Are you well enough to travel? We could rest here until tomorrow.' I still have all my fingers, and Frodo will live to see Rivendell.' I'm sorry, Arwen, I didn't know what else to do.' Had a day passed, or an hour?īeren shrugged. My internal clock was at odds with itself. My head throbbed as soon as I was upright, and there was a spot of tenderness at the back of my skull. Though the ring was once again concealed beneath Frodo's clothing, I could feel its gravity as surely as if it had been nestled in my own palm. 'We are companions,' I said, and rose with a little help from Beren. It was incredible, and all the more so that I sensed no corruption. While the area was awash with grey and green discoloration, the gash itself was sealed as if it had been healing for a month already. Beren's stitching was still in place, but it had become unnecessary. 'Look.' He lifted his tunic so that I could see his stomach. But Frodo was standing and moving as if it did not sting him at all. 'How?' I remembered our fight with wraiths and scoundrels, remembered the horrible wound. The little one rounded on me and gave a glad cry. We were still on Weathertop, and the sky was heavy with impending rain, but they had built the fire up into a formidable blaze. 'You're alright,' he said, the tension draining from his shoulders. He was also thoroughly bruised from his scuffle with Thumper, but he wore all of it lightly. He had sewn the wraith wound on his cheek closed with his own hand, and hurriedly. My eyes opened on Beren, his concerned face hanging over mine. Who dwelled here, in this place? How had he called me from afar?Īn archway, and a darkened hall, a pale orange light, drawing closer to the high room in the tower and the threshold where I stood. Men could not build something so grand, an impossible spire, this brass needle into the sky. This place represents something, for it is not of elves or humankind. But I believe he would like for me to enter. He is aware of me and I of him, though we cannot see each other yet. I have begun to be troubled by my nakedness and consider turning back to the sky. I hesitate on the cusp of entering, though the amber light and warmth beckon me. It is not an elf home, for it is worked of steel and stone and nothing grows or sings, but it has an attraction of its own. There is warmth inside the tower, a well appointed room of state, the comforts of wealth, but not obtuse luxury.

The wind prickles me, but it is not unpleasant.

CHAPTER 6 THE KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN LOTRO SKIN

An open mirador beckons me and I land, folding my wings at my side, then folding them again until feathers have become skin and I stand denuded above all the world. Not for me.Ī bright tower rises, forged rather than built, and all of brass. What need the passes in stone? The paths of Moria were made for lowly, earthbound creatures, crawling masses. Carry me south where a strange candle burns with the fever heat of dreams. The clouds are limned with gold, and the winds are warm. Rivendell is far behind me, and beneath, the peak of Caradhras, a mountain of cold moods. To be a great eagle, wings in the sky, banking over the plains of Hollin, looking past the crags ahead to the gleam of the river Silverlode.

Chapter 6 the king under the mountain lotro