Aglahad and the Dead City (In Tharbad: Volume Three)

24

I ducked down and jabbed with all my strength at what seemed to be the thing's ribs. It yelped like a kicked dog then stared at me before twisting and squashing into a short round mass of hairy flesh. It sprouted black, rigid legs and pushed itself between us before scurrying across the chamber.

We ran after the spider-thing into the blue-green gloom of an opening in the far wall of the chamber. The passageway beyond twisted and turned and rose and fell. The thing's feet whispered along the floor and the against the walls but then a hoarse panting echoed back to us. The passage opened onto a wide avenue where the pale light of the Hall of Lords flooded in. We paused for a moment as we watched a great werewolf charging across the avenue.

I looked back along the passage. "Lofar," I called out. But there was no reply, no footfall. I turned to Aglahad. "We must go back."

"There is no time," he said, turning away. "She is escaping." I hesitated for a moment before following him towards the Hall. We ran after the werewolf around the bones of Gostir on her hoard of weapons then through another archway in the eastern wall.

We were drawn to another pale white light a few dozen feet from the archway. We readied our weapons before pushing back a thick, stone door. Beyond lay another small chamber but instead of the straight lines of Dwarven design this place had been carved out of the rock in the organic style of the Great Hall. For all its arboreal beauty, the chamber was simply furnished with a bed, a chair and a small table, on which sat a small white calarivor. We turned away as the anguished sobbing of the little girl filled the chamber. The stone door thudded shut with a rectangular puff of dust.

We turned back towards the chamber. A raven, perhaps the raven now perched on the lamp. And standing in the corner, facing the wall, was a little Elven girl. Her small shoulders shuddered as she wept. Slowly she turned and I took an involuntary step back. She was wearing a kind of pinafore that the hobbits of the Shire wore.

Aglahad stood his ground but lowered his sword. As she turned, the girl's face aged and became rounder and more filled out. Aglahad gasped as the face of Asphodel, the pot-washer grinned at us. From the neck down, she was still the little Elven girl. As she walked between us towards the bed the face of my old friend, Edenithil glanced up at me. The girl turned and sat on the edge of the bed with her small hands on her lap. The face of the ferryman, Gaerion smiled at us.

When she spoke it was with Gaerion's voice. "I now know why I chose this as my chamber." She looked around at the walls and ceiling. "I like to imagine it was the home of one of the masons who carved out Menegroth." Now her face once again became the girl's. "Do you like it?"

We gaped at her. She had the look of the Sinda maid I saw weeping in the garden of Minas Belthil.

"I am Gwaloth," she said. "I remember. Do you like it?"

I tried with all my resolve to speak clearly, with an unwavering voice. "Why did you take the palantír, Gwaloth?"

"I was lost in the mountains but Gostir found me. She protected me when my father could not."

"Gwaloth –"

"I wanted to speak to the Giver of Gifts. Do you like it? He too has a seeing stone, you know. Perhaps if he saw me he might like me. He might have given me a gift. But the stone showed me the shores I will never tread. That was cruel. I have a gift for him. I was lost in the mountains. Nine gifts."

"What gifts –"

A wave of fatigue came over me and I staggered back before steadying myself on the table.

"Did you like my game, Siriondil?"

"Game?"

"I like to play games." Her face changed again. The face of an old crone on the head of a little Sinda girl disturbed me. It was a while before I recognised her.

"Hareth."

"Yes. I was known by that name in some parts."

"Who is Hareth?" It was Aglahad. I'd forgotten he was there, standing beside me.

I couldn't take my eyes off the old crone but I answered his question. "An old Haladin woman I knew many centuries ago. In Tharbad. How do we play this game, Hareth?"

"Please. Call me by my true name."

"How can you say anything about you is true?"

"Does it matter? The moment Gwaloth became Daeroval is lost to memory. This game will be my last."

"The orcs on the High Moor? Is that a game of your making?"

"My making?" She shook her head. "I have no sway over orcs. Nasty things. The Nine are abroad. I have seen them in my dreams, walking the mountain paths, riding across the grasslands. Perhaps that is their game. Pieces are moving far and wide. Soon the Nine will come for their gifts. But my game is much simpler. Do you like your shiny new weapons?" Her face changed fleetingly to that of the hobbit. "I heard the Dwarf - the dead one - talking about Glamdring. It is a fine blade. Do you like it? One of the first I brought to my mistress. Gostir coveted sharp shiny things. Little trophies of the food I brought her. Glamdring was one of her favourites. The Noldor crafted such pretty things, did they not?"

"What of the others?" Aglahad said. "The back-sword and the dagger?"

"They are a family. They belong together. You may take the weapons and the seeing-stone but first you must win the game."

"And how do we do that?"

"Kill me."

Now I saw it. "We've stuck you a number of times on our travels. You cannot die from violence."

"I am afraid you must take my head."

"You are –" Aglahad blurted before turning to me. "She is but a child."

"Gostir gave me such gifts. When she hollowed me out. When she stuffed me with straw and took my voice. All my life became as the breeze in the grass."

"She made you haunt this pass and waylay innocent travellers in return for dark magic."

"Magic? There is no magic, young Prince. This is the way of the world. The nature of things. It is neither good nor evil. It merely is. Come, take the swords. Finish your task and be gone. The dead are rising. They may not be as welcoming as I."

She stood up from the bed and again we took a step back. Slowly, the little girl who called herself Gwaloth started to grow. Her skin became less pale and her hair darker. Her loose dress became tight around her full hips and the hem rode up above her knees. I looked up into her eyes.

Before me stood Meleth. I took another step back and my knife fell from my hand. It must have made a sound on the stone floor but I did not hear it. I stared into her wide eyes and the trace of a smile. When I turned away, Aglahad was a blur through my tears.

"Kill her," I cried.

He glowered at me in confusion. I lunged for Bregedúr but he pulled it away and up over his far shoulder. He glanced at the phantom then stared at me.

"Do it! Please." As I begged the boy to kill the apparition he swung the sword to the side and hacked her head from her shoulders. No blood sprayed from the fatal wound. The head bounced once on the bed then rolled across the floor between us. Aglahad stared at it dumbly, his body shuddering with every sharp breath. The body continued to stand for a moment before one of the knees buckled. It collapsed and toppled. The table tottered as the body brushed against one of the legs. The raven hopped from the calarivor before flying to another perch on the bedhead. The lamp fell and rolled onto the floor. Our shadows leapt up the walls and loomed over us. The raven cawed once.

"Who was it?" the boy said finally.

I glanced at him then at the head, now drenched with white light. The ghost of Meleth was gone. In its stead was the face of the young Sindarin maid I saw at Minas Belthil. But now the skin was darkening. It became taut and dried across the bones. Her thinning lips withdrew, exposing yellowed teeth. The body too shrivelled and tightened into a foetal position then was lost in the folds of the dress.

At last I pulled my gaze away. I shook Aglahad. "Come. There is no time."

Almost confirming this, the stone door popped open. Aglahad hurriedly bent and lifted the demon's head by its sparse white hair while I grabbed the broken lamp. The crystal rolled out and I snatched it up. Aglahad pulled the door wide and we left the chamber and the remains of Gwaloth in oblivion to the raven.