[CaptainofDespair]

Screams shattered the placid peace of that had enveloped the realm of the Elf. Horrid shrieking, and the clashes of a brutal, primitively fought battle for survival raged in the shadowy depths of the Tunnel. The acutely tuned ears of Morgoroth sensed them, as a spider senses a disturbance in a web. His mind shot forward, like a missile in flight, and he strained to see with his mind, what his eyes could not. He cocked his head to one side, his hair flowing down over his left ear, and he listened again. The cries had all but stopped, and it was eerily silent, much as the sea is before a great storm. His mind suddenly grew calm, and he nearly went limp, which would have been a painful fall from his perch atop his rock, but in the dark, it would only emanate a resounding thud. His breathing relaxed, and began a strange short of meditation, tuning himself to the Tunnel, with all its secret, almost mystical properties. And as quickly as it had started, it was finished, and his dull eyes flashed open, flickering in the shadows. He rose up from his rocky throne, and hopped down to the damp floor below. His eyes scanned around him for signs of danger, but he perceived none. His eyes darted from one end of the Tunnel to the other. Which way would he traverse, to his rear, to those who were trapped? Or should he march forward, to where his helpless and weakened comrades fought their dying battle? Without hesitating, he turned to himself around, and began his journey to where the dwarves now did battle wit the abomination that is Shelob.

The cavern was quite dark, even to his now well tuned eyes, but he continued to proceed, until at last, after a few short moments of regaining himself, he turned a sloping curve in the cavern wall, and came upon Her. But she did not notice him, for she now participated in a losing battle for the dwarves. Though they outnumbered her, it seemed as it was she who outnumbered them. She had already flung Raeis and the man Zurumor aside, as if they were but a rag-doll a child plays with in their youth. The dwarves were now all that remained of the combatants, and they were losing, horribly. One had already been taken down by the Mistress, and another fought to save him from her ever famished mouth and bottomless pit of a stomach. The Elf continued his silent watch from the shadows, as the struggle continued. Finally, the contest was broken, as blade struck the Great Spider, and she reeled back in pain, just long enough for the dwarf Bror to drag his companion to safety. The Great Spider retreated, but not for long, she waited a few moments, and thus returned to seek revenge, for she hungered evermore. But the pleasant, yet dark and calculating voice of the Elf rang out into the air. “Where do you think you’re going Milady. You and I have business to attend to first, before you get your meal.”

Morgoroth had not anticipated having to put his plan into action so soon, but he calculated it would be wise, and that it must be done to deliver the dwarves from harm, for even a few moments. And so, as the nasty Spider rose up, and prepared to strike down her remaining opponents, an arrow silently sped its way towards her, and struck her in the shimmering pools of her myriad of eyes. She again felt pain, and shrieked a most ungodly noise, one that chilled the blood and broke even the stoutest of hearts. But Morgoroth knew what had to be done, and he smiled in a cruel delight over what he was putting into motion. The voices he had listened to these past few hours, were now cackling wildly, and hissing at the Elf to bring the beast down, and send Her to Them. And so he drew forth the first of his many, specially adapted bolts, and prepared to release it into Shelob. He drew back the first, and the bowstring cracked, and he let fly the missile, with its thin white trailer tagging behind. His refined accuracy, even in the darkness, was near perfect, and the arrows drove itself into Shelob’s unprotected skin, between the knee joint in the rear most left leg. The Spider hissed, and she released fumes of hot air and gas into the air, hoping to stifle her Ageless enemy. Obviously she had not yet realized what exactly had been done to her, for her rear leg now had a string of glistening, white web attached to it. The Elf laughed at her plight, for his scheme was now in motion. He soon released his bolts thrice more, and the spider was struck each time, and now had four strands of her own web, and the four shafts of arrows embedded in her four rear legs. And the Elf had prepared to bring for the next stage of his operation. He stepped out from his shadowy corner, into a more properly lit arena, where the monstrosity of Shelob could best view him. She stood, a silent behemoth of death and destruction, staring at the darkened form of her attacker. But she made not a motion to attack, but rather studied him quickly, looking for a sign of weakness of what appeared to be a wholly new version of foe. And now came the time for his plan to unfold yet again. The Elf lifted up his hand, and revealed within it were for stands of glittering web, Shelob’s web. He smiled at his enemy, and drew his arms up, and the Great Spider looked at him in bewilderment. He summoned forth all the strength he had, and gathering it from every little crevice of his body, and pulled back on the steel-strong rope. Now Shelob understood his plan, but she could not stop it. Her rear legs were pulled forward, underneath of her, and she toppled like a tower which has a weak base. She fell onto her own legs, the ropes already having torn one completely from the socket, a clawless limb. The remaining three were either crushed under her massive girth, or twisted into malformed shape. The muscular armor could be heard cracking and splinter asunder. And the great beast shrieked, and writhed in pain. She rolled forth, flailing her remnant legs wildly about in the air. Now she lay upon her back, her body broken, but she was not yet defeated. With one leg now missing, and three others momentarily out of commission, she would need recovery time. The Elf laughed again at her plight, and he taunted her, but he had not time for such wayward acts. He made his way quickly to the others, and he stooped over them checking them for signs of life. The first he came upon Zurumor and Raeis, who had now begun to regain consciousness. With both on their feet, they took up the task of retrieving Bror, Dwali, and Dorim. Morgoroth looked upon each, and then spoke. “We cannot tarry, though she is wounded now, greater than ever, she can still hunt us. Come, follow me.” Zurumor and Raeis nodded in acceptance of this, and Bror, still dazed began to trudge along. Morgoroth used his remaining energy to heave Dorim’s limp body over his shoulder and carry him. Dwali was able to handle himself quite well still, and refused any aid from the Elf.

With the hideous, ever shrieking form of Shelob to their rear, the group set out to find the others, who had undoubtedly heard the sounds of the battle, and the renewed shrieking of the Spider. They slowly began to meander their way into the depths of the cavern, hoping to find their comrades in arms. None of them could think however, of what was to befall them, when a now brutally enraged Shelob would come back to finish the job, for the horrid cries of pain drowned out all.