The Hunter

PART 15

The constant chattering of birds announced another beautiful morning.  They were especially excited today, though Oromë could not fathom why.  A bold little fellow dropped to his broad shoulder and told him of a new tree Yavanna had tended, which had just born its fruit.  The little yellow berries were quite good, the robin informed him, but the larger birds kept stealing them away.

Oromë laughed, amused by the petty concerns of his feathered friends.  His deep rumble startled his little friend.  After a sound scolding, the robin flew away.  A passing deer snorted at the sight, not thinking much of birds.  The large Vala gently patted its head before walking slowly into his realm.

As he walked through his forest, he listened to the song of his hunters.  At the moment, their voices were muted, which caused Oromë to grin.  His hunters had brought back a magnificent boar and the elves had celebrated long into the night.  The maiar were doubtless muted in deference to those that still slept, and those who would wake with pounding headaches. 

The Vala turned at a bend in the path and his home came suddenly into view.  All sound seemed to stop, though in truth Oromë knew that the trees caught the melody and let it carry no further.  He stood a moment admiring the hall.  All of his halls were wide and low surrounding a mighty tree that held up the roof.  But wherein his great Feasting Hall, where he joined in revelry with elves and ainur alike, there were pricey furs strewn like a carpet on the floor and pinned to the walls, there was nothing like that here.  The boughs of the tree held no trophies but instead carried flowering vines creating a skirt around the trunk.  His home was not so large or decorated, and it oddly carried motifs of the sea.  A small garden of herbs grew behind the sweeping structure and a river flowed beside it. 

This was his husband's home.

When Oromë had left his husband six thousand years ago, he had built this hall.  He had used the energy of his love and longing to call healing plants into existence, to persuade wood to bend and mold into desired forms.  He had diverted the river's path from Lorien's gardens so that its gentle burble might remind his beloved of the Bruinen he loved so much.  Or of the sea. 

Though Elrond had not lived near the sea in thousands of years, he would always have a special connection to it.  Ulmo had favored his house ever since Tuor accepted his call to service.  Even with no Teleri blood in him save his Sindarin ancestry, the sea was in his veins.  Oromë knew this even if Elrond did not.

Touching the worn wood, the Hunter entered the hall.  He was greeted by a large common area where a very large fire pit burned under a hole in the roof.  Cozy chairs were arranged around the pit.  To the side of the room, in a raised alcove, was the dining table.  The rest of the room was open, leaving space for dancing or singing.  It was reminiscent of Imladris' Hall of Fire.

At the back of the hall were two doors.  The one on the right led to the kitchens and workrooms.  The one on the left led to the bedrooms.  Oromë had built an extension to the house where the twins could live, as he was sure Elrond would not want to hear their late night activities, but would want them near. 

But the room he was most proud of was the large library he had built for his beloved.  The Vala had spent many of the years he was parted from his lover to find obscure scrolls and books for his enjoyment.  Oromë wouldn't be at all surprised if, when Elrond stepped into the library, the Hunter were instantly forgotten for the next week.  Of course, the feel of his half-elf's joy would more than make up the loss.

Settling down in a chair, the Hunter listened to the soft singing of birds on the roof.  Though the elves did not know that this house was for his husband, the birds and beasts did.  Oromë had not asked it of them, but they had taken it upon themselves to choose their most skilled and beautiful representatives to grace the forest around the hall with their presence.  Even a pair of Manwë's eagles had built their nest in the great tree that held up the roof, a sign from the Lord of the Breath of Arda that he blessed the union. 

Oromë closed his eyes, letting time pass by him.  A sudden fiery jolt of panic slid through him.  "Tauron!" The cry was quiet, but insistent.  In an instant, Oromë was flooded with his husband's pain and fear.  But the moment passed as swiftly, revealing nothing of the cause of such torment.  Without thought, Oromë was already outside calling for Nahar.

"Oromë," a deep voice sounded through the trees.  Perhaps if he were not in such a hurry, his heart burdened with questions of his husband's safety, Oromë would wonder at the fact that Manwë had left his great mountain seat, something he rarely did these days.  The Hunter barely glanced at him, already taking Nahar's reins in his hands.

A gentle hand fell on his shoulder, restraining him from mounting.  "My friend, I need to speak with you."  The words were warm in his mind, but there was an undercurrent that turned the request into an order.  Oromë ignored it.

"My husband has called for me.  I have no time for you now, my lord," Oromë thought swinging up onto Nahar's broad back.

"That is why I am here.  I have heard your husband's plea.  My eagles bring me tidings of fell happenings and I fear the son of Eärendil has fallen victim to them.  I would call upon others to aid you," Manwë thought, his icy blue eyes warmed with concern as he looked up at his comrade.  Oromë wheeled Nahar around.

"Do what you will, my lord.  I have other business to attend to."  Before Manwë could reply, the Hunter had kicked his stallion forward and they were gone from sight.  Manwë scowled.

"He is undeserving of your ire, my lord," a soothing voice counseled.  The tall lord turned to see Varda slowly approaching him, her expression unusually grave.  "His heart is his master.  He cannot hear you over the fear he felt in his beloved's spirit.  Indeed, only the feel of Lord Elrond in his arms will assuage his worry." 

Manwë's scowl softened to a frown.  He took his lady's hand, though his gaze turned to the east. 

"I sought only to aid him, to give him reassurance."

"And he will appreciate it," Varda interjected, her words flowing through him like a soothing balm.  "But he could not wait."  There was a trace of amusement in her tone.  Her lord looked down into her sparkling eyes.  Manwë regarded her charily, his frown deepening.

"What shall my action be now, my lady?" he asked politely, turning to call his eagles from the top of the hall.

"Just as our brother has said.  Do as you would, my lord," she responded, a knowing glint in her star-lit eyes.  Manwë nodded, sending his eagles out.

~~~

The world passed in a blur of green and brown.  Almost as if he knew what was wrong, Nahar strained his muscles, catapulting them forward faster than Oromë could remember.  Urgency twisted his guts.  This was too familiar.  Riding to Imladris after an unexpected call.  Last time, he had found his husband strung up like butchered meat.  What would he find this time?

Relief like he'd never felt before flooded through his whole body when he saw Elrond waiting for him on the steps of Imladris.  In one motion, the Hunter dismounted and swept his half-elf into his arms.  As he held him, savoring the solid feel of Elrond's body against his own, Oromë could feel the slight trembling coursing through the half-elf's frame. 

"What is it?" he thought, feeling the fear and grief that plagued his husband's heart.

"My sons have been kidnapped," Elrond told him, opening his mind to reveal all that had happened in the last days, including his own misgivings about the enemy being the same one that had engineered his own capture.  He could feel Oromë stiffen in rage, but the Hunter merely looked into his silver eyes, bringing a hand up to wipe away Elrond's tears.

"I will find them, and bring them home," he vowed, speaking his words aloud as much for Erestor and Arwen, who stood nearby, as for his husband. 

"Have you something of theirs?" Oromë questioned, moving back to Nahar.  Elrond nodded and handed him two pieces of cloth.  The Vala smiled slightly, amused with himself for being surprised at his husband's forethought.  He took the fabric, giving his husband a quick kiss before swinging back up on Nahar.

They did not travel far before Oromë called them to a halt.  "Ronyo," he summoned mentally.  The Hunter swung down to the ground, giving his brave stallion another moment to regain his strength.  He did not know how far they would have to travel and he wanted Nahar in good form. 

Sudden electricity went down his spine, alerting him to the presence of others.  His hand moved to the hilt of his sword before he realized that the sensation was familiar.  As odd as it seemed, his kin were approaching. 

The trees parted revealing Námo and Ulmo walking slowly toward him.  Oromë watched them warily, unable to conceive of any good the two could bring. 

"Why have you come?" he thought, his tone a little too sharp.  Ulmo crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed, but that was his wont.  As usual, Námo remained unperturbed. 

"Manwë Súlimo has sent us," Námo's dark voice echoed in Oromë's head as though he were speaking from deep within the earth.  It was oddly soothing.

"His winds report the dark deeds of this land.  Had you stayed, he would have told you what he knew," Ulmo said, his words like the roar of water.  There was a slight note of disapproval, but Oromë ignored it.  The Hunter remained silent, willing to wait until Ronyo arrived.

"Manwë has ordered us to aid you. He feels you will have need of it for the enemy you seek is formidable," Námo's cool voice contrasted with the fury of the water-ainu. 

"If it is so formidable, then why did he not send Tulkas?" Oromë asked, not really caring. 

"It was felt that he lacked appropriate subtleness for this task," Námo replied.

"Subtleness?" Oromë asked, looking pointedly at Ulmo, who scowled back at him.  Before he could respond, the sudden bark of a dog interrupted them.  A great black hound skidded to a halt near the three Valar.  He wagged his tail, looking expectantly at the Hunter.

Without preamble, Oromë stuck the two pieces of cloth under the dog's nose.  "Ronyo, find the elves that left this scent," he commanded of his hound.  The sleek dog sniffed thoughtfully, then stood back and sniffed the air.  It took him only a moment before his tail went up and he shot off in an easterly direction.  The Hunter was already mounted and following.

"Oromë?" Námo's voice called in his head, reminding him of their presence.  The Vala gritted his teeth.

"Do as you will," he thought, and then focused on the hunt.

~~~

There was something evil about the green light seeping under his closed eyelids.  Beyond the burning sensation that licked at his skin, the air seemed to grow even stuffier and stale.  Elladan could barely draw breath.  It made him feel helpless, something he hated. 

"Why do you want our father?" the elder half-elf asked suddenly, trying to distil the suffocating air.  If possible, the light seemed to intensify on him and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.  He heard the sharp intake of his brother's breath followed by a menacing growl.

"You would do well to hold your tongue, half-elf.  I do not take kindly to elves that obstruct my plans," the low voice hissed.  Elladan frowned. 

"Obstruct your plans?" he asked bewildered.  From what he had heard earlier, it sounded like they were right where their captor wanted them. 

"Don't play dumb with me, little elf," the snake-like voice sneered.  "I'm not quite sure how you managed to free your father the last time he was within my grasp, but I assure you, it will not happen again.  Your father will pay for the crimes of your grandfather!"

Before he could stop himself, Elladan's eyes opened in surprise.  The blinding, sickening green light felt like it had burned his corneas.  Instantly, he snapped his eyes shut.  Elladan tried to focus on his confusion instead of the pain. 

Whoever their captor was, he thought that the twins had rescued their father, not Tauron.  That meant that their captor didn't know about the Vala.  The thought of their father's husband flooded him with relief.  Elrond wouldn't be stupid enough to go after them, no matter how much he loved them.  He would send the mighty Ainu in his stead.  Elladan doubted very much that their captor was the Hunter's equal.  With renewed hope, Elladan prayed to Elbereth that Tauron was on the way.

~~~

Reining in Nahar, Oromë stared up at the ominous tower.  It seemed as if it were made from the very mountain itself; there were no clean lines to it.  It was not a particularly tall tower, being rather squat and flat, and it seemed as if it were hewn out of the rock rather than built up from it.  Dismounting, the Hunter mentally sent his stallion away knowing that his bright coat would attract attention. 

He was not particularly surprised when Námo and Ulmo appeared out of nowhere.  The three Valar stood, hidden behind a rock, scrutinizing their enemy.  Orcs were clearly guarding the tower, though it was obvious they were trying to keep themselves hidden.  Ulmo's lip curled back in disgust, both at the creatures themselves and their amazing ineptitude.  Námo regarded the area without expression.  Oromë's hand clenched tighter on his sword; he could feel the twins were close and they were in pain.

A soft yip drew their attention to Ronyo whose tail was wagging furiously.  He was obviously proud of himself, and Oromë knew that meant his hound had found a way in.  The three silently followed the large black dog around the perimeter of the stronghold to a small drainage tunnel.  Even Námo wrinkled his nose in disgust, but thankfully Ulmo was able to reverse the water's flow so they would not have to walk in the filthy stuff. 

Without a word, the three continued to follow the faithful hound-dog.  Ronyo happily trotted along, loving the hunt especially when his master was by his side.  Every few minutes he would stop and sniff before continuing resolutely through the dark tunnels.  None of the Valar needed light to see, which was just as well as there was absolutely none, and they feared any fire they made would attract attention.

After twenty minutes of walking in the cramped drainage tunnel, Ronyo led them to a hole in the ceiling.  As distasteful as the thought of sneaking in through the toilets was, the three jumped up through the ceiling, finding themselves in a small lavatory of sorts.  Oromë turned around and helped his dog up.  The mighty animal almost didn't fit, and it might have been better to leave him behind, but the Hunter was wary of what they might find.  The more allies he had, the better.

With Ronyo's sharp ears and nose, the three Valar were able to detect any orc far before their enemy knew they were there.  Those that they could bypass, the Valar ignored; those they could not, the Valar killed as quickly and quietly as possible. 

Slowly they began to make their way further into the dark subterranean fortress.  It soon became apparent that the captives were not in the tower, but deep underground.  Even the Valar may have ended up lost in the vast system of tunnels and caves, but Ronyo remained steadfast, scenting the air for traces of the twins. 

Even with their heightened senses trained on their surroundings, they were surprised by the sudden attack.  Without any kind of warning, a massive weight slammed into Oromë.  The Vala dug his feet in, trying to stop the momentum of whatever hit him.  He could feel it moving in his hands, trying to grab him. 

Námo whispered an ancient chant even as he raised his own sword to aid his kin.  The cold of his Halls seemed to wrap around their enemy, slowing and stiffening its movements.  Ulmo struck the offending mass, causing sparks to fly while Oromë used his bare hands to keep the constricting fingers from smothering him.  Ronyo sunk his teeth into the scaly creature, which flinched just enough that the Hunter could use his strength to rend it in two.

A foul stench blew out from the wounded carcass before drifting down the corridor.  Letting their eyes focus in the darkness, the Valar saw that their foe was not a creature at all, but rather a giant clawed hand.  It had three long fingers and an opposable thumb.  In the dark, they could not make out the color of the scales, but they could see the carcass was still twitching.  Most disturbing of all, when they looked down the grotesque hand, they found it simply ended as if someone had ripped it from its source.  Bone and veins dangled from the stump, leaking a putrid gelatinous substance that pooled on the floor. 

The three Vala looked at each other, wondering what dark art could animate bone and muscle that had so obviously been dead.  Ronyo whined and backed up toward Oromë, unnerved by the unnatural smell. 

Before they could begin to debate what it was, the hand suddenly lurched, lashing out at Ulmo.  Námo reacted faster, igniting the abomination from within.  The flash that resulted was mercifully fast and the hand dissolved into a slimy ash.  A dark mist drew up from the ash, but Námo caught the sickly spirit and stored it away.

No words were exchanged between the three Valar, not even mentally.  Gripping their swords more firmly in their hands, they moved on, wary that their presence might now be known.

~~~

"Ah, my pretties.  Your wait is over," the sickening voice hissed.  Neither Elladan nor Elrohir reacted, focusing more on keeping their stomachs calm.  The foul stench was twisting their bowels into knots. 

A loud crack shook the cavern, causing them to swing, which did nothing to aid their struggle with their guts. 

"Do you not care!" the low voice growled.  "Your father is here."

"What do you want?" Elladan demanded, feeling too ill to care about punishment.  He could feel the slight lightheadedness that signaled the approach of fever.  His wounds from the initial assault were infected.  "How can you expect us to believe our father is already here?  Unless you have put up large glowing signs, there's hardly been time for him to mount a rescue."

Elrohir nodded his agreement.  He and his twin had been in too many scraps not to know how long their wounds had healed.  Their wounds were still fresh, and even if they weren't, they knew their father wouldn't endanger himself no matter how much he wanted to.  Elrond had long ago lost the impulsiveness of youth.  He knew well the price of leadership.  But hope grew within them that the intruder was Oromë, and that the Vala would dispatch this enemy with ease.

Suddenly the light disappeared, and the cool darkness was like ice on their burning skins.  Their captor rumbled.  "As loathsome as the idea is, you are right.  He should not be here so soon.  I suppose you have no idea how he managed that?"

Neither twin spoke.  Their captor snarled.  "I thought not.  Perhaps it is not Elrond, but someone is here.  I think it only proper that we leave them a gift."

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