NOVEL NEXT Chapter 66: Mount Doom
I slumped forward onto my knees, the ash and dirt grinding into my skin as I struggled to steady my breathing. My sword arm trembled, and blood still clung hot and sticky to my face. I tried wiping it away with the back of my hand, but that only smeared it further. The metallic scent of it, combined with the acrid tang of Mordor's wastes, nearly made me gag.
"Fucking cunt," I muttered under my breath, voice hoarse and ragged. She was gone, her soul now trapped in that black gem, her body cooling rapidly at my feet. Killing her had come at too high a price. She should have just given me that ring, it was her own fault that she was dead now.
"I'm here, boy," I said, staggering over, the new ring gleaming dully in the half-light.
Placing a shaky hand on his massive flank. I could feel his sides rise and fall, his breath uneven. Using the last dregs of my magicka reserves—bolstered, thankfully, by the potions I'd downed before, I channeled healing energy into him. Beneath my hand, torn flesh knit together and bruised muscle mended. He gave a soft, pitiful rumble. "It's okay," I told him, voice thick. "I've got you." I pressed my forehead against his muzzle.
Lady Fluffy and Pudding, would never rumble or wag their tails again. Their bodies lay still and broken just a few yards away, the ash settling gently over their fur. It felt like ice water had replaced my blood at the sight of them. They were more than mounts or pets, they were family. I always had this bad habit of getting easily attached to things. Now I'd lost two-thirds of that family in a single night. For a moment I just stared.
I felt a wetness on my face and as I moved my hands to clean it off. When I finally rose, I wiped my eyes with the edge of my cloak, still smeared with blood and ash, and turned my attention to the corpse of the elf. If nothing else, her body might yield something useful. I wouldn't leave empty-handed.
"Let's see what you have on you, you fucking bitch," I said bitterly. She'd been strong, and skilled, and if it wasn't for the worgs I would have lost. Her armor, splintered and bloodied, didn't look like anything too special. Some fancy elf-make, sure, but no enchantments along its surface. Just blood-slick metal and leather.
I crouched beside her body, wrinkling my nose at the smell. She'd bled out fast. The ground was soaked. Carefully, I went through her belongings.
On her person, I found:
Elven Longsword (Fine Quality)
Weight: 22
Value: 400 septims (estimated)
Description: A slender, gracefully curved blade of elven silver. Lightly enchanted, offers a modest boost in cutting power and a smoother swing. It holds a faint glow under moonlight, but no special powers beyond a slight improvement in critical strikes. Redwood and leather handle.
Galadhrim Scout's Armor (Partial Set)
Weight: 15 total (Chest piece: 7, Greaves: 5, Bracers: 1 each, Boots: 1)
Value: 1250 septims (for the set)
Description: Lightweight, flexible elven-forged leather and steel plates, designed for swift movement rather than heavy defense.
Elven Dagger (Standard)
Weight: 4
Value: 50 septims
Description: A simple elven dagger. Razor-sharp blade. Good as a backup weapon or for skinning kills.
Weight: Negligible
Value: 2 septims each
Elven Waterskin (Half-Full)
Weight: 1
Value: 5 septims
Description: Contains clean, if slightly floral-tasting water.
Pouch of Mixed Herbs
Weight: 0.5
Value: 10 septims
Description: Various dried leaves and petals, likely for cooking or mild alchemy. No strong magical properties. Perhaps useful as a seasoning or a minor potion ingredient.
I looked at her sword. "Guess it's mine now," I said softly, voice laced with a bitterness that surprised even me. I slid it into my storage for safekeeping.
Mister Snuffles rose shakily to his feet, head lowered. He sniffed the air, then let out a low, mournful sound. He understood what had happened to his kin, and I felt that pang of grief. I went to him and rubbed behind his ear until he relaxed slightly.
I walked over to my fallen Wargs, Lady Fluffy, and Pudding. My throat tightened as I knelt beside their bodies. Reaching out, I stroked Lady Fluffy's fur, remembering how gentle she could be when she thought no one was watching, how she'd wag her tail at the sound of my voice. Pudding's lifeless body still looked as if she might wake at any second, ears perked, ready to play or fight.
I stayed with them for a long time, long enough for the adrenaline to fade and my muscles to ache. There were tears, silent and bitter, as I said my goodbyes. I promised them I'd remember, that I wouldn't let their deaths be in vain. They couldn't hear me, but I had to say it anyway.
Eventually, I rose and glanced again at that Ring I now possessed. It glinted in the sickly glow of Mordor's half-light.
I remembered the soul gem in my pack, the one holding Eltariel's soul. I had no idea what to do with it just yet.
I stored Puddings and Lady Fluffy in my storage, I was getting close to being overweight but I wouldn't let their body rot in this shit land.
I trudged through the ash-choked valleys leading toward Mount Doom. The days since I'd killed that elf had passed.
Mister Snuffles, the last of my Wargs, stayed close to me. Now and then, he'd raise his head and sniff, ears drooping when he caught only sulfur and despair.
I felt something gnawing at the edges of my mind. A tension, a prickle along the spine, the sensation you get when you know someone's watching. I knew who it was, that slimy creature lurking in the shadows. Gollum. He was near. You didn't see him, but you felt him, like a scuttling spider just out of sight. I tightened my grip on my blade and pressed on, ignoring the ache in my muscles.
Sometime past midday on the third or maybe fourth day, it was hard to keep track here, the sky never truly cleared, I spotted two small figures standing amid the rubble. At first, they were just silhouettes against the smoky gloom, small and hunched. Mister Snuffles let out a questioning rumble, and my heart kicked up when I realized who they were. Frodo and Sam.
They hadn't spotted me yet, so I took a moment to watch them. Frodo leaned into Sam's shoulder, and Sam guided him with gentle words I couldn't quite make out. Even at this distance, I could see how pale Frodo was, how thin and drawn. The Ring had stolen so much from him. Sam looked the worse for wear as well, clothes tattered, cheeks hollow. They were both coated in black dust, and Sam kept squinting like his eyes were raw from the ash.
I cleared my throat softly and approached. My footsteps scraped against loose gravel, and Sam's head jerked up, hand darting toward a short sword that looked like it had seen far too many miles. Then he recognized me. His shoulders sagged in relief and something like worry. Frodo lifted his gaze, and I caught a faint spark of recognition there, too.
"We—well, we weren't expecting to see anyone this close to that place," Sam said nodding grimly toward Mount Doom, its fiery glow painting the horizon an angry red.
Frodo managed a faint smile, though it trembled at the edges. "You've come a long way," he said quietly. "Though I… I'm not sure why." His eyes dropped to Mister Snuffles, who hovered protectively at my side, tail low, ears slanted back.
I swallowed, wiping a bit of dried blood off my cheek with the back of my hand. "I'm here to help," I said, voice low. My gaze drifted up to the crackling summit of Mount Doom. I could feel its heat even down here. The wind hissed through jagged rocks, carrying the faint smell of brimstone. "And we don't have much time. Gollum's lurking around, waiting. We need to get you in there."
Sam clenched his jaw. "We know he's been following us. We keep losing track of him. He's slippery as an eel," he said. Frodo let out a tired breath, reaching instinctively for the chain around his neck, the one holding the One Ring. His hand shook.
They both knew that if Gollum got his chance, he'd strike. And it was clear Frodo could hardly stand another day's climb, let alone a skirmish. His spirit was bent, stretched thin. Sam looked ready to fight to the death if needed, but he was exhausted, too. They couldn't afford another delay. They needed a miracle. Or at least a shortcut. I flexed my hand. The Bright Lord's Ring on my finger felt heavier here.
"We're not doing this the hard way," I said, stepping closer. I reached out and pressed my palm lightly against Frodo's shoulder, making sure he met my eyes. "I can take us near the entrance. Save us a climb and a fight."
Sam frowned, protective as always. "Can you really—?"
I nodded, ignoring the doubt in his voice. "I can," I said simply. Mister Snuffles grunted, shifting his weight. Frodo took a shaky breath, then nodded. He just needed a chance to finish this.
I stepped back, spreading my feet to steady myself on the uneven ground. The air grew charged, like before a thunderstorm. My vision dimmed at the edges as I gathered the strands of my power. I imagined Mount Doom's entrance, the jagged entrance where the fires raged. I pictured every detail.
A low hum filled my ears. The world wavered, colors sliding into each other. I felt Frodo and Sam stiffen, clinging to each other as if the ground might vanish under their feet. My hand tightened on Mister Snuffles' mane, and a faint growl escaped him, but he didn't resist.
One moment we stood in Mordor's blasted wastes, the next we stood on a narrow ledge of blackened stone, the entrance to Mount Doom. The heat slammed into us like a living thing. Frodo gasped, stumbling forward, and Sam caught him before he pitched headlong into the rock.
Sam stared around, wide-eyed, like he couldn't quite believe we'd jumped half a mountain in an instant. Frodo just looked relieved, as if some impossible barrier had been removed. The entrance to Mount Doom's inner chambers gaped ahead, flickering with ruddy light. The roar of molten rock and seething heat was constant now, humming in our bones. Sweat broke out on our faces almost instantly. Mister Snuffles whined softly, leaning into me. I stroked his muzzle.
Behind us, I heard a faint, distant hiss that could've been the wind or something worse. Gollum wouldn't have expected this move. If he'd planned an ambush along the slopes, he'd be left blinking stupidly at empty air.
Frodo squared his shoulders, clenching one hand tight around the chain at his neck. Sam gave me a long, searching look. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Not sure I understand half of what you just did, but we appreciate it."
The moment Frodo and Sam turned toward the entrance, the very air seemed to shudder, as if all of Mordor were drawing a breath. I caught a flash of motion in the corner of my eye and spun, bringing my spear up just in time. Steel rang on steel, the impact rippled down my arms and nearly knocked me off balance.
Talion. He materialized out of the gloom as if he'd stepped right out of the stones themselves, his form wreathed in shadow. His blade pressed hard against my spear's shaft. Even through the grit and sweat blurring my vision, I knew exactly who he was. He stared at me through eyes that burned a pale, eerie light, and for a heartbeat, I felt something cold slither down my spine.
"Go!" I snarled over my shoulder, voice taut with urgency. Frodo and Sam hesitated, their eyes widening, but I jerked my head toward the fiery entrance. "Don't waste time! I'll hold him off!"
Mister Snuffles hesitated, growling low in his throat. He didn't want to leave me. Not now, not after everything we'd lost. I could feel his massive form trembling with rage and fear, his muscles bunching as if ready to leap into the fray. But I met his eyes and shook my head. "With them," I said, my voice soft but firm. "They need you more."