Chapter Text
He battled against the suffocating sense of dread that enveloped him as he crossed the threshold into Dol-Guldur. The towering spires loomed ominously overhead, their dark silhouettes casting long shadows that seemed to reach out with malevolent intent. The entrance, adorned with symbols of the Black Speech, exuded an aura of hatred and darkness that made his heart quicken with fear. He dared not venture further into this den of evil.
However, fate had other plans in store for him. As he drew nearer, he spied a lone figure hanging within a cage near the entrance. It was none other than his esteemed mentor, Radagast the Brown. The wizard appeared pale and worn, yet a flicker of life still lingered within him.
"Radagast!" he called out, his voice echoing through the stillness of the forest. "Hold on, my friend. I'm coming to get you out of there.”
With a swift motion, he released the cage, catching it just in time to prevent it from crashing to the ground. Radagast slumped into his arms, his beard trembling with exhaustion. Despite the wizard's protests, he knew he had to act swiftly to save his mentor's life.
As he began to recite healing prayers, a sense of foreboding washed over him. The night grew eerily quiet, and the distant murmur of spiders ceased. He sensed danger approaching, but there was no time to waste.
“Go away! It’s not safe.” Wizard cried.
Ignoring Radagast's warnings, he continued to channel healing energy into the wizard's battered form, the bright light of his magic enveloping them both in a protective glow. Yet their respite was short-lived, as the sound of approaching hooves heralded the arrival of the Nazgûl.
With quick thinking, he moved Radagast to safety, then turned to face the oncoming wraiths. Drawing upon his inner strength, he summoned forth a brilliant light that scattered the dark horsemen, buying them precious time.
But he knew that this was only a temporary reprieve. Though outnumbered and outmatched, he stood firm in the face of darkness, ready to confront whatever horror awaited him.
And horror it was. To watch Radagast being slowly taken by black tendrils into the depths of the tower. Seeing that, he climbed onto one of the ruined towers and jumped over to get to the black void in the center of the stronghold, guarded by black speech carved upon cold stone. He hesitated only for a second, looking back at wraths from which he escaped. They seemed to watch him in silence, like everything was going right with their master plan. He was led here on purpose, and soon he would find out what.
He traversed the labyrinthine corridors, each one seemingly darker and more foreboding than the last. The oppressive aura of dark magic permeated the air, assaulting his senses and making him feel queasy with each step.
"Radagast!" he called out, his voice echoing through the desolate halls, but there was no reply, only silence that seemed to mock his desperation.
A sinister voice, speaking in the vile tongue of Mordor, whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine, even though he didn't understand it. "Come to me," it beckoned, its words dripping with malice and deceit.
"Where are you?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.
"Into the darkness," the voice urged, leading him further into the depths of the labyrinth.
Driven by his determination to find his mentor, he pressed on, only to find himself ensnared in a trap of spiderwebs, clinging to him like sticky tendrils.
Suddenly, he heard the cackling laughter of a spider echoing through the chamber."Finally, I'm so famished." The spider said.
Unable to discern its exact location by sound alone, he relied on his keen senses to detect the creature's presence. He felt the rhythm of its life force pulsating, the steady beat of its heart pumping hemolymph through its body. Reacting swiftly, he rolled over in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding being struck by it’s sharp fangs.
Just as the arachnid moved to strike again, he heard the distinct sound of a blade slicing through the air. With a flash of steel, the spider fell, cleaved in two before it could ensnare its prey. Hysmine gasped in relief as a hand reached out to him, offering salvation amidst the darkness. Looking up, he beheld the familiar face of Annatar, his friend standing before him gracefully like a beacon of hope in the gloom.
"Why are you here?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion and disbelief as Annatar gently freed him from the webs that ensnared him.
"I heard you were in need of aid," Annatar replied, his voice calm and reassuring, as he brushed away the lingering strands of web from his cheek. "I couldn't let you face this darkness alone."
"We must find Radagast," Hysmine insisted, the urgency evident in his voice as he spoke.
"How can we be certain he hasn't already fallen prey to the spiders' hunger?" the taller elf questioned, his brow furrowing. Then, his expression shifted as he noticed something amiss. "Where is the cloak I bestowed upon you?" he inquired, his tone tinged with curiosity.
"It was confiscated from me upon my arrival in Thranduil's kingdom," Hysmine replied with a sigh. "The king deemed it unsafe to harbor such gifts from unknown sources," he explained, his disappointment palpable.
"But you know it came from me," Annatar interjected with a reassuring smile. "It was meant to shield you from the taint of dark magic," he added, his eyes darkening with concern.
"I fear I may never retrieve it," Hysmine lamented, his regret evident in his voice. He should have stood his ground when Thranduil insisted on disposing of the cloak.
"Fear not. I shall provide you with another," Annatar declared. "I wish only for your protection," he added, his gaze softening with affection.
Speaking of protection— Hysmine reached for his hip, expecting to find the reassuring presence of his sword or dagger. To his dismay, slender fingers met empty air. He must have lost them when he plummeted into the depths of the tower.
"Meanwhile I possess no means to aid us in our search for Radagast," Hysmine confessed as they continued on their journey, Annatar cutting through the thick cobwebs with his sword.
"You possess a light far more potent than any weapon," Annatar reassured him, his voice brimming with confidence. "It shines as brightly as the stars themselves," he added, offering a reassuring smile to his friend.
Hysmine could not help but return it.
He summoned forth his light to guide their path, its gentle radiance casting a cold glow upon their faces, akin to the moonlight.
As they delved deeper, Hysmine's unease grew, a nauseating sensation gnawing at his gut. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
"Annatar," he called out, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Are we on the right path? I sense no life ahead of us." He frowned, puzzled by the absence of any life signatures.
It unnerved him.
"It's indeed peculiar," Annatar responded, his tone reflecting a similar sense of intrigue.
As Hysmine glanced at his friend's back, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling. Though Annatar stood before him, every inch the epitome of elven grace and poise, Hysmine found himself focusing more on what lay within him. Life, he expected, but even as he concentrated intently, he could neither see nor sense it. It was as if his friend was almost hollow, or filled with some other magic—not elven, but something altogether different…
"What's troubling you, Hysmi?" Annatar inquired, pressing forward without a glance backward.
"I can't detect your life signature," Hysmine admitted, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. He tried to rationalize it away, attributing it to exhaustion or the oppressive atmosphere of their surroundings. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong.
Annatar paused, his expression inscrutable. "Have you ever seen it?" he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.
Question caught him off guard, his mind racing to recall any instance where he had sensed the life force emanating from his friend. And then it hit him—the light that had guided him to Annatar in the depths of Mirkwood, it had not originated from his friend, but from his own hand.
"Do you remember now?" Annatar's voice broke through his thoughts, halting their progress.
Hysmine's lips twitched, a flicker of realization dawning upon him. "What do you mean,” he asked, his voice trembling with apprehension, much like a leaf quivering in the wind. "You must possess a life signature like any other living being." He said.
“Unless…” He trailed off, he implications of Annatar's words sinking in.
"I am not a living creature," Annatar stated gravely. As he turned to face him, Hysmine beheld the fiery embers in his eyes, dark pupils slitted like those of a beast prowling in the night.
Though fear coursed through his veins, Hysmine reached out, grasping his friend’s arms as if clinging to the last remnants of hope.
“I recognize his eyes on you,” he told him. “Are you one of the wraiths enslaved here to serve the dark lord? Tell me If you suffer, for I will do everything in my power to get you out of this,” he promised.
“You have no idea what lies within me,” answered Annatar, tone heavy with an unfathomable depth.
“Let me understand then,” implored Hysmine, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
“You sound so eager,” chuckled Annatar darkly. “Say his name.”
“What?” Hysmine froze.
“The dark lord’s name. Speak it,” Annatar commanded, his tone growing more authoritative with each syllable. “The one who orchestrated the capture of your cherished mentor, leading you here, to this very place. The one who coveted your light for eons, yet you surrendered it willingly,” he continued, his gaze intense as he held Hysmine’s face between his hands, his touch both comforting and unnerving.
Struggling against a rising tide of betrayal, Hysmine grasped Annatar’s wrist, attempting to break free from his grip. The light surrounding him flickered like a dying flame, engulfing them both in a cloak of darkness.
"What lies within me?" Annatar inquired. This time, Hysmine was certain of the answer, though he dreaded speaking it aloud.
“Sauron.”