Act III, part I: The Spider
‘Twere in the bleak days of autumn, in the year 1050 TA, when upon the woods of Eryn Galen a shadow fell, cast upon it by an evil presence that had taken residence up in the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc. To Tinnurion it seemed at first as if the night had become perpetual once more, and he rejoiced, for the woods about him now strikingly resembled his home of old. But the shadow that gripped Eryn Galen was of a different nature, and with it came all sorts of unfavourable creatures. Ravenous Orcs and wargs black of hide, and broad winged bats with gleaming eyes. But of all the dangers that fell upon the wood and came as if called by the evil in Amon Lanc, it were the spawn of Shelob that were the most terrible. They came in great number and webbed the trees and would feast upon orc, man and elf. Wherever they dwelled, the shadows grew taller, bereaving the trees of air and stainless water. At first, they made their lair in the southern part of the forest, which was henceforth called Mirkwood, harassing the woodmen that lived there, and few crossed the Old Dwarf road. But in time they multiplied and many moved northwards, and Thranduil and his folk left the mountains of Mirkwood to find a safer abode.
Tinnurion learned this, but only when it was too late, for it was in his absence that a great and terrible spider, unhindered by the thorned hedge, climbed the trees about his house, and came to his doors. She was gluttonous and vile, and her ulcerated back was filled with spiked hairs. Her belly was covered in a green slime that gave off a rancid smell and her legs rose aside her like spears, marching forward in slow pace, hiding her many-eyed face and drooping mandibles. She was Saewren, one of the oldest of her mother’s children, and she was cunning and treacherous and could read minds and speak in tongues.
With great might she tore down the black doors and inside she crept with her bulking body bobbing behind her, and there she came upon the elves by surprise, and she webbed them, hanging them by the ceiling. The dimly lit halls of their abode were utterly silenced, and a shadow descended upon it which not even Tinnurion in his darkest mood could suffer.
Upon his return, he could tell right away that something was amiss. The hedge was untouched, but for the single narrow passage to the southwest side; just large enough for a single person to wriggle through. All appeared as he had left it, and yet not. With drawn sword he entered, and its black steel shimmered even in such darkness. He carried no mail, nor armour of any sort to protect him, and he lamented that choice greatly upon seeing the state of his doors. For they lay broken upon the floor, and a black, uninviting opening revealed itself behind it. It was quiet inside and the lights were all out, but Tinnurion knew better than to call out for his friends. He stepped inside with such silent steps, that not even his own kin could have heard him coming, should they still be alive.
He went through the main hallway, following the archway into the main room. It was pitch black inside, but Tinnurion’s eyes could see well in the dark and he recognised the seats and thrown down chandeliers, and there were books spread all around. But there was something else there that he could not remember. Something thick and all about the walls of the hall. And then, as he stepped further into the room, he thought he saw something. He halted, silently, yet still with blade in hand. But though his eyes could see well in the dark, even he could hardly discern what it was, sitting high up in the corner of the room. Carefully he came closer, so that his eyes might discover the truth of it. But a sense of dread came over him as more of the shape became visible, and his feet started to withdraw before his eyes ceased their searching.
But then the shape suddenly moved in his direction, and so sudden was her charge that Tinnurion feared this was to be the end of him. But she halted as quickly as she had moved, and now Tinnurion could see well the shape for what it truly was. A giant spider, filling the room with her hairy legs, and her eyes were terrible to look at, though he could not look away from them. He stood as if nailed to the ground, and, surely, he was, for she had spun her webs around his feet. Then from her came a chittering and a hissing, and it took him some time to hear the words in them, but words were formed indeed and they sounded:
‘One more to sate my appetite. One more, yes.’
But Tinnurion’s courage returned to him and he spoke:
‘Feast you shall not on me or my kin, vile creature, spawn of Ungoliant! Hasten you out of this house ere the wrath of my people falls upon you.’
And in his words sounded the strength of will that he possessed, though it would avail him little, for she was beyond his power and cunning. But she was also of a curious mind, and therefore she did not slay him, instead she read him. For he appeared no ordinary elf to her, and so unlike the woodland kin of the hated elf king. And in him she thought she saw a means to an end, a willing ear to her deceptions. For she was cunning and could spin her schemes as well as her webs. She therefore decided to play a game with Tinnurion. She hissed and chittered and words were formed:
‘Thy deceptions will not avail thee, elfling. For I see what makes thee, and it is very little indeed. Thou art no soldier, nor champion amongst thy people. Thou art strange and estranged, lonely and forgotten. Thy shape is bent, and thy mind is troubled. None will come, nay, none will come to thine aid.’
And Tinnurion, knowing he could not deceive her, put his trust in his blade, which he held still firmly in hand.
‘If you have nothing to fear, then come at me, dreadful terror, and feel the sting of my blade. For it will drink your blood eagerly as it has done so with many of your kind before you.’
Saewren looked at the sword in his hands and for a moment she indeed seemed to recoil. But then she quickly remembered her own strength and she laughed, if laughing one could call it.
‘The blade thee carries may once have instilled great fear in my kind, but no longer. Its poisonous bite will not harm me, no weapon thou could bear will! There is no hope for thee, elfling. I have taken thy home for my own, and thy friends are mine to feast upon. But thou may yet walk out of here alive and well, if thy but heed my words carefully.’
Tinnurion was wary but he listened, and she knew it.
‘My children are ever hungry, but they are young in the years of this world, and too eager. Hence, many have perished to the hated woodmen of the westwood. And one man amongst them has grown especially bold, for he pursues my children wherever they go. He leads many of his folk against me, and I shall not have it.’
To this Tinnurion laughed and he taunted her, saying:
‘It appears your power may be less than you imagine, to be thus bested by some woodman. If he can best you, so can I.’
And Saewren hissed angrily.
‘Silence, ere I change my mind and devour thee where thee stands! If thou value thy immortal life, you had better strike this bargain.’
‘There is no bargain I can strike with you that I can trust’, Tinnurion said.
‘So be it. If thy own life is of so little worth to thee, then perhaps I shall unburden thee of immortality. But what of thy friends? Will thou forfeit their lives so easily?’
Saewren threw down two cocoons, wrapped in her webbing. One of them seemed to twitch, but Tinnurion could not hear any voices.
‘What have you done to them, you vile monster!’
‘Nothing yet’, she said chittering. ‘They sleep whilst I savour my appetite. But I know not how much longer I can deny myself such a feast.’
Tinnurion looked at them in horror, and it seemed the spider had him finally where she wanted him.
‘I see that thou care for them. Good, then thou may yet understand what must be done. I need thee to go southward and find the woodman named Gardbrand that hunts my children. When thou hast found him, I want thee to bring him hither, alone and unharmed. And when I have had my revenge, thou may choose one of thy companions to be set loose along with thee.’
‘You strike an evil bargain, spider’, Tinnurion said.
‘Dost thou feel treated unfairly? To trade one petty woodman for an immortal elfling! I would say that is most generous. Take it, or leave it, but know that if it were not for that same woodman, I would have stayed south of the old road with my brood, and thou would not have known I even existed.’
Saewren struck a cunning bargain, which Tinnurion could not refuse. But he could not wholly accept it either, and in his heart he would try and find some way to best the spider at her game. But for now, he had no other choice but to do as she said, for he was not at strength to oppose her. Hence, he answered:
‘We have a bargain, to which I shall hold you.’
Saewren chittered and Tinnurion prepared to leave, but as he turned to the hallway from whence he came, the spider hissed one last thing:
‘Should thee return with more men than we bargained for, it will not end well for thy friends. So, go now, and be swift in step and thought, for my hunger grows quickly and surely.’
