Elladan led them along with a fervour that spoke of imminent victory. He let his instinct guide him, and soon they were turning through passages without hesitating and considering which way to go.
Elrohir was still very concerned if they had given themselves away, but there was little they could do. Their presence would soon be apparent. The time had come to risk everything to save their mother, even humiliating defeat at the hands of the orcs. Elrohir smiled, a vain smile that was befitting of a Noldor prince, for was that not the lineage of his seers? And what should he make of their return to the Halls? But this was not the time to contemplate such matters, indeed it was not even time for him to leave Middle-earth. He followed his brother with penchant determination.
They soon came to a wide hall with many tables and chairs. There was a stink of rotting filth in the air. There were bones strewn on the floor and blood on the walls. But as they gazed upon the walls, they noticed that they were sculpted with various motifs. They could see carvings of holly trees and noble life-sized elves sitting in their shade, some deep in thought while others busy at work, beholding many beautiful things. But here there the carvings were defiled, but the stone seemed to have endured much ruthless wreckage, for the skill in them was beyond what the orcs could damage. Also to be seen were dwarven lords speaking with the elves and performing skillful acts of creation of their own making. Hammers and anvils and fires could be seen hewn into the mountain walls. Even the ceiling seemed to be embellished with beautiful decorations in stone, but the brothers did not have the time to look at them as they paused a brief minute.
"What is this place I wonder," mused Elrohir.
"Listen!" said Elladan, and they became quiet.
They could hear muffled laughter and great clatter of metal. Crude voices with the makings of a groteque song were now plainly audible. The brothers tiptoed to the end of the hall, where through a door there came a shaft of red light.
Peeking through the door they saw a passage which ran a few yards and at the end of it there was another smaller hall, in which were a great many orcs, moving vessels and utensils in great numbers, dumping them in huge filthy piles and making a terrible racket as they went about it. There also was a reek in the air that choked the elves.
"Orc food," muttered Elrohir, "we have come to a kitchen."
"This must have once been a great dining hall," said Elladan turning back to look at the room they were in, "perhaps the Lords of the Mountain entertained the elves of Eregion to many dainty feasts!"
"There seems to be a party planned even now, hearken!" said Elrohir, returning his interest with disgust to the orc talk.
Cut! Crush! Squish! Squash!
A stew of them we'll make 'n mash.
Gulp! Gobble! Slurp! Cram!
We'll pulp them in a tasty jam.
But first we'll make them beg and cry
For freedom and escape to try.
"I do not like the sound of their mirth," growled Elrohir.
"Patience. This means we still have time, let us hope that we do not give ourselves away," reminded Elladan.
Elrohir nodded and they sat both in thought of how to plan their next move. They could only hope that the others would not give away their position. And then they'd have to escape too.
"If the orcs want to have some fun, then we'll have to entertain them," said Elrohir very slowly. He was looking around the dining hall with a glint of mortal revenge in his eye. Elldan immediately understood his idea.
"This might just work," he said.
|