[Mithadan]

Chapter XXVII

...MUST COME DOWN!

Now, if you, like Ellie, would care to know what had happened in all this while to King Strider and his friends on eagles' wings, we must return to when and where we left them the previous morning, high over the tallest peak of Mount Gundabad, lit by the dawning sun as it stood alone above the low clouds and mists of Autumn.

The eagles landed them on the floor of a tiny cove on the north side of the mighty peak. Furry and Maddie found the snows to be cold to their bare feet, not so cold as you or I might, for hobbit feet had thick leathery soles and were covered with hair like the stuff on their heads, but it was mightily cold all the same!

Fortunately, they were not to stand around on the icy space for very long, though it seemed so to the shivering hobbits. Rondramehir gravely said goodbye to Maddie and the rest, and then the great birds took wing again, promising to return before the next day dawned. She looked long at the eagles as they flew away, while Gimli searched for the entrance to the mountain. On the south wall of the cove, covered with snow and ice, was a narrow crevice, which Aragorn agreed was the thing they sought. Once it had been a fairly wide opening into a large chamber. Now they had to hack away at the ice so that there would be room to squeeze inside. The young ranger Cairdur did most of the work, until the others insisted that he save his strength and let them take their turns.

It was Elrohir, the son of Elrond, who swung the pick for the last strike and sent a great wall of ice crashing down so that the entrance was finally open. They crowded inside, and in the dim light, the hobbits could see that a stairway spiraled down into darkness. Gimli lit a very compact dwarvish lantern, which cast a small light about them that he could douse at a moment's notice. Then he shouldered his great pack, carried aloft separately to the icy peak by the strongest of the eagles, and hurried forward to lead the way.

"Hold, Master Dwarf!" cried Aragorn. "Let us make certain that we do not rush with your glowing lantern into the friendly embrace of the goblins!"

Cairdur and the hobbits had to laugh and even Elrohir smiled at the great dwarf's eagerness to explore the goblin stronghold. Madrigal reminded herself that the mountain had originally been inhabited by dwarves, and dwarves never forgot, though ages might pass, wrongs that had been done them. Furry winked at her as Gimli stopped in his tracks and courteously bowed before his old friend, the king.

The old ranger himself carried a rather bulky pack. From it, he withdrew an instrument of unique design, wrought not by dwarves, but by the same elves who had reforged Anduril long ago. Aragorn held the case aloft by a handle and with the other hand released a catch. A tall pole dropped from the bottom, each section slightly smaller than the one above it. With a sharp spin, the shaft was locked into place and three legs swung from the bottommost segment with a quiet snap. Then Aragorn opened the case with both hands, for now it stood supported at eye level, and revealed the Palantir of Orthanc.

It was fixed within a setting of iron, like a great jewel, and could be freely rotated. The setting itself moved on a gimbal so that the Palantir was always upright, whatever the slope of the ground upon which the stand was set. It was clearly the same stand that Aragorn had used when revealing the Palantir at the first council in the fortress of Rhudaur, though it had already been opened at that time. Gimli clapped his hands at the clever device, for it was fair and sturdy and clearly of great use to the king, but it was obvious even to the fascinated dwarf that this was not the time to question the king about its design and manufacture.

King Strider carefully positioned the Palantir in its iron setting and gazed for a few moments into the orb and down through the rock of the mountain, following the spiraling course of the stair, looking for any sign that might indicate the long passage was inhabited. The hobbits listened to the blowing winds, still heard within the guard chamber, until the king was at last satisfied that they could proceed. Outside, the sun had climbed high overhead, and battle was joined on the mountain slopes, but no sound of it carried to the hobbits' listening ears.

They made their way carefully down the crumbling stair, lit only by the dwarven lamp in Gimli's sturdy fist and an occasional shaft that still brought meager light and air into the tall stairwell. The dwarf went first, followed by Aragorn and the hobbits. Cairdur marched behind his king, and Elrohir trod with light elven steps at the end of their line. Furry insisted that Maddie stay next to the wall, and she did not object, for the way was narrow and the drop precipitous. She got dizzy if she looked down into the darkness for very long.

It seemed to Maddie that their time on that long stair was even greater than the time they spent on the icy peak, now far above them, but they were moving cautiously and quietly down the abandoned passage, disturbing only the thick dust at their feet. Finally they did come near the end of the stairs and paused while Aragorn surveyed the Palantir to see the way before them. The grey-headed king looked long at the crystal orb, as if he could not quite believe what it revealed to him. He sighed at last and replaced the enchanted heirloom in its bag under his elven cloak.

"Our plan has either worked far better than I dared hope, or something has gone terribly wrong. This part of the mountain is indeed deserted," Aragorn said. "I expected to encounter at least a few goblins, but there are none."

"There are some," said Elrohir, "but they are not near." His sword gave off a faint bluish gleam.

"But that's what we wanted, isn't it?" asked Furry. "A deserted mountain?"

"Indeed, little halfling," said Elrohir. "But if the goblins are not in abundance in the mountain, then they are outside of it, and so the safety we receive is the peril given to our friends."

"Then we shall create a little peril of our own," said Gimli. "Let's be off to the cisterns!"

"Right!" said Cairdur. "Since they are risking life and limb to buy us this opportunity, let us make the most of it!"

"This way," said Aragorn, now leading the companions to the great cisterns of Gundabad. Along the way, Gimli quietly explained to the hobbits the ancient construction practices of the dwarves.

"You would not believe how much water a dwarven settlement requires," said the old dwarf. "Water for drinking and water for cooking. Water for turning wheels to drive various machinery. But can you guess why we dwarves so prize the crystal clean water of melted snow?"

"Tempering dwarven axes?" answered Furry.

"Bathing?" ventured Maddie.

"Beer!" cried Gimli. "Fine malt beer! Why the beer of the dwarves is unsurpassed, and one of the secrets, which perhaps I should not admit, is crystal water from the snowmelt of the mountains."

"Then you haven't tried the Wizard's Brew in Bree!" said Furry. "When we get back, I'll buy you a round and you'll never boast of dwarven beer again!"

"Hush," said Elrohir. "You grow too loud in your praises of mortal beverages. Besides, nothing is finer than the miruvor of Rivendell." None could argue with this, though Furry insisted that the enchanted beer of the Prancing Pony was hard to beat, and not, strictly speaking, an entirely mortal beverage.

Maddie was about to recommend the wines of Dorwinion, which she had sampled at the Mid-Year's Feast in the Shire the year before, when they arrived at the door to the great cavern that was the ancient reservoir the Longbeards had built centuries ago. Again, Aragorn surveyed the Palantir and Elrohir checked the blue gleam of his sword and they were satisfied that there were no goblins present. So the rangers and the elf slowly pushed a great stone door open just enough to slip past. Then, they crept out onto the ledge overlooking the cavern and Maddie took a sharp breath at the sight.

The ice crystals of the cavern's low ceiling reflected and refracted the light of Gimli's lamp, and he dared to turn up its brilliance until the entire vault was lit with white radiance. It was not terribly bright in the great chamber, but to the hobbits' eyes, used now to the dark, it was dazzling. Beneath the icy dome was a deep lake of the darkest blue. It did not look very deep, but Gimli assured them that it was.

"The water is so clear that you can see the bottom as if it were only a foot deep, but it is many, many fathoms to the bottom," the dwarf whispered, and his voice echoed back from across the lake.

"Let us be on our way," Aragorn murmured. He signaled for Gimli to dim his lamp and then led them around the shore of the deep cistern. On the far side, Maddie could see that the dwarves had built a mighty wall to dam the water and so form the great lake under the mountain. When they reached the other side, the path became a long stair that switched back and forth down the massive wall to the floor of the great cavern.

"How far down are we?" asked Maddie quietly.

"Not far at all," Gimli answered. "We are still high above the valley. This cistern is actually near the top of the original excavations. Thus, when released, the fall of the water can turn wheels and otherwise be piped under its own power down to any portion of the realm for the use of the inhabitants. But we will soon put this to our own use! Now, young hobbits, help me with my pack."

They had reached the bottom of the cistern, and the hobbits tried, and failed, to lift the heavy pack from the shoulders of the dwarf. Gimli finally just sat down and squirmed out of the straps. Maddie marveled at the strength and endurance of the old dwarf. But the dwarf made light of it and quickly opened the pack and unwrapped the machine inside.

It was an odd-looking thing to be sure, a cross between a dwarvish toy and some kind of war engine. The device was a combination of iron gears and tightly wound sinews. Gimli and Cairdur set it by the wall and the dwarf busily went to work laying out tools. "It will take a while, as I told you at the outset," he said. "Now is the time for you to find out what lies below, as I make ready here. Be wary! The bones of this mountain are simply rotten with ill-planned goblin tunnels and shafts. They could be hiding anywhere! You should take me with you, for my axe would gladly taste the blood of these foul orcs of Gundabad, and my eyes would gladly behold the sacred chamber where Durin woke, whatever else may occupy it now!"

"No Gimli," said Aragorn. "It is for that very reason I would urge you stay, for we must be stealthy now, and the debt of the dwarves must be put off for a little longer. Could you restrain your just wrath at the sight of whatever desecrates the chamber?"

"My heart trembles even now," the dwarf answered. "I will yield to your wisdom in this."

Elrohir was to stay with the dwarf, for his sword would warn them of approaching orcs. The hobbits followed quietly behind Aragorn and Cairdur, as they sought an unobserved path to the unknown danger in the bottom-most cellar. As before, they did not move until the king had surveyed the Palantir, and was certain that they could continue to the next place. He carried it in its setting on its stand as if it were a great staff. Furry now noticed that the elvish craftsmen had made a place for the king's hand so that it balanced well in his strong grip, heavy as it was. In this fashion, the rangers and the hobbits made their way down past the very heart of the goblin kingdom.

The map (which both hobbits had studied until their heads ached, at the insistence of old Pippin) had shown a great open tunnel, high and wide, that led down to the lowest cellar. But Aragorn chose a different route. Their way was long and twisting to avoid detection and along that way, Madrigal saw what Gimli meant about the bones of the mountain. Older tunnels and corridors seemed to slant in odd ways, as if they had settled unevenly, and cracks and fissures were everywhere. After they had gone along this way for some time, carefully and slowly, Furry guessed that it was now very late at night, perhaps even the second watch, and he wondered how the battle was going out in the valley.

So too, did the king and the ranger wonder, and so, at their final stop before rejoining the great corridor nearer to its end, Aragorn surveyed the Palantir for news of the battle outside. It was difficult to make sense of the confusion of a battle in the broad clear daylight, but on a moonless night, it was nearly impossible. Still, Aragorn had become skilled in the use of his great heirloom and could see well enough that all was not well, yet all was not bad.

"They have freed the pass, for I see dwarves in the fight, but our forces have retreated to the trenches," said the old ranger-king. "Much more I cannot tell, but I can see why there are few goblins in here. Nearly every orc alive must have joined the battle above!"

"How I wish that we were there, too," said Cairdur fervently.

"As do I," said Aragorn. "But your fair blade and Anduril, here, may yet taste of battle, ere we reach the field. There are still goblins enough and more at the gates of this realm. It would be good fortune beyond belief if we do not encounter any."

And with that, they moved on just as quietly as they could, but still Furry and Maddie could hear the light scuff of the rangers' leather-shod feet on the canted floor of the corridor. The hobbit lass pushed ahead and tugged at Aragorn's grey elven cloak.

"King Strider!" she whispered. "You stop right now! You rangers might be good in the woods, but no one is as quiet as a hobbit when she wants to be! This is why we came. Now, we're almost there, so you two Big Folk should stay right here and let us Little Folk take a quick peek!"

Aragorn weighed this swiftly in his mind, and then softly said, "Go! But only take a quick look. Use the elven cloaks of your grandfathers to full advantage, and stay hidden. Do not be seen! Do not be heard! Come straight back without delay! Now hurry!"

Furry and Maddie did not need to be told twice. As frightened as they were of whatever might be in the cellar at the end of the great corridor, their curiosity was greater, and so, hand in hand (as much due to the darkness as for the comfort it gave) they crept silently down the way. The stone grew warm beneath their bare feet and Maddie almost appreciated this, since it was the first time her feet had been warm in quite some time. Finally, they stole around the last bend of the hall and its final downward slope and peeked cautiously around the great stone columns of the cellar entrance.

Wordlessly, breathlessly, in terror and in wonder, they gazed upon a living horror of the ancient world. The vast cavern was uncomfortably warm and lit with a dim fiery glow. By it, the hobbits could see vast wealth upon the floor, golden heaps of treasure and glittering gems. But in coil upon coil, nestled atop the hoard, lay the hugest dragon imaginable. The sound of its breathing was like a gigantic rumbling wheezing bellows and it exuded a foul stench. Its scales may have been golden, once upon a time, but were now caked with years of black stony filth. It lay without moving, save for the rise and fall of its tremendous chest. The thing was vast, huge beyond reckoning, and as large as was the cavern that was her lair she made it seem much smaller, for she nearly filled the entire chamber in her immensity.

Her name was Veatrix the Golden, and she, in her day, had been great and terrible indeed. But in the last overthrow of Morgoth, when the world was bent in the tumults of the final war of the Valar, she fled, coming at last to Gundabad, and crawled into its lowermost cellar never to come out again. She was old then, and now she was ages older. She had lived beyond her time, served by the goblins that became her servants, and finally, her worshippers.

In horror, the hobbits saw that the piles upon the floor were not treasures alone, but corpses, bones, and skulls of goblins. Bones of great orcs and of goblin imps were spewed out in heaps upon the floor. Veatrix was rather dainty, as far as dragons go, and did not care for the bones of the foul folk if she were not hungry. But as she had not missed a meal in ages, she ate what she pleased, and none dared complain.

Now, most dragons, as is well known, do not suffer any other living thing in their lairs, but old Veatrix was cunning, and her fear of the Valar overruled her solitary nature. She shrouded herself from magical view and agreed to help the goblins defeat the Longbeards in ages past. She used this singular cohabitation as a perfect disguise for her lair, for who would think to look for a dragon in such a place? In return, she demanded and received the bloody sacrificial tribute of the goblins and gave them the benefit of her cunning so that they remained strong and she remained hidden. Now Furry and Maddie knew what the Bane of Gundabad actually was!

Then Maddie saw something still more troubling! What at first glance she had taken to simply be a grisly pile of broken skulls was actually the shards from a clutch of empty dragon eggs. Why, the old thing had recently hatched a brood! Maddie pointed, and Furry's eyes grew wide as he understood. His handsome face hardened and he motioned for them to leave. Ever so quietly, the hobbits slipped away from the sleeping beast and returned to where the rangers still stood, warily guarding the way.

Furry quickly told Aragorn what they had seen, with Maddie adding details as the young Took told the swift tale. Most surprising was the description of the broken eggs. Aragorn again used the Palantir to survey the battlefield. His face grew pale and with a sharp command to follow, they ran straight up the open corridor to the great reservoir. Elrohir and Gimli were waiting. The dwarf had just completed his work.

"Ah! There you are at last!" said the dwarf. "What did you find down in... a dragon! A dragon profanes the sacred chamber where Durin awoke!"

"How did you know?" asked Maddie, a little disappointed that she did not get to surprise the old dwarf.

"I can smell the dragon-reek on the both of you young hobbits!" he cried. "To think of it! Elrohir, is there a laundry in Rivendell that can remove such a stench?"

"Elven garments hold no foul odors," the elf answered, with a trace of a smile. "Perhaps the maidens who delight in handling fabrics know some art that would help. Or perhaps the garments should be buried."

"Later, we can all bury or burn every stitch of clothing not fashioned on elvish looms," said Cairdur, with a straight face. "But will your contraption work, Gimli?"

"Of course it will work! All I need do is pull this pin," he said proudly, "and the mechanism will gradually spread these stones apart. See how we have inserted these rods into the crevices? Hard work that, especially since it had to be done noiselessly. But I remembered a method once used in repairing the carven bedframe of my father's friend Bombur. The fat old fellow actually insisted that we do our work without waking him, and since no other bed could accommodate his girth..."

"I would hear that tale another time, Master Dwarf," Aragorn said dryly.

"Suffice it to say then," said Gimli, "that this device will gradually part these dry set stones where they sit and the water behind the dam will flood down the great corridor and into the dragon's lair. Thus, we only need trigger the machine and virtually everything below this site will be drowned! Once I start it, it will unwind until the stones move, and then the weight of the water behind this wall will do the rest. No force under ground or sky could stop it then. We will cleanse the sacred chamber with water and ice and drown the worm for a hundred years!"

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Furry.

"Really! My feet are freezing again!" said Maddie. But Aragorn was surveying the Palantir.

"If all is well," the king said, "then the eagles await us. I fear that everything has gone entirely too well for us, but we must not be unthankful for that. There is dragon fire and more over the valley and others have fared worse than ourselves tonight! Come, Gimli! Let us send a cool drink to a hot dragon and be on our way!"

The dwarf bowed low, and swept his helm before his knees. Then he walked over to his device, murmured something in the secret tongue of the dwarves, pulled a pin, and watched for a moment as the enormous tension of the wound mechanism began to release itself. Slowly the steel pins began to move and almost imperceptibly the stones at the center of the base of the dam also moved. A tiny trickle began to seep from between the large blocks.

"We haven't much time!" cried the dwarf. "We must make haste! Quickly! To the top of the wall and out of here before it blows!"

The party hurried to heed the dwarf's advice. But Aragorn's foreboding that all had gone too well for such a dangerous mission was not a gloomy imagining. For as they hurried, Madrigal's bare foot slipped on the icy stair and she tumbled back down an entire flight to the base of the wall. It was at that moment that the cold trickle became a sudden rushing torrent and Maddie was swept away, back down into the great corridor and out of the sight of her friends. Above the roaring waters, as she gasped for breath in the frigid cold, she could just hear the anguished voice of Furry, calling her name. Then she was swept helplessly on the speeding current down, down, down, directly into the dragon's lair! Her head was knocked against the very column at its entrance where she had hidden with Furry to look upon the beast. Then she knew nothing more.

***

Madrigal Brandybuck awoke, cold and shivering, to a sudden warmth. She might have welcomed the hot blast of air, had it not come with sulphurous fumes and the stench of foul decay. She heard the torrent rushing behind her and wondered why it was not filling the caves. She opened her eyes to see, but leering over her was the hideous head of the dragon. Maddie then did what any lass of the Shire might have done in such a situation.

"Stop thy screaming!" cried the dragon. "Look upon me well, child, for I am Veatrix the Golden, and I am thy death!" A trifle melodramatic, perhaps, but that was a tendency of dragons in any age, and Veatrix was terribly ancient, and terribly vain.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty," said Maddie, after she stopped screaming and drew a breath. She knew that politeness counted with dragons, as much as anything might. "I was so startled that I did not realize where I had fallen and I utterly forgot myself. It won't happen again! Did you enjoy your esteemed repose?"

"Nay! But now I know who troubled it! Thou it was, who didst peer in upon my slumber. Thou and another. I felt thy air after thou didst steal away. Thou wert wise to steal naught but the sight! Now tell me, child," said Veatrix, as sweetly as a dragon could (which was not very sweet at all, I must say), "who hideth behind thee and sendest a drowned waif of a girl to do a thief's work? Or be it the work of a warrior that thou art about?"

Now Maddie knew, as did any hobbit who listened to the old stories as much as she had, that it did not do to lie to a dragon, nor was it a clever thing to tell them exactly the truth, either. So she gave the best answer she could, which I daresay was better than you or I might have done in such a horrible situation. The old worm might have already placed the pretty hobbit girl under the dragon spell, except that she could not help playing a dragon's games with Maddie before dining. She had not seen a fresh young thing like Madrigal ever before and was working up a good appetite for the little morsel.

"I am neither thief nor warrior, O Greatest Queen of All Terrors!" replied the hobbit lass. "And none hide behind me, for few are small enough to do so. I am not a child, for I am fully grown. My name means Song, and many have sung of my beauty, though I must look a sight after my little bath. I really must thank you for such a nice warm place to dry off!"

"And what meaneth this bath of thine?" asked the dragon, who was not at all pleased with the rushing current of icy water flowing across the lowest end of her lair. "Didst thy friends thinketh to drown me? Well they be fools! I didst recently renovate, just in time for thy prank."

Madrigal followed the dragon's gaze to where an obviously new tunnel had been opened at the lowest corner of the chamber. There, the water that should have flooded the lair, was pooling and simply draining away through the goblin tunnel. It was then that Maddie nearly despaired, for she did not know how long she had been unconscious or how much water the reservoir held. At least the torrent had not yet shown signs of diminishing. She drew a deep breath, and played another dangerous round of the dragon's game.

"Why, who would have known that you would ever want to change anything in such a dwelling?" she asked. "It was quite awe inspiring as it was! Why, so much treasure! So many victims! Not even Smaug had such accommodations, I'm sure! Why ever did you want another entrance into your bed chambers?"

"Thou art, indeed, a child, for all thy protestations," replied the dragon. "For what thou seest be only an exit and wilt never be an entrance."

"But it is surely too small for Your Majesty's, uh, majesty," said Maddie, suddenly realizing that the dragon was also far too large to exit even through the great hall!

"Do not be preposterous if thou canst help it," huffed the ancient dragon. "My servant hath led the goblins away through here, where thy king's bauble canst not see! I didst plan to seal the hole, but desired my nap still more. So, it became a drain for thy bath and so all the plans of thy king and his armies to gain mine treasure hath been brought to naught!" Then she laughed a terrible laugh that made the little hobbit tremble with fear.

"But surely, O Mighty Empress of Despair, you can not blame them!" Maddie said, trying to seem nonchalant, walking about a little, as if taking in the sights of an elven valley. "Why, if anyone saw all of this, you would be the envy of the world! Wisdom beyond reckoning! Treasures beyond imagining! You even have a brood of fine children to call your own--." Here the hobbit girl touched upon a subject most touchy for dragons. As I'm sure I don't need to tell you, dragons do not live long after they lay their eggs, and so they tend to put off laying them for as long as they can. Veatrix had waited longer to lay hers than any dragon before her, enduring age after age, and for the last few millennia by hiding in Gundabad, living off of goblins and not much else. But even a dragon wearies of life at last, and this one had finally decided to lay her clutch of eggs and pass thereafter into stone. Fortunately, most dragons are slain before they perform this last monstrous deed, and this is a good thing, or dragons might overrun the world even to this day!

It was also not unheard of for young dragons to check in on their parent's horde and attempt to take up residence. If they were clever enough and waited enough so as not to be eaten by the dying dragon ere it became stone (which could take quite some time), they could then fight to the death with their nestmates for supremacy. The last dragon alive would then inherit. This competitive arrangement helped to keep the dragon population manageable. It was only when the first Dark Lord had a hand in matters that there were dragons of any great number at a given time, and the situation at Gundabad had given Alatar the Black a similar idea. His wicked plan was to use his sorcerous power to control (or to at least influence) the young dragons for his own ends. That was agreeable to Veatrix, who had demanded of him peace and quiet after a last meal of great variety and enormous quantity. All the same, it was vexing to Veatrix to be reminded of her inescapable demise.

"If any hatchling of mine didst appear here," the dragon cried in a voice like stone on stone, "their flesh wouldst be mine again, as was their father's! Nay! They goeth forth even now and giveth fire unto thy friends on the outside! Tonight, they dineth upon the roasted flesh of elf and dwarf and man! They shalt not return until I be long dead, if they knowest aught at all."

"Oh no!" cried Madrigal, in false pity. "You are surely not afraid that I will kill you?"

The dragon laughed a hideous wheezing laugh that shook the chamber and the poor little hobbit girl wondered if it would fall in upon them. "What a humourous notion," she said at last. "A fine entertainment before dinner! A fine supper of dwarves, and men, and even elves! Mounds of the freshly slain, hauled in on the backs of goblins, by order of mine servant. Art any more of thy sort about, I wonder? Do not lie, I see in thine eyes that there are! All the better! I be old, child, terribly old, and didst dine upon goblins for ages. Simply ages. My new servant hath pledged unto me a fine feast of choice roast meats ere I die. So didst I agree to lay mine eggs at last and return unto the stone." Veatrix was talking more than a dragon might, perhaps. But, like some elderly folk that you may even know, the dragon had become terribly lonely. Not that she wasn't planning to eat the little hobbit all the same!

"It's a shame that all you get is goblins," said Maddie, wandering about the great room nervously, her hand in her pocket, keeping an eye on the dragon and on the corridor. "I'm sure they taste simply terrible! But I don't think there will be many orcs left for you to eat, after we win the battle. Besides, I don't think Alatar the Black would keep his word even if he could."

"Then thou hast met him! But thou shouldst not fret on that account! Flesh in plenty shalt be brought unto me for a last dinner," said Veatrix. "And not one goblin on the platter! My servant dareth not defy me, lest I call upon mine heirs to slay him!" Her head slowly moved about the room, following the hobbit lass, keeping an eye on her and on the corridor.

"Yea!" continued the dragon, with her slithering tongue running around the cracked rim of her dreadful mouth and her vast stomach rumbling like an earthquake. "A fine repast wilt be mine this night! And thou shalt make a tasty appetizer, ere I dine in earnest!"

With that the great beast began to uncoil and move. Her stony scales splintered and cracked, and clouds of dust fell from her vast bulk. The beast's golden eyes glowed and cast their perilous beams in a swift sweeping arc across the floor toward Maddie. Seeing that the conversation was at an end, quick as you can say "flick," Madrigal whisked her dwarven mithril mirror out of her pocket, averted her eyes, and held it before the dragon's malevolent entrancing gaze. Later, Ellie would say that "the luck of the hobbits" was with her best friend, for when Maddie held up the mirror, a reflection of the golden beam was cast from the dragon's wicked eye straight back into it!

Now it is only fair to record that this was not nearly as efficacious as Madrigal had hoped, for she had actually imagined that the dragon spell might fall upon the very dragon that cast it! In fact, all that happened was that Veatrix was dazzled and surprised, and then outraged at the little trick. She drew a deep rattling breath like a cyclone and in the next moment would have roasted Madrigal Brandybuck on the spot, except that the clever hobbit girl had time to drop a stone into her sling. She whirled it like lightning straight into the golden eye of the ancient dragon!

Such a sound you never heard in your whole life! Indeed, Maddie's little pointed ears rang for sometime after that and it was several days before she could hear very well at all. But she didn't stick around to hear more! She ran as fast as her bare feet could scurry, splashing out into the icy corridor, and straight into Furry, knocking him flat on his back and falling atop him. Of course it was Furry, for her friends had certainly not abandoned her! Later (when Maddie could hear well enough to be told), she learned of how they had all swung across the torrent on an elvish rope with a dwarvish grapple to follow her to the dragon's lair.

"We have overstayed our welcome!" cried Aragorn. "Fly!"

"What?" asked Maddie, as she was picked up in strong craggy hands and found herself being jostled and bumped like a sack of potatoes, for Gimli the Renowned was running as fast as he could run with a hobbit slung across his broad back, splashing up the great corridor and away from the dragon. Between bounces the hobbit lass saw Furry quickly gain his furry feet and shoot his best arrows at the terrible face of Veatrix, now pushing through the entrance of her lair and far into the hall. The special dwarven arrowheads given him by King Thorin Stonehelm pierced her rotting scales and wounded her face dreadfully, for one arrow stuck in the dragon's eye (the same one Maddie had hit!), another pierced her ear, and another protruded from her bottom jaw and for a moment held it fast against the roof of her dreadful mouth.

Elrohir snatched the dauntless Took around the waist and ran with elven speed away from the dragon, which was now as enraged as only a wounded dragon of great pride and antiquity could be. Soon the speeding elf drew even with the dwarf as the rangers stepped aside. Aragorn and Cairdur let fly shaft after shaft at the face of the dragon, but their arrows were not tipped with mithril edges as were the hobbit's, and they rebounded harmlessly from the dragon's head. With a stifled roar, Veatrix shoved forward, pushed her forelegs as far to the front as they would go, and twisted her neck back with a great grinding noise until her claws could reach her mouth so that she could finally unclamp her jaws. At the last moment, the rangers turned and ran through the shallowest part of the icy stream that still cascaded down the sloping corridor. Choking fumes and searing heat followed them, singing leather, hair and skin, but the dragon herself did not follow.

Veatrix the Golden, in her great wrath, had forgotten for the moment how truly immense she had grown since she had long ago squeezed down the corridor and into her lair. She could go no farther and had to let her intended prey escape. Her vast bulk completely sealed the entrance to the corridor and the rushing water swirled about her and became a boiling roiling steam. This did not suit the dragon at all, who was not as hot as she had been long ago, and who had detested water even then. She tried to back out of the corridor into her chamber.

But she was, of course, stuck. In her hot fury, she had wedged herself too tightly into the corridor and was pinned! She couldn't budge an inch! Now the waters had nowhere else to run and were swiftly rising about her neck and shoulders. Veatrix cried aloud in a voice that shattered stone and split rock, but no goblin came to investigate, for those who were not in the field were too terrified at the sound to be the slightest bit curious. The beast realized her danger and now struggled with all that was left of her ancient might. But the mountain was mightier still and held the dragon fast, caught in the lowest end of the great corridor, which was filling with icy cold waters from the snows of Gundabad.

No other creature is as fierce as a dragon in a pinch, and Veatrix the Golden was as fierce as any dragon that ever was. Her terrifying bellows and dreadful cries of wrath were loud beyond words to tell and carried through the mountain, out of its gates, and into the valley, where every creature for many leagues about could not help but pause and listen in startled wonder. The first light before dawn revealed churning steams and smokes rising from the gates of Gundabad. The tremendous dragon writhed wildly in her stone bonds and the mountain and the lands around shook with her desperate struggle.

"I told you this mountain's bones were rotten!" cried Gimli, as the companions splashed ahead. Indeed, the ill-planned tunneling of the goblins had weakened the excavations of the Longbeards and the natural caverns of the mountain. As the dragon's flailing and pounding wracked the earth, stone began to give way and great cracks and fissures opened between the vast halls. Elrohir lightly leaped away from a great arch of stone that came crashing down at his heels.

"We will never make it back to the mountain's peak!" the elf-knight shouted.

"The gates!" cried Aragorn. "We must fight our way out!"

"Then let us try the third gate on the second level," Gimli said as loudly as he could. "It will be defended less, and we are almost there!"

They passed the hall where the rushing waters of the reservoir still swiftly drained into the great corridor. Now they ran more swiftly to an intersection of halls and turned to the gate that Gimli had chosen. This led them now through the areas of the goblin stronghold that were more inhabited. Upon turning the corner, they immediately ran into the first orcs they had seen within Gundabad.

Anduril, the sword of the king, swept through the first two and Cairdur's blade slew another. At this point, as more goblins could be seen up ahead, Gimli and Elrohir set down the hobbits. The dwarf drew his battle-axe from its sheath on his back and Elrohir drew his sword, blazing with an ice blue rage at the nearness of the orcs.

The goblins saw them also, but were themselves seeking to escape and outpaced all in the company save Elrohir, whose rage was kindled at the very sight of the foul race. The elf-knight swiftly overtook the goblins and seemed almost to fly rather than run. His blade was radiant as the summer sky and the goblins howled and shrieked in terror at the sight. The company passed over their corpses, and Madrigal stifled a cry at the sight, but none would have heard her over the horrendous shrieks of the struggling dragon. The terrible cries of the worm were matched by the grinding of the mountain as it fell apart.

Onward they ran, not stopping now to survey the Palantir for safety, but speeding as swiftly as they could through one hall and then another. Always the blades of Elrohir and Aragorn went before, gleaming like sky and fire, hewing and slicing, felling the orcs they encountered like stalks of grain before a scythe. The mountain rumbled and shook with thunderous crashes, for gigantic slabs of stone within were falling against one another and breaking asunder in primordial tumult. Suddenly, at the last turn, they saw before them the silhouettes of fleeing goblins against the first light of dawn at the end of the tunnel.

They were the last creatures to flee the crumbling mountain. Every orc that had remained within, shirking the danger of the battlefield, now only wanted out of the calamity and were much more willing to take their chances in the field, rather than be buried alive! As they scurried and scrambled down the mountainside, one of them turned and saw Elrohir and Aragorn, with Gimli, Cairdur and the hobbits following after. The goblin called out in his uncouth tongue to his mates and they turned and cried aloud, some in fear and some with glee, for they saw the bright blades, but they also saw what they thought was easy prey, for there were many orcs gathered outside the gate.

But Elrohir was an elf-knight, one who had spent an age and more in errantry, the son of Elrond and Celebrian. His mother had been tortured in unspeakable ways by the goblins long ago, but ever the memory burned hot within him, and now he was wroth beyond the reckoning of the orcs. His strong clear voice cut through the cacophony of the mountain's ruin and the dragon's torment, and the name "Celebrian!" rose above the monstrous noise and then he was upon them. "Elendil!" cried Aragorn and his blade Anduril swept like a flame in the rising sun. Cairdur leaped into the fray to protect the back of his king while Gimli roared a challenge in his dwarven tongue and came nimbly down the stony face of the mountain like a dwarf in his youth. Furry was already firing arrows into the goblin crowd as fast as his hands could move.

But Furry heard another noise with his keen hobbit ears, a different rumble than the goaning and grinding sounds of breaking stone coming from deep within Mount Gundabad. This growing roar came from outside the mountain and from above. Maddie turned to see why Furry stared speechlessly behind them and saw a great avalanche of snow and stone tearing down the slopes and cliffs straight for them! She screamed as high and as loud as only a hobbit lass can, and first the goblins, who were facing that way, and then her friends, who were facing the goblins, all looked up the mountain and saw the rolling death from above.

That would have been the end of their stories, except that Rondramehir, King of the Eagles of the Misty Mountains, had been circling the peak of Gundabad at dawn, when the quaking and breaking began. This noblest and greatest of birds had eyes sharper than any living creature's and so he saw the avalanches as they began to fall and he saw the goblins as they evacuated the mountain. This he thought amusing for they fled right into the path of the crashing rock and snow! Then he saw the bright blades and the familiar shapes of the rangers, elf, dwarf, and even the small hobbits, and was amused no more. Crying aloud in the keen language of the great birds, Rondramehir commanded the eagles that flew with him to stoop down from the sky like lightning. So did the eagles rescue King Elessar and his friends from death on the slopes of Gundabad. Madrigal did not have time to draw another breath before she found herself snatched up in sharp claws and lifted high into the breaking dawn.

"Do not squirm so, lest I drop you!" warned the eagle. Madrigal was twisting in the iron grip of the bird so that she could see the mountain. As she looked, the sides of Gundabad were cast down in the tumult and the cloud of its destruction threatened to swallow the northern sky. But the high winds blew fast and clean and gradually Maddie could still see the peak atop the central core of the mountain, still gleaming high in the dawn sky amid the ruined slopes. Gundabad was no more. Only a tall sharp spire of jagged rock remained and the elves renamed it Carag Amlug, or, as the hobbits called it, The Dragon's Tooth. Veatrix the Golden lay crushed at the root of the mountain and never moved again.

At last, the hobbit lass turned away from the ruin of the mountain and looked down into the valley to see the armies she had left behind only a day before. Madrigal could hardly draw breath as she took in the sight. A terrible battle had been fought and the ground was dark with blood. The shining swords, mail, and helms of the allied armies gleamed in the dawn, and they seemed a great glittering island in a lake of swarming goblins. From the royal pavilion, there rose a foul black smoke into the sky.

***

You are probably wondering as much as Maddie what had happened on the battlefield so let us take up that part of the story where we left it.

Celeborn saw that the young dragons were avoiding the elven archers by following the dragon that bore Alatar the Black ever over the men and dwarves. The wizard was hurling enchanted spears into the ranks of soldiers in the trenches and the dragons followed with hot sulphurous fires that burned all in their wake. Now the elf lord ordered his archers to disperse throughout the field, so that the young dragons could not fly over any part of the besieging host without risking elvish arrows.

But as fast as elves can run, dragons can fly faster, even small ones, and from the high vantage of his black-armoured dragon, Alatar saw the movement of the elves and decided to assault the royal pavilion before elven arrows could defend it. As the ranger Cairduin lay dead at the feet of Arwen Undomiel, the wizard led the young worms in a diving attack from on high, down to where the leaders of the forces were gathered.

They were arguing at that moment, and perhaps this discord was also part of the wizard's attack, but it is enough that there were hard feelings between Legolas and his father King Thranduil. Legolas had returned to the besieging armies just as they themselves were besieged by a host of orcs and a swarm of dragons, and in this critical moment, he had once again brought with him uninvited, an old man claiming to be the tortured wizard Pallando the Blue.

"What do you mean by this treachery?" cried Thranduil sharply. "Again you fecklessly compromise the safety of your friends and relations?"

"Let them call it treachery or foolishness who will," cried Legolas bitterly, "when all has been said and done!"

"Then let less be said and more be done," said Celeborn sternly. "This war does not permit leisure for family quarrels!"

"Pah!" spat Thorin Stonehelm. "There are enemies enough and more, and this addled old man is added to our burden. I go back to the front!"

"Go then!" cried Thranduil. "Ever was the vision of the dwarves only as long as their noses! This elf I called my son has brought danger into our midst! Ere this wizard does us grievous harm, I will slay him where he stands!"

"I forbid it!" shouted Legolas, and as fast as eye could see, he nocked an arrow to his great bow of Lorien and took aim at his own father. Things might have taken a tragic turn, for the sword of Thranduil was drawn as the haughty elf king thought to slay the old man and perhaps his son as well.

At that moment, the field rang with the familiar horn cry of Buckland and the great folk suddenly realized that they were under attack from above. Faramir Took had ordered his son's plan put into effect, and the archers of the Shire had hidden themselves from sight as well as they could. The wizard had cleverly led his dragons away from the arrows of the elves, but now came down upon the back of his dragon in a steep dive toward the pavilion. He either had discounted or had not counted upon the bows of the hobbits in his calculations.

Turry peeked out of his concealment and waited until the dragons were almost upon them and he cried out to Master Merry Brandybuck, "Now!" whereupon the fat old hobbit blew upon the enchanted Horn of Eorl with all the wind he could muster. Old Pippin and Faramir stood up beside him with arrows nocked to guard the old fellow as the valley resounded with the call.

Up leaped the hobbits from their concealment and the arrows flew from their Tookish bows unerringly at the dragons as they passed. The wizard had not counted on this! Now, as dragons grow older, they grow tougher, especially if they can roll about grinding the metals and stones of a vast horde of stolen treasure into their scales. But these dragons were newly hatched. I daresay, that even so, they were terrible enough and being able both to fly and breathe fire, you wouldn't want to fight a young dragon at all, much less a swarm of them. But that was exactly what the hobbit archers did.

The sure aim of the young hobbits was rewarded with cries of surprise, anger, and pain from the dragons flying low over the hobbits' heads. Many of the dragons fell from the sky, and were set upon by brave men and dwarves nearby. Many soldiers were slain by the dying dragons, for such creatures are fearsome and deadly as long as they have any life in them at all. Some other dragons were merely wounded, and faltering in the air, tried to fly away and these were slain by the arrows of the elves. Still others were unscathed, and able to flee the field entirely, flying away to the north, where they escaped to trouble folk many, many long years later.

But there were some, the three biggest and boldest of the dragons, which were both unharmed and enraged. They did not heed the wizard, but instead flew back to visit the hobbits with a fiery revenge. Down they came, and this time would not be taken by surprise. Loud they cried and swept the entrenchments with fire and it was a terror to hear and to see. But Turry leapt to the top of his trench and as fast as his hands could move, put three arrows into the head of the lead dragon. Down it fell in flaming ruin, nearly crashing into the valiant Took. The young hobbit was overcome by the flames and fell back dazed into the entrenchment and lay there until he was found and revived after the great battle. Turry never recovered his mithril-edged arrowheads, but he never lost the fame that came to him in after days for slaying the young dragon.

The other two worms were also slain by the archery of the hobbits and by the ferocity of the Beornings and the dwarves, who made certain of the deed when the dragons hit the ground near their positions. But the hobbits of the Shire paid a ruinous cost. The dragons were hot in their fury and did not immediately fall to the arrows of the Tooks. Many bare-footed hobbits never walked again in the soft fields of their homes, for they fell to dragon fire in the Battle of Gundabad. Many more of them were wounded, indeed, were maimed for life, as were so many of the soldiers of the besieging armies. But many lived to proudly bear their scars, and these hobbits could always count on a free round and a hearty song at their local taverns for the rest of their long lives.

But there was one dragon that no arrow could touch, the one that bore Alatar the Black. They were clad alike in a cunning black armour of the wizard's design, for the wicked fellow well knew of the tenderness of young dragons, even if they themselves only learned by experience. The largest, most clever, and fiercest of the dragons agreed to be clad in the black metal plates and so was unharmed by the arrows of both elf and hobbit. Perhaps the precious mithril arrowheads given to the Took Twins by the dwarves might have pierced this armour, but Turry never got a chance to find out.

The wizard saw the destruction and desertion of his dragons, but was still determined to win the day. The worms had left the field smoking and reeking with the burning bodies of his enemies, and the great goblin horde still surrounded their entrenchments. And he still had the largest of the dragon brood and his enchanted spears. He brought the dragon back around so that he could overfly the royal pavilion again. This time, there would be nothing to stop his assault, for the hobbits were in disarray and the bows of the elves were not yet in position to threaten him.

As he drew near, he held aloft one of the great spears in his hand and began to pronounce his terrible spell. In the next instant he would have hurled it down into the center of the pavilion and killed all the great folk there assembled (not to mention poor little Ellie, and Prince Eldarion). It was just then that the first dreadful cries of Veatrix the Golden were heard, as she struggled against the mountain that pinned her fast. The terrible shrieks of the monstrous creature caused all heads to turn and all hands to stop. The wicked wizard paused in the recitation of his lethal spell for a single moment in his startlement.

That was his undoing. Down below, Pallando the Blue, tormented for an age of freezing darkness by treachery of his one time friend, never took his attention away from Alatar the Black. In that moment when all other ears harkened to the piercing death cries of Veatrix, and all other eyes looked to the ruin of the mountain, Pallando raised his gnarled staff in a withered hand, pointed it at Alatar, and spoke aloud the final word of the wicked wizard's spell.

The spear exploded in a great consuming ball of brilliant flame. Dragon and wizard fell together from a great height with a terrifying shriek of agony and fear and they were followed by a fiery trail to the hard ground. There, in the midst of the pavilion, their bodies were utterly burned to ashes in the raging fire that was an infernal combustion of the spell of the wizard and the heat of the young dragon. The sulphurous reek of their destruction rose high into the early morning sky and the foul black smoke of it lingered in impotent wrath above the battle before a wind blew it to nothingness in the east.

The ruin of both the wizard and the mountain and the death of so many of the dragons filled the goblins with dismay under the rising sun. As disheartened as were the orcs, still more emboldened were the hosts who had come to lay siege to Gundabad. With the death of Alatar the Black, it was as if a great weight was lifted from every shoulder and the hearts of the elves and men and dwarves rose with the sun.

The rage of the Beornings at the very sight of the goblins returned. In bear-form once again, they clambered over the top of the entrenchments and assailed the orcs gathered before them. The trumpets of the elves rang out and swiftly the elves also went over the top. Their arrows found every mark and the orcs ran from their bright steel and brighter eyes. The great voice of Thorin Stonehelm carried loud across the vale, and then the axes of the dwarves were parting goblin heads from goblin shoulders.

The orcs were pushed back on every side, fighting now for their very lives and their numbers were still as the sands of the sea. Their end came with the thunder of hooves, for the red flame of Anduril burned again in the morning sun as King Elessar led the cavalry in a charge that broke through the goblin lines. Finally, the tide of the battle had turned.

The grim day at last ended, and the few goblins that escaped the arrows of the elves, the axes of the dwarves, and the swords of the rangers, fell to the rage of the Beornings, who did not cease to hunt them at the end of day. But otherwise, with the setting of the sun and the rout of the last of the goblins, the fighting was over and the Battle of Gundabad had been won. Perhaps some orcs fled earlier in the day and survived, but for many long years after that day, none of the folk of Eriador or Rhovanion feared that any great host of goblins would ever trouble them again.