Shadows Laid Before the Sun by Idrils Scribe

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Chapter 3

“It appears to be a standard arachnid arrangement, quite similar to a wolf spider.” Erestor raised the Orc’s head from the table to turn the mangled face towards his lords. 

Maitimo and Canissë did not bat an eye, but the back of Carnistir’s throat contracted and he had to swallow down hard. Erestor had the maggots removed before starting his autopsy. Even so, the small improvement failed to make the sight palatable. 

Carnistir was well used to butchering: hart and boar in happier times, but since Alqualondë, Orcs were all he hunted. Even so, he had never handled spoiled flesh. The sweetish stench of rot stood heavy in Maitimo’s command tent despite the handfuls of dried rosemary burning on the braziers. 

In the flickering candlelight the misshapen thing was a horror to behold. Orcs were an inherently unlovely species, and this particular one had been maggot-fodder for days, but it still had an ordinary mouth full of yellow teeth and a quite normal nose. Above that the face was an arachnid constellation of far too many eyes, black with neither lids nor pupils. The candles made them gleam with an alien, reddish spark, as if some twisted remnant of life inhabited them even now. 

Carnistir’s skin crawled from more than the grisly sight alone. The pull on his mind had become constant. From somewhere deep in that accursed valley came something that was not a voice - a crawling chitter barely resembling Elvish mind-speech, but which he nonetheless understood.

Come! It droned incessantly, come to me, and I will give you what you desire!

Eerie and insistent it gnawed at the edges of his mind, growing stronger with each passing moment. 

Carnistir had no doubt that it was a trap of some kind, something dark and dreadful drawing him to that horrid valley at the black roots of the mountains like prey is drawn to a web, but the constant call was driving him to madness and he could not close it out no matter how he struggled against it.  

Some small sound of misery must have passed his lips, because Maitimo’s eyes flicked from the corpse to him in silent rebuke. Carnistir swallowed, and fought to focus on Erestor’s macabre display.

“... there has been some decay, but clearly these are all simple eyes with a single lens, not compounded like in non-arachnid arthropods.” Erestor had taken a pair of surgical forceps to dissect one eye from its socket in an anatomical demonstration. Maitimo’s chief counsellor was deep into the study of dark lore. Too deep, in Carnistir’s opinion. “The anterior median pair are the primary eyes, but there are three more pairs of secondary light receptors, with grate-type retinas providing it with -”

“How!?” Carnistir’s stomach roiled, and he cut off Erestor’s rambling before he would vomit in front of Maitimo.

“Excuse me?” Erestor was once Carnistir’s tutor, and having his lecture interrupted still produced the very same pique.  

“ How did this Orc come to have spider eyes?” Carnistir managed to utter past the bile rising in his gullet. 

“I cannot say,” Erestor said dryly, “but it was not born with them. Only the main pair possesses a normal optic nerve connected to the visual cortex, meaning they are probably the original mammalian eyes. The other six seem recent, and in the process of developing … offshoots that grow into the cranial vault, penetrating the brain - presumably in an attempt to connect to it. Which appears to be the cause of death.”

This awakened Maitimo’s interest. “Were they Sung into existence?” he asked.

“Not by any Song of Evil I am familiar with.” Erestor looked Maitimo in the eye as he moved backwards with an inviting gesture. “Though I defer to your greater ... experience in the matter.”

Maitimo did not hesitate as he stepped forward and laid his hand on the mutilated face, but his expression was pale and drawn. The tent fell silent save for the crackle of the burning braziers. No night sounds came from outside, not even a hunting owl or scurrying marten. In fact, they had met no animals at all in Nan Dungortheb. 

“I do not sense Morgoth’s hand in this creature,” Maitimo said after a long time, “nothing more than what is common to all Orcs. Neither has his lieutenant Sauron touched it.” He straightened, released the corpse, and immersed his hand in the stainless steel washbowl Erestor proffered. A strong smell of alcohol rose from it. “Something else is at play here, something just as foul, but working its own designs.”

Erestor drew a deep, shuddering breath as he set down the bowl, then swallowed audibly. “It seems that Melian has her reasons for fencing her domain.” His mind was shielded like an ice-covered lake, but such was the turmoil below that a trace of emotion bled past his guard. 

Erestor was afraid . 

Carnistir’s breath hitched, and it was all he could do not to panic. The old loremaster might be a pedantic annoyance, but he had nerves of steel. 

He looked at the corpse, laying still and horrid on Maitimo’s folding table. Eight empty eyes stared back.

Nan Dungortheb. That accursed valley tugged at Carnistir’s mind, its call growing stronger, sweeter, more insistent through the night. He had no desire to learn its exact nature. 

“I … I can feel it, Maitimo! It calls all who hear it to itself. We should not wait until morning.” He forced the words from his unwilling throat. “Let us break camp and make haste for Himlad.”

Canissë had been silent thus far, but at this she bristled. “We are the House of Fëanáro, eldest of the Noldor. We flee from nothing.” 

Carnistir scoffed. “Eldest House indeed. Had we had the good sense to fall back when needed, Fëanáro himself might still be here to lead it.”

Canissë was unimpressed. When talking strategy, their armsmistress had no qualms about contradicting her lords. 

“Will we leave whatever haunts Nan Dungortheb undisturbed, an island of evil amidst the leaguer of Angband?” She looked Maitimo straight in the eye. “If this … creature is not aiding the Enemy yet, it soon will if we let it live, and it clearly has tremendous power.” She paused for an instant, then added dryly, “I, for one, prefer my Orcs two-eyed.”

It was exactly the sort of joke Maitimo would laugh at these days.

“You are right, Canissë,” he said, his smile sharp as a whetted knife. “If the King of Doriath lacks the strength to muck out his own backyard, the House of Fëanáro shall do it for him! Assemble an expedition. All volunteers, to depart at dawn.”

He turned to Carnistir. “Brother, your sharp tongue has caused me no end of trouble. Here is a chance to redeem yourself! You are called to this valley, you say. Then lead us to it. We will find out what, exactly, is doing the calling, and present King Elwë with its head on a stake.” 

He laughed without mirth, his eyes and mind closed tight as ever. “We shall see how many eyes it has!”

The words hit Carnistir like a fist to the stomach, and he stared at his brother in mute shock. Was Maitimo trying to get him killed? 

Angband had changed him: some remnant of the Hells of Iron had come among the Elves in the depth of that terrible gaze, and without a doubt Maitimo’s gentle nature had burned away in their fires. But was he capable of sending a quarrelsome brother off into probable death against a monstrous foe? 

Carnistir could not bear the thought. Bile rose in his gorge once more, and he would have shamed himself and ruined the flooring if Maitimo had not grasped his shoulder and led him outside. 

Beyond the tent’s walls the stench thinned, and the stars stood cool and distant above the wide sloping river-lands. Carnistir gasped and retched before he could control his unruly stomach. 

“It will not be easy, brother, but it needs to be done.” Maitimo said once he had straightened himself. “And I believe we can, you and I.”

We , Maitimo said. That was more than Carnistir had dared hope for, so soon after the Angaráto incident. 

He would do much to regain Maitimo’s regard. Even this.  

Chapter End Notes

Welcome to tonight's episode of CSI:Beleriand, in which Erestor does an autopsy.
What's going on in Nan Dungortheb? Is Maitimo mad, extremely brave, or trying to rid himself of his quarrelsome brother after all?
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. A comment would make my day!
See you tomorrow!

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