Shelob's Bane by Kara's Aunty

The journey to Ithilien, which had commenced earlier that day, was proceeding at a steady pace and soon the mixed company of Men, Elves, Hobbits and Dwarf would escape the fetid air of the Black Lands, allowing their wounded a better chance of recovery. But night was drawing close and the King called for the company to halt and take their rest until dawn brightened their path once more. As instructed, horses were tethered and carts laden with injured and weary soldiers were brought to a standstill as the more able-bodied among them went about the duty of setting up a camp.

After assuring himself of the continued good health of Frodo and Sam in the tent which had been erected for the short stay, Gandalf had left them to the capable hands of Aragorn and now stood by his small fire searching his robe for the elusive pouch of Old Toby he had pocketed earlier. On finally locating his quarry, he settled himself by the fire and began to stuff his pipe with his dwindling supply of weed, frowning at the little he had remaining. He really must speak with Aragorn about procuring more as soon as possible! How was a Wizard to think without a decent pipeful of the Shire’s best kept secret?

He lit his pipe and was soon enjoying the pleasing fumes that issued through its stem. Ah, that’s better! As he allowed his body to relax, his mind began to mull over the various discoveries he had made while delving into the memories of the hobbits as they lay recovering in the healing sleep they had been placed under by Aragorn.

The Eagles had rescued them only two days ago, but the hobbits has been in a such a state that he was not entirely certain they would survive the night. Were it not for the healing powers of a certain ranger - and the stubbornness of a certain Gamgee - Frodo would have gladly forsaken his chance to live and Sam, the most loyal of friends, would not have been able to bear life without him.

He closed his eyes and thanked the Valar for the delivery of both Ringbearers. It would have been a hollow victory indeed if they had died after all their triumphs. Each anniversary of the fall of Sauron would forever have been tinged with the bitter taste of grief for the remaining Fellowship.

“Mithrandir, are you well?”

Gandalf was startled out of his thoughts by the question and looked up to see Legolas observing him with a little concern.

“Ah, Legolas, yes. All is well. I was merely pondering our very good fortune at having Frodo and Samwise returned to us.”

“Praise the Valar indeed for the gift of their continued presence!” declared the Prince of Mirkwood in agreement. “And for the courage and strength they possess which has ensured that all peoples and lands shall flourish and grow, threatened no longer by the foulness of Mordor!”

“Their courage and strength have been great indeed,” replied Gandalf. “Many doughty warriors have I met and many noble Lords with hearts resolved to fight for their peoples and lands when it was required. Yet the greatest of these - even were they armed with the burning spirit of righteousness and the mightiest sword of Elven craft - could not have accomplished what our two young friends have so recently brought to pass.”

His wrinkled face was wreathed in a smile as Legolas took a seat opposite him.

“Have you gazed into their memories this day?” queried the Elf.

“I have. It is best to do these things while they slumber still, and my intrusion cannot harm them.”

“And what did you see, Mithrandir? We know so little yet of all the trials they faced, or how they came by all of their wounds.”

Gandalf did not answer immediately, taking instead a long puff of his pipe and inhaling deeply while he considered how much he was willing to discuss at this point. What he had seen was terrible and painful. He had explored the memories of Frodo’s journey the day after his rescue and they had given him much to dwell on.

It was as he suspected it might have been, in the end. Frodo could not part with the Ring and finally succumbed to the infliction of his Ring-induced desire. Fortunately, his loyal companion had been spared the agony of a decision which would have surely destroyed his soul too - had he actually been able to carry the deed through to its horrific conclusion. Gollum interceded most violently, biting the One Ring from Frodo’s very finger and taking it into the fiery lake with him when he plunged to his doom.

But although the Ring’s demise had freed Frodo from his short-lived madness, a mantle of guilt had now settled on his frail shoulders and he was not wearing it well. Gandalf would gladly have shed him of that cursed cloak and taken it upon his own shoulders instead. Alas! That was not possible. So he would have to make do with his own guilt at the necessity of including Frodo on the Quest in the first place, having known what it may do to him. That was a bitter enough cup to drink from!

In the meantime, he would be grateful for Frodo’s survival and the chance he now had to discover the joy in life again. Perhaps that would allow him to shed the dark mantle he bore. And his faithful friend would be there every step of the way to tend to his needs and comfort him; for had it not been for Sam, the Ringbearer would have gladly walked into the welcoming arms of Death despite Aragorn’s heartfelt pleas.

Sam.

The Wizard allowed a smile to turn his lips upwards. In all his long years walking the lands of Middle Earth, he had rarely encountered such an indomitable person as the humble gardener. A modest and self-deprecating hobbit, to be sure; yet the most treasured of friends and one of the brightest sons ever to rise from the sleepy lands of the Shire.

“You asked what I saw, Legolas, so I shall tell you. I saw the Sun,” replied Gandalf. “He bathed me in his golden light and kissed my weary forehead with his unquenchable hope.”

“He?” asked Legolas, slightly confused at the Wizard’s riddling ways.

Gandalf expelled a breath of Old Toby and the smoke took the form of a glowing orb with rays dancing from it, before dissipating on the gentle breeze. Legolas would have been impressed if he hadn’t had the misfortune of inhaling it, and struggled not to cough or otherwise ruin his air of elegant disdain for his friend’s bad habit.

“You had better get used to that you know,” said Gandalf in a moment of humour, nodding at the dying wisps of fragrant smoke. “Gimli is very fond of his pipe and would as soon begin extolling the virtues of Fangorn than give it up.”

“I made no complaint, Mithrandir,” retorted Legolas, looking slightly haughty. “And do not forget that Gimli has sworn to visit Fangorn with me, so he may yet discover that there are virtues to be found there. Before long, there may be many Dwarven songs of trees to replace his desire for inhaling plants.”

The White Wizard gave a great shout of laughter at the thought of Gimli so enraptured by the dark forest he would have been happy to chop down a few weeks ago, that he would willingly discard his pipe and burst into song at the very mention of its name.

“That is a charming thought, Thranduillion!” he gasped after recovering his breath. “I wish you good fortune in your task to convert our Dwarven friend from tree-hater to tree-coddler!”

Legolas appeared to be somewhat affronted, but Gandalf did not miss the twinkle in his eyes. “Gimli does not hate trees. He has merely yet to discover his affinity with them.”

“Affinity, you say? An interesting choice of words. Tell me, Legolas, where is Gimli at this time? It is most unusual to have the pleasure of your company without enjoying the pleasure of his also.”

The Prince of Mirkwood was rather unwilling to confess his friend’s whereabouts, but finally relented with a smile of his own. “As you were not to be found in the hobbits’ tent, he remained there with the intention of persuading Aragorn to restock his dwindling supply of leaf!”

Now both Wizard and Elf sat laughing at the enormity of Legolas’ task.

When they had sufficiently recovered from their amusement, Legolas spoke again. “You were speaking of the Sun, Mithrandir?”

“Yes, the Sun.” Gandalf took another puff of Old Toby.

He sobered considerably as he recalled the trials of the two Shirefolk. “This afternoon I sat with Samwise on the hobbits’ wagon, and I travelled the road from Parth Galen to the Crack of Doom through his memories. And fell was this road, my friend! Filled with trials and horrors, hunger and treachery, fear and violence! But always, there was the warmth of a golden ray of hope on my back, urging me on to the end of the road, ensuring my safety. Even in dreams, Master Gamgee will look to the comfort of his friends, it seems!”

He finished his pipe and knocked out the remnants of its leaf, extinguishing the glowing embers. “There are many deeds worthy of a song in Sam’s memory, Legolas - and many are the hurts he has gladly endured to aid his friend’s journey to that terrible place. Some of which, like Frodo’s, may never heal. I will not speak of all of them while the rest of our Fellowship remains scattered throughout the camp, for we should all be together for that. But there is one deed that I shall tell you of now, for our dear gardener would more than likely dismiss it out of hand and I believe it deserves more credit than that.”

Legolas was sitting at rapt attention, savouring Gandalf’s every word.

“You will find this tale of particular interest, given that you call Mirkwood your home,” offered Gandalf tantalisingly.

Legolas’ eyes widened in curiosity. “Indeed? I am most curious to learn what you mean by that, Mithrandir.”

“How long has your home been defiled by the great spiders, young Prince?”

Legolas’ face was visited briefly by an expression of confusion at the apparent irrelevance, then one of anger at the thought of the foul creatures that infested his cherished forest. “As long as I have lived and breathed - and longer still than that, I fear. For many years we have fought their intrusion in our forest. Their webs choke the trees amidst which they are spun and they feast on any errant traveller - Elf, Man or otherwise - whose heavy misfortune leads them to become trapped in their evil threads. Long have my woodland kin and I hunted these creatures down, but still they blight our lands! I curse them and the evil that spawned them!”

“In that case, let me allow you the pleasure of knowing that the evil which spawned them is suffering untold agonies as we speak - if she yet lives at all.”

Gandalf was pleased at the transformation of the fair Elf’s face, which was now lit with a glorious smile.

“What do you mean by this? You saw this in Sam’s mind? How did he come to see such a thing? How did it come to pass?” Legolas' face fell as the realisation came to him. “Oh, what sorrow to know that their hobbit eyes were not spared the horror of such a monster, for she is the last true child of Ungoliant and is many times more dangerous than her own dreadful creations!”

“Peace, Legolas! Calm yourself. The hobbits are safe now and need never see the creature again, although my heart is heavy with the knowledge that Frodo will never forget the intimacy of her bite…” He was cut off by a cry of distress from his companion.

“Ai, Mithrandir! That is evil news! I did not know that was caused by her! I had thought the creature Gollum to be responsible for that during one of his fits of rage!”

“Unfortunately not. You have seen a spider’s bite before, Legolas, although I will admit that none of them would have been so terrible as this. Nay, it was not the Ring-induced madness of Gollum who inflicted that. It was Shelob who bit him and her venom rendered him senseless enough to be wrapped in her webs for her own private sport.”

“May her agony last for many Ages of Men!” declared the Elf in a passion of rage before he regained his composure. “But you said that she may not survive, is that not so? Mithrandir, I beg of you, tell me all that occurred to bring about that happy fate!”

“Then listen closely, my friend - and do not interrupt me while I speak - and I shall tell you how the last child of Ungoliant incurred the wrath of one small gardener from the Shire. And how she paid for her folly…”

~*~*~*~

After disposing of the traitorous Gollum - at least for the time being - Sam’s fury abated slightly, but his horror increased as he realised that his master had been out of his sight too long and was surely being attacked. That Slinker had tricked them both!

He rushed from the cave and saw the hideous creature which had been stalking Frodo had now caught him! His friend’s body was now bound in the same vile webbing which had almost thwarted their escape not minutes before. And the creature which had him was a terrible thing to behold! So that was Gollum’s ‘she’!

His eyes boggled at the sight which laid before them. It was a spider - but one larger in size than anything even a dream could furnish his imagination with. Its numerous legs with their wicked claws supported a massive, bloated body and it was beginning to half-drag Frodo towards one of the other exits which pockmarked the cliff face.

And his dear master was clearly incapable of struggling against his bonds, or even so much as calling out to him. Sting lay helplessly by his side, a testament to his impotency.

Outrage - the likes of which Sam had never experienced before - engulfed him, banishing all fear and replacing it with one purpose, one aim. All his senses focussed solely towards the enormous spider. He could see nothing unless it was her malignant bulk hauling the delicacy she grasped so greedily; hear nothing unless it was the lusty anticipation of her vile hissing as she contemplated the upcoming feast; smell nothing unless it was the reek of her malodorous form and the remnant traces of fear left by his poor master.

Well, she‘d not be gobbling Mr Frodo like his old Gaffer gobbled his roast taters - not if he had anything to say about it!

And armed with all power that righteous fury bestowed upon him, Samwise Gamgee unleashed his wrath.

Leaping forward, he grabbed Sting, intent on introducing the spawn of Ungoliant to the blade Mr Bilbo had taught her own foul offspring to fear. He let out a yell and rushed towards the enormous creature, too enraged to care that it was as large as Bag End and as evil as the dreaded Witchking he‘d had the misfortune of encountering a few months before.

It could be as tall as Mr Bilbo’s trolls for all he cared. It was not taking his beloved master away to feed on as if he were no more than a cooked goose!

With the fuel of his outrage fully evident, he took a great swing at one of its claws before the spider even had time to turn and take stock of her frenzied assailant. Then he darted underneath her lowering head and spun around, thrusting the shimmering Elven blade upwards and piercing one of the many eyes it held.

An agonised hiss rent the air as the evil thing staggered from the twin blows to its body and pride. But Sam did not care for its torment. It gave him the courage to see the job done as he raised both Frodo’s Elven sword and his own blade and dragged them across the spider’s tough underbelly.

Which was fortunate indeed, for courage was needed. The smell emanating from the beast’s underbelly alone was enough to incapacitate an entire army of Elven warriors. He almost retched at the putrid stink, but his anger was still high enough to rip along it with both blades, although try as he might, he could not pierce it.

But he did not have to pierce it to do some damage. A long gash now lined the ugly hide and venom poured forth from the wound, the dark liquid splattering about him as he inhaled its stench. Sam almost fainted as the smell invaded his nostrils.

Shelob was infuriated at the hurts to her body and Sam saw her bulk suddenly rise in the air, before it began to bear down on him.

She meant to crush him to death!

Clearing his head as best as he could, he did the only thing he could think of. If the horrible creature was going to flatten him, he’d make certain that Samwise Gamgee would leave a whole lot more than a smear on the ground of some hobbit-forsaken land shunned by all decent folk!

Discarding his own blade, he gripped the handle of Sting firmly with both hands and held it aloft as she bore her diseased bulk down on him. And as sure as he loved his Rosie, the force of the spider’s momentum was such that Sting pierced the thick hide she boasted and travelled as far north into her stomach as its own form would allow.

Sam staggered and fell at the mighty blow, his tight grip on Sting withdrawing the Elven blade from its foul new home as the spider sprang back in agony at the latest injury he’d inflicted. He was now on his knees by Frodo’s head - which at least meant that the terrible creature had no other choice but to abandon her meal for the present. But what should he do now? His head was still sluggish from the fumes of the spider’s venom, and the ghastly odour emanating from the ichor that now decorated the ground made his eyes sting and his stomach roil dangerously.

His eyes were drawn through the poisonous haze to his friend’s face and he was able to make out the glazed expression of fear and surprise etched on the once vibrant, happy countenance. This wrenching sight gave him the strength to fight his way out of the stupor that threatened to overtake him and he raised his head further to see where their enemy had retreated to.

There! And look at her face! Sam had never before seen such evil, such ugliness, such malice and hatred - and all of these less than decorous attributes were now combined in the thing that crouched in front of him. One eye was ruined forever where he’d nipped it with Sting, he was glad to note. One of her legs was hanging suspended in the air without its claw - but that would have been of little matter to her, having so many extra, he supposed. And from her belly came a steady flow of the acrid green liquid which burned at his eyes and almost stole his breath.

The spider was regarding him with a look of loathing deeper than any Gollum had ever favoured him with and he knew that he would die if she got him. The inevitability of his own death did not disturb him as much as the knowledge that his Master would be left alone at her mercy. Who would save Mr Frodo when he was lining the stomach of that unnatural beast? It was too much to bear thinking on!

But he didn’t have to bear thinking about it, for even as she readied herself to spring one last time, a voice came to him unbidden and he groped in his pockets for the Lady’s Phial. When it was within his grasp, he was reminded of all the Elves who’d ever passed through the Shire on their way to the Grey Havens and of the beauty of Elven voices raised in song in the Lord Elrond’s home. He heard them as clearly in his head as if they were standing around him, singing just for him and Mr Frodo - and it filled him with another burst of energy.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, he held aloft the Phial of Galadriel and sang his defiance to the spawn of Ungoliant:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel

o menel palan-diriel,

le nallon sí di’nguruthos!

A tiro nin, Fanuilos!

“Now come, you filth!” he cried. “You’ve hurt my master, you brute, and you’ll pay for it. We’re going on; but we’ll settle with you first. Come on, and taste it again!”

The Lady’s Starglass responded to his words and all the light of the stars seemed to pour out from the Phial as the great spider reared at the sight - attempting to ward off the terrible threat by flailing her front legs in denial of its existence. But Sam would allow no room for denial. He advanced on her as she turned to make a lumbering retreat to the nearest cave and the Light of the Phial followed her as surely as he would follow his master to the mountain of fire.

And as long as she was still in sight, Sam staggered after her. The monstrous spider was clearly agitated at his relentless attack and tried even harder to move as quickly to the safety of her dark homes as her various injuries would allow. But Sam would not desist. He waved the Phial and swung his sword and managed a final smack with it against her trailing legs as she finally disappeared into the pit of despair she called her home.

She did not come back out.

~*~*~*~

When his revelation was at an end , Gandalf filled another pipe and set the leaf to burn as his companion sat in wondrous awe, absorbing the details he had been privy to.

Five minutes passed without comment, but immortal beings have long learned the value of patience and so it was that the White Wizard was finally rewarded when the Elf burst into a song that gladdened the war weary hearts of all who heard it.

“I take it you approve?” he queried when the last note finally receded into the night.

“Approve?” laughed the joyous Prince. “It is the most blessed news I have had since Aragorn told us the hobbits would live!” His fair face shone with happiness and Gandalf laughed.

“So what you are saying is that it is the best news you have had in only two days?”

“Try as you may, you shall not vex me with your teasing again this night, Mithrandir!”

“Then I shall have to try harder my friend. For I have still not told you of how he took on an entire castle full of orcs armed with little more than his own wits and the One Ring.”

“The Ring? An entire castle of orcs?” said the astounded Legolas. “Are you saying that Sam, too, was a Ringbearer?”

“I suppose I am,” said Gandalf, thoroughly enjoying his friend’s astonishment. “But I shall say no more of that until we are all gathered together; so for now, you must content yourself with the fate of the dreadful spider of Cirith Ungol.”

“Then content I shall be - for the moment. It is happy news indeed to hear of such a feat! My father must know of this, for although the creature dwelled not in his realm, his heart will gladden at the knowledge that this most terrible of foes has seen no wrath like that of an angry hobbit! I would not be surprised if he invited Samwise to our home to rid us of all her offspring and make the Green Woods great once more!”

They laughed at the thought of an angry Sam brandishing Sting and running through Mirkwood while an eager Thranduil encouraged him ever onwards from the southern lairs at Dol Guldur to their northern forest webs.

“I do not doubt for an instant that he would do it too, if asked by a friend,” said Gandalf. “But let us give him time to recover before we send him on another adventure, shall we?”

“As you wish,” answered Legolas, still smiling widely. “But I cannot promise to give my father as much time before sending him this wonderful news! And it will not be as long either before Master Gamgee’s deed is put into song and spread throughout the woods of my home for all to marvel at. May the Valar always shine their favour upon him and his beloved master!”

“A wish I am certain they shall be happy to fulfil, Thranduillion,” said Gandalf as he exhaled another cloud of Old Toby.

And Legolas laughed once more as the fragrant smoke took the shape of a curled up spider.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Translation:

A Elbereth Gilthoniel
O Elbereth Star-kindler
o menel palan-díriel,
from heaven gazing afar,
le nallon sí di'-nguruthos!
to thee I cry now beneath the shadow of death!
A tíro nin, Fanuilos!
O look towards me, Everwhite!

Author’s Note: The song of Elbereth and Sam's words directly after it are taken straight from The Two Towers, Book 4, Chapter 10: The Choices of Master Samwise.

This is another story I’ve always wanted to read somewhere, but never found. Sam’s fight with Shelob, protecting his beloved Frodo, is downright inspirational and deserves an airing of its own. I thought the tie-in with the spiders of Mirkwood might be a good enough reason to have Gandalf discuss the deed with its Prince before he spoke of it with anyone else.

Text (c) Kara’s Aunty