Chapter Nine

Adagosh

They left Lothlorien at the southerly end and headed south east. Peg thought that he was supposed to lead the party, but it soon turned out that Calendul gave the directions. They moved slower than either Trolo or Peg felt was strictly necessary. Oort trudged along with his giant pack and Calendul strode on his long legs, but neither of them seemed to be going very hard and every time Trolo and Peg got any ways ahead Calendul seized them and dragged them back. This annoyed them greatly and they ambled along together making faces at Calendul. Often he turned around to look at them, and especially at Peg, and many times he must have seen their grimaces, but neither of them cared.

They were alongside Fangorn by the afternoon, but Peg was chafing. As poor time as they were making, he wished they were making it in the opposite direction. He could feel black shadows that seemed to be following him and he knew that the Eye was on the lookout for him. If he entered Mordor again it was likely that he would never come out again.

And he was worried about the elf and dwarf. He distrusted them greatly, and it was obvious that they distrusted him. He wished they had never gone near Mirkwood and wished very much that he and Trolo could just leave. But he didn't think he would get a chance any time soon. The elf was watching him very closely.

It was nearing evening and getting dusky when Peg perked up his ears and looked around the horizon. Calendul, busy tying a braid in his hair and looking around for a place to spend the night, also heard something that alarmed him.

'Something is near,' he said, quietly. 'I feel it.'

'What is it?' asked Trolo, noticing Peg sniffing violently. 'What do you smell?'

'Like man,' said Peg, slowly. 'But not quite. Like elf, but not quite.'

'It isn't orc?' asked Calendul.

Peg shook his head arrogantly. 'Nah.'

'It is here,' said Calendul, in an even lower voice. 'It is beside us.'

'Nonsense,' said Oort, sitting down on a stone. 'It can't be invisible.'

'OUCH!' said a voice.

Oort, with a cry, sprang up and drew his axe.

'Rrrrraaaaaah!'

He whirled around to face where the voice had come from as Trolo drew his sword and Calendul slipped an arrow to his bow. Peg, who had been allowed no weapons, hung back.

For a moment they could see nothing, but they had all distinctly heard the voice call out.

'Come out!' said Trolo. 'Eject yourself from unseeableness, you who walk in the air, and let us survey you!'

'All right, all right,' said a voice. 'Just give me time. I haven't quite got this right. Ah, there we are.'

They all stared as the flat brown stone upon which Oort had sat suddenly grew tall and thin and turned a smoky blue. And as they looked on, it was no longer a rock but a man in a blue robe with a pointy blue hat above his head. He bowed low, waving his gnarly staff, and shook some dust out of his clothes.

'Well met,' he said. 'I do believe. Adagosh the Blue at your service. Forgive me for disturbing you. But what are you doing here in the midst of nowhere? And who are you, for that matter?'

'No doubt you are troubled by the presence of an orc among our number, Adagosh the Blue,' said Calendul. 'But I am Calendul, son of Feren, a chancellor in Lothlorien the fair, subject of the beautiful Lady Galadriel and noble Lord Celeborn, and –'

'Enough,' grunted Oort. 'He isn't interested. The thing is, Wizard, as I see you are (it's easy enough to tell for them that has brains), we are on a mission and are in a great hurry. That is why we have cut across this empty plain.'

Calendul frowned.

'The dwarf tells the tale aright, Master Blue,' said Trolo. 'Our hero approves of his rendition. The orc is our guide and valuable companion, and we go off to seek our fortunes in adventures.'

'Pray curb your tongue, young master Sackville,' said Calendul, 'you speak of things you cannot understand.'

Trolo's eyes widened. 'Young!' he demanded. 'How old do you think I am? Why, by the Shire reckoning I will by thirty-four next year.'

'Considering that I am fifteen hundred and a little,' said Calendul, 'that does little to impress me.'

'A quarrelsome lot,' said Adagosh. 'I see. One of you is willing to go and three of you have been coerced. Ha, I see how it is. Do not think that Adagosh the Blue cannot see through you! It is my chief power, after shape-changing. I know. Hum, hum, hem. Where go you? This way is not the way to Rohan. Gondor, is it?'

'That is not a question we can answer,' said Calendul.

'Oh, wandering, are you?'

'We are bound by the utmost secrecy,' said Calendul. 'And if you would be so kind as to let us on our way, we shall pursue our course.'

'Very well, very well,' said Adagosh, apparently not inclined to argue. 'But I doubt you have any idea where you're going. I doubt very strongly.'

'I have travelled these plains a thousand times,' said Calendul, with a strong tone of objection. 'Do not question my ability to find my way to any place I choose.'

Adagosh shrugged.

Peg was growing bored and tried to walk away, but Calendul reached out a long arm and grabbed him by the collar.

'I do, however, have a question,' he said. 'Rumour has it that there are still dragons in these parts. Know you if this be true?'

Adagosh raised a white eyebrow.

'There are no dragons left in the civilised parts of Middle Earth,' he replied. Calendul's hand tightened on Peg's throat. 'However,' continued Adagosh, 'there is indeed rumour that a great serpent still dwells in the mountains on the lowest edge of Mordor.'

Calendul shuddered at the word. This was a habit of his. Peg struggled free of his grasp.

'I don't know,' shrugged Adagosh. 'I've never met him. He's a lonely beast. Keeps to himself.'

Calendul turned away.

'I thank you, Wizard,' he said.

'You're welcome,' said Adagosh.

'We must move on,' said Calendul. 'It grows dark swiftly.'

'Fare thee well,' said Adagosh. 'You will see me again for I wander this realm much.'

Calendul bowed stiffly. Adagosh whirled his staff and went skipping off across the barren plains, singing a little song as he went.

Ada dada dicka dada dicka dada goshio!

Ibba bibba dodi odi iddi Adagosh!

Doni boni bedda doni bedda doni ibio!

Gebba bebba kibba kebba kiddi Adagosh!

In the morning, happy morning, in the pretty greening, O!

Ibba bibba, dodi odi, iddi Adagosh!

Hear the wizard, giddylizard, wizzygizzard, singing, O!

Gebba bebba, kibba kebba, kiddi Adagosh!

Ada dada, ada dada, iddi Adagosh!

They watched him disappear, then turned their faces southwards again. Calendul stroked his soul patch.

'We sleep here for the night,' he said. 'The dusk rolls in.'

'Our hero disagreed,' said Trolo. 'Let's get this over with. We can walk in the dark. I do it all the time.'

'Are you in charge here, young hobbit?' demanded Calendul.

Trolo made a face.

'Do not anger me,' said Calendul.

'I am with the elf for once,' said Oort. 'Hobbits may be able to walk all night but I cannot.'

'Not all hobbits,' said Trolo, arrogantly. 'Just Sackvilles.'

'Orc!' snorted Calendul, without deigning to look upon Peg. 'Stay closer or I shall tie you to the dwarf with a rope.'

'Why me?' grumbled Oort, in horror.

'Silence,' said Calendul. 'Make camp. Now.'

Trolo began unpacking his pots and pans while Calendul strode off a little distance. Peg followed the hobbit as he began hopping about, finding bits of grass and other random things and adding them to his kettle. He threw in a frog, then an earthworm, and finally a sparkly stone, all the while narrating his actions and interjecting comments about Calendul. It is these we shall transcribe, in an edited version.

'The elf seems a deeply saturnine character, Peg. I wonder what deep dark secret lurks in his past? He interests our hero deeply and yet we cannot say why. He has gained in arrogance but not in cheer since leaving his elven friends. I heard many of them describing him as somewhat of a black sheep and curmudgeon. Lucky us, to have got stuck with him. But rather him than the little princess Legolas.'

Peg only grunted in response. He was distinctly aware of the elves eyes watching them. And there was another Eye out there, as well, waiting. He wrinkled his nose and snarled. Trolo glanced at him.

'We will escape yet,' he said. 'I know you are planning to. So is the dwarf. We will shake the elf and –'

'I can hear you,' said Calendul, from far away.

Trolo fell silent and fumed.

Calendul came running when the dwarf lit the fire.

'What are you doing?' he demanded. 'This place is crawling with orcs!'

'The hobbit is going to cook supper,' said Oort, calmly.

'I have lembas,' said Calendul.

'Shut up,' said Trolo.

The elf grew very red, but he didn't say anything. It was likely he was too shocked to think of anything. Besides, what Trolo was cooking already smelled too good. It was a lucky thing that only Peg knew what the hobbit had added to his dish. He had a feeling the dwarf and elf would have complained about the earthworm.

They ate in awkward silence. The darkness had descended upon them and even the little circle of light from the glowing coals under Trolo's pot could not dispel the heavy sense of doom that crept up Peg's spine. Only Calendul had words to compliment Trolo on his cooking, but Peg licked his plate. For an orc, that was a compliment. Although, of course, orcs always lick their plates. So their compliments are not very precious. Still, Trolo appreciated it.

They lay down to sleep, Calendul keeping guard, but Peg could not sleep. He would start whenever a noise sounded in the dark. Every time he started to drift off, the thought of the Nazgul or the Eye would jerk him awake again.

It was about 1 o'clock in the morning when he jerked awake for the fifth time, and this time he sat up.

Calendul looked over.

"What is it?" he asked. "What do you smell?"

Peg sniffed and sniffed.

"Orc," he said. "And warg. And horse. And –"

"Orcs ride horses?" asked Trolo, sitting up. "I've never seen that before!"

"Put out the fire," said Calendul, in a whisper.

Trolo stamped it out while Peg, perched on a rock, went on sniffing. There was something else he smelled.

"Man flesh," he said.

"Orcs and men," murmured Oort. "Is it a battle, or Easterlings joining with the filth of Mordor?"

"It's not many men," said Peg. "Maybe one or two."

"Prisoners, our hero suspected?" said Trolo.

"Orcs don't take prisoners," said Oort.

"Yes, they do," said Peg.

"No, they don't."

"Shut up!" said Calendul. He had his ear to the ground. "They are galloping this way. One horseman and a pack of wargs." He swirled his cloak around him. "There is nowhere to hide. Lie still on the ground and hope they pass us by. If not, we shall fight them."

"I don't have my sword," said Peg.

"If you think I am giving you a weapon, orc," said Calendul, "you are mistaken. Down, all of you."

They lay down as the thunder of hoofs became audible to them all. Far away, through the darkness, Peg could see a horse and rider galloping towards them, and beyond that a blur of motion that must have been the orcs.

"We must stop them," whispered Trolo. "They will kill the rider."

"It is a Haradrim," said Oort, a little distance away. "An enemy of all that live north of Gondor."

"How do you know?" asked Trolo. "Just because they're from the south."

"Be still, master hobbit," said Calendul.

The horse was almost past them. It was a few hundred yards away and they could see its dark hulk against the sky, and the silhouette of a veiled Haradrim upon its back.

And then an arrow whizzed through the air and the horse stumbled.

Inadvertently, Trolo gasped. His hand gripped Peg's arm. They watched as the horse pitched forward and went to its knees. The Haradrim was thrown and tumbled across the ground as the horse kicked in the dust.

And the orcs came swiftly down on their wargs, shooting arrows left and right.

"No!" cried Trolo, leaping to his feet.

"Master hobbit!" shouted Calendul, as Trolo started forward, swinging his sword.

Peg jumped up and followed Trolo at a run towards the attacking orcs.

"You shall not pass!" cried Trolo, standing before the oncoming horde.

The host slowed but did not stop. Peg saw a scimitar raised as the foremost orc bore down upon the little hobbit.

He leapt and pulled Trolo to the ground just as the sword fell. It took him behind the ear. As he fell on top of the hobbit, a warg galloped over him.

The orcs rushed past Peg and Trolo, and straight toward the Haradrim.