Disclaimer: Based on 'The Lord of the Rings', by JRR Tolkien. This is a non-commercial work. No infringement of copyright is intended.
"Window of the Sunset" is the fourth in the
Broken Fellowship Series. It is
strongly recommended that you read the previous stories first. This one picks up immediately after the end of
Hill of Breaking and presumes knowledge of all previous stories. You'll understand and appreciate this one more, if you have read the other three, I promise.
Phrases in Sindarin (elvish) are translated at the bottom of each page where they appear.
The Broken Fellowship, Book IV:
Window of the Sunset
Chapter 1: The Coming of Nightfire
by Lizardbeth Johnson
Once, long ago, the Pendrath Forn had served as the only way to portage a boat around the high Falls of Rauros. The Gondorians had dug a channel to the west side of the falls and built a system of pulleys and cranes to pull boats from the water and set them in wheeled cradles. These cradles were pulled along a long ramp with many switchbacks before ending in another channel into the lower Anduin. The ropes and pulley system were long gone, and only the ramp remained, cut into the rock of the escarpment.
Sam looked with dismay on the ruins. The long ramp began to their right, and Sam could see that it was overgrown with bracken and slender trees. Worse, rocks and even large boulders had tumbled from the cliff-face onto the ramp.
Legolas noticed it too. "Aragorn's plan to carry the boats this way would never have worked. If the way is this blocked up here, I am certain it is worse below."
"Can we get through?"
"Let us try the stairs first," Legolas suggested. He continued up a low hill toward the remnant of a stone structure on the southern rim.
A more direct way existed for people to use -- these were the stairs of the name. Each flight had one hundred forty-four steps, which ended in a landing and another set of steps that reversed direction. Unlike the steps of the dwarves, however, these had stone balustrades to keep people from falling and were shallow and broad enough for a horse to use. Every other landing was the wide ramp used by the boats, as the stairs cut back and forth between the longer ramp switchbacks.
The two picked their way around and through the randomly scattered blocks and shattered statuary that had once been the impressive northern gate of Gondor.
A carved and weathered high stone arch was all that remained and the two paused beneath it, to look at the fields of the south laid out before them.
The sun was bright and the sky was clear, above the endless green plain that stretched southward as far as Sam could see. The plain was broken by only a few smudges of darker green here and there, where trees grew on the slightly higher elevations. He could see the shining bright ribbon of the Anduin winding its way gently southeast and other sparkles he assumed were other rivers.
On the horizon far to the south was the long line of the Grey Mountains stretching east to west, and to the southeast, beyond the Anduin, towered the black crags of the Ephel Dúath crowned with storm clouds.
Sam glanced up, to see Legolas looking intently toward the Ephel Dúath. "Mordor," Legolas murmured, rubbing his left hand absently. Sam had noticed that it was a habit of Legolas' whenever the topic of Mordor came up, after he had lost his finger to the ring.
"It looks far," Sam said.
"Less than forty leagues," Legolas answered. "A little more to the Morgul vale." He glanced down at his hobbit friend and quirked a small smile. "Compared to what we have already traveled, Sam, it's quite near."
"Well, that makes me feel better."
Legolas ignored his sarcasm, answering. "Good. There is our road, Sam." He raised his arm and pointed southwards. Sam squinted and saw nothing but green.
"It is overgrown," Legolas murmured. "Crumbling. But Gondor built to last in those days."
The longer he looked down below and squinted, the more Sam realized that there was a nearly straight line proceeding from the foot of the escarpment pointing south. It was visible only as a paler shade of green and brown, but he supposed it marked the road.
Legolas continued, "It will make our journey across the Onodló easier."
Sam remembered the maps he had studied with Frodo, and knew the Onodló was the Entwash, an inland river delta that ran into the Anduin. That reminded him of a problem. "But, Legolas, we'll have to cross the Anduin at some point. Celeborn said that we have to have a boat, and we don't anymore."
The elf did not answer immediately, looking at something toward Mordor with those sharp elvish eyes. "We will have to find one. But better to journey this route than through the marshes on the eastern shore, I think. Come, we should start."
Legolas led the way down the stairs and Sam followed, watching his step carefully. Though the steps were mostly carved in hard rock and therefore still existed, in many places they had worn away into a bracken-covered path. The stone railing was also patchy and in places it had crumbled away into rubble on the steps below. On Legolas' advice Sam stayed on the inside of the path nearest the cliff where it was more stable.
Still there were spots where he needed Legolas' help to cross the deep gullies that cracked the staircase across its path. About halfway down they discovered a place where the stairs had separated from the cliff face and dropped away to leave a gap too wide for either to jump. Legolas stood on the crumbling edge and looked down.
"There is a drop of ten paces onto the stairs below us," he said. "The railing is missing there as well, but the steps themselves look firm. I can jump down but I don't think you should."
"No, certainly not," Sam agreed fervently.
"I can lower you down on the rope Lady Galadriel gave you. Or," he raised his gaze to consider the other side of the gap. "I could throw you across."
"The rope idea seems fine," Sam agreed hurriedly to try and get the image of Legolas tossing him across a ten pace wide gap out of his head. He shrugged out of his pack and took out the coil of slender elvish rope.
Legolas tied a length around Sam's waist, knotted it firmly, and then did the same around his own waist. "Ready?"
Sam re-shouldered his pack and scooted to the edge. It seemed very far, when he looked down. "I crossed the bridge of Khazad-dûm," he muttered, trying to give himself courage. "This is nothing."
"You walked the stairs of Khazad-dûm, which were far more dangerous," Legolas reminded him and had an amused glint in his eyes when Sam looked up at him. "Try not to look down."
Then the edge crumbled and Sam lost his footing. He yelped as he fell a few paces, then grunted as the rope caught him, digging in around his waist.
"Hold on, Sam," Legolas called.
Grabbing the rope, Sam relieved some of the pressure on his middle, as Legolas lowered him down. After his feet touched, Sam tensed to see if the ground would hold his weight. "I'm down," he called up and immediately the slack in the rope slithered down to land at his feet.
Legolas' head appeared over the edge. "Move up the stairs," he requested. "And brace yourself."
"Why?"
"In case I fall. This would not be the first time the ring tried to throw me over the edge of some steps."
With that grim, rather frightening, reminder, Legolas disappeared from view. Sam moved up the slope a little ways, and took hold of the rope firmly in both hands. "Ready."
Legolas walked calmly off the edge above and dropped, his cloak billowing. He landed lightly and without a stumble, and straightened with a pleased smile. "Good. I mislike doubting my skills."
They coiled the rope again, but Sam left it hanging around Sting's hilt, in case they needed it again. But that was the worst of it, since the lower steps had been more protected from wind and water.
At the bottom, they walked out onto a vast courtyard. There had once been a sort of walled colonnade, Sam thought, but all but a few of the columns had fallen. Dirt and water had filled in the middle, and it seemed untouched by any beings in centuries.
The grass and weeds grew nearly to Sam's shoulder and so Legolas took the lead to break a trail for him across the courtyard. On the other side they climbed over masonry and eventually found the road.
All that was left was an unusually flat path which stood half Sam's height higher than its surroundings, wide enough for six horses to ride abreast, and was covered with greenery that did not grow as high nor as green as the other plants. In spots the road was crumbling or washed away entirely, but it was not difficult to find again. But in other places, the road was made of stone and there it endured, touched little by the centuries. In any case it was one of the easiest journeys Sam had in a long time.
They walked until the sun slanted low in the west. Legolas then left the road and found a small stand of trees for camp. Sam started a fire with some of the dead wood.
"What would you like for dinner, Sam?" the elf asked and Sam had to smile -- Legolas sounded like an innkeeper. "The rabbits here are so plentiful I think I might be able to hold out my hand and let one jump into it. Or I can shoot a bird for you. There are partridges, and ducks closer to the river."
Sam didn't have to think about it a long time. He'd had a lot of duck on the way down the Anduin. Partridges would cook faster than ducks, and be less chewy than rabbits.
As Legolas stalked off west toward a promising stand of scrubby bushes with his bow ready, Sam glanced north to the high cliffs of Emyn Muil glimmering pink in the twilight, rather amazed that he had climbed down that height. From a distance, the long boat ramp really did look like stairs, built for giant people.
He became uncomfortably aware that he was alone. Always before there had been someone with him in camp -- Merry and Pippin at the least and usually Gimli, when the big folk hunted supper.
A southern wind stirred the early spring grass and the winter-bare tree branches over his head. The rustling sound made him uneasy.
He tried to shake it off, drinking a little water from his container. "Just your foolishness, Samwise Gamgee," he muttered.
But not long after, as the twilight deepened and Legolas still didn't return, Sam pulled Sting to check. The blade was thankfully dark.
"What are you doing, Sam?"
Legolas' voice startled him and instead of putting the blade back, he pulled it out completely. "Oh, you're back." Embarrassed, he shoved Sting back in its sheath.
Legolas held three partridges by the feet. "I skewered two with one arrow," he announced, pleased with himself. "I thought you could cook all three and eat them tomorrow as well. But you will need to clean them yourself."
Sam frowned across the fire at him, but didn't ask why. North of the Emyn Muil Legolas had not cleaned any of his kills either. Sam figured it had something to do with Legolas' inability to eat any food other than lembas. "That seems fair. How's your food supply?"
"I took all the lembas. I have plenty."
"And how many is 'plenty'?" Sam asked, not about to let Legolas be so vague. Now that they were on their own, Legolas no longer had Aragorn looking after him. And Lady Galadriel had said that the elf would need Sam.
Legolas hesitated as if he were about to lie or refuse to answer, but instead answered, "Six."
"That's all?" Sam stared at him in horror. The elves at Lothlórien had said that one cake was enough for a day. Six days were not enough to get them even close to Mordor. "Why did we stop so early? We should keep going."
Legolas shook his head and caught his cloak as Sam got to his feet. "Sam, it's all right. That's enough for three weeks."
"But --"
"Poor waybread would it be for elves if we needed to eat very much of it," he reassured Sam. "A bite is enough to last the day."
Sam frowned at him, doubting that Legolas was telling the full truth. That was not what the other elves had said. But since the lembas was all that Legolas could eat, Sam couldn't very well press him on exactly when he would start to starve. He accepted Legolas' words with a nod. "Oh, well, that's all right then. I'll just go fetch some water so I can clean these."
Later, one partridge in his stomach and the others in a bag hanging from the tree, Sam asked curiously, "I know that this is part of Rohan now, but it all looks abandoned long before then. Do you know what happened?"
Legolas nibbled on his lembas and drank a little water before answering. "I am not certain when Amon Hen and the Pendrath Forn were abandoned. But I know by the time of the Great Plague, Gondor could no longer sustain its power this far north. That was about a thousand years of the sun before the Rohirrim came south." His gaze was distant, looking out into the night. "The evil wind killed many of my people's allies in Rhovanion. Countless died. Many of my people said that we should retreat within the forest away from death, but my father refused. We were, he said, not affected by this sickness and so we should help those in need. But we saved so few..."
"You sound as if you were there."
"I was," Legolas threw a stick into the fire and a brief burst of sparks showered upward.
Sam stared at him. He had known that elves were immortal and had heard Elrond declare himself born in the First Age, many thousands of years ago. Yet Elrond seemed old -- he was grave and wise, even if he showed little of his age in his face. On the other hand, Legolas had often seemed young, even occasionally mischievous, especially in the early days of the fellowship. It had not really occurred to Sam that Legolas was probably far older than he looked. Given what he had just said, Legolas was older than the founding of the Shire and perhaps much more than that.
Sam opened his mouth to ask just how old Legolas was, when the elf's head whipped around to the north, and he peered back the way they had come.
"What is it?" Sam asked softly.
"I heard rocks fall from the Pendrath Forn." For a long moment he continued to watch the cliff face, though even his sharp eyes could surely see little in the dark at such a distance. He turned back to camp.
Sam doubted the rocks had fallen on their own. That did not seem to be their luck on the quest. "Someone's following us?"
Legolas nodded suddenly grim. "I did not see him, but I am certain it is Gollum."
"Gollum?" Sam felt his skin creep and he glanced uneasily to the north. "How did he know?"
"He is sensitive to elves and the ring. I suspect he could follow me to the ends of Middle-Earth," Legolas murmured. "But I can sense him when he comes close, so he will not surprise me." He took the chain out from under his tunic and held the ring in his hand. "He will not steal it."
Sam watched him, suddenly uneasy. Though spoken quietly, Legolas' words held a chilling promise of death.
Then Legolas blinked and abruptly rose to his feet, putting the ring out of sight again. "We should put as much distance between him and us tonight as we can. He will not move by daylight tomorrow. We can rest then."
Sam nodded and started to gather his pack, tying the partridges on top. He kicked over the fire pit to bury the coals and they were ready to move out.
Legolas led back to the road. As Sam followed in the elf's wake, he glanced back over his shoulder as if expecting the creeping figure of Gollum to be there.
They walked along the top of the old road, and Sam was glad for its relative flatness as well as the bright half-moon shining down on them. But after moonset, Sam found the going more difficult -- he stumbled over hillocks he couldn't see and once nearly tumbled down an unexpected gully that had washed out the road. His steps also began to falter with weariness, though he grimly kept up as best he could. Legolas stayed with him, quick to help, and Sam knew that Legolas could travel much faster alone.
"I'm sorry," he panted after the last time Legolas' hand saved him from tumbling right off a drop. "I'm being a terrible burden."
"No. We're keeping a decent pace, Sam. But you grow weary -- we should stop."
"I can go a bit more," Sam declared stoutly and nearly missed Legolas' brief smile.
"Then let us go."
They walked another hour until the chill and weariness overcame Sam's determination. Legolas made camp at a rocky hill crowned with a single, wind-bent tree -- Sam glowered at the elf who seemed as fresh as if he had just woken from a long rest.
Legolas glanced west. "I see horses in the distance, Sam. I wonder ..." he trailed off thoughtfully.
"Are you going to try to catch one?" Sam asked, curious despite his urge to curl up and sleep.
"No. But I will see if one will come. Get some sleep, Sam. I will watch."
Sam rolled himself up in his blanket and cloak but decided he had to see what Legolas was going to do before he fell asleep.
Legolas only whispered, but Sam heard him perfectly and could have sworn that his voice echoed. His gaze was fixed on the horses. "Roch o Rohan, tolo enni, lasto beth lammen. Tolo enni, lasto beth lammen."
After several repetitions, Legolas stopped and waited, watching the west. Sam held his breath, not wanting to interrupt or distract his friend. Despite all the elves he had seen and visited, this was, he thought, the first elvish magic he had experienced. It sounded a lot like Gandalf's spells to open the door to Moria, he reflected, wondering what the connection was.
But after several minutes had passed, Legolas turned away. He caught Sam's gaze and gave a rueful twist of his lips and a small shrug. "I have seen Elrond's sons call a horse to them. But the horses do not stir."
It hadn't worked. Though he was disappointed, Sam shrugged. "You tried. We'll do okay on our own two legs."
Sam closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. He stirred once at the coming of light, but fell back to sleep, with his hood over his head.
Legolas' voice, soft as a whisper, roused him. "Sam. Sam, wake up. But make no sudden movements."
His voice was not alarmed, but Sam's eyes shot open.
The first thing he saw was a great big horse's head, sniffing at his clothes. He jumped despite himself and the horse started away, snapping its head up in alarm.
"Hush," Legolas appeared beside the horse and put a hand on its flank. "Be calm. Sam, this is Dúlhach. Say hello to her."
Sam knew nothing about horses, but one look was enough to tell him that Dúlhach was nothing like the horses he had seen. She was pure glossy black from nose to tail without a spot of white or grey. She seemed huge to Sam, but also slender, with long legs and neck. Her black eyes seemed curious as she regarded him with her ears pricked forward.
"Uh, hello," Sam said.
Legolas stroked the horse's long mane absently. "I cannot imagine how the Dark Lord managed to miss her. His minions steal the all-black ones from Rohan, for the wraiths to ride."
"I know," Sam shivered, remembering the riders in the Shire.
"Yes, of course. Dúlhach is one of the mearas, the noblest breed of horses, kept by the kings of Rohan. She came at my call and has agreed to carry us across the Entwash."
"'She agreed'? You mean you can talk to a horse? And she talks back to you?" Sam asked in amazement.
"I ... " Legolas could not seem to find words to explain. "She understands what I say. I can ... sense her mind. Somewhat, at least." Dúlhach lowered her head to nuzzle at Legolas' hair.
Sam stood up with a wary eye on the horse, who did not seem interested in trampling small hobbits. "I didn't know that elves could do that."
"I never have before," Legolas admitted quietly. His gaze met Sam's, who understood. It was the ring.
"Well," Sam forced a smile, "I guess there's a benefit to it after all."
Legolas ran a hand down Dúlhach's arched neck and did not reply. "We should ride."
"Up there?" Sam looked dubiously up at the horse's high, bare back. "Aren't we supposed to have a saddle or something?"
"A saddle is not necessary. My people often do not use them. Dúlhach promises to carry us smoothly."
Sam's gaze caught the eye of the horse. Dúlhach whickered and dipped her head to nudge his shoulder. He cautiously reached out to pat her on the nose as he had with Bill, weeks ago.
"You see? You are friends now," Legolas said, smiling faintly. "Come, get your things and I will lift you up. You can hold onto her mane."
Shortly after, Legolas boosted Sam, pack and all, onto the horse's back. Sam clutched at the silky long strands of the horse's mane and tried to fix his gaze at the back of Dúlhach' head. It was a very long way down.
He missed seeing how Legolas mounted, but shortly he was sitting behind Sam. "Noro an harad, Dúlhach," he commanded and the horse moved.
Sam tensed, his stomach rising into his throat. He was going to fall. He was going to fall and break his neck.
Legolas' voice was amused behind him. "Relax, Sam. This is a walking pace."
He tried valiantly to keep his voice from stuttering and failed miserably. "This riding is not a thing for hobbits!"
The elf's hand took hold of his shoulder in a comforting grip. "I will not let you fall, Sam. But you will ride more easily if you relax."
With Legolas' hand supporting him, Sam tried to relax, knowing he wouldn't fall. After a little while, when his body came to the same conclusion, he let out a long breath and untensed. He swayed more with her walk, as the muscles in her shoulders bunched under his feet, but the ride seemed smoother.
"There! Now you have the idea," Legolas complimented him. "Now, let us try a little faster." He shifted his position forward, and put an arm around Sam to tuck him protectively against his chest. "Dúlhach, noro lim!"
The mare seemed to leap forward, and Sam let out a screech of fright. He clutched at the handful of mane with one hand, and with the other clamped onto Legolas' arm. He closed his eyes and waited to be flung off to the ground and die.
He had just started to get used to the new pace, when the horse shifted and seemed to gather herself, Legolas and Sam sliding a bit backwards. Then they were jumping and hit the other side with scarcely a thump. Sam's heart took an equal leap into his throat.
"You are beautiful, Dúlhach!" Legolas crowed in delight, as the horse seemed to race along. "You and I should jump to the moon and run after the sun."
"No, please, don't," Sam whispered. He could feel the wind on his face as if he were back in the boat going very fast down the river.
Legolas' voice was very near his ear. "Open your eyes, Samwise. I imagine that rarely do your kind sit up so high or upon so glorious a steed. When you tell the story, would you rather not be able to describe what you saw?"
He had a point, Sam realized, and so he pried his eyes open cautiously. At first he could only dare to look straight ahead, but then he realized that they were not going as fast as he had thought. It was still faster than he could walk, but not as quick as the boat in the river.
The sun was bright, glinting off the Anduin to their left, and the fields around them were just beginning to green with spring. The sky above was a vast dome of deep blue, dotted with small white clouds. He had the feeling, perched up so high on the horse, that he could see for miles and miles in all directions. Except for occasional flights of birds, Sam saw no other sign of living creatures besides themselves.
With no obvious command from Legolas, Dúlhach slowed and came to a stop where a stream tricked beneath an old stone bridge.
"What is it?" Sam asked and turned to his companion curiously.
"She thinks it would be a good idea for you to rest," Legolas explained.
"But I'm fine," Sam objected. "I've just been sitting up here."
Legolas slid off the horse to the ground, and held up his arms to help Sam down. "You have been doing more than you think, Sam. Besides, I think Dúlhach wants to eat," he teased.
The horse made a noise that sounded indignant to Sam and deliberately blew air at the elf, making Sam laugh. He let himself slide down, not doubting that Legolas would catch him, which he did.
Once on his own two feet, Sam nearly fell. His legs felt wobbly, and he would have fallen without Legolas' quick grab of his cloak. "Careful, Sam. Walk around a little. I'm going to fill our water skins at the stream."
After the break, they were off again. The day passed that way, mostly riding but with frequent stops for Sam to walk the stiffness out of his legs. Legolas called an early stop for camp and while Sam got everything ready, the elf rode Dúlhach off to the west to hunt for Sam again, claiming he had seen a herd of small grassland deer. Since Sam still had a bird and a half from yesterday, he suspected that the elf really wanted a chance to ride the horse at a gallop before they reached the Entwash.
There was something beautiful about watching Legolas and Dúlhach race into the west, the sun shining off the elf's golden hair and the mare's black tail waving like a banner. They rode together so smoothly they almost seemed to be one creature.
Sam smiled and shook his head in bemusement as he laid out his cooking supplies and fed the fire with some dry grass. Legolas' spirits had been lighter this past day than any day since the fellowship had entered Moria. It was as though the horse's presence somehow eased the burden of the ring.
But something had changed when Legolas rode back. He slumped against Dúlhach's neck, hands clutching at her mane. The horse seemed to step carefully, so as not dislodge her rider. Sam's first thought was that he had been injured. "Legolas! What happened? Are you all right?"
Legolas lifted his head wearily, and his eyes were dark with some turbulent emotion. "I am sorry, Sam," he murmured. "I had a deer for you. I shot it, I started to dress it and -- and I --" His head dropped, his eyes avoiding the hobbit's as he slid from the horse. She stood motionless, offering her bulk to support the stricken elf. His face hidden from Sam by the horse's withers, Legolas whispered, "I wanted all of it... O Elbereth, do I not endure enough?" he cried out suddenly. "Must this torment me as well?"
He hugged Dúlhach's neck, burying his face in her mane. Sam noticed that Legolas' hair and shoulders were wet, as though he had dunked his head into the river.
What could have happened? Sam wondered. He moved in front of the horse to stand beside Legolas and lightly touched the side of the elf's leg. "Legolas? Is there anything I can do for you?" he offered, not knowing what that could possibly be, except simply be with him.
It took a moment, but Legolas raised his head, face now bleak. "No, Sam. No one can help me."
With one last stroke of her flank, he let go of the mare and sat next to the fire. Sam ate another partridge from the day before, leaving half for tomorrow's breakfast, and put the bones in water with a little salt to make broth. While he did this, Legolas watched the flames in silence, his arms clasped around his drawn up knees. Dúlhach was a dark shadow at the edge of the firelight, standing behind Legolas.
When Sam could stand the silence no longer, he asked tentatively. "Legolas, did you eat yet today?"
Legolas' short laugh had nothing of humor in it. "Oh yes. I couldn't stop myself at first. It was so good...." he whispered, eyes reflecting the fire like pools of molten gold. "Dúlhach pulled me free."
Sam shook his head helplessly. "I don't understand."
"I know. It will be all right, Sam." But the reassurance rang hollow and Sam was suddenly afraid. Whatever had happened, it seemed it was the ring's counterstroke to the peace Legolas had found earlier. Despair shrouded him now, thick and heavy.
After a moment, he drew a long shuddering breath. "Sam, would you -- would you tell me a story?" he asked, quiet and yet somehow desperate.
"What sort of story?" Sam asked. "I don't know any grand stories. Excepting Master Bilbo's anyway, with the dragon and all."
"Smaug," Legolas said and shook his head once. "No, that reminds me of home. Something else, something light. All the songs in my heart are dark."
"Well," Sam cast about for a good story to tell that might make Legolas smile. "There was Master Bilbo's birthday party, just before we left. Hobbits from all over the Shire, far and wide, were there. Pippin and Merry got into Gandalf's fireworks..."
As he told the story of the party, the terror of the Sackville-Bagginses, the cake that caught fire, and the famous farewell speech of Bilbo's that nobody understood (leaving out the part with Bilbo using the ring to disappear), Legolas listened. He didn't smile or shift his position, but Sam knew he was paying attention.
When Sam sputtered to a stop, unable to think of anything more, Legolas lifted his head. "Thank you," he murmured. He looked better, but the shadows were still thick in his eyes.
"Legolas, what happened?" Sam asked.
Legolas rubbed his injured hand slowly, massaging each bone. "I was reminded that I cannot forget the burden I carry, or it grows stronger," he answered, which was not exactly an explanation, but Sam figured that was as much as he was going to get. "You should sleep. Tomorrow, we cross the Entwash."
"Are you going to sleep?"
"Perhaps," Legolas answered, which more likely meant no. Elves slept strangely anyway, Sam had discovered. Aragorn had said that elves slept like mortals only when close to death, otherwise they rested in a sort of waking dream, living in memories that to them were as clear as the present. Because they retained awareness of their surroundings even while 'sleeping', it was difficult to sneak up on an elf.
"You need to rest. Dúlhach can guard us tonight." The mare agreed with Sam, stretching her head forward to nudge Legolas' shoulder with her nose.
Legolas didn't answer. He had returned to staring at the fire, and he seemed so distant it was as if he were just an echo of someone who used to be there.
Sam poured the broth from the pan into an empty water skin and closed it. He washed the pan in the stream and tidied his things. One thing he had learned on this journey was to make sure that his pack was ready to go at any moment in case they had to run. He spread out his cloak and blanket, preparing to sleep. Legolas had still not said another word.
"Goodnight," Sam said then added quietly, using the elvish he had first learned on the journey, "mellon."
Legolas twitched and came back from wherever his mind had taken him. He glanced at Sam. "Sleep well, mellon nín."
Sam rolled up in his blanket. His last sight before he closed his eyes was of Legolas, the elf's head tilted back to watch the night sky.
The next day was overcast and grey, with a cold breeze from the north that made Sam pull his cloak tightly around him. At least he could huddle against the horse for warmth.
The bleak despair had lifted from Legolas, but still the gloomy weather kept them both quiet and thoughtful. It didn't help that the Entwash was a forbidding looking place -- endless fields of green reeds, shallow water, mud, and some occasional stands of odd gnarled trees on the land between the broad streams. It also smelled strange -- not as noxious as a swamp, but still slightly nauseating. Sam was heartily glad they didn't have to walk through it.
The ancient Gondorians had run the great northern road straight through the Entwash, building six leagues of stone causeway above the muck. Although decayed, covered in draping moss and slime, and broken by the occasional tree growing through the stones, it had not yet crumbled away. Dúlhach only had to leave the road twice where it became impassable, and she walked through water up to her knees without complaint.
As they went deeper into it, a low ground mist thickened into a fog. Though Sam could see well enough for fifty paces or so all around them, beyond that, shapes were indeterminate shadows that faded away to nothing.
In the middle of what Sam guessed was afternoon, when the fog was thickening and the chill was seeping into his bones despite the horse and Legolas' warmth, Sam tried to break the silence, just to hear something besides the steady but moss-muffled clops of the horse's hooves. "Legolas, do you --"
"Sam, hush," Legolas whispered. "Sound carries far in the fog. There are men ahead of us."
"What?" Sam demanded, hissing loudly, half turning around to glare at his friend. "Why didn't you say something?"
"I have been listening to them. It is a camp, or perhaps a village. I hear women as well. Though no children."
"Here?" Sam glanced around at the mist-shrouded gloom in utter disbelief. "In the middle of the Entwash?"
"Fishers perhaps."
"Oh." Sam thought about that. Well, as he'd discovered on this journey, there were all kinds of folk, and most were quite strange. But as long as they weren't evil, it didn't bother him anymore. "Maybe we could trade with them a bit. Get some dried fish, maybe some travel bread, like that cram the Men made at Long-lake in Master Bilbo's stories -- then you wouldn't have to hunt for me."
"I ..." Legolas was tempted, Sam heard it in his voice, but he refused. "No, we cannot. An elf and a hobbit would be remembered, and the Dark Lord has servants everywhere."
"We could go in disguise. Or at least you could," Sam suggested. "We could give you a hat..." he began and trailed off, realizing how ridiculous it was. There was no way that Legolas with his long fair hair, delicate features, and slender height could pass for anything but an elf. Hiding his elvish ears would make little difference.
Dúlhach made an impolite noise blowing air between her lips, and Sam blushed. It had to be a bad plan if even the horse thought so.
"I have attempted such things in the past," Legolas said, not as rudely dismissive. His voice held a touch of amused remembrance. "It only succeeded once, when I was wearing human clothes and covered in mud. And Aragorn was there to take most of the attention. No, I think it is best if we avoid them."
"We need a boat," Sam reminded him. "Maybe they have one. We could, uh, borrow it." He was uncomfortable with the suggestion that they steal it, but tried to weakly justify it to himself that it was for the good of everyone, even ignorant fisher-folk. If the ring didn't cross the Anduin, Middle-Earth would fall to Sauron.
"Yes..." Legolas agreed thoughtfully. "This is so." It took him only a moment to decide. He straightened. "I will scout. You must remain on Dúlhach, Sam. If I need you, I will give a signal of a grey owl twice. Otherwise, remain here."
The elf dismounted, gave the mare a pat, and started away. His cloak swirled at his heels and for an instant, it seemed to Sam that the elf's disembodied head was floating in the mist. In another step he vanished altogether.
"I hope he can find his way back," Sam murmured and stroked the horse's neck, more for his own soothing than hers.
Sam waited, his cloak doing little against the chill and damp, and hoped that Legolas returned quickly.
Pendrath Forn = the North Stair.
Roch o Rohan, tolo enni, lasto beth lammen. = 'Horse of Rohan, come to me, hear the words of my tongue.'
Noro lim! = 'Ride fast!'
Mellon nín = 'my friend'
Continued in Chapter 2: Into the Entwash.
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