Chapter four: The beginning of darkness
So the ring was to be hidden. I knew it was the greatest mistake that the elves ever made.
I had little time to worry about it, though. Preparations were being made: preparations to guard against Mordor, spies and informants coming in from all the lands to give us new information on the enemy, and councils, more councils then I could count! And now that the fate of the Ring was decided, the hobbits were no longer needed. But someone still had to keep them entertained. That someone was me, so I spent the next two and a half months with Merry and Pippin dangling from my tail.
Merry was forever commenting on everything, "look at the waterfall!," "See the birds Pip?" "The marble is so amazing!" It was as if he had to fill in time by speaking every single (obvious) thought in his head. I wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with him at first, but I got used to it after a while. And his jokes! I'd ever heard a hobbit joke before, and I don't know if I want to again. They were so crude and, usually, rude. But elves don't joke much…maybe that was how jokes were supposed to be.
Pippin was forever asking questions, a little like Nim. "How do they make the terraces so perfectly?" "When was Rivendell first built?" "Where does all the food come from?" "Why is the sky always so blue around here?" I didn't have time to answer all of them, but he didn't seem to notice. And they laughed! Merry laughed whenever Pippin asked something, whenever I said or did something that seemed odd to them. Pippin just laughed at everything.
I spent nearly all of those days with them. Walking about Rivendell, climbing the hills outside the city, exploring the caves in the cliffs.
Partly because I loved being with them. Partly because Nim had attached herself to Frodo and followed him everywhere, like a loyal dog, so I didn't have to worry about her (He was much more serious then his fellows), and also partly because I had seemed to have been landed with the job of looking after the two mischievous hobbits. Oddly, the only other person who had taken on this responsibility was the man Borimir. Any time the two hobbits weren't with me, they were with him.
And looking after hobbits wasn't that easy. Merry was always thinking of new ways to cause trouble, like some undisciplined child, and Pippin always followed him right into it. Pippin himself simply would not stop fiddling! Everything he saw, he had to touch it. It didn't matter if it was simply an ornately carved banister, or some precious machine of the gardener's, the young hobbit never thought anything was worth simply seeing, he just had to feel it as well.
I longed to be like them: not caring, not knowing, thinking like a child, and allowed to do so. It was something I had always wanted but knew I could never have: mortality.
Then the reality of mortality hit us all, so hard we never recovered from it.
The dwarfs had left days ago, and the Men of Gondor were due to do the same any day. Even father had left, gone back to Mirkwood as if he had forgotten us. The hobbits were probably going too, but they, naturally, had left it to everyone else to sort this out.
But they all had to halt any travel plans for a while yet. Orcs had been seen, patrols in great number, along the eastern boundaries. Any further travel was deemed unsafe. But they said that none of the orcs were heading for Rivendell. At least, that was what they thought.
The attack came at night. I woke to the sound of the great bell tolling: a deep, mournful sound, telling the people of Rivendell to prepare for battle, for siege. We were already prepared for something like this, of course. Weapons, armour, all were laid out strategically about the city, ready for use if an attack came. We all had certain placements and orders to go to: some to head for the gates, some to the watchtowers or to guard within the walls. The youngsters, elders, and sickly folk were told to head for the cliff caves. Everything was set out long ago.
But nothing we had done prepared us for what came. I never knew orcs could go so silently: before most of the city had awoken properly, they had already broken through the gates. Some tried to hold them off from there, but they had no chance. A new call went up: Flee! Flee, people, and hide!
The way to the caves way blocked. I had Nim with me, silently wrapped around me, trying to point me in the right direction, but I quickly became disoriented by the crowds, the sudden fires, and simple panic. I was dressed in nothing but a thin coat over my night gown, leggings, and sandals which I had slipped on at the last minute. I had my bow, but only three arrows, hurriedly shoved into my belt, and a small dagger. Nim had only a thin dress, and was shivering.
I ran through streams of elves, hurrying to who-knows-where, and once nearly walked into a group of orcs. Sometimes I would find a place where there was no one, and the silence seemed even worse then the far-away screams.
My city was being destroyed around me. My friends, people I had known all my life, where being slain. I could think of nothing but escape, I knew only that I had to get my sister out of there. Nim seemed much calmer then me, but her shivering was more then just the cold.
I found myself in the hall outside the library. The hall where, not so long ago, I had sat and read while Nim laughed and life went on.
I looked on in horror as, inside the library, a fire raged. I could see the elves whom had tended the books lying dead on the ground, as orcs ran torches along the rows of books. The fire caught quickly on the brittle paper: in seconds everything had been engulfed in flame. Their work done, the orcs cried out in triumph and headed for the door. I could only stand rooted as the came nearer.
"NIMMIN!"
Then I heard the cry. My mother stood there, in full warrior dress. Her sword was held high, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders like rain. I remembered father had said she was a great warrior once, in a war long ago, when they were young. Run. Her eyes said, Run my daughters.
I stumbled backwards as the orcs plunged forth. Then I saw her blood spill over the beautiful tiles which not long ago, Nim and I had admired so much. Now my mother was more precious to me, more beautiful, then any jewel or treasure. She was all I wanted.
But I ran.
Arrows hit the walls around me. There were tears on my face as I held Nim to me. The orcs had barely seen me. I ran, and ran, and found myself on one of the terraces behind our rooms: Our rooms, which had been trashed, the walls scratched, my bed overturned, the tables and chairs broken and smashed, even Nim's precious little porcelain horse father had given her had not been spared. Where could we go? The gates? They would be overrun by orcs. The roads would be the same. Down the river? I was afraid I might not be able to swim that far.
"Min?" Nim whispered to me.
"Yes baby?" I couldn't look at her. She must think me a coward.
"Where's Ma?"
I realised she had not seen our Mother die. God, I envied her.
"She's…not here Nim."
"But I heard her call."
"Don't worry," I whispered, hugging her, "she's safe now. She's in no pain. We will see her later."
"When will we see her?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I didn't want it to be soon: I didn't want Nim to join our mother.
Join her.
I looked up at the hills. There were paths, I remembered, that no one had been on for years. They were supposed to be too steep and dangerous to climb.
But what choice had we?
I knew where one of the rocky trails was. When I reached it, I put Nim on my back, hooked my bow over my arm, and began to climb.
So the ring was to be hidden. I knew it was the greatest mistake that the elves ever made.
I had little time to worry about it, though. Preparations were being made: preparations to guard against Mordor, spies and informants coming in from all the lands to give us new information on the enemy, and councils, more councils then I could count! And now that the fate of the Ring was decided, the hobbits were no longer needed. But someone still had to keep them entertained. That someone was me, so I spent the next two and a half months with Merry and Pippin dangling from my tail.
Merry was forever commenting on everything, "look at the waterfall!," "See the birds Pip?" "The marble is so amazing!" It was as if he had to fill in time by speaking every single (obvious) thought in his head. I wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with him at first, but I got used to it after a while. And his jokes! I'd ever heard a hobbit joke before, and I don't know if I want to again. They were so crude and, usually, rude. But elves don't joke much…maybe that was how jokes were supposed to be.
Pippin was forever asking questions, a little like Nim. "How do they make the terraces so perfectly?" "When was Rivendell first built?" "Where does all the food come from?" "Why is the sky always so blue around here?" I didn't have time to answer all of them, but he didn't seem to notice. And they laughed! Merry laughed whenever Pippin asked something, whenever I said or did something that seemed odd to them. Pippin just laughed at everything.
I spent nearly all of those days with them. Walking about Rivendell, climbing the hills outside the city, exploring the caves in the cliffs.
Partly because I loved being with them. Partly because Nim had attached herself to Frodo and followed him everywhere, like a loyal dog, so I didn't have to worry about her (He was much more serious then his fellows), and also partly because I had seemed to have been landed with the job of looking after the two mischievous hobbits. Oddly, the only other person who had taken on this responsibility was the man Borimir. Any time the two hobbits weren't with me, they were with him.
And looking after hobbits wasn't that easy. Merry was always thinking of new ways to cause trouble, like some undisciplined child, and Pippin always followed him right into it. Pippin himself simply would not stop fiddling! Everything he saw, he had to touch it. It didn't matter if it was simply an ornately carved banister, or some precious machine of the gardener's, the young hobbit never thought anything was worth simply seeing, he just had to feel it as well.
I longed to be like them: not caring, not knowing, thinking like a child, and allowed to do so. It was something I had always wanted but knew I could never have: mortality.
Then the reality of mortality hit us all, so hard we never recovered from it.
The dwarfs had left days ago, and the Men of Gondor were due to do the same any day. Even father had left, gone back to Mirkwood as if he had forgotten us. The hobbits were probably going too, but they, naturally, had left it to everyone else to sort this out.
But they all had to halt any travel plans for a while yet. Orcs had been seen, patrols in great number, along the eastern boundaries. Any further travel was deemed unsafe. But they said that none of the orcs were heading for Rivendell. At least, that was what they thought.
The attack came at night. I woke to the sound of the great bell tolling: a deep, mournful sound, telling the people of Rivendell to prepare for battle, for siege. We were already prepared for something like this, of course. Weapons, armour, all were laid out strategically about the city, ready for use if an attack came. We all had certain placements and orders to go to: some to head for the gates, some to the watchtowers or to guard within the walls. The youngsters, elders, and sickly folk were told to head for the cliff caves. Everything was set out long ago.
But nothing we had done prepared us for what came. I never knew orcs could go so silently: before most of the city had awoken properly, they had already broken through the gates. Some tried to hold them off from there, but they had no chance. A new call went up: Flee! Flee, people, and hide!
The way to the caves way blocked. I had Nim with me, silently wrapped around me, trying to point me in the right direction, but I quickly became disoriented by the crowds, the sudden fires, and simple panic. I was dressed in nothing but a thin coat over my night gown, leggings, and sandals which I had slipped on at the last minute. I had my bow, but only three arrows, hurriedly shoved into my belt, and a small dagger. Nim had only a thin dress, and was shivering.
I ran through streams of elves, hurrying to who-knows-where, and once nearly walked into a group of orcs. Sometimes I would find a place where there was no one, and the silence seemed even worse then the far-away screams.
My city was being destroyed around me. My friends, people I had known all my life, where being slain. I could think of nothing but escape, I knew only that I had to get my sister out of there. Nim seemed much calmer then me, but her shivering was more then just the cold.
I found myself in the hall outside the library. The hall where, not so long ago, I had sat and read while Nim laughed and life went on.
I looked on in horror as, inside the library, a fire raged. I could see the elves whom had tended the books lying dead on the ground, as orcs ran torches along the rows of books. The fire caught quickly on the brittle paper: in seconds everything had been engulfed in flame. Their work done, the orcs cried out in triumph and headed for the door. I could only stand rooted as the came nearer.
"NIMMIN!"
Then I heard the cry. My mother stood there, in full warrior dress. Her sword was held high, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders like rain. I remembered father had said she was a great warrior once, in a war long ago, when they were young. Run. Her eyes said, Run my daughters.
I stumbled backwards as the orcs plunged forth. Then I saw her blood spill over the beautiful tiles which not long ago, Nim and I had admired so much. Now my mother was more precious to me, more beautiful, then any jewel or treasure. She was all I wanted.
But I ran.
Arrows hit the walls around me. There were tears on my face as I held Nim to me. The orcs had barely seen me. I ran, and ran, and found myself on one of the terraces behind our rooms: Our rooms, which had been trashed, the walls scratched, my bed overturned, the tables and chairs broken and smashed, even Nim's precious little porcelain horse father had given her had not been spared. Where could we go? The gates? They would be overrun by orcs. The roads would be the same. Down the river? I was afraid I might not be able to swim that far.
"Min?" Nim whispered to me.
"Yes baby?" I couldn't look at her. She must think me a coward.
"Where's Ma?"
I realised she had not seen our Mother die. God, I envied her.
"She's…not here Nim."
"But I heard her call."
"Don't worry," I whispered, hugging her, "she's safe now. She's in no pain. We will see her later."
"When will we see her?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I didn't want it to be soon: I didn't want Nim to join our mother.
Join her.
I looked up at the hills. There were paths, I remembered, that no one had been on for years. They were supposed to be too steep and dangerous to climb.
But what choice had we?
I knew where one of the rocky trails was. When I reached it, I put Nim on my back, hooked my bow over my arm, and began to climb.