"Stop rushing me! I'm awake already!" Aragunk snarled at the anxious face of his elf friend Lumpolas glaring through his bedchamber window.
"I'm rushing you because you've fallen asleep again twice since I've been here! Now get up so we can go!"
"Leave me alone," Aragunk mumbled from his pillow. "I've got my boots on, don't I?"
"Your boots? You were supposed to have everything packed and ready to go last night, you great lazy swine! Do you hear me? We're going to be late!" But only snoring answered Lumpolas from within the messy bedchamber. The young elf, perched on what could barely be called a crack in the high wall of fair Minas Tirith, sighed and shook his head in exasperation. With an effort to avoid looking down at the sheer drop from Aragunk's window to the rocky plain below, he glanced over his shoulder at the horizon and sniffed the early autumn air. The sea beckoned and the dawn had already started its first sluggish yawn of the morning. But now drastic action was called for if they were going to make it to the river in time.
Lumpolas muttered a curse against Aragunk's laziness as he swung his girth from one side of the window to the other. His foot slipped and he barely snatched the ledge of the window with his fingertips. For a normal elf, this would have been simplicity itself. But most elves didn't sport so round a belly as Lumpolas did to push him out from the wall. And that was because few elves were as fond of food, or of cooking food, or gathering food, or of dreaming about food as this youngest brother of the far-famed Legolas. Lumpolas's renown as a chef had flown in all directions during the two years since the War of the Ring had ended—his father's table never lacked for eager guests these days. Yet Lumpolas still found time to sneak off from his beloved kitchens in Mirkwood to go on a quest or two with his human friend Aragunk, the younger and much less famous brother of Aragorn, the new king.
His elven heart pounding, Lumpolas quickly flipped a knee up onto the ledge of Aragunk's window. "Don't look down! Don't look down," he chanted to himself. His fingers started slipping from the sill. His keen eyes shot ground-wards, clearly beholding every sharp boulder and spiky outcropping threatening from below. But fear added wings to his efforts—he lurched up and over the sill, landing with a colossal bellyflop (by elven standards) on the squalid floor of the snoring young ranger's bedchamber.
If you had been in the room with him, you would not have been able to hear Lumpolas cursing in Elvish over the legendary snores of his best friend. Aragunk's snoring had banished him to the most remote chamber in the keep by royal decree so that everyone else could sleep. Even so, his snores echoed out into the valley across the Pelennor fields beyond the walls of the great city. Many said that his snoring could wake the dead. But the truth was that the dead would have just gotten up and dragged elsewhere to get away from the sawing racket.
Lumpolas stuck his fingers into his sensitive elven ears and hurried over to Aragunk's bed. The plan had been very simple, which made it twice as complicated as it needed to be for Aragunk: on the first morning of September, rise early, sneak off to the wharfs, and smuggle aboard one of the long-oared triremes bound downriver. But they were already late. Gandalf the White had headed out from the gates with a grim troop of riders more than a quarter of an hour ago. Now they were going to have to hurry to make it to the river before the boat departed without them. Lumpolas seized Aragunk by the shoulders and shook him like a rag doll. "Up! Up you great slumbering slug! Get up!"
Bur instead of waking, Aragunk only smiled and slumbered on. In his dreams, Aragunk felt the thunderous galloping of a great white charger beneath him, carrying him into battle beside his brother Aragorn. In one hand he carried a great axe and in the other his trusted sword as they coursed into battle together against a horde of dark enemies. A sigh of joy escaped him as a choir of maidens sang his noble deeds from Heaven above. He started in surprise when he found himself shooting a bow and arrow with another pair of hands. Then, to his great joy, still another hand proffered him a roast turkey leg. Aragunk's head swam with confusion. How on earth did he get so many hands? He shrugged and took a hearty bite as he galloped on. Then, yet another hand offered a golden goblet to his lips to wash the turkey down. He shrugged and drank deeply, but when he tried to push the goblet away, the vessel refused to budge. Wine and more wine poured from the goblet into his mouth until he started drowning in it. Aragunk swatted at the goblet. He tried leaping from his horse, struggling in vain to escape the torrent of gushing wine until at last he came crashing back to the shores of the waking world.
Sputtering and retching, Aragunk's eyes shot open. His friend Lumpolas stood over him, pouring a slapping stream of water down onto his face from the never-ending cup they had found together in Mordor during the Great War. "Stop!" Aragunk choked and flailed as the water pounded down from the enchanted cup. "For the love of Galadriel's green toes, stop! I'm awake!" Aragunk flailed, trying to catch hold of his laughing friend. But if you've ever tried to knock an elf off balance, you know how tricky it is to catch creatures that never trip or stumble or slip or do anything that could be described as clumsy.
But Aragunk had enough of the clumsies in him for a platoon of men with enough to spare for an elf too. He rolled and kicked one of his big boots out in his frenzied efforts to get out from under the laughing elf, accidentally blasting an oaken leg of his huge four-post bed completely off its frame. The heavy wooden canopy buckled above Lumpolas's head. Aragunk, hopelessly tangled up in his sheets now, went rolling right off the bed onto the floor, ripping the sheets from beneath Lumpolas's feet on his way. He took out another canopy post as he fell, collapsing the whole bed on the falling elf with a crash.
A moment later, Lumpolas came crawling dazed and disheveled out from beneath the fallen four-poster. "Well, so much for sneaking away quietly, you clumsy oaf!" he cried. He found a giant cocoon of bedsheets roaring and flopping about on the filthy floor. "I've half a mind to go off and leave you here, just to spite you!" Aragunk's muffled howls grew louder. "Peace! Calm yourself or I will leave you here," Lumpolas threatened. "Do you hear me, Gunk?" The flopping roll of twisted bedsheets stopped and fell silent. "That's better," said Lumpolas. "I should leave you tied up like a bag of laundry and haul you off to keep you out of trouble! Now I'm going to cut you free, but you have to promise you'll stay calm and quiet!"
A muffled, "Mmm hmmm," whimpered from the cocoon.
Lumpolas prodded the wrappings with his toe. "I have your word, as a ranger and a warrior of Gondor? You will not attack me or do anything you would regret later?"
The mummified young warrior paused to weigh his anger with his burning desire to get loose. "Mmm hmm," he replied at last.
Lumpolas took out his kitchen-knife. With one deft slash, honed by years of slicing vegetables and game in his father's kitchens, the sheets fell away. Aragunk sat bolt upright in his princely pajamas, grinning like a murderous maniac. "Good morning, my dear friend, sweet Lumpolas of the fair wooded-realm," he sang in a sickly sweet voice that promised nothing but danger. "How delightful to see you on this wonderful new day!"
Lumpolas crept a step backwards. "Now remember, Gunk, I have your word as the brother of the King: you're to behave yourself and get ready so we can go."
Aragunk stood up to his full impressive height. "But am I not calm, friend Lump? Am I not behaving myself, even though your bad manners destroyed my bed and nearly drowned me?" He took a menacing step toward Lumpolas.
The elf retreated another step back closer to the window. "What are you going to do?" Lumpolas sputtered as Aragunk drew still closer. Elves were rarely known to sweat, but right now an icy ribbon of it ran down Lumpolas's spine. Aragunk's face took on a darker shade as he stopped and glowered over him. The window stood open to the sheer drop behind Lumpolas's back. He gripped his kitchen knife harder as his mind raced: fight his enraged friend or leap out the window to escape?
Abruptly, Aragunk's huge face burst into a great roaring laugh that would have woken up the whole keep if his chamber hadn't been so far out of earshot. "You should see your face, Lump! You really thought I was going to kill you!"
Lumpolas blinked in bewilderment as his friend collapsed into a chair in a fit of mirth. "Oh, ha ha," Lumpolas answered, putting his knife away. "Look everyone, the young oaf of Gondor did something funny enough to make someone laugh. Too bad it was only himself! Here's a bit of advice, try making a joke that somebody else will laugh at someday. Now get yourself ready!"
"Ready?" Aragunk managed to ask through the laughter and tears streaming down his cheeks. "Ready for what?"
"Ready for what? The quest, you imbecile! The quest you begged and pleaded for me to come with you on. We're going to be late!"
Aragunk's laughter vanished. "The quest?" he said as the rest of his brain finally woke up. He shot out of the chair. "The quest! My quest!"
"Yes, our quest. And if you don't hurry, our quest is going to set sail down the Anduin without us. We'll be lucky to make it as it is."
Horror shot across Aragunk's face. "I'm going to miss my quest!" he shouted, rushing around the bedchamber. "Why didn't you wake me earlier? Where's my sword? My clothes? Where's all my bloody questing gear? Do we have horses?"
After several minutes of panicked scrambling and packing, Aragunk finally arrived panting by the window, mostly ready to go.
"About bloody time," muttered Lumpolas as he leapt up onto the sill. "Now, follow me." He stepped out of the window and fell out of sight.
"Lump!" cried Aragunk, lunging to the windowsill. His gaze shot over the edge, expecting to find his friend smashed on the rocks far below. Instead, he beheld Lumpolas smiling up at him from just below the sill, levitating in mid air.
"Ha! I wish you could see your face now, Gunk! You really thought I was dead didn't you?"
"What? No, I'm just in haste, that's all," sputtered Aragunk, shrugging off his embarrassment. "But what sorcery is this keeping you aloft?"
Lumpolas smiled an enormous mischievous smile. "Elven thread. I snuck some from my mother's dressmaker. Look! It's nearly invisible and yet it's stronger than any rope the race of man has woven. Now come on!"
"I'm not trusting my life to some invisible elvish trickery. I'll go get a real rope," said Aragunk, turning to go.
"There's no time! You'll have to trust my elvish trickery or you'll miss the ship."
"Forget it! I'll be back."
Lumpolas smiled. The time had come to utter the magic word. "Oh, well, if you're going to be a coward about it, that's another matter altogether isn't it? I'll just be on my way then and go find someone a little less cowardly to go adventuring with."
Aragunk spun around in mid-step and one didn't need elven eyes to see the rage boiling up in his bunched shoulders. "What… did… you… call me?"
Lumpolas smirked and waved. His own fear of falling had flown away with the chance to torment Aragunk's well-known fear of heights. "You can tuck yourself back in to bed where it's safe can't you? Or should I call your nurse in?"
Aragunk's face went purple. "Take it back, Lump!"
The elf laughed. "Come make me." Aragunk hesitated, torn between wrath and terror. Lumpolas pulled back and made to descend without him. "That's what I thought. Well, off I go, dearest Gunk. I'll let you know how the quest turned out when I get back."
"Wait!" Aragunk cried, his heart pounding within him. The promise of adventure and fell deeds made eternal in song nudged him out onto the windowsill with many curses uttered under his breath. "Give me some of this magical woman's-thread and let us be off," he grumbled, his legs hanging over the sheer drop and his eyes shut.
"No need, my brave friend. I snared a loop around your ankle while you were packing."
Aragunk cracked his eyes open and lifted both his feet. "You lie, Lump! No one could snare a ranger without him knowing—" But before he could say another word, Lumpolas kicked back from the wall and gave a hard yank to the gossamer thread looped around the young ranger's left ankle. In an instant, Aragunk went hurtling out the window and dangled upside down by his foot over the yawning precipice.
The elf laughed. "You see? I looped the thread around the column in your room so we wouldn't fall." From afar they would have appeared to be floating down and down to the base of the keep like a leaf falling from the top of a tree in autumn. Not that Aragunk saw any of this—he had his hands slapped fast against his eyes, trying in vain to loose the howl of terror frozen in his throat.
Lumpolas let the thread spin off its tiny spool, lowering them until his foot touched the ground next to their waiting horse. Aragunk, who still had not opened his eyes, at last let his stifled panic find its full throat. The blood-curdling scream of a man about to meet his doom howled across the plain of Minas Tirith, threatening to wake the living and the dead for leagues about. Lumpolas tore open his rucksack, seized a potato from within, and stuffed it into Aragunk's mouth. Aragunk snapped his eyes open and found himself still very alive, dangling only a foot from the ground.
"Finished?" asked Lumpolas. He twisted the elvish thread in his fingers, which obediently dropped the flailing ranger to the ground and coiled itself back onto its spool.
Aragunk sat up and yanked the potato out of his mouth. "Thanks, I needed that."
"My pleasure. Now hurry, the horse is ready!"
Aragunk bit off the end of the potato, peel and all. "Not bad. What else do you have in your bag? I'm starving!"
By this time, the dawn watch was peering down from the city's soaring alabaster walls. "What in the name of Illúvatar was that?" the lieutenant of the watch asked the old sentry peering over the edge. They both watched the young ranger and elf as they galloped away across the plain on their horse.
"Oh, it's just the king's idiot brother and his fat elf friend again, sir. Off on another imaginary quest I suppose."
The lieutenant stifled a yawn. "For all that racket, I thought it was a pig being tickled to death with a meat-cleaver."
"Aye, sir, stealth and cunning ain't the young lord's strong suit, ain't they?"
"Eating and snoring are his strong suit, I wot. But he does have a stout heart, doesn't he?"
"Aye, sir, brave as a wild boar," answered the sentry.
"And about as smart."
"Aye, but only half as pretty," the old man cackled.
"Well, as you were, soldier. They're bound to be back before lunchtime," said the lieutenant with a smirk, "banging on the gate, a'begging for their supper."
"Aye, sir," said the old sentry. "Supper it is."
A frantic twenty minute gallop faced Lumpolas and Aragunk eastwards to Osgiliath, the river port of Gondor. Aragunk gripped the reins while Lumpolas squatted behind atop the horse's haunches. The elf glanced back over his shoulders to check if anyone had followed them.
Aragunk tingled with glee to be on a mission. He imagined himself galloping into a great struggle against impossible odds like his "uncle," Faramir the Wise, had done scarcely two and a half years ago on this same plain. "Oh yes," he all but sang to himself with a huge grin as they rode. "Today we ride to glorious victory and fell deeds worthy to be sung by the maidens of Gondor for generations. Today we ride to victory for—"
"Stop!" cried Lumpolas into his ear, pointing ahead to the sentry tower of the river-town. "Will you not stop? We're going to be seen!" Aragunk saw the tower, did not stop, but veered north instead. "What are you doing?"
"We can't stop, Lump. We're already late. Don't worry, I have a plan! I'll get us to the dock. You get us on the ship. Agreed?"
Lumpolas knew that no plan of Aragunk's had ever gone according to design, nor ever could. He also knew that he had no idea how to get them onto Gandalf's trireme unseen. Himself, yes, but with his big gawky friend in tow? "Yes, that sounds fine," he sighed, grimacing at what a terrible idea this all was. At least after they were caught they'd be back at Minas Tirith before lunch, maybe even by mid-morning snack. That happy thought set Lumpolas off on his own daydreams. But his fantasies, as always, concerned food—breakfast foods in this case: steaming sizzling sausages, hot biscuits dripping with fresh-churned butter, and ripe plump entberries glistening in the morning sun. All these and more danced through his mind, sending his mouth watering.
"No harm in a little snack," he reasoned to himself as they charged in a wide sweeping arc to the north side of Osgiliath. Lumpolas reached back for his rucksack and opened the bag a little so he could stick his keen elven nose into the neck. He inhaled all the goodies he had laid in to get them through another dreadful quest. At the top, he found a delicate pastry wrapped in translucent silk to keep its delicate flakes from covering everything. "Mmm, just a little nibble for now," he muttered, "we can have the rest when we're back at the keep." He unwrapped it and brought the flaky pastry to his lips and took a tiny nibble off the end. A song of joy swelled in his heart. "Hungry work this questing. Better have another little bite." Another bite followed that one and another and another until soon his chin lay heavy with pastry crumbs. His hand searched his sack for some jam.
Meanwhile, away to the South, atop the lonely watch tower, the sleepy guard watched their horse go galloping past. "Hey, take a gander at this," he said, giving a kick to his slumbering watch-mate. "There goes the king's brother and there's someone—I think it's his elf friend—squatting on the horse's rump. It looks like he's got his head stuck in a feed-bag."
His companion woke up but didn't open his eyes. "That's nice."
"Should we tell someone? Sound the bell?"
"Sound the bell?" the dozing sentry sneered, cracking his eyes open. "And tell the Cap'n what? That Osgiliath is under attack by a ravenous ride-by eater? Lock up your storehouses! A hungry elf is coming!" The sentry folded his arms and shut his eyes again. "Wake me up if anything interesting happens."
"Now don't get cross with me. I just thought it were funny, I did." But his companion had fell to snoring already, so the sentry leaned back with a shrug and joined him.
By the time Aragunk and Lumpolas arrived at the wharves of Osgiliath, their "questing provisions" had been greatly lightened. The elf's face lay covered in a patina of jam and pastry crumbs and butter. "We've managed to escape undetected, Lump!" Aragunk announced in triumph. "My plan is working, just like I told you it would!"
Lumpolas came out of his food-trance. "Wonderful! Congratulations!" he tried to answer, but it was all garbled by the pastry stuffed in his mouth.
"Now we must use stealth and cunning," whispered Aragunk. He reined in the horse at the wharf and dropped to the ground. "Come!"
"Right, yes, stealth," Lumpolas mumbled, licking the jam off his fingers. "Stealth and cunning." He tied up the neck of the rucksack, lamenting how light it felt already. Aragunk peered over a bundle of baled wool towards the boats moored beyond. "There they are," he whispered as Lumpolas arrived next to him. "And look, there's a beautiful queen waiting to go on the ship! Our ship. We'll be protecting her!"
Lumpolas marked where Aragunk pointed but saw no queen. "Queen?" he asked, squinting around the dock with his elven eyes. Then he started laughing. "Oh, did you mean the beautiful queen in the flowing white dress standing by the gangplank?"
"Yes! Is she not majestic?" Aragunk's face danced in a transport of ecstasy. He imagined himself defending the fair lady from a host of barbarians with the strength of his mighty arm. "Is she not a handsome woman in truth? Is she not noble and worthy of our protection, brother? This is what fate has called us for. And yet you laugh, villain! And I'll have your elven hide made into a saddlebag for it!"
Lumpolas couldn't stop himself from roaring with mirth. "You have the eyesight of a sack of worms, you dunderhead. That's not a beautiful queen, that's Gandalf the White!"
"You lie!"
"Well, if I'm wrong, then your queen has the longest beard this dock has ever seen!" His eyes streamed tears.
Aragunk ground his teeth in embarrassment as his friend doubled over with laughter. "I had dust in my eyes from the road!" he hissed. "You would too if you hadn't had your face buried in your sack of food the whole way! I've done my job! I got us here. Now it's your turn. How are you going to get us on that boat?"
Lumpolas's laughter stopped. "Er, no problem, I've got it all figured out. Just one thing."
"What?" asked Aragunk, pointedly not looking at Gandalf at all.
"Why are we doing this again?"
"Why? Because it's a quest, a very important quest."
"A very important quest? A quest for what? What makes it so very important?"
Aragunk dismissed his question with a wave. "If Gandalf is doing it, then it must be important. Gandalf only does important things. So, if he's going on a quest, it must be an important quest. That's why we're going."
Lumpolas stared at him. "You have no idea what this quest is about, do you?"
"That's not true. I overheard them talking about it after a session of the council." Aragunk puffed his chest out.
"You were at a session of the council? When did they let you on the council?"
Aragunk's chest fell. "Well, I wasn't at the session. I was busy… training."
Lumpolas squinted at him. "You were training while the council sat and then they reported what they said to you?"
Aragunk glanced down at his shuffling feet as he spoke. "Well, it was more of a rumor."
"A rumor? We're going on a quest, risking our lives, skipping breakfast and maybe lunch based on a rumor you heard? Who told you this rumor?"
"A kitchen maid."
"A kitchen maid? You heard a rumor from a kitchen maid and now we're going on a mad quest in a boat?"
"Yes! Now you're seeing it!"
Lumpolas shook his head in disbelief. "Well, what was the rumor? It must have been something wonderful."
Aragunk's eyes flashed. "Aye, my friend, 'twas. She said something about a whisper from the deep darkness beyond. And that something important might have been found that has been lost from the ancient days and that Gandalf had to go to find out the truth of it."
"Something has been found? But what is it?"
"She didn't know. They—Gandalf and my brother—spoke in some other language that she didn't understand."
Lumpolas shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the hopeful puppy-like face of his friend. "That's it? Just find something that may have been misplaced a long time ago? And something about some voice in the dark? Does that about sum it up?"
Aragunk nodded. "Aye, that's it! But don't make that face my friend, haven't you had enough of chopping vegetables in your kitchen? Isn't this a chance to do something noteworthy? We'll be on a quest with the white wizard! Something dangerous is bound to come up! Now look, we've come this far. Let's get on that boat and see where it takes us. Please, my dearest friend Lumpolas!"
"Do you know what Gandalf will do to us if he finds out we've stowed away on a secret mission? He'll turn us into apples, or newts, or something worse!"
"Please," Aragunk crooned, his eyes desperate. Lumpolas closed his eyes and grudgingly nodded his head. The excitement beamed from Aragunk's face and he slapped his friend hard on the back. "That's the spirit! Now, what's your plan to get us on that boat?"
Lumpolas gulped and turned his gaze back to the dock, scanning around for an idea. "It's very simple. We just go and get a… Well, you see we'll go and get aboard by means of… um…"
"You do have a plan don't you?" asked Aragunk.
"Yes! Well, I might have the rumor of a plan."
"The rumor of a plan? What does that mean?"
"It means as much as your rumor of a quest means, you great oaf!"
Aragunk's face turned dark. "You don't have a plan to get us on that boat at all do you? Look, Lump, they're about to launch! We have to get aboard now or we'll be left behind!"
"I'm working on it!" Lumpolas growled back. As his desperation stung him, his keen nose picked out the savory smell of salted meats nearby. "There!" He pointed toward the barrels being loaded onto the trireme. "That's our way aboard—in those barrels. We'll empty a couple of them out and then we'll get in. The sailors will do all the work for us."
Aragunk's countenance fell. "That's the best plan you could come up with?"
"It's the only plan I could come up with. And it will have to do. Now wait here! When I give the signal, try to follow as quietly as you can." Lumpolas, despite his girth, could still be quiet and sneaky when he needed to be. Aragunk, on the other hand, was hopelessly heavy of foot. He could only be counted on to run into things, or trip over things, or accidentally to break things to pieces wherever he went. Getting him snuck onto the boat was going to require a great deal more ingenuity from Lumpolas than getting him out of bed had. "You understand, Gunk? Wait here for the signal!"
"I heard you the first time!" Aragunk snapped as he watched Lumpolas pad towards a group of barrels near the trireme. His dim eyesight made it tough to be sure, but Aragunk thought he saw the elf pry open a barrel and tip it over. Splashing sounds tinkled back over the dock as Lumpolas emptied it into the river.
After another moment of squinting across the dock, a soft "Pssst!" flew to him from Lumpolas. Aragunk ducked down behind the bale of wool, failing to notice that his friend had actually waved for him to come closer, not to hide. "Pssst!" Lumpolas called again, regretting leaving him behind as much as he knew he would have regretted bringing him along. Aragunk poked his head above the bale and waved back. Lumpolas could only shake his head and gape at the colossal thickheadedness of his best friend. Now he had to sneak all the way back and lead the fool like an old nag. When he got back to him, he hissed, "Why didn't you come when I called you? Now we have even less time!"
"I waited for you to give the signal. You didn't give the signal, so I stayed put."
"I did give the signal! What do you think PSSST means, you dundering imbecile?"
"That's not our signal! Our signal is HOOT HOOT like a barn owl. That's always been our signal, Lump. And I'll thank you not to insult me again or I will be forced to chastise you. I am the brother of Aragorn the King and I won't be spoken to that way by a common cook!"
"A cook? A common cook?" Lumpolas's teeth went grinding in his head. "I'll have you know that I am a food-artist of the noble lineage of the Sindar and a son of Thranduil, King of the Wooded Realms. I will not be spoken to like that by a common foot soldier and stable-boy of Gondor! Now, I have your barrel ready, your majesty. If you still want to go on this quest, then you'd better follow me and you had better do it quietly, though we both know that's impossible!"
Aragunk ground his teeth, torn between punching Lumpolas for the insult and getting on the questing-boat. "I'll come. But know this, brazen churl: I will exact satisfaction for your outrageous insults at the first opportunity!"
"That's a deal," snapped Lumpolas in return. "Now come on! And do at least try to be quiet."
They picked their way toward the barrel, the air between them frosty and tense. Twice they had to hide when sailors and dock-workers went by, hauling another load of provisions onto the ship. At last they made it to the empty barrel. "In you go," said Lumpolas holding the top of a barrel. "Get in and I'll fasten the lid back on. I'll empty another and they'll come load us in."
The smell from the barrel smacked Aragunk's nose. "Ughh! What is that reek? Fish?"
"Pickled herring. Broke my heart to dump it, but at least it's going back to the sea where it came from."
"You want me to get into a rotten fish barrel? I'll do no such thing!"
"You will unless you have a better idea for getting onto that boat. Now get in!"
The smell alone would have been enough to turn Aragunk's stomach sour. But the thought of being shut into the barrel, alone in the dark, made his stomach twist into a trembling knot. "No, by Beren's beard! Not for all the treasure in Erebor will I get into this stinking cess-bucket! I'll not—"
Lumpolas jabbed a finger over Aragunk's shoulder, pretending he saw someone. "Somebody's coming! Quick! Get in!"
The young ranger winced and swung his legs into the barrel and crouched down with a low whine. "You had better get me out as soon as we're aboard or I'll have your pointed ears, food-artist!"
"Shh! Bend down," Lumpolas hissed, trying not to laugh at how easy his friend could be fooled. But then he froze when he really did hear heavy steps coming their way.
"Alright, you!" barked the gruff voice of the boat's quartermaster. "Them's barrels are the last going in the hold."
"Aye, sir," grumbled a dockhand as he plodded toward the barrels with a dolly in tow.
"You've been more trouble to me than a diseased pile of termites, and just as slow!" the quartermaster yelled after the dockhand. "Get these loaded on double-quick or I'll have you hung up by the yardarm!"
Lumpolas, crouching behind the barrel, panicked. They were out of time and about to be caught. No time to empty out a barrel for himself. So, he stuffed his rucksack in the barrel on top of Aragunk. Then he jumped in on top of him, deftly bringing the barrel lid with him and setting it in its place above them.
"What are you doing?" Aragunk would have liked to yell, but couldn't with the rucksack smothering his face.
"Shh! There's someone coming," Lumpolas whispered. He prayed that the dockhand would bypass their barrel and give him a chance to get another emptied out for himself.
"Talk to me that way," the dockhand grumbled as he approached. "I'd like to show him the sights from the yardarm. Haul this! Do it faster! Tote that! Put it over there! And always faster, faster, faster! Like I ain't never loaded a boat before." Lumpolas's heart sank when their barrel tipped as the dockhand tilted it so he could slide the dolly under. "Been doin' this since I was wee and he thinks he can tell me 'ow to do my job? I've 'alf a mind to loosen the cork on their wine barrels and let 'em seep out all over the hold! What's this? Bloody shippers can't even get a lid on snug!" he said. He dropped their barrel with a thud and pounded the top down tight with a slap of his hand. He followed it with the banging of his hammer to get it secure.
Lumpolas and Aragunk, now stuck fast in the stinking barrel together, began to whimper in the dark. The dockhand hauled them off to the hold of the trireme. If they could have moved, they would have both flailed in their panic. If they could have yelled, they would have howled with all their might. But they scarcely had room to breathe as they lay tangled up together, miserable and scared for an endless age, until with a jarring jolt and a rough scraping slide their barrel landed in the hold of the ship.
Suffice it to say that this was the worst moment of their young lives to this point. And like all terrible moments, it stretched on forever. Poor Aragunk had it the worst, squished under his rotund friend's backside at the bottom of the dank reeking barrel, unable to move or scream because of the rucksack full of food stuffed in his face. Lumpolas wasn't any happier, but he dared not move or try to escape until the hold was full and the ship underway down the river. Every time Lumpolas thought he could risk prying the barrel lid up, his elven ears would detect the constant stream of grumbling from the dockhand as he hauled in another of the barrels. The little air in the barrel had already grown stifling and they were getting lightheaded. Aragunk moaned something that wasn't hard to translate: "Help!"
"Hold on," Lumpolas tried to reassure his friend, "I'm going to try to get us a little air." He pushed on the lid, hoping to crack it a bit to let a little precious air in, but the dockhand had done too good a job nailing it down. He couldn't find enough leverage to force it open because of the awkward way he had stuffed himself into the barrel. "A terrible plan," muttered Lumpolas, "an awful plan; the worst most awful plan any elf has ever had!"
"Mmm hmm!" Aragunk's muffled agreement rose from below. Lumpolas strained to find a way out now, his mind racing as panic swelled up in both of them. He imagined the quartermaster opening the barrel well out to sea and finding the two of them dead in the bottom. What a terrible way to go! He made up his mind: better to be caught than to die like this! He pounded on the side of the barrel with what little force he could muster, trying to signal to someone. But his knocking sounded weak, muffled and pathetic. Surely no one would hear it over the bustling sounds of a ship preparing to get underway.
Underneath him, Aragunk started to truly panic and thrash about, trying to smash his way out by any means possible. His knees smacked into Lumpolas's back, knocking the wind out of him him as he flailed with all his might. From there, the situation in the barrel only deteriorated further. Lumpolas caught the panic too and started thrashing around himself. The air grew warmer and heavier, their brains dizzier, their hearts pounding faster and faster. Both of them knew the end had come.
Then, a wrenching sound twisted through the barrel and the lid came loose. Light and sweet blessed air came streaming down on them as if sent from Heaven. The barrel began tipping over. Lumpolas caught sight of a pair of slender hands gripping the edge and toppling them over with a crash. They came crawling out, bedraggled, half-conscious, nauseated, and thankful beyond measure to be out and alive when death had been so close. They lay gasping and retching on the deck of the gloomy hold.
"Well, aren't you the two biggest pickled fish I've ever seen?" said a maiden's voice from above them. A girl in dark clothing crouched on a crate with a drawn bow. She had two arrows nocked and pointed at each of them. "You have five seconds to tell me who you are and why I shouldn't skewer the two of you right here and now!"
