Chapter 2: The Journey to Eressea
Back in Sam's room, Aunie and Pulin stood by the fire, both silently thanking whatever higher powers that be for the relief from the freezing cargo room. Meanwhile, Sam rustled through his papers for a record Gandalf had given him long ago describing the forces of the Ring. He had wisely decided to copy down every piece of important information from the Red Book before he gave it to his daughter Elanor.
It was well past 2:00 a.m. but neither the hobbit nor his stowaway companions felt the need for sleep. What they needed was a plan, and Sam would stubbornly wrack his brains and go without sleep until they had one. Aunie wasn't about to let the hobbit do it on his own, either; but Pulin was nodding off to sleep even as Sam finally pulled the object of his search from a pile of old writings collected over the years from friends and family. Luckily, the description of the Ring was stacked near the top. If it hadn't been, Sam would no doubt have been detained for hours going through bits of art done by his children when they were tiny babes exploring the Shire, along with letters from Rosie, poems and songs by Merry and Pippin, and, among other things, his old Gaffer's records of "the precise way to grow things."
Sam set up paper and pens on his desk and motioned for Aunie and Pulin to come over. Aunie leaped into the chair opposite from Sam. She, being about two feet tall, fit perfectly with the room, which had been designed specifically for the halfling. But Pulin was content to kneel beside her, since he was nearly twice the height of both otter and hobbit.
'This is a description of the powers of the Ring,' said Sam, handing the paper to Aunie and Pulin. 'I have no doubt Alesu knows these.' Pulin nodded in agreement as he studied to paper.
They all studied and scribbled ideas for a while. During the whole tiring process, Aunie kept uncharacteristically silent. Finally, she spoke hesitantly: 'How are we going to form a plan from this? I mean, we've got a paper listing things we don't actually know Alesu's ring can do, and we don't know where Alesu is, or how powerful he is, or how he plans to use this ring of his, or anything else except that he's related to Pulin (which does explain something),' Pulin tugged Aunie's tail.
Sam silently stared at the papers, a look of gloom written deep in his furrowed brows.
'She's got a point,' Pulin muttered, though he hated to admit it. Sam sighed. He got up from the table and walked to the round ship windows. There he stood with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, staring out into the darkness and the rain. At first, Aunie and Pulin simply watched, hardly able to breathe. Even though Aunie was the only one who had any true understanding of what Sam felt, Pulin did have some of his old elf sense left in him.
Aunie slid off of the chair and went to Sam. She took his hand and, holding it tightly as a child holds the hand of their protector, she pressed her furry cheek against it. Looking up at Sam's face, she noticed tears in the eyes of her hero. These were tears that she had so often heard of from the Elders of her race when they spoke of the Great War, tears that flowed from the very deepest recesses of the heart. She reached up with her soft brown paw and gently wiped the tears away. Sam turned to the young otter. He knelt and embraced her, grateful beyond words for the understanding he had been without for so many years.
A quiet chime echoed forth from the clock on the wall, noting that it was 4:00 in the morning. Sam stood and muttered, 'We'd best get some sleep, then.' He walked to the bed, which was really just a small human bed since true hobbit furniture was difficult to obtain on short notice, or really on any notice at all. Sam scrambled up and turned to Aunie and Pulin. 'You're both welcome to sleep wherever you want,' he said as he pulled the quilt over his feet.
Elves rarely sleep. Pulin felt no need to sleep for the time being. Instead, he took out a small flute and began to play an elven lullaby. Aunie bustled around the room, switching off lights and putting order to the stacks of paper that were randomly sorted into ideas for 'this,' that,' and 'the other' on the table. When the room was halfway neat again, she blew out the candle-lamp near the bed and clambered up as well. Sitting at the foot of the bed, she began to sing softly with Pulin's music. It was a lullaby she knew well, as it was used more frequently among the elves' pets than anyone else.
Hush, little one.
Come close to me now.
I will protect you,
I'm sure I know how.
Listen to the music.
Let it calm your mind.
Leave all frightening thoughts behind.
Oh please, don't leave me now.
Don't cry…
Though I can't tell you how or why,
Still my love will last
Through the darkest night.
You'll be all right.
Don't let the sun fade from your dreams.
Nothing's as bad as it seems.
Her deep coffee-colored eyes were focused on Sam as he drifted off to sleep. Watching him, she added words of her own to the familiar melody.
Hush, darling Sam.
Don't be afraid.
Imagine that the stars are a firefly parade.
Listen to the night breeze,
Let it ease your mind.
Leave all doubts and fears behind.
Everything's gonna be all right.
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, darling Sam, sleep tight.
Yes my love will last
Through the darkest night.
You'll be all right.
Don't let the sun fade away.
Please don't let the sun fade away…
It was pure music, the kind that can be sung only once before disappearing into the heart of the listener. Sam slept peacefully. The waves rocked the great elven ship as easily as a mother rocks her babes in a cradle. The sea would keep its adventurous babes safe tonight. The melody flowing from Pulin's flute mingled with the patter of the rain against the window and the whispering crackle of the fire in the stove. Aunie curled up at Sam's feet and slowly retreated into her own dreams of happier times and her home in the dying Lothlorien.
Sam awoke the next morning to the sound of Pulin and Aunie arguing about the contents of a book they had found among the shelf of old, tattered, and otherwise worn-out reading materials in a shelf on the wall. Most of the books were written in elven tongue, including the one over which an argument was being held. Sam noted with some amusement that Aunie and Pulin argued in that same flowing speech. For a while, Sam was content to lie among the warmth of the downy quilt and listen to the sounds of the language, the tones in which it rose and fell, and the way the words crashed like waves against the two speakers. Even in harsh contexts, the language of the elves sounded beautiful. Sam understood little of what was being said. The only thing Sam understood from the conversation was a phrase which was roughly translated "You are fish paste." Where he had picked up this odd phrase, Sam couldn't begin to imagine. But he knew it all the same.
Sam sat up and looked around. Over night, the rain had stopped and the sun shone brightly through the wavy windows, making gold paint-splatter designs on the floor. In the new day's light, Sam could finally get a clear look at his two companions. The fair-faced elf, Pulin, looked older than he had the night before. Sam wondered if he wouldn't have been on this ship anyway if not for Aunie. Yes, Aunie. She had grown younger during the darkness. Now, with the sunlight reflecting off of her chocolate fur and brightening it to a shade of frozen honey, he could see that Aunie was truly little more than a child. Indeed, if the aging process for otters and hobbits were similar(which, at that point of evolution, they were), she might still have been in her late teens.
After hearing the phrase about fish paste several more times in the course of the argument, Sam decided he'd go see what on Middle-earth was the trouble. He slipped out of bed and crept over to Aunie and Pulin on silent hobbit feet. Standing on tip-toes, he peered over Aunie's shoulder at the book. Actually, the title was You Are Fish Paste.
Sam had no time, however, to wonder what the book might be about, or why Aunie and Pulin seemed so absorbed in their argument about it, for just at that moment Pulin noticed him hovering over Aunie's shoulder. 'Master Samwise, good morning!' he exclaimed, breaking into the common speech again. This had the effect of making Aunie jump half way to the ceiling and tumble under the table. Upon giving the matter further thought, Sam decided that he would have done the same had he suddenly realized Gandalf or someone equally as large and mysterious was standing directly behind him. Pulin seemed to think similar thoughts, but dissolved into a fit of laughter all the same. Once again Aunie tried wrapping herself around Pulin's legs. As seemed typical of these two, they were both on the floor again in a matter of seconds. Sam wondered if it wasn't some sort of talent practiced by elves and the creatures that lived among them to be able to topple out of and down from and into nearly anything imaginable and still be able to keep a conversation going.
The fight got tedious very soon. Sam found himself hoping that, if Aunie and Pulin were going to stubbornly follow him, they might at least learn some new fighting tactics. After about five minutes, Sam reached down and took hold of Aunie's tail. He lifted her up out of the fight while Pulin was still attaching a chair. It didn't take Pulin long to realize that the chair wasn't fighting back.
Pulin jumped up and bowed to Sam as Aunie squirmed around and climbed onto Sam's shoulders. 'Good morning,' they both chimed in perfect unity of voice.
'Good morning,' Sam answered.
'Did you sleep well?' Aunie asked as she brushed her claws through Sam's tangled curls. 'Boats are lovely for sleeping in.'
'Yes, quite,' Sam agreed. He was trying to turn his eyes far enough to be able to see what she was doing to his hair. Pulin rushed off to put more coals on the fire.
'…But I was wondering,' Sam continued, giving up on trying to see Aunie because it was making his eyes hurt, 'How we are going to hide you from the other elves on board, or should we hide you at all?'
Pulin laughed. 'Knowing my people as I do, I should say they've probably known about us since before we got onto the ship. We're almost to Eressea. I'll bet you can see it from the deck by now.'
'How do you know that?' Sam asked.
'He feels it,' Aunie answered. 'He feels it. I do too, but not as strongly. It's in elf blood, and we feel it.'
Just as the ship clock began to announce that it was 9:00 a.m., a swift knock was heard at the door. Despite Pulin's assurance that their presence was known (and therefore tolerated, Sam assumed), he grabbed Aunie off of Sam's shoulders and quickly hid them both behind a curtain near the bookshelf.
'Come in,' Sam called. The door swung open and Corbin, the captain, ducked and stepped in. He was uncommonly tall for an elf, surpassing even the height of most men. He seemed to be forever standing in a shadow, as his ashy skin, unlike most pale elves, reflected no light. But the captain was a jolly fellow, and as he stepped in, he laughed.
'So you've found our stowaways,' he said. His voice was deep and liquid in it's thick accents. Sam nodded in answer. 'Well, come out,' called the captain to no particular space in the room. Pulin stepped from behind the curtain with Aunie perched on his shoulders.
Corbin looked them over, grinning from ear to ear, and spoke again. His voice echoed with the bubbly laughter that seemed as much a part of him as his body. 'Welcome to the both of you. We'll be landing shortly. I suggest you go back down to your hiding place and collect whatever belongings you don't want damaged or taken by the crew.'
Without a word, Pulin and Aunie disappeared out of the door. Sam watched them go then looked at Corbin. 'How did you…?'
Corbin smiled down at the little hobbit. 'There are still a great many things you will never understand, my friend. Have faith, all will be well when the end of ends arrives. That's the elven way of thought. Your comrades have been taught that since before they could understand those words. Your people are yet young, and need time to know that truth. Learn, Samwise.' With that, Corbin was gone.
As Sam wondered over the words Corbin spoke so vaguely, he noticed that it must be long past breakfast. He stepped out onto the deck, a thing which, due to the storm, he had never done before.
Sam walked to the braided rope railing that separated him from the emerald sea below. As he gazed down into the shimmering depths, he saw that the waters were populated by the most wonderfully shiny fish. These were unlike any fish he had seen. These were long and graceful figures that darted through the water in schools of tiny sunbeams or lone shapes with fins just touching to top of the water. Sam marveled at the way the sun glinted off of the scales of the smallest ones, the arched backs of the dolphins as the leaped from the water, the hard, indestructible shells of the sea turtles that swam by and glanced lazily up at him.
A strong, salty wind blew from the north. Sam looked up and saw for the first time the looming hills of Eressea. They were far still, but Sam could just make out tiny specks of other boats and, towering far above the sea on a mountain cliff, a castle of immense proportions. Sam stared at the land, speechless from amazement at the grandeur of it all. As the sea wind whipped his curly hair back, he wondered why he had doubted leaving at all.