Chapter 5
The Fellowship was over a month out from Rivendell. Peril lay before them, whilst sanctuary lay behind; but for how long the haven of the elves would remain so, none could so. As they walked, they found more and more signs that the Enemy was aware of them, though it was becoming less clear who the spies were working for. If the suspicions of Aragorn and Gandalf were anything to go by, Saruman was no longer an ally, but yet another enemy – liberated from Sauron by his own arrogance and mustering up his own army to rival that of the Dark Lord. The hearts of the Fellowship, though they remained grim-faced or dismissive, were darkened, and as the South came closer and closer they became mute with silent anguish. The heart of Mariel, tired though it was and shameful at her lies, was nonetheless not shaken by fear.
They walked onwards, Caradhras loomed closer, and the turmoil of the south became a strain on them with each passing day.
The weather turned colder. Winds sprang all of a sudden from nowhere, and frost began to accumulate in the night, so that even Aragorn – hardened Ranger of the North – found it difficult to sleep and often took the place of younger members in the night watch. The land became stony and desolate: high moors climbed steeply from rough ground and footing was difficult to find. Ledges jutted out of the assent and sparse hedges whipped back and forth in the gale.
They were approaching Caradhras.
On the fourth day of the ascent came snow under foot. None fell from the sky and for this Mariel was glad, for she feared the hobbits would not have seen it through. Strong-willed though they were, it was a struggle with every step for them, and half way through the first day of reaching the mountain climb, Pippin and Merry had stopped altogether, unable to take another pace. Frodo, determined, had clambered on, but cold racked his frame, and he was shivering. Sam would never complain before his master, but he was terrified for Bill the pony, who stumbled awkwardly, flank-deep in the freezing blanket, hooves slipping uncontrollably on slabs of ice. Boromir laboured on as though he had not noticed the white carpet, but Mariel saw it to be a courageous front – as the others tended the hobbits Mariel caught him breathe heavily, and shiver with the frost: his round shield held over him like a cover. Gimli she had lost to sight; now she realised why dwarves made up for what they had not in height with build – any less of him and he would fared worse than the Halflings. Gandalf trudged on, loathe to admit defeat against the mountain lord, but he complained frequently in undertones; "why ever did the Valar send me in this old man's body?" he would mutter ever and anon, and only the acute ears of Mariel would hear him.
Yet the Company held both wonder for the elf Legolas and herself. Both had less weight than a feather upon snow, but whilst Mariel fought to hide this to drive suspicion from herself, Legolas danced atop the snow like a gliding bird on the breeze – delicately, gracefully, but with purpose. As they battled on he leapt ahead, and stopped very suddenly, listening with an ear to the howling wind for what none but he could hear.
Mariel heard it though. Saruman – his evil curses flung themselves across leagues of water and land, sailing towards the Misty Mountains with terrible intent.
"There is a foul voice on the wind!" Legolas cried, as the others vainly tried to plough through chest high snow and sweep away the blizzard.
"It's Saruman!" answered Gandalf. And casting his staff out of the trench, he clambered atop it and began a commanding chant to counteract the spell of Caradhras.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" yelled another, and they looked to Gandalf in desperation. The ancient wizard was caught in a fearsome combat of will, and did not reply. He seemed for a second to have mastered the elements.
Yet even as they thought this, a great noise jarred from above. Barely had they time to look up and see the terrible crack that ran from ledge to peak, before the immense load came crashing down and smothered them.
"We must get off the mountain!" demanded Boromir, breaking with difficulty out of the snow and dragging Pippin and Sam to the surface. "We must make for the Gap of Rohan and head for my city!"
"That way is closed to us!" shouted Aragorn, burdened with Merry.
"Where is the Ringbearer?" cried Gandalf, struggling to them.
Legolas scrambled to his feet and began a frantic search, but a cry cut him short.
"I have him!" came a voice, and they all turned to see Mariel clutching a shivering Frodo to her in shelter. "He is safe. He still has the Ring."
Her hair was falling around her shoulders with the violence of the weather, and her face was flushed, but she held Frodo out to them and helped him to his feet. The other hobbits embraced him briefly, panicked as they were by his absence, but the rest of the Fellowship stood staring at Mariel. It was Legolas who first spoke, such is the way with elves, to whom gracious speech comes most naturally.
"Lady Mariel, I feel to you we owe not only our thanks but our apologies. I have not said it, nor voiced what was previously in my heart, but I doubted you. Now I see that I was wrong. Forgive me, for I was quick to suspicion and have maybe valued you less than you deserve. From now on you have my trust."
He bowed briefly, though the forceful blow of the wind and the cascading snow made it almost comical. Yet there was nothing comical about his face when he stood up, and Mariel, knowledgeable as she was, saw an honesty in there so profound – the likes of which she had never yet witnessed, being of Sueth, and being cursed as they all were. She received his thanks graciously.
"My forgiveness I offer you, if you will have it," she said, "and my trust also. For I never doubted you, Legolas, prince of Mirkwood. I felt only that my trust would not be your concern or value."
"No indeed," he replied, though as he spoke, a strange look came over his face, as though he was puzzled by her. And his eyes seemed to look not at her face but behind it, as though he was trying to read her thoughts and decipher them. But she was drawn from his gaze by another.
"My trust also, Lady Mariel," said Boromir. "Gondor is in your service."
"And I in yours," replied she.
"Whatever the Dunedain can do for you, lady, I shall act for them."
"And Sueth for you, Aragorn son of Arathorn."
Gandalf approached, looking strangely amused, despite the grave hour.
"I am only an old man," he said wryly, "but my wisdom I can offer you, if you will have that."
"Without fail I shall receive that which you will offer me, Mithrandir" she replied.
"I speak for the dwarves," said Gimli. "Our trust is with you."
Finally the hobbits came forward. "And the Shire also," said Frodo. "You have proved your loyalty to the Quest. Our trust is with Sueth."
"You are kind," said Mariel gratefully, though it grieved her heart to hear their faith in her treacherous homeland. "We should now leave this evil place."
"Alas, it was once not so," sighed Gandalf. "But evil spirits have made it so."
"And so they have made a lot of things," said Legolas softly, but few besides the wizard and the Lady heard him.
Subdued, they left Caradhras, and the wind cackled in their wake and seemed to the beaten Company to be mocking them. And none felt it so much as the loyal Mariel, fond as she was the Company and each member, and regretful at how much they had promised and how little they realised, bound in trust as they now were to her.
* * *
Dianor and Felren rode fiercely on in the bleak day. Suddenly, at a sign from Dianor, they pulled their horses to a halt, and forced them into stillness – they stood snorting angrily and tossing their heads with impatience. Dianor nodded to where Amdenia could be seen, riding out over the distance.
"You still think so highly of her now, my friend?"
"She is a remarkable woman, yet still weak," replied Felren.
"They all are."
"In various ways, yet none should be allowed to take the glory of Sueth."
"None but us friend, we alone have been faithful – millennia though it has been. We will be rewarded for our troubles I deem, and govern Middle Earth for our own."
Felren nodded. "When the throne of Gondor has been brought down and the One Ring restored. That is Mariel's task."
"And that is why we ride," spat Dianor. "Onto Gondor and into war to cover the backs of two women, ono who has been installed to much faith."
"Mariel is loyal."
"To her heart alone. You think she will choose us? No, if she was faithful, the heirs of Gondor would be dead by now, and the ring returned to us."
"Heirs?" repeated Felren, concerned. "I thought there was only one Heir to the line of Isildur."
"And always shall be, friend – but another holds their heir to the stewardship, and he must also be dealt with."
Felren looked troubled. "then we hope for Mariel to do even more! This shall not be accomplished: we shall fail!"
"Peace!" laughed Dianor, "peace friend, there is hope. Do not worry," he assured. "Before the end you and I shall sit on thrones and no threat that Sueth cannot govern shall trouble us. And then," he cast a cruel glance behind him, to the place where the folk of Rivendell dwelt, "then we shall sample the true women of Middle Earth. The Elven ladies. They are with respect as well as beauty, I think."
Felren joined him laughing, though a doubt still lay on his mind.
"Where do the council ride?" he asked.
"They will turn south."
"Will they not suspect us, choosing our own path as we shall?"
"We shall visit them, when two nights are gone. Tell them we tail an orc band or the suchlike, and will reunite in the south, beyond Rohan. It is justified, they will not want all their forces in one place."
Felren nodded gravely. "Let it be so."
Dianor laughed, and spurred on his horse, who leapt into a gallop. "It shall be!" he called. "It shall be!"
Felren risked a doubtful cloud to darken his features momentarily, and then with effort it was dispelled, and he charged after Dianor.
"To Rohan!" he exclaimed, and rode as fast as Doradfun would have him.
* * *
From a far off ridge, Amdenia watched the descent of the Fellowship with sinking heart. Fear rarely crossed that stone-like organ, yet now it was so as she turned her mind to the only way they could take. Moria. Never had she been beyond the entrance, and never did she wish it so, yet if she was to uphold her duty she must.
Yet she knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that she couldn't. Just as she knew she loved him. It was like an incurable virus. She knew it was there, yet nothing could be done, and the knowledge of it made it no easier to bear. But she would not venture past the gates of Khazad-Dum.
Beneath her, Aradstar snorted apprehensively. She pulled on the reins in anger; he had refused the snowy paths of Caradhras and would have had her proceed on foot before he walked under risk of avalanche. She was furious with him for attempting to throw her of – as a woman of Sueth she had none of the gentle command of beasts that Middle Earth elves possessed. She was harsh, and resentment was beginning to grow between horse and rider.
She kicked him into motion, and slowly they traced the Company's descent as they turned their backs on the Redhorn gate. Caradhras had defeated them.
But Amdenia knew what was in Mariel's heart.
"What if all other ways are closed?" she muttered to herself. "What then Mariel? What will you do then?"
She held back a wilful Aradstar and licked dry lips. Moria. That was her nemesis, yet not her sister's. Mariel's could place the entire Quest of Sueth in jeopardy if she fell victim to her fear. Courageous though she was determined to be, Mariel had places she would not enter, nor too any others from Sueth. It was at great risk to enter that place, and perhaps common sense more than fear governed Mariel.
But the situation remained whatever. Mariel would have to choose her path after Moria. Not the dark, but the after light threatened her.
It was not Moria, but Lothlorien, where Mariel's decision lay.
Author's note: Now people believe me – She DOES NOT FALL FOR LEGOLAS!! Bear with me. She doesn't. Though there is a connection (ooooooohhhhh). Keep reading !
The Fellowship was over a month out from Rivendell. Peril lay before them, whilst sanctuary lay behind; but for how long the haven of the elves would remain so, none could so. As they walked, they found more and more signs that the Enemy was aware of them, though it was becoming less clear who the spies were working for. If the suspicions of Aragorn and Gandalf were anything to go by, Saruman was no longer an ally, but yet another enemy – liberated from Sauron by his own arrogance and mustering up his own army to rival that of the Dark Lord. The hearts of the Fellowship, though they remained grim-faced or dismissive, were darkened, and as the South came closer and closer they became mute with silent anguish. The heart of Mariel, tired though it was and shameful at her lies, was nonetheless not shaken by fear.
They walked onwards, Caradhras loomed closer, and the turmoil of the south became a strain on them with each passing day.
The weather turned colder. Winds sprang all of a sudden from nowhere, and frost began to accumulate in the night, so that even Aragorn – hardened Ranger of the North – found it difficult to sleep and often took the place of younger members in the night watch. The land became stony and desolate: high moors climbed steeply from rough ground and footing was difficult to find. Ledges jutted out of the assent and sparse hedges whipped back and forth in the gale.
They were approaching Caradhras.
On the fourth day of the ascent came snow under foot. None fell from the sky and for this Mariel was glad, for she feared the hobbits would not have seen it through. Strong-willed though they were, it was a struggle with every step for them, and half way through the first day of reaching the mountain climb, Pippin and Merry had stopped altogether, unable to take another pace. Frodo, determined, had clambered on, but cold racked his frame, and he was shivering. Sam would never complain before his master, but he was terrified for Bill the pony, who stumbled awkwardly, flank-deep in the freezing blanket, hooves slipping uncontrollably on slabs of ice. Boromir laboured on as though he had not noticed the white carpet, but Mariel saw it to be a courageous front – as the others tended the hobbits Mariel caught him breathe heavily, and shiver with the frost: his round shield held over him like a cover. Gimli she had lost to sight; now she realised why dwarves made up for what they had not in height with build – any less of him and he would fared worse than the Halflings. Gandalf trudged on, loathe to admit defeat against the mountain lord, but he complained frequently in undertones; "why ever did the Valar send me in this old man's body?" he would mutter ever and anon, and only the acute ears of Mariel would hear him.
Yet the Company held both wonder for the elf Legolas and herself. Both had less weight than a feather upon snow, but whilst Mariel fought to hide this to drive suspicion from herself, Legolas danced atop the snow like a gliding bird on the breeze – delicately, gracefully, but with purpose. As they battled on he leapt ahead, and stopped very suddenly, listening with an ear to the howling wind for what none but he could hear.
Mariel heard it though. Saruman – his evil curses flung themselves across leagues of water and land, sailing towards the Misty Mountains with terrible intent.
"There is a foul voice on the wind!" Legolas cried, as the others vainly tried to plough through chest high snow and sweep away the blizzard.
"It's Saruman!" answered Gandalf. And casting his staff out of the trench, he clambered atop it and began a commanding chant to counteract the spell of Caradhras.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" yelled another, and they looked to Gandalf in desperation. The ancient wizard was caught in a fearsome combat of will, and did not reply. He seemed for a second to have mastered the elements.
Yet even as they thought this, a great noise jarred from above. Barely had they time to look up and see the terrible crack that ran from ledge to peak, before the immense load came crashing down and smothered them.
"We must get off the mountain!" demanded Boromir, breaking with difficulty out of the snow and dragging Pippin and Sam to the surface. "We must make for the Gap of Rohan and head for my city!"
"That way is closed to us!" shouted Aragorn, burdened with Merry.
"Where is the Ringbearer?" cried Gandalf, struggling to them.
Legolas scrambled to his feet and began a frantic search, but a cry cut him short.
"I have him!" came a voice, and they all turned to see Mariel clutching a shivering Frodo to her in shelter. "He is safe. He still has the Ring."
Her hair was falling around her shoulders with the violence of the weather, and her face was flushed, but she held Frodo out to them and helped him to his feet. The other hobbits embraced him briefly, panicked as they were by his absence, but the rest of the Fellowship stood staring at Mariel. It was Legolas who first spoke, such is the way with elves, to whom gracious speech comes most naturally.
"Lady Mariel, I feel to you we owe not only our thanks but our apologies. I have not said it, nor voiced what was previously in my heart, but I doubted you. Now I see that I was wrong. Forgive me, for I was quick to suspicion and have maybe valued you less than you deserve. From now on you have my trust."
He bowed briefly, though the forceful blow of the wind and the cascading snow made it almost comical. Yet there was nothing comical about his face when he stood up, and Mariel, knowledgeable as she was, saw an honesty in there so profound – the likes of which she had never yet witnessed, being of Sueth, and being cursed as they all were. She received his thanks graciously.
"My forgiveness I offer you, if you will have it," she said, "and my trust also. For I never doubted you, Legolas, prince of Mirkwood. I felt only that my trust would not be your concern or value."
"No indeed," he replied, though as he spoke, a strange look came over his face, as though he was puzzled by her. And his eyes seemed to look not at her face but behind it, as though he was trying to read her thoughts and decipher them. But she was drawn from his gaze by another.
"My trust also, Lady Mariel," said Boromir. "Gondor is in your service."
"And I in yours," replied she.
"Whatever the Dunedain can do for you, lady, I shall act for them."
"And Sueth for you, Aragorn son of Arathorn."
Gandalf approached, looking strangely amused, despite the grave hour.
"I am only an old man," he said wryly, "but my wisdom I can offer you, if you will have that."
"Without fail I shall receive that which you will offer me, Mithrandir" she replied.
"I speak for the dwarves," said Gimli. "Our trust is with you."
Finally the hobbits came forward. "And the Shire also," said Frodo. "You have proved your loyalty to the Quest. Our trust is with Sueth."
"You are kind," said Mariel gratefully, though it grieved her heart to hear their faith in her treacherous homeland. "We should now leave this evil place."
"Alas, it was once not so," sighed Gandalf. "But evil spirits have made it so."
"And so they have made a lot of things," said Legolas softly, but few besides the wizard and the Lady heard him.
Subdued, they left Caradhras, and the wind cackled in their wake and seemed to the beaten Company to be mocking them. And none felt it so much as the loyal Mariel, fond as she was the Company and each member, and regretful at how much they had promised and how little they realised, bound in trust as they now were to her.
* * *
Dianor and Felren rode fiercely on in the bleak day. Suddenly, at a sign from Dianor, they pulled their horses to a halt, and forced them into stillness – they stood snorting angrily and tossing their heads with impatience. Dianor nodded to where Amdenia could be seen, riding out over the distance.
"You still think so highly of her now, my friend?"
"She is a remarkable woman, yet still weak," replied Felren.
"They all are."
"In various ways, yet none should be allowed to take the glory of Sueth."
"None but us friend, we alone have been faithful – millennia though it has been. We will be rewarded for our troubles I deem, and govern Middle Earth for our own."
Felren nodded. "When the throne of Gondor has been brought down and the One Ring restored. That is Mariel's task."
"And that is why we ride," spat Dianor. "Onto Gondor and into war to cover the backs of two women, ono who has been installed to much faith."
"Mariel is loyal."
"To her heart alone. You think she will choose us? No, if she was faithful, the heirs of Gondor would be dead by now, and the ring returned to us."
"Heirs?" repeated Felren, concerned. "I thought there was only one Heir to the line of Isildur."
"And always shall be, friend – but another holds their heir to the stewardship, and he must also be dealt with."
Felren looked troubled. "then we hope for Mariel to do even more! This shall not be accomplished: we shall fail!"
"Peace!" laughed Dianor, "peace friend, there is hope. Do not worry," he assured. "Before the end you and I shall sit on thrones and no threat that Sueth cannot govern shall trouble us. And then," he cast a cruel glance behind him, to the place where the folk of Rivendell dwelt, "then we shall sample the true women of Middle Earth. The Elven ladies. They are with respect as well as beauty, I think."
Felren joined him laughing, though a doubt still lay on his mind.
"Where do the council ride?" he asked.
"They will turn south."
"Will they not suspect us, choosing our own path as we shall?"
"We shall visit them, when two nights are gone. Tell them we tail an orc band or the suchlike, and will reunite in the south, beyond Rohan. It is justified, they will not want all their forces in one place."
Felren nodded gravely. "Let it be so."
Dianor laughed, and spurred on his horse, who leapt into a gallop. "It shall be!" he called. "It shall be!"
Felren risked a doubtful cloud to darken his features momentarily, and then with effort it was dispelled, and he charged after Dianor.
"To Rohan!" he exclaimed, and rode as fast as Doradfun would have him.
* * *
From a far off ridge, Amdenia watched the descent of the Fellowship with sinking heart. Fear rarely crossed that stone-like organ, yet now it was so as she turned her mind to the only way they could take. Moria. Never had she been beyond the entrance, and never did she wish it so, yet if she was to uphold her duty she must.
Yet she knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that she couldn't. Just as she knew she loved him. It was like an incurable virus. She knew it was there, yet nothing could be done, and the knowledge of it made it no easier to bear. But she would not venture past the gates of Khazad-Dum.
Beneath her, Aradstar snorted apprehensively. She pulled on the reins in anger; he had refused the snowy paths of Caradhras and would have had her proceed on foot before he walked under risk of avalanche. She was furious with him for attempting to throw her of – as a woman of Sueth she had none of the gentle command of beasts that Middle Earth elves possessed. She was harsh, and resentment was beginning to grow between horse and rider.
She kicked him into motion, and slowly they traced the Company's descent as they turned their backs on the Redhorn gate. Caradhras had defeated them.
But Amdenia knew what was in Mariel's heart.
"What if all other ways are closed?" she muttered to herself. "What then Mariel? What will you do then?"
She held back a wilful Aradstar and licked dry lips. Moria. That was her nemesis, yet not her sister's. Mariel's could place the entire Quest of Sueth in jeopardy if she fell victim to her fear. Courageous though she was determined to be, Mariel had places she would not enter, nor too any others from Sueth. It was at great risk to enter that place, and perhaps common sense more than fear governed Mariel.
But the situation remained whatever. Mariel would have to choose her path after Moria. Not the dark, but the after light threatened her.
It was not Moria, but Lothlorien, where Mariel's decision lay.
Author's note: Now people believe me – She DOES NOT FALL FOR LEGOLAS!! Bear with me. She doesn't. Though there is a connection (ooooooohhhhh). Keep reading !