Chapter 35: Anduin
Once upon a time, Orthanc was a beautiful place. Intimidating, definitely, but surrounded by orchards and flowers that only emphasized the magnificent craftsmanship of the tower in the middle of its defensive walls.
Those days have passed now that Saruman the White has become Saruman of Many Colors.
The gardens have been ripped up and deep pits dug where orcs lived, creating weapons and preparing for a war against the whole world. A war that Saruman had thought of a cunning gambit to win.
As he examined his newest creation, he smiled coldly to himself. "Do you know how the orcs first came into being?" he asked the uruk-hai who stood obediently in front of him. Not expecting an answer, he began to pace in a circle as he said in his deep, mesmerizing voice, "They were elves, once. Taken by the dark powers. Tortured and mutilated. A ruined and terrible form of life."
As Saruman stopped in front of the creature, he finished, "Now perfected."
The uruk-hai made a soft growling sound deep down in his chest.
"My fighting uruk-hai," Saruman questioned, "Who do you serve?"
"Saruman," the uruk-hai hissed.
Satisfied, Saruman gestured for his creation to follow him to the balcony. Below a company of uruk-hai awaited, arming themselves for the mission ahead. "Hunt them down!" he commanded in a booming voice at odds with his frail appearance, "Do not stop until they are found! You do not know pain, you do not know fear! You will taste man-flesh!"
As the crowd below roared its approval, Saruman considered a sneer. He hated the uruk-hai as much as he was proud of his unnatural creations; were they to fail, he would have to destroy them and try again. He hated failure even more than he hated Gandalf or the uruk-hai he now commanded.
To the commander, he spoke in a quieter voice. "One of the halflings carries something of great value. Bring them to me alive and unspoiled," he ordered.
It snarled a confirmation.
"There is a woman with them, red haired and lacking in height. Bring her to me, alive and able to speak. Kill the others," Saruman demanded in a quietly menacing voice.
The moment he received confirmation, he dismissed the uruk-hai to do his duty. Once alone, Saruman sat on his throne and smiled to himself. Soon he would have not only the Ring, but answers that he had long waited for.
He didn't realize he forgot to relay a key piece of information. Orcs and therefore uruk-hai know instinctively what elves are. These had been taught what a human was- and that they were tasty- via Rohirrim peasants captured over the months.
The thing was, they had no concept of gender or any idea what a woman was.
As wonderful as Lothlorien was, I itched to get back on the road. The stupid ring's power was muted here (a godsend) but this quest waited for no one; the longer we delayed, the harder the journey would be, and we had lingered in the Golden Wood for a month.
I would miss the fresh food and freedom to sleep whenever I wanted, I acknowledged as I was lined up with the fellowship. Not to mention that for the past two weeks, Boromir had apparently decided on getting his libido satisfied while we had the chance and ambushed me nearly daily. Which I was totally down for, despite that it cut into my time to bother his worries out of him.
Now that we were leaving, hopefully he'd finally relax a little. It seemed like an impossible thing to ask since our next stop was fucking Mordor but one could dream.
As it was, he eyed Lady Galadriel with suspicion even as he murmured his thanks for the gold belt she had given him. It was a seriously impressive piece of craftsmanship, there was no saying otherwise. Still his gaze sharpened when she only moved a step to his side, stopping in front of me with that enigmatic smile.
I tried to return the expression but it turned out a bit sheepish.
A flash of amusement radiated through my mind. A handmaiden handed Lady Galadriel a small object that she then presented to me, an ovular piece of silvery wood carved with flowers surrounded by a ring of tengwar. "A balm for any hurts you suffer," she stated.
In my mind she reminded me of the images I had seen- my own lifeless body and Boromir's. Your choice lies ahead, she told me.
Alarmed, I opened my mouth, but she stepped aside to ask what gift a dwarf would ask of the elves. I snapped my mouth shut with an audible click; my jaw clenched against my infuriated exclamation.
"Are you alright?" Boromir whispered.
Tightly I smiled up at him. "I really hate having other voices in my head," I muttered.
While Aragorn and Lord Celeborn went on a quick walk, Boromir and I got the boats ready. There was some debate over who should sit where, leading to an odd arrangement: Boromir, Gimli, and Aragorn were the heaviest including their gear so there was one to each boat, then the hobbits were split into Boromir's and Aragorn's boats. That left me to even out the keel of Legolas and Gimli's boat since Legolas weighed the least of us all and Gimli the most while I middled.
Happily I put my bag into our chosen boat, then admired the halberd I had been supplied with. My original halberd was still at the bottom of that stupid lake on the other side of Moria so I was more than happy to be given an elvish made weapon that apparently wouldn't break under any sword; mallorn wood is as durable as steel if cut with the grain. Unable to help myself, I hugged it.
Boromir chuckled from his boat.
I stuck my tongue out at him then grinned.
Getting onto the water was a bit of a task for some of the fellowship. Sam didn't trust boats at all and Frodo was a bit wary despite that apparently elvish boats don't capsize. The second I heard that there was literally no chance of this canoe turning over, I gladly stepped in and crawled to the front.
As lightly as ever Legolas stepped onto the back before Gimli was convinced into the middle seat where he'd be steadiest. Food and water were loaded in and then with a quick nod between the lot of us, we set sail.
There was a bright gleam of light from the shore and I wasn't at all surprised to see Lady Galadriel standing there, one hand raised in farewell. That beautiful ring of hers gleamed more brightly than it should have as we passed by but no one else commented so I said nothing. All I did was wave as we passed, smiling as wide as I could.
Her own smile was mysterious as always.
"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest," Gimli half sighed, half grumbled once we passed the Lady on the water, "Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."
Now that caught my attention. "No more worries about being enchanted?" I teased, turning around slightly to see his reddening face.
He shook his head in a way that seemed almost sheepish.
"What was her gift?" Legolas enquired.
"I asked for one hair from her golden head," Gimli said contentedly, "She gave me three." He stroked his beard where in the midst of the red, there was a gleam of pale gold.
Hair? That was a bit weird, I thought. But what better if he wanted a little bit of the Lady to bring with him on this quest? A reminder of the most beautiful being he had ever seen may be a comfort to him in the trying times ahead.
The mention of hair brought attention to me. "You wore formal braids," Legolas observed as he paddled us into the middle of the river.
I ran a hand over my poor attempt. "If I was going to see the Lady and Lord again, I figured I should try. How are they?" I asked.
"Not bad," he replied, a rather encouraging thought.
Already I knew I was going to take them out tonight and return to my french braids. As nice as these fancy elvish braids were, they let my hair stick to my sweaty skin and I wasn't putting up with that for long.
Several feet away Merry and Pippin seemed to be having a ball, pointing out fish and river-weeds and everything else they saw. They got into a bit of a splash fight in the afternoon that made even Boromir laugh despite being soaked during it.
I really hoped that Merry and Pippin kept that spirit of childish fun, I thought as I watched Pippin very nearly push Merry off the boat. We'd need lighthearted moments like this to get through.
Being in the front of the boat meant that I needed to paddle occasionally, but it also gave me the opportunity to lie back and stretch my legs out over the prow. The water was calm and clean, the company excellent. Probably more than I should have, I left the steering to the river and Legolas, resting my head on the side of the canoe and daydreaming as I stared up at the sky.
What was going on in Tharbad? If war was coming to the whole world then home was at a severe disadvantage- it was barely more than a village even with its constantly expanding population. Saruman's betrayal cut them off neatly from Rohan.
Aunt Libby could handle it, I told myself. She's a tough old bird and had a good sense for survival. And everyone else was there to help.
Setting up camp on the riverbank felt like old times. Sam set up for dinner while Merry, Pippin, Boromir, and I went scrounging for wood and maybe a rabbit or two. I could almost imagine that nothing had happened in Moria and Gandalf was simply attending to wizardly business behind a tree.
My heart twisted a little when I thought of Gandalf. He was sort of equivalent to an angel in the hierarchy here, right? I hoped he was having a fabulous time now that he was back home, and watching over us all.
Pippin sighed and I turned a curious eye to him. "What's up, buttercup?" I asked.
Contemplatively he stared down at the wood he was carrying. "Doesn't it seem like something's wrong with everyone?" he questioned, "We're on the road and need to be on our guard, yes, but this is more than that. Tense and wary like a fox who smells dogs nearby."
I picked up a few more twigs from the ground as I thought about his words. Boromir was quiet and Aragorn was sullen; despite their new friendship, Legolas and Gimli were tense; Frodo hadn't been anything like himself since we lost Gandalf and Sam was worried about him. "I think the quest is wearing everyone down," I answered, twisting my lips unhappily, "It's already been a hard time and we haven't even gotten to the really difficult part yet. I don't know about you or anybody else but I'm really not looking forward to that swamp coming up."
Horror was painted onto Pippin's face. "Swamp?" he squeaked, clearly remembering the midges from our last trip through the muck.
I shared his absolute dread of the place. "Mhm. While we were in Lothlorien I looked at some maps and it looks like other than knocking on the gates, the only way in is through either a place called Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes, or the Nindalf-slash-Wetwang," I answered as I strolled further along to find more wood.
"The Dead Marshes? How do you think they got that name?" Pippin wondered aloud.
I shrugged, then crouched down for yet another fallen branch. "Beats me. Zombies?" I suggested.
"What's a zombie?" Pippin asked.
I cringed upon remembering that those don't exist here. "They're made up for scary stories back home and there are loads of different versions but basically they're the undead. The only way to get rid of them is to destroy the brain, but they can make people into zombies by biting them," I explained, shivering a bit as I remembered the movie Train to Busan. Now there was a movie to make one cry, hyperventilate, and scream at the same time.
"Those do sound very scary," Pippin agreed, "Most of our scary stories in the Shire are about ghosts and wolves and the Fell Winter or the Long Winter. Nothing quite so… odd."
Odd was one word for zombies, I supposed. Sam and I would probably agree on the word 'unnatural'.
"I think ghost stories are everywhere," I said thoughtfully.
"Even in your homeland?" Pippin asked.
Thinking back to all the things I had rationalized away and fought with my sisters over, I grimaced. "Especially back in America," I confirmed, "Nothing like genocide to make people die angry." That was a can of worms I really didn't want to get into, so I added, "My family kept saying Tharbad was haunted, but I was such a hardass that they stopped telling me about what I saw. I really need to apologize to them."
Cressie would be unbearable once I admitted I was wrong, I thought with dread. She'd never let me live it down. Neither would anybody else but she'd be more likely to bring it up during our next screaming match.
"Once I think I saw the Bullroarer's ghost when I was visiting Merry in Buckland as lads," Pippin said, "It may have been a trick of the light, since Merry said he didn't see anything." He made a contemplative face and then shrugged it off. "Have you seen any ghosts?" he then asked.
Oh, how many I've seen. "Well, when I was four my family visited this giant ship called the Queen Mary…" I began.
We talked and told each other ghost stories for hours as we gathered almost more wood than we could carry. In fact, we got so caught up in our conversation that only my tripping over an unseen obstacle made us pay any attention to our surroundings. Pippin tried to help me up but I only used his shoulder for balancing before I began to regather the wood.
"Erm, do you know where we are?" Pippin questioned, eyeing the surrounding landscape apprehensively.
"Nope," I replied unconcernedly.
"Do you know how to get back to camp?" Pippin asked. The beginnings of worry were in his voice.
"Yep," I replied. The call of the ring was still loud and clear for me to follow.
Once all the necessary wood was back in my arms, I pointed in the direction I had the urge to head in. "That way," I directed and we began the march.
"If you don't know where we are, then how do you know where to go?" Pippin asked sensibly. He still followed my lead and that was gratifying.
Now that the rest of the fellowship couldn't hear, I just had to ask someone. "Can't you feel the ring? Or at least its presence always pulling you toward it?"
A frown crossed Pippin's face. "I can't say that I do," he answered with refreshing honesty, "I hear it trying to tempt me, but only when I'm very near Frodo and feeling down."
Damn. I'm a freak yet again.
"Perhaps it has to do with the Black Rider that you killed?" Pippin mused, "Strider said that they have a sense for the Ring, and you did kill it with its own sword."
That was as good an explanation I'd get unless I went back to Lothlorien, I realized. I really should have asked Lady Galadriel, but it was such a useful ability! I nearly made a note to myself about the next time I was in Lothlorien and then I thought about the peril ahead. There was no guarantee I'd even survive long enough to come back and ask, and if I did then the ring would be gone and the question useless.
We made it back to camp right as the moon was beginning to rise over the treetops. "Sorry we're late, we got lost," I declared upon seeing our companions around a small fire.
Relief was clear on Boromir's face. "You were gone for over three hours!" he exclaimed. Like a real gentleman he took the wood piled up in my arms and tossed it onto a small pile beside Gimli.
I traded looks with Pippin; it hadn't felt that long. "Time flies when you're having fun," I replied with a bump of my head on Boromir's shoulder, "Did you know that there was once a hobbit big enough to ride a horse? Like, an actual horse and not a pony?"
That got the hobbits talking about Shire history and lineages and whatnot. It broke the tension that laid over the camp nicely.
When I settled down to sleep, I had a full belly and Boromir's back was relaxed against mine. That was good enough for me.
On the fourth night of our trip down river, there was unnatural movement in the water. It looked like a piece of wood was being clung to by someone I couldn't see even when I squinted. Gently I elbowed Boromir. "Do you see that?" I whispered to him, "That log isn't moving right."
Slowly he nodded. "Something clings to it," he murmured.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aragorn approach and I waved him over. "What's clinging to that log out on the river?" I asked as it began to slowly drift toward the opposite shore.
"Gollum," Aragorn answered in a dark whisper, "He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped we would lose him on the river, but he's too clever a waterman."
The thing that I had overheard Gandalf and Frodo discussing. Talk about determination, to have somehow crossed that massive gap in Moria after Gandalf took down the bridge. "Not good," I muttered, watching the log the creature clung to.
"If he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make the crossing more dangerous," Boromir pointed out grimly.
As if this wasn't dangerous enough, I thought with a scowl. "One of these days somebody's going to have to deal with him," I said, crossing my arms, "I vote for Sam."
The men looked at me like I grew a second head. "Sam?" Boromir asked in disbelief.
I shrugged. "If he gets close enough for anybody to touch him, it'll be because he's attacking Frodo. And you've seen Sam when it comes to his Mr Frodo," I pointed out.
With a bob of his head that he may have learned from me, Boromir accepted the rationale. He then turned on Aragorn. "Minas Tirith is the safer road," he said tersely to the ranger, "You know this. From there we can regroup. Strike out from a place of strength."
Aragorn went stiff as a cardboard cutout. "There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," he replied quietly but intensely.
"You were quick enough to trust the elves," Boromir pointed out brutally, "Have you so little faith in your own people?"
Eyes hard, Aragorn looked ready to exchange some choice words.
Boromir opened his mouth again.
I raised both pointers and shoved them against the men's mouths. "Whoa there guys," I said with a nervous laugh, "The last thing we need is an argument. Rivendell was the meeting place and Lothlorien was a desperate move for cover. Minas Tirith would take us weeks out of our way and draw attention. We can always hit Minas Tirith on the way back." Compromise was doomed to fail with tension and tempers running high, but I had to try.
Betrayal was in Boromir's eyes as he jerked away from my quieting gesture. "Have you no faith in our people?" he demanded in a near whisper.
The reminder that I was a Gondorian now was unwelcome. "It would put us out of our way," I repeated, crossing my arms again, "If there's a way in through Ithilien, maybe Faramir can help us out. But the less people exposed to the ring, the better. No matter who those people are."
"Yes there is weakness. There is frailty," Boromir argued with both me and Aragorn, "But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that!"
Aragorn shook his head and turned to leave.
I jumped back when Boromir's hand shot out past me to grab Aragorn's arm and yank him back. Trapped between the two, I stared in horrified fascination as my husband spat out words that he had clearly been thinking for a long time.
"You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows," Boromir accused, "Afraid of who you are, of what you are." There was a creak of leather as his grip increased.
A sneer appeared on Aragorn's face that I didn't like at all. "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city!" he hissed. Throwing Boromir's grip off him, he stormed away.
Unable to believe what I had just witnessed, I shook my head slowly. Just days back from our vacation and we were fighting like cats and dogs. "Gandalf would be so disappointed in us all," I muttered to myself.
"He's dead and can't feel anything anymore," Boromir snapped, "What we need is a sensible plan."
"One that doesn't involve your father getting within a hundred leagues of the ring," I told him pointedly.
Face hard, Boromir demanded, "But you would trust your own House with it?" He was still spoiling for a fight.
I decided that I wasn't going to give him one, and dropped my arms to my sides to show it. If my chin went up a bit, I couldn't quite help it. "Actually they asked in Rivendell if it would be safe to rest in Tharbad and I told them no," I corrected coolly, "Come back to camp when you get your head out of your ass."
Just like Aragorn, I then stomped away to camp.