Thank you SO much for the reviews – I'm not much of a giggling type of person, but darn it, you guys make me giggle like a little girl! I'm so glad you all found the last chapter enjoyable (as in, worth reading, because certainly I doubt any of my characters enjoy life much at the moment ...). I found it entirely difficult to write, so it is a good thing it was well-received.

My thanks go out to Doria Nell, Diarona, 94Spring, aliyana, Julie010588, and Hyuuga Senpai (who is quite right that the romance is FAR off. In fact, so far that the tree used for the "fire" hasn't even been planted yet!). Every comment you all type fuels my writing so incredibly much, and every word is appreciated – even if it makes me giggle like a crazy person. Thank you!

Here's a rather short chapter, mostly since I decided to cut my planned chapter in two.

Hope you all enjoy.

Little Sparrow

Chapter XVII: The Ever-Flowing Waters of the Anduin

Long pointed shadows went on before them, for the last of the sun soon crept beyond the edges of tall cliffs, standing bare as bone against the skies. Day was waning. Her steps were slow, painfully so, and weariness clouded her thoughts; they had walked far that day through many steep valleys and deep gorges. Always vigilant, always alert. It was not a friendly place and dreary foreboding hung heavy in the air. The path was that of enemies, of orcs and other foul creatures of Mordor. Around them, the wind danced through the bare shoulders of rock; falling and rising, soft-sighing and suddenly wailing.

It had been four days since they had stumbled upon the hidden path through Emyn Muil. They had had no other choice then; the jagged ridges and cold walls were unscalable unless they abandoned both horse and captive, and so the Rangers took to the road. The frowning precipices were wreathed in grey mist. At times they came by hewn stones and smooth patches of rock, or old fires long abandoned; signs they were not the first to step foot within the shadowy world. But the tracks were old, often stretching many years back to a time when orcs could not openly walk the open plains of the Brown Lands and Dagorlad.

Although he remained sharp-eyed and watchful, Aragorn had soothed her worries about their current whereabouts.

And certainly, they had encountered no living beast, creature or man; neither foul nor fair, and only did they have Gollum's pale, ever-watching eyes for company. Their captive had been quiet, almost to the point it unnerved Rell greatly and almost drove sleep away entirely. The eyes were clever, scheming, and he would most likely take any chance that presented itself. Presently, he was scrambling along only a few steps ahead of her as the path sloped steadily uphill. Gangly, spider-like movements and sharp, protruding limbs, his bony hands easily finding one place after another for holds.

She, on the other hand, found the path difficult to walk and stumbled often. Loose pebbles slid beneath her feet in a travel down into the darkness behind them, always accompanied by echoing clacks that resounded for many long moments following. Each time she sensed from the corner of her eye a sliver of silver. Gollum watched her. Her useful hand itched for her sword, but instead it was forced to grope and search for rocks to help her forward and upwards. Be wary of the captured beast, for always are his teeth sharp and ready, she thought to herself.

Above them the sky seemed almost cloudless, but only because the veil was so dense there was no pause in the grey. Her breath escaped her in puffs of white. A haze that hung long suspended in the air before her face. Her stomach rumbled, and she swallowed only to find her mouth dry. They had forgone food and drink throughout the day, stretching their measly rations for a while longer – hoping they would soon find places to hunt and scavenge for supplies, yet also making sure they would not run out too soon.

Walking through Emyn Muil proved harsh on Rell, as the trek was accompanied by horrid memories that had not yet turned distant. She remembered well the pull of starvation, and the desperate attempt to find a way out. The realisation that she would have likely died, lost and alone if not for a stroke of fate or chance. Yet now they had once more ventured inside, willingly, to walk beneath the dark teeth on a path they knew not where ended. If it would ever end.

Rell found the figure of her uncle ahead; a grey shape in the dim waning light, still touched by a red-faded sun as he pulled Luin after him.

I am not alone. Not this time.

For another hour they continued the arduous climb. Then the final glow sank beneath the rim of the world and true darkness settled about them. Only a fool would have then carried on, and instead they found shelter beneath groping rocks; with a view behind and ahead of the path clear to them. No enemy would spring upon them in the night. The wind was cold and biting, harsh against any bared skin and Rell covered under her tattered cloak. Gollum lay not far from her; tightly rolled in on himself, large head tucked away under bony arms.

With quiet steps Aragorn returned to camp. For a while he had walked ahead, to search for tracks in the waning light, but still the road was long abandoned. When he came to sit beside her, eyes lingering briefly on Gollum's curled-up form, he told of his findings. "The road bends east and then north, but at last it turns away and goes straight west." He leaned forward, brow furrowed. "I believe it may lead us to the Great River – if luck is on our side. I believe this path may have been a point of passage to the western lands, now no longer used for the orcs need not hide. It has not been used for many years."

Rell spoke not, but long she pondered his words. Mists had gathered around them, thick and cold and clammy, and soon the ground became blacker than night. The wall of rock rose like an impenetrable gloom; and there they sat in silence, in the narrow lane between leering towers. The wind howled and danced high above, but it did not bring the choking mists with it. The dark forest of Mirkwood was their destination, yet the path now turned them further west.

Pressing her lips together, Rell rested her head on her knee and carefully nestled her injured arm in-between.

The dull throb was constant, though soon something she had grown accustomed to. Never did her thoughts linger long on the damage done, whether it would be permanent when she was so far from healing hands; instead she was careful, tentative and, at best, hopeful. Her fingers clenched, rigid and slowly. "If we go west," she said carefully; her voice felt harsh in her throat and loud in the darkness. "What then?"

"I know not where the path ends," he replied. "But Sauron has many spies afoot in all the lands beyond the marshes, even if one may not think it so. It is best to avoid detection, and so we will make for a much longer, but safer, road." She could feel his gaze on her, how there were words unspoken and thoughts withheld from her. Pulling her legs closer, ignoring the sharp sting that came with it, she looked out into the grey haze. She blew a deep breath.

Rell said no more. She sat still now, but rest did not come to her that night; her uncle's breathing soon came softly, asleep in a few minutes. At first she tried to think of nothing, instead staring ahead until the bleak darkness filled her vision. But at last she could stand it no longer and quietly came to stand, wrapping the cloak around her. Even Gollum appeared deep in sleep in the gloom.

She crept over the rocks, following the path with difficulty. There was no moon nor starlight to lit her way, so she moved slowly. Around her the mist whirled, blown away with each step she took; clammy fingers that brushed gently against her cheek, icy cold to the touch. Yet there was no rot, no smell of decay clinging to the air. Perhaps we are far from the marshlands now. It was hard to tell, always surrounded by tall cliffs that stole away their sight; the maze obscuring their knowledge of the lands.

A pebble slipped beneath her foot and clattered down the slope. The clacks came many, echoing deep into the hollow. Rell glanced back, eyes flickering to Aragorn; his eyes were closed, seemingly asleep still, and made no sign to wake. But another had heard her. Through the dark two pale lights turned to her. Gollum watched her, gaze long and hard; there was no warmth in them, yet neither the smoldering hate that was usually alive in the daylight. For a long moment she stood there, torn between thought and speech.

In a sense she was curious; the creature was so very strange, unlike any other, but could he truly be the only one? What had shaped his fate? How did you become such a wretched thing? A sudden wind blew harsh. Bone-chilling, her broken arm ached and at once she turned away. Rell drew the cloak about herself, once more looking up and into the misty grey. What had once been was no more – perhaps Gollum had been something else, though now he was but a servant of evil. Willingly or not. Change would not come easy, and her words would make no difference.

Rell climbed further up the slope, groping and searching for solid footings until at length the path evened out to a flat stretch of even, wind-bitten rocks. She had come to the end of the ravine. The eastern fences of Emyn Muil grew as sheer walls of stone, lined with jagged teeth gnawing towards the skies; black ridges that brought dread to her heart. But the west came clear to her eyes. There, under the deep gloom of night, she could see black trees far beyond the rocks. So utterly black the forest seemed before her.

Finding a solitary stone, she sat down. There was not much to be seen, and she could discern nothing save the brief glimpses blessed by the moon's touch. Around her there seemed the endless whisper of the wind, a murmur in no known tongue. Time passed unreckoned, until Rell saw a sight that cheered her spirits. Away to the east the sun glittered in the gloom. Faintly, perhaps only her mind's imagination, she suddenly heard the tinkle of water; the calls of the long chill river that flowed all the way to the Bay of Belfalas. And, as dawn grew, there before her lay the uplands of Emyn Muil. A great vale of many hills, steep slopes, all grey in that hour.

Daylight was upon them.

Long had the terror of the Emyn Muil lain upon the Rangers and upon the empty lands. Yet no more; for in the ground by her feet grew grass. Wilted and yellow, the straws felt dry between her fingers as she crouched down, but glad she was. The arduous climb would soon come to an end. With light growing around her, Rell half-ran down the slope to the small company in the gully. Stones rolled before her, boots slapping hollow against the rocks. The sounds stirred her uncle from sleep and he was wide awake as Rell came to him.

"There are trees," she cried, coming to a halt by his side. The protests of her body were overpowered by the elation of her heart. "Beyond the slope ahead, I can see a forest to the west. We must have reached the Anduin at last!"

With renewed strength, their journey soon continued.

Greatly changed were her steps. Light they seemed upon the stony way, and not-so-grey the sky above was painted; the sun came pale and chill with morning, its glow but a glimmer on dark stones. Broken hills opened around them, where the path grew wide and slanting down – down through the last huge crevices of the Emyn Muil, until the air became clearer and colder. Behind Rell, the mountains stood as ominous frowning towers. Cloudy on the edge of sight. And so she took one last, long look at the terrible place in silent farewell.

With that she went down to the bottom of the gully, looking out and ahead as she went. Hopeful to never return. Clear sky was growing over the distant skirts of the forest, where great trees flanked the river. But first the Rangers had a long downward way to go; formless slopes stretched ahead, brown and withered before changing to green grass. The naked stretch was the last leg of a shelterless journey, before they could find safety and cover beneath the canopy of trees. They had come to the northern end of Emyn Muil, just above Sarn Gebir. If they had continued, rather than veered off onto a path west, they would soon have crossed to the open plains of the Brown Lands.

It would have been a faster road to Mirkwood, yet also overtaken by companies of orcs and other foul creatures.

That realm was now claimed by the Enemy.

As day grew, soon they came to walk between thorn and bramble. The weathered stones became swallowed by the slowly encroaching forest, crowning crumbled cliffs with ivy. There were many birds in the sky, whirling and circling; black against blue, soon dipping between branches only to swiftly reappear. Rell was glad to see life once more. Chased by the wind, the clouds broke and sun came to hooded, lowered backs. Somewhere to the west she could hear the roar of the Anduin. Fair yet cold it was; Winter was upon them, and frost made the grass crunch beneath her boots.

By the end of midday they made camp between rock and tree.

Aragorn left to look ahead and hunt, leaving Rell the ungrateful task of guarding their captive. Before her uncle left, he had tied Gollum securely to the bole of an old, withered birch that stood gnarled and stunted between moss-covered rocks. Like a dog tied to a too-short leash with only little room to move, and certainly without chance to bite. Yet still, Rell kept her distance. At first she tended to Luin – accompanied with softly-muttered words of tenderness and praise – removing flaked mud, digging pebbles imbedded in the hooves, and finding consolation in the horse's warmth. If not for you, I would have died, she thought.

Rell pressed her forehead to Luin's soft coat, feeling warm air blown against her neck and breast. "Agorel vae," she whispered.

Allowing the horse to freely graze the small patches of grass, she then turned her attention back to the task at hand. Tentatively, she stepped closer and came to sit on a rock before Gollum; he stared back with enormous, glinting eyes. It seemed like he had slunk into the shadows of the tree, just beyond the reach of the pale sun above. Settling into a more comfortable position, she drew her broken arm onto her lap with a small wince. Her ears were trained for sound – but her full attention was on the creature before her.

"Are you hungry?" She asked.

There was no answer, and neither did she expect one. The gag was still in place.

I am. She looked out across the lands; here and there above the trees she could see a faint mist rising, vapors from the mighty river, and beneath the crowns of the trees stretched silence. A chill came to her. Again, she shifted. It felt oddly quiet around her, and she glanced to the skies for birds. There were none. Suddenly, as if the world knew a secret she did not, everything had turned deadly silent. Rell slipped down from the rock.

Quickly, giving Gollum a hard look as she pressed a finger to her mouth, she stepped further in between the dark boles.

Rell moved slowly through the undergrowth, moving with a guarded pace that left her steps soundless; drowned by roaring waters further beyond. The ground was coloured orange and red. For a while she walked, circled the clearing in which they had made camp to always keep one eye on Gollum, listening and watching. If he had sensed something, at least he did not let it show. Fallen leaves crunched faintly beneath her feet, and branches brushed ghostly touched against her arms; light came in thin, shredded beams through the tall-reaching but bare trees. It was cold and quiet. Windless.

The harsh cry of a crow tore through the forest and she startled.

With beating wings the bird beat through the branches and climbed quickly into the air. She cast her gaze upon the noise, breath heavy, before she let out a low sigh of relief. A shaky laugh followed, and she withdrew her hand from the hilt of her sword. It took her a moment to regain her composure, for the trembling to cease and the loud rush in her ears to subside.

Unease still clung to her mind, but this time she looked around the forest with a little less apprehension.

Old roots dug deep into the ground, between wintry shrubs and herbs; clinging still to life in the frost-covered season, she even managed to find clusters of mushrooms in places of shade. Most were inedible, a swift death if one was lucky, yet upon closer inspection Rell found some familiar to her – snow-caps, peeking out between tall growing reeds. She collected as many as she could carry in one arm, then returned to the clearing.

She had to wait another hour with only Gollum's dreary company, sitting on a broken, lightning-struck trunk with legs dangling above the yellowed reeds, before her uncle returned from the deep thickets. Trudging his way between brambles and wilted bushes, he seemed to have met with a fruitless hunt. To her great chagrin, there was no fresh meat brought back with him; no rabbits or birds hanging from his shoulder, nothing that could sate the deep-gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach.

At the mere thought it let out a grumbled complaint. They were both with little strength left after the long way through the marshes and rocklands, weakened after sparse meals and the exhaustive climb. Rell shifted on the trunk, allowing an empty spot for Aragorn to sit by her side. His shoulders were heavy and his eyes tired.

"The Anduin is not far," he said with a quiet voice. For a long moment his gaze rested on Gollum. "Less than a day's travel the straight way west, though I fear we cannot cross it there. Sarn Gebir blocks our path forward." While she listened, Rell peered into the forest; she wetted her dry lips, swallowed, and allowed her eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom. Leaves rattled in the chill wind sweeping across the forest floor, a rustle that carried on deep within and between the ancient boles.

"What then?" She asked.

"If possible, we shall follow the water until we find a way across. For cross it we must." A dark shadow passed his vision. "There is something strange, foreign to the forest, on this side of the river. There were no birds nor beasts afoot, no sounds that one would imagine to hear." Rell gave a nod in agreement, for she had felt much the same in her short walk beyond the clearing. It seemed as if the world was frozen, awaiting the inevitable to happen in bated breath.

The travelers now turned their faces to the journey; with no food to quell their hunger, there was little reason for rest. The sun was before them, and their eyes dazzled by the pale light that left them vulnerable amidst the open lands. Winter trees stood with twisting roots that writhed, disappearing into the frozen soil. Rough bark glistened with the morning frost, thawing not even from the light of the sun as midday came and passed. The ground fell and rose uneven beneath their feet. Dark cracks lay in the bark like scars.

Rell mustered all her remaining strength, forcing one leg to move before the other; step by step, despite the insistent weariness. In her heart she felt time was pressing. Brown and withered the forest seemed around her; tall trees that grasped for grey skies, their branches like eager fingers weaving in the wind. Though some comfort they also brought, a cover against hostile eyes and hidden enemies.

The Rangers carried on until night brought darkness to the lands. By then, Rell was drowsy and longed for camp, yet they pressed further on through the falling gloom; the river's roar had grown loud and deafening in the distance. Aragorn wished to reach the Anduin before they settled – to see where, exactly, they were. Frost came as snow without cloud, a soft vapor on the breeze. Each time her eyes lulled with fatigue, another vigorous wind roused her.

Suddenly, something caught her sight; at first it was but a glimmer between the trees and her stare was listless, but then the slivers grew and came clear to her. Passing through an opening they came to an abrupt end to the forest. Before them lay large, sharp-teethed rocks; through the rolling, roaring waters that churned with foam they stood. The bank was studded with black boulders and great reeds, and beyond, on the distant shore the land rose with steepness to tall-reaching cliffs. Below the moon, the river shimmered equally silver and dark, shadows cast by many eyots in the water.

They made their way through the hissing reeds, until at length they came to the very edge of the Anduin. Rell led Luin to its waters with slippery difficulty, allowing the horse to drink as they looked about. The flow was turbulent, bringing with it both tree and driftwood to the distant sea. Any attempt to cross would lead to a cold death within the deep. She kicked a pebble and watched it disappear beneath the surface; stars shimmered broken as ripples were torn apart with the current.

At long last they made camp.

While Aragorn found rest with ease, Rell took the first watch on a flat rock by the riverside. Her sword in its scabbard lay by her side, unfastened from her belt. The bank twisted sharply, hiding them from view, and – while every muscle tingled in vigilance – she felt a semblance of safety. The reeds proved an excellent cover. She felt tired, but still she had declined Aragorn's offer; instead, she revelled the clear and cold water cupped within her hands. Rubbing eagerly, desperately, the last remnants of her long journey were scrubbed away from her. The skin prickled from the chill, raw and red, but nonetheless a smile came to her lips.

When finally she was washed, Rell draped herself in cloak and hood. The world around her was dark and grey, quietly waiting for the morning still faraway. Droplets splattered her cheeks, and she moved from her place of rest. Running a hand through the reeds, feeling sharp edges dig into the thin skin of her palm, she returned to her company.

Only the moon watched her, a crescent sphere of silver. For three hours Rell sat by her uncle's side, listening to the water's roar and rhythmic lapping against the shores. The howling wind blew cold from the north. No creatures of the night were about; no fox scampering through the woods in the hunt for prey, nor the piercing cries of an owl in the tall branches. Not even the shuffling feet of a mouse. All was silent. Too silent. Though, despite her fretful worries, she was glad when they changed watch and she could curl up by his side.

Rell listened to Aragorn's low hum, a song she could not quite remember the words to; but with his hand combing gently through her hair, she soon found sleep.