Huinesoron: Thanks! I suspect if Tolkien had come up with this, Glorfindel would be carrying the ring for one thing, and the story would be both better and a *lot* longer (and I know some people think this one is long enough) {wink}
But never fear, folks, my version is complete. I won't leave you hanging. This chapter marks the half-way point.
Disclaimer: Based on 'The Lord of the Rings', by JRR Tolkien. This is a non-commercial work. No infringement of copyright is intended.
"Window of the Sunset" is the fourth in the
Broken Fellowship Series. It is
strongly recommended that you read the previous stories first.
The Broken Fellowship, Book IV:
Window of the Sunset
Chapter 6: Cair Andros
by Lizardbeth Johnson
Late the next day, Legolas and Sam stood at the edge of the cart track, where it began to dip down to meet the village that was on this side of the bridge of Cair Andros. The two had some cover in the hedges that separated the road from the fields, as they observed the lay of the land.
Cair Andros gained its name from its northern end that reared up out of the river like the giant prow of a ship. The waters of the river foamed against the stone of the base, creating the illusion that the ship was at sea.
Or at least so Sam assumed -- he had never seen the sea.
The crown and prow of the island was covered in old trees with great spreading branches. The rest of the island was a fortress. It had high stone walls, topped with statuary. But, like the Argonath, it was obvious to Sam that most of Cair Andros had been constructed during the height of Gondor's strength and it had been slowly crumbling ever since. Repairs made to the structure were of a different type of stone, where they were made at all, and by far less expert hands than the original builders. There was a small harbor on the east side of the island, Legolas had said, which was where they would need to find a boat, after crossing the bridge.
The bridge itself was impressive -- a massive white-stone archway, broad enough to carry several horses riding abreast. The village, on the other hand, was of far more recent construction, mixing stone, wood, and brick structures in a haphazard, sprawling settlement at the foot of the bridge.
Sam knew that Legolas was disturbed that they had found no boats to cross the river before this. But it seemed that the word had gone out to the homes and farms north of this place that the people should get to safety. The buildings were deserted, and personal possessions were largely taken away. They had found only two craft, neither of which were water-capable. No doubt all the useful boats had been piled with luggage and the people had gone down the river to Minas Tirith.
Yet not all the humans had gone. The closer to Cair Andros they had come, the more of the Big Folk there were, until evading their notice became difficult. Soon they would have to go down into the village and cross the bridge to find a boat, all without Sauron's spies discovering them.
"At dusk, we will go into the village," Legolas announced with resignation. "Wearing our hoods up and cloaks closed, with luck we should pass for a hunter and his son." With a quick glance down at Sam and a faint smile, he amended his words. "Or perhaps younger brother. No human will believe I am old enough to be a father."
Sam smiled back. "You're going to have to be dirty, and do something about your ears, in case the hood falls back."
Legolas wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I know." Then his momentarily humor dimmed and he turned to look down at the village again. "I pray this works, Sam. Or being revealed as an elf or halfling will be the least of the disasters to befall us in this place."
As soon as the sun had slipped beneath the western horizon, the pair started off down the road. Sam had fluffed his hair around his ears, after Legolas reminded him that human children did not have hobbit-style pointed ears either, and covered his hobbit feet in dirt.
He glanced up at Legolas, who also had his hood pulled forward and the cloak nearly closed in the front. Under that, the elf had rubbed a light coating of dirt on his face and hands to dull the fair sheen of his skin. He had undone the small braids above his ears to allow his hair to hang down at the sides of his face, and then bound the top of his head and the tips of his ears with the last length of linen, darkened with mud. He had switched his dagger sheaths to his sword belt at his back, beneath his cloak, so the distinctive elvish weapons were hidden. Legolas had also insisted on taking the pack, remarking that a child as small as Sam was supposed to be shouldn't be that strong.
To Sam, he still looked like an elf doing a bad impression of a human youth, especially since there was nothing to be done about the elvish intensity of his glinting eyes. But Sam hoped it would fool someone who didn't expect to see an elf. Apparently it had been a long time since there had been elves in Gondor.
As they approached the buildings on the outskirts, Legolas said in a low voice, "You are Perhael, which is your name in Sindarin, and I will be Ernil. Gondor still uses my tongue for many of its people's names."
"Then why not use --" Sam started, then fell silent as they passed two men talking at the front of a blacksmith's forge. Sam seemed to feel their eyes on his back, like little daggers pricking him. He tensed, wondering when the men were going to come after them, shouting that they were strangers and dangerous spies. When nothing happened, he relaxed only slightly. Softer, he finished his question, "Why not use your own name?"
"Because I fear my name is now known to the enemy," Legolas murmured back. "We must be cautious."
"Oh." Sam shivered beneath his cloak, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the evening's breeze. Bad enough to think that Mordor's spies might know to look for an elf and a hobbit, but to also think that they might even know their names was simply horrible. And Gollum was still out there somewhere, even though Legolas had not mentioned that the creature was nearby since he had left them in the Entwash.
Trying to get his mind off those dark thoughts, Sam asked, "So what does 'Ernil' mean?"
"'Prince.'" Legolas smirked as Sam chuckled, suddenly feeling less anxious. Trust Legolas to come up with a name as equally fitting as Gandalf's "Mister Underhill" for Frodo.
The road between the houses was hard-packed dirt mixed with small stones, and Sam had to pick his way around horse leavings several times. Though Legolas seemed not to be watching his feet, he never stepped in anything either and continued walking unerringly toward the foot of the bridge.
There was a smell here, too, Sam noticed. Not as vile as the Entwash, in fact it reminded him of Bree, but not as damp. It probably would not have been awful if Sam had not been walking in the wild for three months, avoiding human habitation. But as it was, he found the scents of smoke, cooking and animals all blended together into a nauseating reek of Big Folk.
The streets were mostly quiet, and no one they passed seemed to pay the two the least bit of attention. They were not the only ones wearing hooded cloaks as the evening breeze blew chill.
Sam glanced up as a creaking noise caught his attention, and he spied the gently swaying sign that indicated an inn. Crossed Swords seemed to be the place everyone was this evening, since when its doors opened, the noise of many men drinking and talking rolled out upon them like an unseen boulder. Sam smelled pungent ale, and for a moment thought wistfully of the Green Dragon and Rosie smiling at him.
He hadn't realized he had stepped toward the entrance until a strong hand grasped his shoulder and propelled him forward. "You are too young for that, Perhael," Legolas said sharply, loud enough for the two men entering the inn to hear him. They laughed, and Sam flushed, having to bite his tongue on a retort. He hurried after the elf.
"Sorry," he muttered, knowing Legolas' sharp ears would catch what he said. "Was thinking of home."
Legolas let go of his shoulder with a gentle squeeze of commiseration, but said nothing.
There were no guards on the west bank of the bridge, so they walked across, passing a boy who was lighting the lanterns to illuminate the way against the gathering night. The bridge was so large and seemed so stable, it was as if it were carved from one stone. The closest thing Sam could compare it with was the Brandywine bridge, but this one was at least twice as wide, and three times as long.
At the highest point of the gentle arch, Sam lingered to glance over the side at the rushing, dark waters of the Anduin flowing beneath.
By the time they reached the end of the bridge, the stone of the high walls of the gate of Cair Andros had been painted a brilliant orange and the sky remained bright enough to somewhat dazzle the eyes of the guards.
There were only two, and both had long since seen the two approaching slowly. They both wore a small white tree sigil on their cloak clasps. "Who are you," the elder of the two challenged, "And what would you want here?"
Despite their words, and the swords they carried and the chainmail peeking out from under their surcoats, Sam had the distinct impression that the two men were not looking for trouble.
"I am Ernil," Legolas said, pitching his voice slightly deeper and hoarser than usual. "And this is my brother. We have come from hunting in the west. We seek word of our father, who serves with the Rangers."
Sam stayed quietly within the hood of his cloak, though he frowned at the lie. These were men of Gondor, allies -- even knowing it was dangerous, he felt it was wrong to lie to them.
The younger guard with the scrubbly beard smiled. "The Rangers, hm? They all crossed through here into Ithilien only five days ago."
"Have you heard from them since?" Legolas asked.
"No, not that I've heard." the elder man answered. "Sorry, lads."
Sam smiled -- little did they know that one of those the man was calling a lad was probably as old as the bridge on which they were all standing. And Sam himself was well past the age of 'lad' as well.
"But I heard that the captain's rangers intended to harry the enemy," the younger guard volunteered. "There's been much traffic around Mordor lately."
"So that was why the farms on the way here were all evacuated," Legolas said.
"A month ago, on Captain Faramir's orders," the older guard explained. He frowned at the bow Legolas was holding in his hand, casually at his side. "That's an interesting weapon. I've never seen its like."
"My father's family gave it to me," Legolas answered with not a hint of a smile. "It is very old. They say it was a gift to my ancestors from the elves."
"It just might be. Can I see it?" The older guard took it into his hands reverently, feeling the carving of the wood and then gripping it properly in his left hand. He fingered the string with his right. Surprised by the tension, he glanced up and down at Legolas' cloaked, but still obviously slim, form. "You've got some strength in you, lad, if you can pull this. You any good?"
Willing to play along, Sam volunteered in a somewhat high, eager voice, "He's the best archer in the north."
Legolas casually cuffed his shoulder, as an older brother would. "He exaggerates, but I am good. I have been practicing. I want to be a Ranger, like my father," he declared. Sam suffered a coughing fit, trying not to laugh and imagining what Aragorn would say if he heard that.
The two guards exchanged a glance. "Well," the older one said, "the Powers know we may need all the archers we can get pretty soon. Why don't you go on up to the captain in the tower and tell him what you've told us? If you really are a fair hand with this," he handed the bow back to Legolas, "then he might be willing to give you the oath. And he may know more about the rangers."
"Thank you," Legolas inclined his head. "Perhael, come."
He and Sam passed the guards and when they were halfway through the torch-lit passage in the wall, the older guard called, "Hey, lad -- Ernil! What is your father's name?"
Legolas half turned to look back over his shoulder. The fading sunlight penetrated the hood and caught his eyes, lighting them too oddly vibrant to be human.
"What the –" the younger guard stepped forward a pace, frowning, and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. "What are you?"
And so the sun revealed what it should not, and Sam and Legolas' entry to Cair Andros turned complicated.
Rather too cheerfully, Legolas called back in answer, "Dírhael!" He lifted a hand in farewell to the guards and none too gently prodded Sam forward with his other hand. In a harsh whisper he ordered, "Go, quickly."
The elder guard's puzzled voice trailed behind them. "But there is none by that name with the rangers... Hold! Stop, Ernil! We must question you --"
Legolas shoved Sam around the next corner. "Run!" He pushed Sam again and they started to run.
The paved passage was only about five paces wide, with high stone walls on either side, as a part of the concentric double wall design of the fortifications. There were no breaks in the inner wall, and they passed a set of stairs leading to the top of the outer wall.
Behind them, a horn blew three warning blasts.
"Now you've done it," Sam puffed. "What name was that you gave them anyway?"
"Aragorn's grandfather's name. It is common among humans, so I thought there might be one. Stay close to the outer wall, Sam."
Sam understood why and veered nearer the wall. There did not appear to be guards on the inner wall, at least not yet. He and Legolas would be difficult to see by the guards directly above them, when they flitted through the deepening shadows of the outer wall.
The path curved again to the left, this time with an opening to the inner courtyard. Legolas abruptly stopped and pulled Sam down into a crouch beside him, against the wall. Moments later, Sam also heard the stomp of boots coming from the inner areas through the portal gate. The men separated, some going up on the outer wall through the staircase, some going down the passage, and three coming toward them.
"Look for intruders. Two of them," the leader ordered and ran up the stairs to the outer wall.
Sam froze against the wall, not daring to breathe as the men approached. His heart was pounding, and his throat was dry as the stone at his back. Though somewhat hidden in the shadows, the men were coming right at them. How could they not see the pair? Any moment, Sam expected one of the three to shout and point, drawing a sword.
But the men's gazes passed over them, as if there was nothing there, and they continued back toward the bridge gate around the corner and out of view.
He let out a quiet breath of relief, aware they were not yet out of danger. But he didn't understand how they had escaped detection.
Legolas leaned close and murmured so softly Sam could barely hear him, "Be silent. If you hear anything, let your cloak cover you."
He nodded, now understanding that it was the cloak that had hid them. He fingered the soft cloth briefly in wonder, remembering how Celeborn had told them that the cloaks would shield them from unfriendly eyes. Apparently the elvish 'magic' worked even on those whose eyes should be friendly.
As softly as he could, he followed Legolas, as they crept forward against the wall. Legolas carried his bow tight to his body across his chest, in the pose Sam had always thought seemed oddly maternal. But here it was so no stray gleam of light would catch the light wood as the sky darkened with the onset of night.
Legolas halted twice, once as men walked past on the wall above them and a second time when guards ran up from behind, still searching for the intruders. Again, it frightened Sam, but the cloaks protected them from view, as they crouched in the shadows.
Sam followed Legolas slowly as they rounded another curve and Legolas halted again. Sam crept close behind him and peered around.
They had found another gate in the outer wall. There were few shadows ahead, since bright torches cast their light broadly, from their brackets on either side of the tunnel of stone. There were two armored guards there, standing alertly with their hands on the hilt of their swords. About twenty paces of wide-open, unshadowed ground lay between, and Sam eyed the distance with some despair. Not even elvish cloaks could hide that much movement.
Legolas certainly knew as much, and when he shifted position slightly, Sam glanced up at him to see the elf fingering his bow-string. Sam's eyes widened and he jerked Legolas' sleeve, shaking his head in dismay. They couldn't kill their allies. Legolas touched the hooded top of Sam's head in acknowledgement then bent down to murmur in a voice no human could have caught.
"Stay here. Be ready." Legolas eased the straps of the pack from his shoulders and set it on the ground with scarcely a whisper of noise.
Sam couldn't breathe as Legolas moved away. His footsteps made no sound as he began to work his way along the wall toward the gate. Sam watched, heart in his throat, as it seemed that Legolas shone in the light and moved so quickly he ought to draw attention. But his movements were smooth, like the wind through the leaves..
After a moment, even Sam's eyes had trouble following him, as though the torch-light was shining through him.
Abruptly, he was there, in front of the first guard and had one hand extended to strike one in the side of his head. He went down like a sack of grain. The other guard had time for a strangled cry, before Legolas was on him as well, elbow in his throat so the guard sank to his knees, unable to breathe. Legolas finished him off with a blow from the palm of his hand, which slammed the man's head into the stone wall behind him. He did not move.
Sam's eyes widened. He had never known that Legolas could fight without weapons. The two humans had not managed to return a single blow.
Legolas turned and gestured Sam to come. Grabbing the pack, Sam ran across to him. Legolas grabbed a torch from its bracket, and together they raced through the gate tunnel. It was about eight paces high and had plain whitewashed walls, except for the openings in the ceiling.
Sam eyed those warily, knowing there were also guards on the walls and probably standing up there somewhere, though he didn't hear anything. The guards could shoot arrows out of those openings, if they knew their invaders were below.
On the other side, Legolas stuck the torch into a bracket and light flooded what Sam realized was a small harbor. They had found the mooring for the few boats used by Gondor to cross the Anduin to the Mordor side. Water lapped gently at the walkway and the wooden mooring posts that went around in a semi-circle here at the southern tip of the island. There were at least three boats, quietly bobbing in the water, tied up to the posts.
But the boats were used for things other than merely transporting soldiers to Mordor. Sam saw a pile of nets along the wall as well as small cages with chains attached which looked like traps for some sort of other water animal. The whole place smelled of damp, rotten fish, and more faintly of a sharper, more acrid scent that Sam couldn't quite identify.
"Find us a boat," Legolas ordered. "I'm going to block the way."
For an instant, Sam watched in confusion as Legolas put his bow over his shoulder and seized a small barrel next to the nets. He carried the barrel over to the tunnel and, taking out a knife, began to pry at the top.
Legolas glanced over his shoulder. "Sam, go!"
Though he wanted to watch and try to figure out what Legolas was doing, Sam turned away and went to the nearest boat. It was a small craft, about six paces long, capable of holding several men. Made of planks of rough wood, it had none of the gracefulness of the elvish boats the Fellowship had used to travel the river. It reminded Sam more of the boats on the Brandywine -- good serviceable craft made by human or hobbit hands, not with the attention to beauty of the elves.
Sam was about to put his pack in the boat, when he hesitated and squinted, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him in the unsteady flame of the torch. But the longer he looked, the more sure he became. He turned sharply, and called -- remembering to keep his voice down in the nick of time -- "Legolas! That boat! It's one of the Lothlórien ones."
Legolas paused in what he was doing, which seemed to be pouring a honey-like substance from the barrel onto the ground at the mouth of the tunnel, and turned to look where Sam was pointing. His smile was so quick it might have been a trick of the light as well. "Good. That one."
Nodding his understanding, Sam rushed with the pack to where the small elven boat was tied at the end of the line, close to where the wall crept out to narrow the harbor entrance. He checked to make sure there was a set of paddles, which there were, and then dumped the pack inside. He carefully clambered in the boat, and it settled slightly lower in the water.
He stroked the rim affectionately. This was the same boat which had carried him and Aragorn -- he could tell by the mark along the side where a goblin arrow had struck.
Peering over the edge, he saw Legolas approaching. The elf was holding two arrows in one hand and the torch in the other.
Legolas' mouth was set in grim satisfaction that lightened somewhat when he saw the boat. He murmured to it in elvish as he climbed in and stood in the center. "Here, hold this," he handed the torch to Sam, who knelt in the prow of the little boat.
"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, frowning up at him. But Legolas didn't answer -- at that moment, on the other side of the tunnel, they heard a voice shout,
"Intruders! The intruders have gained the harbor!"
"Stand still," Legolas requested, taking his bow off his shoulder. He then set both of his arrows very carefully to the torch's fire, and the ends, from which Legolas had removed the metal heads, burst into flame.
Sam suddenly understood what had been in the barrel and what Legolas was going to do. The hobbit cut the last rope binding the ship to the mooring and they began to slowly drift backward, toward the entrance.
Legolas set both arrows to the string, pulled his bow and waited until he heard boots in the tunnel. He released and the flaming arrows arched across the harbor to land perfectly at the mouth of the tunnel.
The contents of the barrel of pitch exploded in a flash of fire that filled the entire tunnel. They heard shouts of alarm over the sound of the crackling flames as the men realized they couldn't pass that way.
Legolas threw the torch into the water where it hissed before winking out, leaving the small harbor lit only by the light of the stars and a three-quarter moon. "Give me the paddles," he requested, and Sam handed them to him.
The paddles dipped into the water swiftly, as Legolas maneuvered their sleek craft toward the narrow harbor mouth, with his head turned to look over his shoulder as he rowed.
They had almost reached the opening, when Sam spotted men with torches running along the top of the walls on both sides, converging on them. But would the men get there first, or would the boat?
"Soldiers," he warned Legolas, who nodded. Sam held tightly to Sting with one hand, knowing it was futile. The sword would not avail him if the men fired arrows at them.
"Archers!" one of the guards bellowed the order. "Fire!"
Sam ducked, hoping that the sides of the boat would protect him as he heard bow-strings twang. That flight of arrows fell short, splashing into the water. Legolas did not stop rowing, grimly racing the men for the entrance as the distance between the two narrowed.
"Again!" came the command. One arrow bit the side of the boat with a thump, that made Sam's heart jump into his throat, then another. Several more splashed into the water. And still Legolas rowed -- they were between the ends of the walls now, with open river before them.
Another arrow launched, from the only man fast enough to run to the end of the wall, and anchor his draw in time.
Legolas whipped the paddle out of the water, and the arrow struck it, on course for his body. He looked up, and his hood fell back.
In the light from the moon, his face seemed to glow, beneath the mask of the dirt, and his eyes shimmered.
The archer's draw relaxed and his mouth opened in awe as he stared down into the boat.
"Shoot!" his leader commanded, running up. "Get them!"
"Sir, that's a -- I think that's an elf," the archer responded, sounding confused yet full of wonder all at the same time.
"Hold your fire!" the leader ordered after a moment in which he too peered over the parapet.
Legolas called back, "Hanno le, Captain. A warning to you: dark things move tonight -- be wary of more than elves who seek to travel in secret."
Legolas returned the paddles to the water, and the boat glided out beyond their reach. Not another arrow fell.
The last thing Sam saw of Cair Andros were a handful of men standing on the parapet, their armor gleaming by torch-light and moonlight, staring after their mysterious elvish visitor.
The hobbit leaned back with a sigh of relief. They were away and safe, and best of all, none of their allies had been killed. The Gondorians had proven themselves friendly to elves by letting them go.
"That wasn't so bad," he commented. "Maybe we should have told them. I think they would've helped us."
Legolas did not seem as pleased and shook his head. "I should have liked to slip past unnoticed. But there is nothing to be done for it now." He drew his hood forward again as he rowed, making for the bank as quickly as possible.
Continued in Chapter 7: In the Wood of Ithilien