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 7: In the Wood of Ithilien
by Lizardbeth Johnson
Legolas was feeling a bit better now that the river and open air were around him, instead of stone walls. As one of the green-elves, he was never comfortable in high walls, especially those built by men, which made him feel as though he could not quite catch his breath. But being on the water gave him the sense of openness, and he could feel the desire of the river to run all the way to the mouth of the Anduin and into the great western ocean.
Across the ocean was Aman, where dwelt the rest of his kin and the Valar. There, there were no shadows, no darkness -- only beauty and peace and joy for eternity.
Suddenly, a great feeling arose in his heart -- a desire to continue down the river to the sea and sail West. To be finally at peace. To rest.
Though he knew it was impossible at this distance, he seemed to hear the crash of waves and distant voices raised in song across the water. There was a tinge of salt to the moisture in the breeze, and the smell of the sea.
He had never before understood the sea-longing that took his people from time to time -- less so among the green-elves than their western kin, and yet still a few each year crossed the mountains to make the journey to the Havens. Long ago, before the desertion of Edhellond at the Bay of Belfalas, some of his people had taken the great river all the way to its end to sail the great white ships of the elven port. But now he understood. His entire spirit and being wanted to continue south to find the sea.
A sharp piercing cold radiated up his left hand to his arm and shoulder, lodging in his heart. He gasped with the pain of it, nearly dropping the paddle in the river. He could no longer hear the sea above the sudden, frightened pounding of his heart. The ring did not want to go over the sea.
He had the sudden curious thought about what would happen if he brought the ring to Valinor. Surely great Aulë, who had once been Sauron's master, could unmake the ring? The idea had not been broached either at the council in Imladris or among the elves in Lothlórien, which told Legolas that there was a problem with that idea, but he did not have the wisdom to see it.
He shook his head once briskly, to clear the idea away. The sea was not his destination, and he had a quest to finish before he could even consider taking the Straight Road to the west. Tightening his jaw, he renewed pulling the boat to shore.
He rowed, aiming the boat into a soft shallow inlet, until the prow ground against the bank. Leaping into the water, he pulled the boat farther up onto land so that Sam could get out. As soon as the hobbit and the pack were out, he pushed the boat back out into the water. "Thank you, my friend," he murmured to it and stroked the side. "Now be free, and find the waves. Farewell." He let go, and for a moment, as he watched, a new grief seemed to pierce his heart, as he wondered if he might be saying farewell to all things of his people.
But resolutely he turned away and joined Sam at the top of the bank. "This is Ithilien," he murmured to the hobbit. "Although Gondor still claims it, it is a wild and fallen land, touched by the Shadow. We must be on our guard."
Both turned by tacit agreement to look eastward, though the trees would have blocked any view of the crags of Ephel Dúath, even in daylight. By the watery light of the moon, there was nothing at all to see, yet the feeling of those mountains loomed on Legolas' senses.
The ring wanted to go that way -- for almost directly east of where he was standing, on the other side of the mountains in the north end of the plain of Gorgoroth, stood the Barad-dûr.
The Dark Fortress of Sauron ... from which even now he could distantly feel the Eye searching, always searching, sweeping across his skin like a distant cold breeze that promised a darker storm to come. Sauron knew the ring was coming nearer as well, and the ring hung about Legolas' neck like a stone.
"We climb east -- all of Ithilien falls to the river, but closer to the mountains is an old road to make the journey to the crossroads easier," he explained. "We must get away from the river."
As they walked, Sam frowned up at him. "When you warned the captain of Cair Andros, what did you mean about 'dark things'?"
"There is no lack of darkness, Samwise," he said, "I meant nothing in particular."
But what he said was not quite true. There were dark things abroad tonight -- he felt the oily taint of Gollum, not far, but he did not want Sam to know about it yet. He had promised to take care of Gollum, and so he would. Sam needed to be safe.
"This was once a fair land," he brushed a hand idly across the leaves of the brushy scrub oak as he passed. When it had been abandoned by Gondor, the sway of darkness had fallen over it. There had been no elves here to combat the fell influence -- and yet, unlike his own home, this land did not suffer from Sauron's direct touch here. The echoes of what had been were still strong enough to resist, and he could feel the wild beauty that lurked beneath the surface.
But he suspected that the influence would strengthen as they drew nearer to Minas Morgul. The Ringwraiths had been within the fortress for a thousand years, and their foul influence had surely spread. Boromir had spoken of the sense of creeping evil when one came close to it. Legolas thought it must be like approaching Dol Guldur on his occasional scouting trips to the south of Mirkwood.
There was a gentle but distinct slope to the land upward to the east as they walked and soon he noticed that Sam was lagging tiredly. It had been, Legolas supposed, a long day. He began to look for a place to camp for what remained of the night and into the morning. There was a good place within a steeply sided, wooded narrow defile, at the base of a high, thin waterfall where the water pooled for a little space before falling again to join the river.
The bank beside the pool was sheltered by fragrant cedars and bay trees, and carpeted by dark green clover with small white flowers.
"We're stopping?" Sam asked, trying not to sound relieved, but when Legolas agreed, Sam let down his pack with a weary sigh. "Thank you."
Legolas felt a sudden thread of vileness creep across his skin, and he raised his gaze to peer into the darkness. Close. Gollum had been trailing them since the river, and he had now come very close.
"I'll gather wood," Legolas offered and hoped Sam didn't notice that he was taking his full complement of weapons with him as he moved into the trees. He was not really intending to gather firewood, but to hunt.
He could no longer permit evil to dog his footsteps. He could barely eat, and could get no rest while he had to watch for Gollum's next attack. No more, he vowed to himself.
He continued through the trees, slipping past the brush, on the thin trail only he could sense.
The taint of Gollum rose, like a foul oil, so strong that he nearly coughed. He hesitated at the edge of a dark hollow, all ringed by dark junipers and low shrubs unknown to Legolas, and he carefully looked around for the gleaming pale figure of Gollum nearby. Even his sharp eyes spied nothing, but he knew Gollum was there.
"I feel you, Gollum," he whispered. "I know you are near." His hand tightened on his bow, quivering with eagerness.
"Precious," an answering whisper came out of the shadows. "What iss bright master elf doing, Precious? Why does he seek poor Gollum? Will he gives us our Precious?"
"Never. The Ring is mine," Legolas hissed, anger coiling deep and dark in his heart. "And it will never belong to you, murderous thief."
"Thief, he calls us?" A rustling of leaves and branches, though faint, came to his ears and Legolas turned to see Gollum creep out from beneath an overgrown thyme bush. His eyes gleamed with a pale sickly green light of pure malice. "Nasty hobbits and elveses stole it from us."
Legolas reached under the neck of his overtunic and fished out the ring so it glinted on his chest. "If you want it, then come and take it."
Gollum's eyes followed the small gold ring on its chain as it swung left and right. He licked his lips and his fingers clenched into the dirt next to his feet, wanting to come take it but too wary and cunning to fall for Legolas' simple ploy.
"Tricksy elf hurts us again with bright knife," he muttered. But his eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the ring. "No," Gollum let out a long hiss. "Master elf tricks us -- precious says - wait."
He started to reluctantly withdraw back into the deeper shadows beneath the shrub.
Gollum would not escape so easily. Not this time.
Legolas whipped an arrow out of his quiver and had it drawn and anchored in an eye-blink.
But there, he hesitated briefly, holding his target steady.
A voice came out of memory -- Gandalf's voice it was, speaking not to him, but overheard in the caverns of Moria, "Many things that live deserve death, and many things that die deserve life. Would you give it to them? Do not be so quick to deal out death and judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends..."
It was almost as though Gandalf were there, speaking the words to him. Legolas stayed his hand, holding his bow at full draw.
His heart beat once. Then twice, as he hesitated.
Gollum had almost vanished into the shadows. He was going to escape, to return to shadowing Legolas' footsteps until he finally made a move on the ring. He would, eventually, Legolas knew, and if Legolas were weary enough or distracted enough, Gollum might succeed in taking the ring. That was not to be endured.
I'm sorry, Gandalf. But there is no other end possible.
He loosed. The arrow flew fast and true, striking Gollum in the side, beneath his arm. He let out a startled gurgle and fell over in the leaves, groaning.
The feel of the taint dwindled away, leaving only a small creature whimpering in pain. Legolas lowered his bow slowly, his anger likewise diminishing until he was left with a hollow heart and the distant awareness of cold triumph from the ring.
"What have I done?" he whispered in shocked horror and for a moment glanced down at his hands as if they had acted alone, without his prompting. But he knew he had done it -- cut Gollum down with less mercy than he would show a deer in the hunt. Again the ring had taken control of his anger and brought him to murder.
In a daze he walked closer.
Gollum turned over, his near hand grabbing a tuft of long grass. His great eyes were like the moon, liquid and pure. "Master," he gurgled. "Master, why hurt poor Sméagol?"
Legolas sank down beside him. Sméagol it was, indeed. And Sméagol was a pitiable creature -- looking at him now, Legolas could see only the thin, ancient remnant of someone who used to be very like a hobbit. The evil of the ring was, at least in that moment, gone from him.
Sméagol blinked and coughed. "Forgive, master, forgive poor Sméagol," he pleaded hoarsely and his hand waved vaguely in Legolas' direction.
The elf gently clasped the skeletal fingers in his own. "I am sorry, Sméagol," he murmured. "I wish none of this had come to pass. I pray the Valar grant you peace."
The corners of the wide, thin lips turned up in a soft smile. "Sméagol is free," he whispered, the light in his eyes now simply a sheen of surprised joy. "Free... Thank you, Master Elf."
Legolas could find nothing more to say, merely kneel at Sméagol's side and watch him die.
Suddenly Sméagol's hand tightened on his and he spoke with sudden hoarse urgency. "Master -- the path -- master must not climb the pass --" He tried to speak more but his breath failed him. He choked a little and moments later let out a final sigh, as his fingers loosened their grip.
Sméagol was dead.
Legolas reached across to gently close the staring eyes and for a moment more knelt beside the body. "Farewell, Sméagol," he murmured. "Find peace."
He arranged the limbs into something more formal, pulled out his arrow, and stood for a moment at a loss for what else to do. He couldn't bury him without tools, and couldn't burn him without bringing enemies upon them.
Finally, he decided simply to leave him. Nature would take its course, after being thwarted for centuries by the unnatural lifespan given to Gollum.
At the edge of the hollow he turned back to see Sméagol lying there, looking at peace for the first time in Legolas' memory. "Namarië, Sméagol of the River Folk. Go, and be with your people at long last. As I never shall."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Legolas returned to camp, Sam knew something had happened. Not only was the elf carrying no wood, but he was carrying one of his arrows, this one tipped in red blood. Without a word he walked straight up to the small fire and dropped the arrow into the flames. He stood there, looming above the fire, with his gaze fixed downward.
When the wooden shaft was completely consumed, Sam ventured, "Legolas? What is it?"
Without turning his glance from the fire, Legolas answered, "Gollum is dead."
And with the arrow now turning to ash, it was obvious who had killed him and how. Sam opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, realizing he didn't know what to say. He wasn't sorry Gollum was dead, but he was sorry for how it had affected his friend.
"Was there no other way?" he finally asked, in a small voice.
Legolas shook his head once, slowly. "I do not know. It ... frightens me," he admitted very quietly. "Was it my will, or the ring? I should be stronger than this." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, pressing against his legs. "I am of the Eldar, who never have served evil willingly. I am of the blood of Oropher who saw the evil that lay beneath the fair-seeming form of Annatar in the last age and rejected him. And I am the son of Thranduil, whose power has kept the evil of Dol Guldur at bay for two thousand years. Why then am I so weak?" he whispered, casting eyes filled with dark despair up at the cloud-shrouded night. "Why is it so hard to resist?"
Sam was not entirely sure that Legolas was truly speaking to him, but he swallowed and answered anyway, "Perhaps you expect too much of yourself. You do resist, Legolas. I'm sure it's hard, and maybe you falter once in a while, but the ring doesn't hold you. I don't think you would be mourning Gollum's death if it held you as tightly as you think it does."
Legolas shook his head once. "It does hold me," he whispered. "It has held me since the day I put it on to combat the Balrog. I grasp the light, but each day I know that I am slipping. What if I should fall? What if I am too weak?" With one decisive motion, he stripped the ring on its chain from around his neck to hold it out to Sam. "Here, take it, Sam."
Sam leaned back, away from it. Legolas' right hand was shaking, holding the chain, and his left hand was tucked tightly against his body. "No," Sam shook his head. "I won't."
"You promised -- " Legolas reminded him.
"I promised to take it if the ring took hold of you," Sam interrupted. "But it hasn't. It's despair that I see, the same despair that took you that time you confronted the Nazgûl by the river. But I didn't take it then, and I won't take it now. Put it back on, and sit down. Now that Gollum's gone, you can rest. Don't think I missed that you haven't slept since we got away from the snakes."
With slow movements as though sleep-walking, Legolas put the ring back around his neck and folded himself to sit beside the fire. He rubbed at his damaged hand absently. "I am weary," he admitted. "The burden is heavy."
"Then sit there, I'll collect some more wood and boil some water for some tea. This place is full of overgrown herbs of all kinds."
"Ithilien was once called the garden of Gondor," Legolas murmured, and he cocked his head a bit to one side as though listening to something far distant. "It was only in the year of the dragon's fall that the Dark Lord settled in Mordor, so the Shadow as yet lightly lies on the wood." Then he seemed to realize what Sam had said and turned his gaze on Sam, frowning in concern. "Do not wander far, Sam. I sense no particular threat to us, but these woods are not wholly abandoned."
"I'll be careful," Sam promised. At the cedars, he glanced back. He knew that for Legolas to admit he was weary, the elf was likely exhausted. And worse, his heart was full of bleak despair.
Sam touched the trunk of a high, proud bay tree, and pulled down a branch to sniff at the fragrance of its leaves. He smiled slightly to himself, feeling better. Legolas' mood always improved around trees, too It would probably not be long until Legolas' strength and determination returned. Until then he just needed his hobbit companion to do his best to cheer him up.
The smile faded from Sam's face not twenty steps later when he moved into a clearing and discovered a sign of the enemy. Three trees had been wantonly hacked down and left to rot, their trunks carved with symbols including the lidless eye of Sauron. The sight made him shiver, and he was careful to take only unmarked branches back to camp. Legolas could probably read the symbols, and it would darken his spirit further just to see them.
Sam built the fire until it crackled cheerfully, careful not to put on any damp wood that would smoke, and did not tell Legolas what he had seen.
Trying to get the elf to smile, Sam sang a drinking song that he had last heard at the Green Dragon. It felt like a victory when Legolas' lips quirked upward briefly, more in gratitude for what Sam was trying to do than in genuine amusement, but Sam figured it was better than nothing.
"Get some sleep, Sam," Legolas urged him afterward. "We are as safe as we are likely to be for quite awhile."
"As long as you sleep too."
"I will," Legolas promised.
Whether or not he actually did, Sam never knew. But when he woke in the morning to the sound of several birds having some sort of loud dispute, Legolas was already up.
It took Sam a moment to find him, but it wasn't difficult. Legolas was in the pool, the waterfall streaming on his head.
Sam shivered in reflex, just considering what Legolas was doing. He had washed his hands and face in that pool and he knew how icy-cold it was. But there was Legolas, swimming in it as though it was the mill pond of Hobbiton in mid-summer. Not that it was a surprise, since the elf had always been fastidious, sneaking away from the Fellowship to bathe in snow-melt. That ability to wash even in near-freezing water, combined with the fact that dirt just didn't seem to like him, meant he had been the envy of the whole company, never showing the rigors of the journey.
Now, watching Legolas comb the mud from his hair beneath the waterfall, Sam just had to smile. No, Legolas was certainly not one to allow a little thing like a useless disguise get in the way of being clean.
His smile broadened when he saw that Legolas had left him two small fish on the edge of the pool.
While he cleaned the fish and heated his fry pan for breakfast, he became aware of a soft sound, meandering in counter-point to the noise of the water. His hands stilled as he listened, not sure he was really hearing it.
Yet he was. For the first time since entering Moria, Legolas was singing. Soft yet soaring, sweet as a bird greeting the dawn, his voice darted from low to high and back again, barely loud enough for Sam to catch. He found himself wishing the fire and the water would stop so he could hear it better.
The raucous birds fell quiet to listen to a voice that sang of light passing through the leaves and a warm breeze stirring the spring blossoms.
Sam could have sworn that there were more flowers open in the wake of the song.
While Sam was eating his fish, Legolas finished and came out of the water. He was still wearing the chain with the ring, Sam noticed with a touch of dismay. He dressed and collected his weapons from where he had left them by the side of the pool, before joining Sam by the fire.
Sam lifted his brows at his friend. "You're in a good mood this morning."
"It is spring," Legolas said as though that explained everything. Perhaps, for an elf, it did. Then, more seriously, Legolas answered with a glance eastward, "Sometimes it is best to fight the darkness with weapons of one's own."
"It was lovely to hear you sing," Sam said. "You should do it more often. Makes me feel better."
Legolas finished braiding back his hair and swept the damp strands behind his shoulders. He smiled slightly. "Perhaps later. For now, though, we must continue, Sam. The road calls."
It was the work of little moment to re-pack while Legolas doused the fire and erased all trace of their presence.
Sam glanced back at the edge of the trees. There was now nothing to show that anyone had ever been there, and yet somehow it remained changed. The colors of the plants seemed more vibrant, and the sunlight dappling the pool's surface was brighter. Sam remembered what Legolas had said weeks ago while passing through the ancient elven lands of Hollin, that the land never forgot elves.
This small pool would never forget its visitor either, even after all of Ithilien lay under a cloak of darkness.
Sam followed Legolas up the slope, ever eastward toward the looming mountains. By mid-morning, they had found the road.
Much like the road that had gone south from the Pendrath Forn, this road was also the work of ancient Gondor. Though now fallen into ruin, the stonework crumbled away to nothing, and the path diminished to a track, still the course was level as it drove through ridges as though cut with a knife.
Legolas led the way along the eastern edge of the road but only for a few minutes before pausing. Abruptly he turned and pushed through the bracken at the side of the road. "Off the road, Sam."
Sam followed, scrambling up to the top of the rim, where he paused to catch his breath. "What is it?"
Legolas shook his head, frowning and glanced down at the empty roadway. "I am not certain. I felt the ground tremble in warning." He shook it off. "Come, we must go. I do not like this place."
Sam thought longingly of the road as they turned their feet again south. Great stands of brush seemed to grow in their path to thwart them, and Sam grew swiftly weary of evading clumps of sharp nettles and wild briars. But still, he thought they were making decent time, and the heat of the noonday sun was pleasant after so long traveling in the dark and cold.
A woodland sparrow trilled, and it made Sam realize how quiet the forest was. That was the first birdcall he had heard in awhile.
Ahead of him, Sam saw Legolas suddenly halt, and he did the same immediately. Though he heard nothing, Sam had depended on Legolas' keener senses for some time, and he trusted them completely. Legolas peered intently to his right through the thin trees and scrub. Sam followed his gaze down the slope and saw nothing, but he did not move.
The elf stepped toward him and murmured in his ear, "That was no bird. There are humans in the brush above the road."
"Who are they?" Sam whispered.
Legolas shook his head slightly. "They are in concealment, but from whom they hide I do not know. If we go quietly, we should avoid them."
Sam nodded and they continued their previous course, but more slowly so Sam could walk softly and Legolas could listen and watch for enemies.
They kept to a path that wound between low bushes, and if Sam hadn't been directly behind Legolas, he doubted he could have seen the elf at all. His own skills at concealment were not as good, but he trusted to what Legolas had said, which was that Big Folk rarely would think of movement at such a low level as being anything but an animal. The two crept slowly southward, avoiding the places where Legolas thought there were people.
Sam felt his skin prickle. Ithilien was too silent, and it seemed the whole forest was poised with waiting.
The repeated, low bleating of a brown partridge was as loud and obvious to Sam as a horn. It was another signal from the hidden watchers.
Legolas stopped again and his head came up, listening. Then he took hold of Sam's shoulder and propelled him to the shelter of a thicket of thyme. "Something is about to happen," he whispered. "Be still."
"What is it?" Sam whispered.
"An army, on the road below," Legolas answered. "I must see. Stay here, Sam."
Sam watched him until he disappeared beneath the trees in the dappled shadows to the south, feeling frustrated. He wanted to see it too. An army. What sort of army? Whose army?
After a moment, he heard it too. A heavy rumbling sound that as it grew closer became the marching of hundreds, maybe thousands, of booted feet. The twang and hiss of many arrows launching from bows. Then there was another sound, a loud trumpeting that sounded like some sort of immense animal, and the orderly marching sound dissolved into random noise, horns, and yells.
Without really thinking, he rushed after Legolas to see what was going on. He threw himself behind a log at the edge of the ridge overlooking the roadway and his eyes widened in amazement. Towering above the men on the valley floor, were two giant creatures. He stared in awed delight, recognizing the creatures from storybooks. Oliphaunts.
One was in a clear panic, trampling the soldiers below, as they milled around in helpless confusion. Arrows sprang out in flights from the ridge to either side of Sam, felling more of the soldiers below. He saw the standard of the army down there, and knew it wasn't Gondor's, though he didn't know whose it was. That suggested the army was probably one of Mordor's allies, marching north to the Morannon.
The soldiers below began to get themselves into some order and a company was dispatched into the eastern hills to pursue their attackers. Sam realized he had better go back and find his friend, before the entire ridge was swarming with soldiers. He started squirming backward, keeping his head down, until a boot came down on his back. He froze.
"Well, what have we here?" a voice asked curiously.
Sam's heart sank -- it wasn't Legolas speaking. One of the others had found him.
Namarië = 'Farewell'. (Quenya)
Continued in Chapter 8: Henneth Annûn