Chapter 9 Crossings of Poros
For two days, the Haradrim remained by the river. In that time, the flood waters receded and the way became passable again. Two more men were found alive and three of the horses. The rest were presumed lost. They were at the foot of the mountains, on the edge of the southern region of Ithlien. A few of the men spent their time hunting and fishing and were able to provide at least a couple of meager meals during their stay.
Sayeed woke up the second day and despite some broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and a mild concussion, his spirits seemed little affected by his near death experience. He was, however, now Sam's constant companion and protector. "In our country," he told Sam, "If someone saves your life, you are his to command until the debt is repaid." This probably disturbed Sam as much as anything he had experienced thus far in his travels.
"Oh no, your Highness!" he protested worriedly, "I'm just a simple gardener! You don't need to be putting yourself out for the likes o' me! I just did what anyone would have done! All I want now is to go home to th' Shire and find some peace and since the Captain says I'm free now, that's what I aim to do!"
Sayeed nodded his understanding, but stayed by Sam's side. Sam's health was still poor. He had developed a very bad cold from his watery adventure and was in a good deal of pain from his new and old injuries. He leaned back wearily after a bout of coughing, feeling angry and frustrated. "Back home, I was the healthiest hobbit you'd ever want to meet!" he grumbled, "Now, with one thing and another, I seem to be the sickliest one! Somethin's always hurting. I'm right tired of it!"
Sayeed did his best to help his friend, but with the healer, Takir, among the missing, there was little he could do. On the second day, the Captain announced that they would be leaving the following morning. He told Sam that he was welcome to travel with them to the Crossings of Poros. There, they would take the Harad Road to the south, and he could head either west or north, to start his journey to Minas Tirith. Captain Fahim sat down and unfolded a leather map. He pointed to the Crossings on the map.
"Here," he told Sam, "The road goes three ways. My men and I will go to the south, towards home. You, however, must make a choice. You can go straight north towards Osgiliath and then head west towards Minas Tirith, or you can head west first and then north." He studied the map thoughtfully. "If you take the northern route, it is longer, but you may meet some of the armies of the West who can help you. The western route is somewhat shorter, but you are less likely to find any assistance. Few people live in this region, I am told."
Sam sighed glumly. He had no head for maps. Mr. Frodo was good at that sort of thing, not him. However, it wasn't hopeless if all he had to do was follow the road, no matter what direction. He thought about what the captain had said, and after looking at the map himself for a bit, he thought following the road that ran north, parallel to the mountains might be the best route for him. It would eventually him to the part of Ithilien where he and Frodo had met Captain Faramir. Maybe the captain would still be there. That was an encouraging thought. He was pinning all his hopes on Boromir's brother.
Sam sat back and looked at the Haradrim captain. "I guess the northern route would best suit my purposes. At least if I always keep th' mountains to my right, I know I'm heading in th' right direction!"
The captain nodded and folded his map. "We will leave tomorrow morning at first light. As we will have walk now, it will probably take us three days to reach the Crossings of Poros. However, you and Sayeed will ride." With that, he turned and left.
The next morning was cool and misty. It didn't take long for the men to pack up their few possessions and settle Sayeed and Sam on one of the remaining horses. The river had returned to its normal levels, so there was plenty of room along the banks for the travelers. Sam was still ill, his fever still making him miserable. He huddled into his cloak and leaned against Sayeed in a drowsy stupor. He was dreaming of home and Rosie and of Mr. Frodo. How he missed them all.
The journey to the Crossings of Poros was uneventful. Sam slept most of the way and by the third day was feeling more like himself again. "I believe your cold has improved, Samwise," observed Sayeed as they rode along. "How do you feel?"
Sam thought about this for a moment. "Well, things don't hurt as much, which is good and I'm startin' to be able to breathe again! I think it'll be a good long while before I'm up to snuff, but I'm feelin' better than I have since Mr. Frodo and I reached Mt. Doom. Some rest and good Shire food would set me to rights in no time. But, I'm guessin' that's still a long time away."
Sayeed laughed. "Yes, I too miss my home and good food! I do not believe I would choose a solider's life unless I had no other choice." Sam agreed wholeheartedly. He then thought he would miss this young man when it came time to part.
The terrain had changed dramatically from the wastelands of Mordor. The river was now bordered by rolling hills, covered with high grasses and occasional stands of trees. Sam remembered that farther north, where he and Frodo had traveled, there were more forests. This was more open and dry, but still a refreshing change. Just being away from Mordor had made Sam feel better.
They reached the ford in late afternoon. The road to Harad was visible to the south. It looked well traveled. "We will camp here for the night," announced Captain Fahim, "And continue on our way in the morning." As they were making camp, one of the two scouts the Captain had sent out came galloping in the from the north. He pulled his horse to a stop and leaped to the ground, hurrying over the captain.
"Sir!" he panted, wiping the sweat from his eyes, "A large troop of our soldiers is nearly upon us! They are returning from battles in the north. They will be here within the hour."
The captain stared at the ground, deep in thought. "You are sure of this?"
"Yes, sir. The banner was that of the Emperor's 14th. It looked as if they had sustained heavy losses, but they were well organized. Their officers must have survived."
"Alright," sighed the Captain, "We will wait here for them and join them for the journey home. War Master Saharani was in command of the 14th. He is a good solider. I hope he is still in charge."
So, they waited. It wasn't long before they could hear the deep drumming sound of numerous marching feet. Dust could be seen rising in the north as the troop approached. The Captain and his men rose to their feet as the first soldiers appeared over the crest of the hill. A rider detached himself from the troop and rode up to the small group.
"His excellency, Battle Master Penghatsut Perang, commands you to identify yourselves." The rider's battle-scarred armor was covered with dust and mud. He looked exhausted, but eyed them suspiciously.
The captain stepped forward. "I am Captain Fahim, lately in command of the Emperor's Mounted 5th. This is all that remains of my command. I request permission to approach the Battle Master."
The rider nodded and surveyed the small group in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise when he came upon the injured Sayeed, sitting on the ground. "The prince travels with you?" he demanded. Then, his attention was caught by the small hobbit standing next to the prince. The rider frowned, "What is that strange creature there? Is he your prisoner?"
"Yes, the prince is under my command," Captain Fahim replied patiently, "He was injured in a flood, but will recover. The small creature is called a 'hobbit' and his name is Samwise Gamgee. He saved the prince's life and so we are releasing him." Sam was relieved that the captain refrained from mentioning his part in the destruction of the Ring.
The rider continued to frown at Sam, then turned to the Captain. "I think you had better come with me." Captain Fahim took his scout's horse and followed the rider back to the column.
For two days, the Haradrim remained by the river. In that time, the flood waters receded and the way became passable again. Two more men were found alive and three of the horses. The rest were presumed lost. They were at the foot of the mountains, on the edge of the southern region of Ithlien. A few of the men spent their time hunting and fishing and were able to provide at least a couple of meager meals during their stay.
Sayeed woke up the second day and despite some broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and a mild concussion, his spirits seemed little affected by his near death experience. He was, however, now Sam's constant companion and protector. "In our country," he told Sam, "If someone saves your life, you are his to command until the debt is repaid." This probably disturbed Sam as much as anything he had experienced thus far in his travels.
"Oh no, your Highness!" he protested worriedly, "I'm just a simple gardener! You don't need to be putting yourself out for the likes o' me! I just did what anyone would have done! All I want now is to go home to th' Shire and find some peace and since the Captain says I'm free now, that's what I aim to do!"
Sayeed nodded his understanding, but stayed by Sam's side. Sam's health was still poor. He had developed a very bad cold from his watery adventure and was in a good deal of pain from his new and old injuries. He leaned back wearily after a bout of coughing, feeling angry and frustrated. "Back home, I was the healthiest hobbit you'd ever want to meet!" he grumbled, "Now, with one thing and another, I seem to be the sickliest one! Somethin's always hurting. I'm right tired of it!"
Sayeed did his best to help his friend, but with the healer, Takir, among the missing, there was little he could do. On the second day, the Captain announced that they would be leaving the following morning. He told Sam that he was welcome to travel with them to the Crossings of Poros. There, they would take the Harad Road to the south, and he could head either west or north, to start his journey to Minas Tirith. Captain Fahim sat down and unfolded a leather map. He pointed to the Crossings on the map.
"Here," he told Sam, "The road goes three ways. My men and I will go to the south, towards home. You, however, must make a choice. You can go straight north towards Osgiliath and then head west towards Minas Tirith, or you can head west first and then north." He studied the map thoughtfully. "If you take the northern route, it is longer, but you may meet some of the armies of the West who can help you. The western route is somewhat shorter, but you are less likely to find any assistance. Few people live in this region, I am told."
Sam sighed glumly. He had no head for maps. Mr. Frodo was good at that sort of thing, not him. However, it wasn't hopeless if all he had to do was follow the road, no matter what direction. He thought about what the captain had said, and after looking at the map himself for a bit, he thought following the road that ran north, parallel to the mountains might be the best route for him. It would eventually him to the part of Ithilien where he and Frodo had met Captain Faramir. Maybe the captain would still be there. That was an encouraging thought. He was pinning all his hopes on Boromir's brother.
Sam sat back and looked at the Haradrim captain. "I guess the northern route would best suit my purposes. At least if I always keep th' mountains to my right, I know I'm heading in th' right direction!"
The captain nodded and folded his map. "We will leave tomorrow morning at first light. As we will have walk now, it will probably take us three days to reach the Crossings of Poros. However, you and Sayeed will ride." With that, he turned and left.
The next morning was cool and misty. It didn't take long for the men to pack up their few possessions and settle Sayeed and Sam on one of the remaining horses. The river had returned to its normal levels, so there was plenty of room along the banks for the travelers. Sam was still ill, his fever still making him miserable. He huddled into his cloak and leaned against Sayeed in a drowsy stupor. He was dreaming of home and Rosie and of Mr. Frodo. How he missed them all.
The journey to the Crossings of Poros was uneventful. Sam slept most of the way and by the third day was feeling more like himself again. "I believe your cold has improved, Samwise," observed Sayeed as they rode along. "How do you feel?"
Sam thought about this for a moment. "Well, things don't hurt as much, which is good and I'm startin' to be able to breathe again! I think it'll be a good long while before I'm up to snuff, but I'm feelin' better than I have since Mr. Frodo and I reached Mt. Doom. Some rest and good Shire food would set me to rights in no time. But, I'm guessin' that's still a long time away."
Sayeed laughed. "Yes, I too miss my home and good food! I do not believe I would choose a solider's life unless I had no other choice." Sam agreed wholeheartedly. He then thought he would miss this young man when it came time to part.
The terrain had changed dramatically from the wastelands of Mordor. The river was now bordered by rolling hills, covered with high grasses and occasional stands of trees. Sam remembered that farther north, where he and Frodo had traveled, there were more forests. This was more open and dry, but still a refreshing change. Just being away from Mordor had made Sam feel better.
They reached the ford in late afternoon. The road to Harad was visible to the south. It looked well traveled. "We will camp here for the night," announced Captain Fahim, "And continue on our way in the morning." As they were making camp, one of the two scouts the Captain had sent out came galloping in the from the north. He pulled his horse to a stop and leaped to the ground, hurrying over the captain.
"Sir!" he panted, wiping the sweat from his eyes, "A large troop of our soldiers is nearly upon us! They are returning from battles in the north. They will be here within the hour."
The captain stared at the ground, deep in thought. "You are sure of this?"
"Yes, sir. The banner was that of the Emperor's 14th. It looked as if they had sustained heavy losses, but they were well organized. Their officers must have survived."
"Alright," sighed the Captain, "We will wait here for them and join them for the journey home. War Master Saharani was in command of the 14th. He is a good solider. I hope he is still in charge."
So, they waited. It wasn't long before they could hear the deep drumming sound of numerous marching feet. Dust could be seen rising in the north as the troop approached. The Captain and his men rose to their feet as the first soldiers appeared over the crest of the hill. A rider detached himself from the troop and rode up to the small group.
"His excellency, Battle Master Penghatsut Perang, commands you to identify yourselves." The rider's battle-scarred armor was covered with dust and mud. He looked exhausted, but eyed them suspiciously.
The captain stepped forward. "I am Captain Fahim, lately in command of the Emperor's Mounted 5th. This is all that remains of my command. I request permission to approach the Battle Master."
The rider nodded and surveyed the small group in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise when he came upon the injured Sayeed, sitting on the ground. "The prince travels with you?" he demanded. Then, his attention was caught by the small hobbit standing next to the prince. The rider frowned, "What is that strange creature there? Is he your prisoner?"
"Yes, the prince is under my command," Captain Fahim replied patiently, "He was injured in a flood, but will recover. The small creature is called a 'hobbit' and his name is Samwise Gamgee. He saved the prince's life and so we are releasing him." Sam was relieved that the captain refrained from mentioning his part in the destruction of the Ring.
The rider continued to frown at Sam, then turned to the Captain. "I think you had better come with me." Captain Fahim took his scout's horse and followed the rider back to the column.