Chapter 15 On the Road to Minas Tirith
Damrod slept little that day, but kept watch against any pursuers. Mablung would explain his absence to Lord Benar. He did not believe that would be a problem. He also hoped that no one had been hurt in the fire. As the sun began to set, Damrod looked down at his sleeping companion. Sam was lying curled on his side, his face pale and gaunt. However, he looked very peaceful. It was time to go. Damrod knelt down and gently shook the slumbering hobbit. Sam's eyes slowly opened. He frowned in confusion, trying to remember where he was. When his eyes met those of Damrod's he sighed in relief.
"I was dreaming about Master Frodo," he said as he pushed himself to a sitting position. "I saw him waitin' for me atop a tall wall. He kept calling my name, telling me to hurry home." Sam shook his head at the foolish dream, then gratefully accepted the Lembas bread that Damrod offered him. He had grown very weary of the elven way bread while he and Frodo traveled through Mordor, but now it was a welcome treat. He instantly felt better.
"I have something for you, Sam" said Damrod as he began digging through his saddle bags. A moment later, he turned and handed Sam an old battered pack and sword.
Sam's eyes widened with surprise, then just as quickly filled with tears. "Sting!" he gasped, "And my pack!" He handled them reverently, as if they were precious heirlooms. "Where did you get them? I thought they were lost for good!"
"Prince Sayeed had them and asked that I return them to you. He thought you would like them back."
Sam opened the pack and was thrilled to see that its meager contents were all present and accounted for. He gently touched the Lady's gifts and smiled to himself. Then he slowly removed the flask containing the Elixir of Tidak and stared at it thoughtfully. Damrod watched him curiously. "A fellow livin' under Mt. Doom gave me this," Sam said, remembering, "It's wonderful stuff. Makes you feel better when yer hurt or sick. It kept me goin' before the orcs got me. I think it might be useful now." With that, he uncorked it and took a long swig. Damrod was surprised to see color quickly returning to Sam's face and he looked stronger. "It don't cure you," said Sam as he packed the flask away, "But it gives you strength to go about yer business." He decided against mentioning that it could make you feel worse when it wore off.
Sam watched as Damrod packed up in preparation to leave. He desperately wanted to ask a question, but was mortally afraid of the answer. Finally, he took a deep breath and said nervously, "Excuse me, Mr. Damrod, but can I ask you something?"
Damrod turned to look at Sam. He thought he knew what the hobbit was going to ask. "You want to know about Frodo." Sam bit his lip and nodded. The hobbit felt a cold chill run through his body and he was shaking. He was absolutely terrified. Damrod sat down and laid his hand on Sam's arm. "I wish I could tell you for certain about your master," he began. "I know he was brought out of Mordor near death. He was treated by the finest healers in Gondor, including King Elessar himself, but I have not heard any more concerning his fate. Shortly after the fall of Sauron, I was sent south with the envoy. I heard of Elessar being crowned, but nothing of the Ringbearer. I am sorry I cannot tell you more. He may yet live."
Sam wiped the tears from his face. Well, the news could certainly have been worse, at least Frodo was alive when he reached safety. Hopefully this King Elessar and the other healers were able to save him. Sam wondered about the others from the Fellowship: Aragorn, Pippin and Merry, Gimli and Legolas. Were any of them yet alive? Maybe if he ever reached Minas Tirith, he would learn of their fates.
Damrod finished his preparations and they were soon away. He rode fast. His horse was one of the finest from Rohan, and did not tire easily. Sam frequently slept. There wasn't much else he could do. They traveled like this for several days and with each passing mile, Sam felt a certain excitement growing. He would make it home after all; home to the gaffer and Rosie and his gardens at Bag End. The thought gave him strength.
They had crossed the Anduin early in the day and were traveling through the empty land of Lebennin. Damrod was on the alert as there had been many roving bands of orcs terrorizing the area when he had traveled south several weeks before. He doubted they had been rooted out yet. It would be some time before all the lands just west of Mordor were safe. They were riding fast down the road with heavy forests all around. Sam could feel Damrod's tension.
"If anything happens to me," Damrod said seriously, "simply follow this road north. It will take you directly to the White City. We are not more than fifty miles away now." Sam nodded and held more tightly to the horse's saddle.
It was starting to grow dark when the Uruk-hai attacked. A black-fletched arrow flew from the dark shadows of the trees striking Damrod square in the back. He grabbed Sam tightly and yelled, "Do not let go of the horse! He will take you to safety!" Sam turned in surprise and cried out as he saw Damrod slide from the horse, and collapse motionless the road behind him.
"Damrod!" he yelled in shock, but this quickly turned to horror as he saw several Uruks emerge from beneath the forest canopy. Two pelted forward attempting to seize Sam and his mount. The horse sensing the evil creatures behind him , surged forward with renewed energy. Sam could do nothing but hold on for dear life, the roars of the frustrated Uruk-hai ringing in his ears.
The horse ran unchecked for many miles. Sam prayed he would stop soon as he didn't know how much longer he could hold on. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the terrified hobbit, the horse gradually slowed, and then stopped. The exhausted creature's sides were heaving and he dripped sweat and foam. Sam was panting himself and scared to move. After a few minutes, he finally got up enough courage to sit upright and take stock of his situation. He was still on the road to Minas Tirith, but he wasn't sure how much farther it would be to the city. It was almost completely dark now and Sam looked anxiously at the forbidding forest on either side of the road. He knew he must get off the horse, but was afraid that orcs were near. At least on the horse, he had a chance to outrun them.
However, the horse was spent and Sam knew it needed rest. He sighed then turning in the saddle, looked mournfully back the way they had come. Tears burned in his eyes and his throat tightened as he thought of the brave Damrod. The Ranger had saved his life again and now, he was gone. Sam buried his face in his hands as the grief overwhelmed him. Was death going to plague him forever? When he regained control some time later, he wiped his tears on his sleeve. He must go on he thought grimly. He loosened the saddlebags and dropped them to the ground. Once he was off the horse, he wouldn't be able to reach them. Then, he turned to the horse and said nervously, "Excuse me, Mr. Horse, I'm sorry I don't remember your name, but I'm going to slide off you now! Please don't step on me or anything!" The horse bobbed his weary head as if to say he understood, and stood quietly as Sam carefully slid off his back to the ground.
Once back on solid earth, Sam gave a great sigh of relief. He walked slowly to the horse's head and gently patted his nose. "Thank you, Mr. Horse," he said gratefully, "For saving my life. I'm sorry I've nothin' for you. I don't think horses care for Lembas. I guess yer on yer own now. I hope you know yer way home." The horse nuzzled Sam softly and with a soft whinny, slowly trotted off up the road. Sam felt more alone than ever.
Damrod slept little that day, but kept watch against any pursuers. Mablung would explain his absence to Lord Benar. He did not believe that would be a problem. He also hoped that no one had been hurt in the fire. As the sun began to set, Damrod looked down at his sleeping companion. Sam was lying curled on his side, his face pale and gaunt. However, he looked very peaceful. It was time to go. Damrod knelt down and gently shook the slumbering hobbit. Sam's eyes slowly opened. He frowned in confusion, trying to remember where he was. When his eyes met those of Damrod's he sighed in relief.
"I was dreaming about Master Frodo," he said as he pushed himself to a sitting position. "I saw him waitin' for me atop a tall wall. He kept calling my name, telling me to hurry home." Sam shook his head at the foolish dream, then gratefully accepted the Lembas bread that Damrod offered him. He had grown very weary of the elven way bread while he and Frodo traveled through Mordor, but now it was a welcome treat. He instantly felt better.
"I have something for you, Sam" said Damrod as he began digging through his saddle bags. A moment later, he turned and handed Sam an old battered pack and sword.
Sam's eyes widened with surprise, then just as quickly filled with tears. "Sting!" he gasped, "And my pack!" He handled them reverently, as if they were precious heirlooms. "Where did you get them? I thought they were lost for good!"
"Prince Sayeed had them and asked that I return them to you. He thought you would like them back."
Sam opened the pack and was thrilled to see that its meager contents were all present and accounted for. He gently touched the Lady's gifts and smiled to himself. Then he slowly removed the flask containing the Elixir of Tidak and stared at it thoughtfully. Damrod watched him curiously. "A fellow livin' under Mt. Doom gave me this," Sam said, remembering, "It's wonderful stuff. Makes you feel better when yer hurt or sick. It kept me goin' before the orcs got me. I think it might be useful now." With that, he uncorked it and took a long swig. Damrod was surprised to see color quickly returning to Sam's face and he looked stronger. "It don't cure you," said Sam as he packed the flask away, "But it gives you strength to go about yer business." He decided against mentioning that it could make you feel worse when it wore off.
Sam watched as Damrod packed up in preparation to leave. He desperately wanted to ask a question, but was mortally afraid of the answer. Finally, he took a deep breath and said nervously, "Excuse me, Mr. Damrod, but can I ask you something?"
Damrod turned to look at Sam. He thought he knew what the hobbit was going to ask. "You want to know about Frodo." Sam bit his lip and nodded. The hobbit felt a cold chill run through his body and he was shaking. He was absolutely terrified. Damrod sat down and laid his hand on Sam's arm. "I wish I could tell you for certain about your master," he began. "I know he was brought out of Mordor near death. He was treated by the finest healers in Gondor, including King Elessar himself, but I have not heard any more concerning his fate. Shortly after the fall of Sauron, I was sent south with the envoy. I heard of Elessar being crowned, but nothing of the Ringbearer. I am sorry I cannot tell you more. He may yet live."
Sam wiped the tears from his face. Well, the news could certainly have been worse, at least Frodo was alive when he reached safety. Hopefully this King Elessar and the other healers were able to save him. Sam wondered about the others from the Fellowship: Aragorn, Pippin and Merry, Gimli and Legolas. Were any of them yet alive? Maybe if he ever reached Minas Tirith, he would learn of their fates.
Damrod finished his preparations and they were soon away. He rode fast. His horse was one of the finest from Rohan, and did not tire easily. Sam frequently slept. There wasn't much else he could do. They traveled like this for several days and with each passing mile, Sam felt a certain excitement growing. He would make it home after all; home to the gaffer and Rosie and his gardens at Bag End. The thought gave him strength.
They had crossed the Anduin early in the day and were traveling through the empty land of Lebennin. Damrod was on the alert as there had been many roving bands of orcs terrorizing the area when he had traveled south several weeks before. He doubted they had been rooted out yet. It would be some time before all the lands just west of Mordor were safe. They were riding fast down the road with heavy forests all around. Sam could feel Damrod's tension.
"If anything happens to me," Damrod said seriously, "simply follow this road north. It will take you directly to the White City. We are not more than fifty miles away now." Sam nodded and held more tightly to the horse's saddle.
It was starting to grow dark when the Uruk-hai attacked. A black-fletched arrow flew from the dark shadows of the trees striking Damrod square in the back. He grabbed Sam tightly and yelled, "Do not let go of the horse! He will take you to safety!" Sam turned in surprise and cried out as he saw Damrod slide from the horse, and collapse motionless the road behind him.
"Damrod!" he yelled in shock, but this quickly turned to horror as he saw several Uruks emerge from beneath the forest canopy. Two pelted forward attempting to seize Sam and his mount. The horse sensing the evil creatures behind him , surged forward with renewed energy. Sam could do nothing but hold on for dear life, the roars of the frustrated Uruk-hai ringing in his ears.
The horse ran unchecked for many miles. Sam prayed he would stop soon as he didn't know how much longer he could hold on. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the terrified hobbit, the horse gradually slowed, and then stopped. The exhausted creature's sides were heaving and he dripped sweat and foam. Sam was panting himself and scared to move. After a few minutes, he finally got up enough courage to sit upright and take stock of his situation. He was still on the road to Minas Tirith, but he wasn't sure how much farther it would be to the city. It was almost completely dark now and Sam looked anxiously at the forbidding forest on either side of the road. He knew he must get off the horse, but was afraid that orcs were near. At least on the horse, he had a chance to outrun them.
However, the horse was spent and Sam knew it needed rest. He sighed then turning in the saddle, looked mournfully back the way they had come. Tears burned in his eyes and his throat tightened as he thought of the brave Damrod. The Ranger had saved his life again and now, he was gone. Sam buried his face in his hands as the grief overwhelmed him. Was death going to plague him forever? When he regained control some time later, he wiped his tears on his sleeve. He must go on he thought grimly. He loosened the saddlebags and dropped them to the ground. Once he was off the horse, he wouldn't be able to reach them. Then, he turned to the horse and said nervously, "Excuse me, Mr. Horse, I'm sorry I don't remember your name, but I'm going to slide off you now! Please don't step on me or anything!" The horse bobbed his weary head as if to say he understood, and stood quietly as Sam carefully slid off his back to the ground.
Once back on solid earth, Sam gave a great sigh of relief. He walked slowly to the horse's head and gently patted his nose. "Thank you, Mr. Horse," he said gratefully, "For saving my life. I'm sorry I've nothin' for you. I don't think horses care for Lembas. I guess yer on yer own now. I hope you know yer way home." The horse nuzzled Sam softly and with a soft whinny, slowly trotted off up the road. Sam felt more alone than ever.