All that day they crossed the uplands of Lamedon under a pale grey sky. Light winter clouds clustered on the mountaintops which flanked both sides of the lonely road. A few outlying peaks rose high to the south, separated by a narrow neck of land from the spine of peaks that now lay between them and Rohan on their left. Rocky meads of yellowed grass spread out all around them. There were sheep bleating on the hills, but they saw no trace of men.
At the end of the long and wearisome day they came to an ordered hamlet on the bank of a river, but they found it utterly deserted. Its inhabitants had gone away to war, or else forsaken their homes at the tidings that the King of the Dead had come forth. Cats skulked in doorways and between the houses, watching the host pass by. An inn's sign creaked in a wind no one could feel. The Galadrim observed closely the humble half-timbered houses, thatched roofs, and winter-nipped vines of roses climbing walls and porches. Even the ordinary sight of a wagon abandoned in the middle of the street, leaning on a broken wheel, was a strange curiosity for them. All was silent. The footfalls of their steeds thudded on the dusty road.
Aragorn called a rest when they reached the stone bridge on the far side of town, and they turned off into the fallow fields to pitch camp and take a much-needed rest. The elves did not feel the oppressive pall of the dead, but Aragorn was wise enough to know the leader of the company needed a clear head and all his powers for the trial to come. Also there were the horses: elves could fire their spirits, but not give them strength beyond their mortal frames. The hardy dwarf could have made do, but was just as happy that the leader of the host was mortal after all.
Sometime during the night, Gimli was roused out of a prodigious snore by a sharp cry. As he reached for his axe, he blearily realized it had come from Legolas.
The Mirkwood elf was not the only one yammering; many of the Galadrim were speaking in dismayed murmurs to one another.
What is it? Gimli muttered, making his way towards Aragorn by the reek of his pipe. He found the man sitting a little apart from the rest of the company, drying out before a small fire. Gimli and Legolas had made good on their pact at at the bridge, and the dwarf approached him cautiously. Where is that squeaking elf?
There was a soft rattle of arrows as Legolas sat down by the dwarf, but he did not speak; he simply drew a knife that flashed in the dim firelight and pointed upwards.
Gimli squinted, following the gleam of red along the blade to the moon hovering over the mountains. It took him a moment to grasp what the elf was pointing out to him. The moon's face was a dull rust, though it was one night past the full. Yet even as he watched it was fading to the color of dried blood. There were no stars in that part of the sky.
It started an hour ago, Aragorn said grimly. Legolas, what do you make of it?
A fume blown on an ill wind from the east, the elf sighed. Mordor is coming between us and the very stars. And the cloud is getting thicker. There will be no sunrise.
There was a faint red glow on the man's face as he blew into his tobacco. Sauron has answered my challenge, he mused, face shut as it had been since they set out from Dunharrow. We have little time, my friends.
And some seventy leagues before us! Gimli growled. Can the horses reach Pelargir ahead of that fleet you saw? And running blind?
The Ranger shook his head, evidently considering his options. Smoke ringed his head, and behind him, the last wide open patch of sky was growing smaller. Another star winked out.
Yet Legolas' voice was steady and sure. My people can guide them, Aragorn, if there is any light left at all.
The man shifted around with a creak of leather. The horses were moving restlessly in the middle of the bivouac. They had encamped in a circle with the elves ringing the horses, to keep them together and protected, and to set a wall between them and the horror of the flitting shades. Other than the champ of teeth or hooves and the occasional snort, there was no other sound; the slow-moving Ciril flowed mutely beside them, and the elves had stopped talking, returning to whatever manner of rest they needed. A few open eyes gleamed, reflecting the embers of Aragorn's fading fire. Elves never closed their eyes for long save in death.
Gimli found himself missing the hobbits again. He'd caught Pippin more than once daring the others to dribble water in Legolas' eyes when the elf dozed, but the other hobbits were not Tooks, and the experiment had gone untried. The dwarf sighed and rose to his feet, knowing that brooding was a man's job, and that his was to rest or ride until he had more orcs to cleave.
Abruptly Aragorn began to laugh.
Gimli straightened, not liking this at all.
The Ranger took another draw from his pipe. Look east, he said conversationally.
The dwarf peered, about to complain he could not tell east from upside down in such darkness, then discovered his meaning. Gimli, too, began to chuckle. Well, well. Sauron has left a lamp burning for us, hasn't he now?
It was true. Close to them the great walls of the White Mountains of Gondor reared up; only the faintest hint of gray still glimmered on their snowy heights now that the moon was eclipsed. The tops of some were lost within the creeping haze. But there were gaps between their shoulders, and the eastern sky was not altogether black, although it was a solid ceiling. Far, far in the distance came a dim red glow, which could only hint at the unimaginable fires that must be leaping from Orodruin, the fiery mountain in the heart of the land of shadow.
The forges of the Dark Lord burn the fiercer, said Aragorn, as his doubt grows. The more he seeks to drown us in darkness, the brighter that flame will become. His fears will light the road before us when all other lights go out.
Radathar aen i pheriannath ennas ven dîn, Legolas prayed under his breath. *
Aragorn blew another thin ribbon of smoke, gray eyes soft. Frodo and Sam will find a way, Legolas.
Gimli's spirits fell as he glared towards that distant but awful glimmer of the mountain they knew was the root of all their hopes and fears, the destination of the hobbits' desperate errand. I wish we could do aught for them.
Aragorn smiled. We are, my friends, though you do not know it. Where do you think the foe has kept the vast armies he is gathering against us? All across the northern plains of Mordor, between the Black Gate and Orodruin. They stood exactly between the Ringbearer and his goal. But the host that remains there is much diminished, for our victory at Rohan and my little chat with him have given the Dark Lord reason to strike us swiftly. If we can take Pelargir and confound his plans further, he will empty his land against us. We shall have cleared the path for Frodo and Sam far more than we could by defending them with axe, bow, and sword.
Gimli turned back, leaning on his axe and staring down at the man with a mixture of awe, horror, and respect. Even though we may well lose your precious city, and like as not ourselves in the process.
Aragorn's eyes flashed. I did not defend Helm's Deep only to abandon Minas Tirith, Gimli, and I gave Boromir my word that the White City will not fall.
Legolas himself drew a sharp breath. You guessed this was needed. That is why you let Frodo go alone.
Aragorn tapped out his pipe on a stone. In part. But I had no sure means to draw Sauron's attention until the palantír came into my hands.
Your luck again, Gimli marvelled. The dwarf shifted his feet. Which is all well and fine, but even the elves are going to start calling you King of the Dead if you go another night without sleep.
The Ranger threw his cloak from his shoulders and stretched himself over it, turning on his side to face the last untroubled patch of stars and the north. Then I suppose I had better sleep, before one of you takes it into your minds to hit me over the head with a rock, he grumbled good-naturedly. Legolas, have Timdaur rouse us two hours before dawn.
Such dawn as there may be. He rose to his feet but did not go far, keeping watch over those who needed more rest than elves.
*(May the haflings there find their path.)