I smiled up at Lady Galadriel from the bank of the river.
"Thank you for your kindness." I said softly. She had given me a pack full of Lembas bread, and a cloak made by her own fair hands. A white flower cloak pin fastened it at my throat.
"Of course. It has been too long since your kind dwelt freely among us." Galadriel kissed my forehead and stroked my hair. Then she took my hand and slipped a silver ring onto my left first finger. In it was set an oval moonstone. "It shall bring luck with you. Go with our blessings." I nodded and stepped into the small boat, and took up the paddles. The elves pushed the boat off, and I began drifting downstream. I used the paddles to steer myself away from the bank.
I was just coming out of Lothlorien when something on the bank beside me caught my eye. A running figure suddenly stopped and came forward. Legolas stood on the bank, and the look on his face made me want to turn back. I turned my face away and blinked back tears, and when I looked back, he was gone.
*&*
I came to Sarn Gebir after three days, passing between the two great statues of age-old kinds into the wide lake before the falls of Rauros. I paddled to the side, by Amon Hen, and looked across to Emyn Muil. Tomorrow morning I would cross the lake, and then hide the boat and continue on foot, through the hills and then to the Dead Marshes. I knew where to go, I had seen it on the map and known it in my heart.
I camped by the water's edge, and sat by the water in the evening watching as the sun set far to the west over the Misty Mountains. I considered skipping stones, but decided it was best not to disturb the water. You never knew what was lurking underneath that might object to rocks falling on it.
I slept uneasily and woke early. I saw no point in dragging it out and so packed up and rowed to the other side of the lake. Just as I dragged the boat up onto the shore I saw something large surface and dive again and was fervently glad I had decided against the rock skipping. I hid the boat and then started up into the hills.
It took me two weeks to make my way through those hills, between the misleading roads and the sheer precipices, it was a wonder I got through at all. But I finally stood at the top of the last hill, and stared out across the flat stinking marshes towards the mountains of Mordor, and I knew I was on the right road. Many women in my ancestry had made this trip, and through them I knew it well.
I was at the edge of the Marshes, about to begin the trek across, when I heard someone singing softly. I drew back into the shadows and saw a decrepit creature hobble out of the shadows to the edge of the marsh.
It was singing a rather gruesome song, about the taste of orcs and the horrible things it seemed to get up to in the night, when it coughed, and seemed to choke on a word. "Gollum. Gollum." Then it lay at the edge of the marsh as if to sleep. I rested fitfully, for I was always waking to check to see if 'Gollum' had gone. It was his voice that woke me, cold and aching, in the bitter dawn beside the marsh.
"He's taken it, hasn't he precious? And what are we to do? We are hungry, precious, very hungry, and orcses and goblins follow us." This comment worried me considerably. "But they won't finds us, will they precious? Because we go through the dead marshes, yes precious, that's what they are called, because of the dead people precious, towards Mordor where there are more orcses, and they wont expect that, will they precious. No, they wont. And then we can find a tasty orc to pull away and wrap our fingers round his neck, precious, and eat him up. Yes, precious. We shall. But what of the precious? We cannot do it without the precious! He's taken it! Taken the precious! Nasty, filthy thieving hobbitses!" the creature began coughing again, and making that horrible noise in its throat. "Gollum! Gollum!" then he set out across the marshes. I followed him, reluctant to leave my cover yet without any choice. But I could feel we were going the right way, Gollum knew where the safe parts of the marsh were
There was suddenly a horrible scream, and Gollum flung himself under a tree. I had no choice but to follow suit, and he stared at me, horrified.
"Hush." I whispered, "Or it'll hear us, and we'll both be dead."
"Who is they, precious, that they follow us into the marshes? What does they want from us, precious, hmm?"
"I want nothing from you. But I am going this way, and so were you. And here we are." Dusk was falling. "We should probably stay here tonight, its better than sleeping in the open, where they can see us, should they return."
"Why are they out?" Gollum asked suspiciously. "Do you have the precious?"
"I have nothing of yours." I said decisively. It narrowed its eyes at me, then turned away onto its side as if to sleep, though I knew it was not sleeping. I leaned against the trunk of the low tree, and lowered my eyelids, though I did not shut them, and I did not sleep.
*&*
Hours into the night, I suddenly shot out my hands and grasped Gollum's arms. He had come towards me, believing me asleep. It seemed it had planned to throttle me, even as it planned to throttle an unwary orc. It shrieked as I held on, and thrashed, but I refused to let go, until it finally stilled in my arms, sobbing.
"Let us go! Your hands burn like nasty elves!" it spat.
"Promise me you will not try to kill me or harm me again!" I snarled.
"It won't lets us go. Its hands will kill us, precious."
"Promise and I'll let you go!" I said softly. "Swear on the precious."
"You have the precious!" it snarled.
"No, but it means much to you. Perhaps if you help me, I might help you get back the precious that you care for so much."
"It'll help us get back the precious, my love. It will, if we are nice. Maybe it knows where it is! Then we can't kill it, no, precious, we cant. Or we won't get the precious back!" It looked at me with bulbous yellow- green eyes and nodded.
"We promise not to harm lady at all, if it will help us get the precious back."
"I will, if I can." I said. I let it go, and it scampered off, rubbing the red spots on his arms where I had held him. The spots almost seemed like...suns. I quickly raised my hands and stared. Now, in the centre of both palms, the Sun of Mordor showed pink against my palms . I got no more sleep that night.
*&*
It occurred to me the next day that my thirty-sixth birthday had passed me by without me noticing. Gollum continued ahead of me, at a pace I was hard pressed to follow. My mind drifted back to the events of the previous night, and the way the suns on my hands burnt his flesh, and then the words he spoke in the night afterwards, when he fell into sleep. From what he had said then I learnt much of what happened to him. How he had once been Smeagol, who murdered his best friend for the precious and then was called murderer by his people. He fled their prosecution into the mountains, where he lived among the goblins, using the precious to disguise himself. Then the 'Baggins' stole the precious, and Gollum has been consumed by a thirst for it ever since, and a need to have it back.
"Quickly, Lady! Quickly, Quickly! Nearly there."
"My name's Jané." I said, as I leapt across a gap in the marsh grass.
"Quickly, quickly." Was all he said in reply, and we continued on.
It was a further three days before we reached the end of the Dead Marshes. The Ash Mountains were aptly named, and a bitter wind blew around them, chilling to the bone.
"Where is it Lady plans to go?" Gollum asked.
"I'm not sure, Smeagol." I answered, looking around.
"What did it call us?" Gollum hissed. I turned, alarmed.
"Smeagol was your name, was it not?" I asked.
"We've not heard that name for ages, have we precious. No, we haven't. it might have been our name once, precious, we've forgotten, precious, we have."
"Where are you going?" I asked. I was worried that Gollum would reveal me on the mountainside.
"To find some orcses." Gollum said, and coughed. "Gollum, Gollum!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust, then spotted a good place to begin to climb. Gollum danced about below me, as I climbed. "Where does she climb to precious? Hmm, where does she climb to?"
"Up, Smeagol," I said with a smile. I looked around, and panic shot a dart through my heart. A company of orcs were coming our way. "Smeagol!" I cried, and scrambled down.
"What's she worried for, precious, hmm?"
"There are orcs. Many orcs, coming this way." He looked positively pleased. "Too many for you to kill and yet survive." I added. His expression darkened. I stretched out a hand from my precarious hold. "Take it, and we might yet live!" I exclaimed. At the moment he leapt for my wrist, since my hand burned him, and I pulled him up and against me, under the cloak. The cloak disguised us, so we looked no different from the rocks, and it refused to sway in the persistent breeze.
"I could of sworn I 'eard something!" one of them said. I closed my eyes.
"there's nothing here, you fool. Dragged us out 'ere for nothing!" the other said.
"Don't call me a fool!" a furious fight broke out beneath us, and I whispered to Gollum.
"Hold on, Smeagol. We need to get higher, or they'll find us." He wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms round my neck, and clung to me, as I searched for footrests and hand holds on the mountainside.
"'ere! I'm sure that rock's moved."
"You're an idiot for sure then. How would a rock move, eh?"
"Don't call me an idiot!" and the fight continued. I reached a largish ledge, and sat, panting slightly from the effort. Gollum detached himself from me and peered over the edge.
"Now we've nothing to eat, 'ave we precious? No, we don't."
"Well, you're welcome to climb down and try and get one without the others noticing." I said with a shrug.
"We could have done it with the precious, couldn't we, my love? But it's gone, the precious is gone!" he wailed. I clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Smeagol! Shush!" I hissed in his ear. "We'll get caught." Sure enough.
"What was that?" one of them asked. Smeagol inched backwards, and I went with him.
"I'll climb up and see." One said. I looked around frantically for an escape route. There was none, except a perilous climb straight up.
"Smeagol, come here!" I said softly.
"We're hungry, aren't we, precious?" was all he said, licking his lips.
"Oh great Lady, save us now!" I said, despairing. Gollum obviously cared only enough to strangle the monster as it appeared over the ledge, and have it for dinner. I drew my long knife, and nudged the pack towards the back of the ledge, so it would not fall over the edge. I peered over. There was one on the wall below us, and four more waiting below it, looking upwards. I pulled my face away hurriedly.
"Five of them, Smeagol." I said. He glanced at me over his bony shoulder.
"We knows, don't we precious? We won't go hungry for a while, will we?" I sighed, and squared my shoulders. Short of leaving Smeagol here, which I was loathe to do, there wasn't an awful lot I could do.
The head of an orc appeared, and Smeagol snapped his neck with an audible crack, then dragged it back onto the ledge. It took up a lot of space, was hideously ugly, and had a stench that would have offended a skunk.
"Ugh. Now what, Smeagol? All the rest are going to come up now." I said.
He coughed delightfully, I wondered if it was in fact his laugh. "Lady should go on. Wont get another chance like this, will she precious? No."
"You just don't want to share, do you?" I asked with a chuckle.
"Get your own!" Smeagol said, leaning possessively over the dead orc.
"I didn't mean it, Smeagol. Keep it. I shall continue. Be safe, yes?"
"We is always safe, isn't we, precious? Yes, we are. Gollum, gollum." I shrugged and pulled my pack back on, and began to climb again, before the orcs could come up to the ledge and catch me. I was half afraid Smeagol would betray me to them, but he didn't.
*&*
I made my way along the tops of the mountains, careful to stay on the side out of Mordor, that the great orange eye that I could see, even from here, did not see me. I was there for many months, making my way along an age old path that I remembered with my soul, not my mind.
I saw my destination four months into my climb. There was a line of mountains that stuck up into Mordor, and it would be from there that I would call. There had been something designed specifically for that, if I remembered rightly. By the end of the fourth month I was thin, and weak with the poison that Mordor now gave off. But I was now approaching the peak of the nalla'orod, the cry mountain, and my task was nearly over. The suns on my palms stung with harsh fire.
I reached the peak the following evening. I slumped by the spike of rock on the ledge that had been designed to hold the person using the nalla'orod, and slept.
I was awake before dawn, and felt better. I had slept sounder that night than I had any night since I crossed the Marshes and climbed into Mordor. Just as the first rays of sun cracked through the dense cloud above me, I whispered into the hole on the rock in the language of Anorondor, old Mordor : 'The Queen is returned.' The words echoed from the nalla'orod, and were magnified by the surrounding mountains until the words became a cry in which the message was still recognisable. I sank to the floor quickly as the orange beam of Sauron's eye passed over the nalla'orod, swung on, and returned. I spent the morning crouched beside the crying stone, until Sauron's eye no longer returned, and the echoes of my message were faded. I noticed the long line of names along the rock side, the names of the queens who had returned to Mordor from exile to do just as I had done, and I added my name to the list. Then I began the long trek back.
*&*
It was another long four months before I reached the edge of the Dead Marshes again, and those months were filled with close calls. My body was weak from lack of rest, and lembas no longer filled me as it used to, and I was no longer as alert as I should be in Mordor, and so my life was nearly forfeit more than once. I began the long slow walk across the marshes, and was relieved to see the tree that marked the halfway point. I collapsed under it, more than ready to spend the entire day at rest, when a familiar voice startled me half out of my skin.
"Lady does silly things, doesn't she, precious?" Smeagol appeared from behind the tree. "Goes far and long for little things! Silly Lady." He said shaking his head.
"Smeagol! Are you well?" I asked.
"We are still alive, if that is what Lady means, aren't we precious?" he crooned. "What has happened to Lady's hands? Has nasty suns burned them up?" he asked, pointing to my bandaged hands.
"No, they haven't burnt me." I said with a tired smile. The suns hadn't burnt me since I made the call at nalla'orod, though they were now sore red brands against my skin.
"Hm. Lady said she'd help us find the precious, if we helped her. And we did, we did precious. So now Lady must help us find the precious." I nodded.
"That is what we agreed, and that is what we shall do." I said. "Where shall we begin to look?" I asked.
"Shire." Smeagol said definitely. "Baggins from Shire."
"Ah." I nodded. "I know where the Shire is. We shall go there, and see about getting back your 'precious'." Smeagol nodded, and gave a blackened, gap-filled smile.
We went around Emyn Muil this time, to the north because Smeagol refused to go south. I could only imagine it went too near to Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, though I could not understand why he disliked them so.
Instead, we headed for the northern mountain pass that came out near to Rivendell, and near enough on the Great East Road, which ran straight through the Shire. As we made our way across the Brown Lands, I often sang songs, and occasionally Smeagol joined in for a few words. But that was only for the very oldest songs, which made me wonder how old he really was.
*&*
We were nearing Mirkwood when the scouts caught us. One moment we were walking in near-silence, and next we were surrounded by elven archers, dressed in the greens of Mirkwood. Smeagol cowered, and I immediately leapt forward to his defence.
"Don't hurt him!" I cried, drawing him to me, and shielding him with the cloak from Lothlorien.
"Where are you two going, so close to Mirkwood?" one of the archers asked.
"We are headed for the northern pass of the mountains, and the ford at the Old Forest Road, that we may come out on the other side of the Misty Mountains on the Great East Road, and from there continue west across Middle Earth. Our destination is our own." I said levelly.
"And who are you, to travel so boldly here?" the elf asked haughtily. He was really getting on my nerves.
"Our names are our own, to be given as we please." I retorted.
"Since you will not co-operate, we will take you with us." The elves moved quickly, separating me and Smeagol. He screamed his terror and rage at them, while I struggled as they held my arms.
"Stop it! You're hurting him! Stop!" I shouted. They did not stop.
"Sir!" one of the elves holding me back said. The haughty elf turned.
"What?"
"She wears a cloak and badge of Lorien, and her knife and ring are elven made." The captain stared at me for a moment.
"Release her." They did, and I ran to Smeagol, who lay curled and sobbing.
"Let him be - what has he done to you?" I asked. I leaned over him, and the elves moved away. "Smeagol? Smeagol, it's me. Listen Smeagol, they won't hurt you any more." I glared at their leader. "I won't let them. Take my hand Smeagol." I held it out, and he slowly raised his head, and grabbed my bandaged hand. He clung close to me, half-shrouded in my cloak.
"Where did you get the cloak and knife?" the captain asked, trying to bully me into answering.
"The cloak, pin and ring are from Lothlorien, and were a gift from the Lady of the Wood. The knife is from Rivendell and was a gift from my brother."
"And who might your brother be?" I did not answer him, merely stared defiantly, one arm around Smeagol.
"Bring them." The captain said, and strode off.
"Thank you for your kindness." I said softly. She had given me a pack full of Lembas bread, and a cloak made by her own fair hands. A white flower cloak pin fastened it at my throat.
"Of course. It has been too long since your kind dwelt freely among us." Galadriel kissed my forehead and stroked my hair. Then she took my hand and slipped a silver ring onto my left first finger. In it was set an oval moonstone. "It shall bring luck with you. Go with our blessings." I nodded and stepped into the small boat, and took up the paddles. The elves pushed the boat off, and I began drifting downstream. I used the paddles to steer myself away from the bank.
I was just coming out of Lothlorien when something on the bank beside me caught my eye. A running figure suddenly stopped and came forward. Legolas stood on the bank, and the look on his face made me want to turn back. I turned my face away and blinked back tears, and when I looked back, he was gone.
*&*
I came to Sarn Gebir after three days, passing between the two great statues of age-old kinds into the wide lake before the falls of Rauros. I paddled to the side, by Amon Hen, and looked across to Emyn Muil. Tomorrow morning I would cross the lake, and then hide the boat and continue on foot, through the hills and then to the Dead Marshes. I knew where to go, I had seen it on the map and known it in my heart.
I camped by the water's edge, and sat by the water in the evening watching as the sun set far to the west over the Misty Mountains. I considered skipping stones, but decided it was best not to disturb the water. You never knew what was lurking underneath that might object to rocks falling on it.
I slept uneasily and woke early. I saw no point in dragging it out and so packed up and rowed to the other side of the lake. Just as I dragged the boat up onto the shore I saw something large surface and dive again and was fervently glad I had decided against the rock skipping. I hid the boat and then started up into the hills.
It took me two weeks to make my way through those hills, between the misleading roads and the sheer precipices, it was a wonder I got through at all. But I finally stood at the top of the last hill, and stared out across the flat stinking marshes towards the mountains of Mordor, and I knew I was on the right road. Many women in my ancestry had made this trip, and through them I knew it well.
I was at the edge of the Marshes, about to begin the trek across, when I heard someone singing softly. I drew back into the shadows and saw a decrepit creature hobble out of the shadows to the edge of the marsh.
It was singing a rather gruesome song, about the taste of orcs and the horrible things it seemed to get up to in the night, when it coughed, and seemed to choke on a word. "Gollum. Gollum." Then it lay at the edge of the marsh as if to sleep. I rested fitfully, for I was always waking to check to see if 'Gollum' had gone. It was his voice that woke me, cold and aching, in the bitter dawn beside the marsh.
"He's taken it, hasn't he precious? And what are we to do? We are hungry, precious, very hungry, and orcses and goblins follow us." This comment worried me considerably. "But they won't finds us, will they precious? Because we go through the dead marshes, yes precious, that's what they are called, because of the dead people precious, towards Mordor where there are more orcses, and they wont expect that, will they precious. No, they wont. And then we can find a tasty orc to pull away and wrap our fingers round his neck, precious, and eat him up. Yes, precious. We shall. But what of the precious? We cannot do it without the precious! He's taken it! Taken the precious! Nasty, filthy thieving hobbitses!" the creature began coughing again, and making that horrible noise in its throat. "Gollum! Gollum!" then he set out across the marshes. I followed him, reluctant to leave my cover yet without any choice. But I could feel we were going the right way, Gollum knew where the safe parts of the marsh were
There was suddenly a horrible scream, and Gollum flung himself under a tree. I had no choice but to follow suit, and he stared at me, horrified.
"Hush." I whispered, "Or it'll hear us, and we'll both be dead."
"Who is they, precious, that they follow us into the marshes? What does they want from us, precious, hmm?"
"I want nothing from you. But I am going this way, and so were you. And here we are." Dusk was falling. "We should probably stay here tonight, its better than sleeping in the open, where they can see us, should they return."
"Why are they out?" Gollum asked suspiciously. "Do you have the precious?"
"I have nothing of yours." I said decisively. It narrowed its eyes at me, then turned away onto its side as if to sleep, though I knew it was not sleeping. I leaned against the trunk of the low tree, and lowered my eyelids, though I did not shut them, and I did not sleep.
*&*
Hours into the night, I suddenly shot out my hands and grasped Gollum's arms. He had come towards me, believing me asleep. It seemed it had planned to throttle me, even as it planned to throttle an unwary orc. It shrieked as I held on, and thrashed, but I refused to let go, until it finally stilled in my arms, sobbing.
"Let us go! Your hands burn like nasty elves!" it spat.
"Promise me you will not try to kill me or harm me again!" I snarled.
"It won't lets us go. Its hands will kill us, precious."
"Promise and I'll let you go!" I said softly. "Swear on the precious."
"You have the precious!" it snarled.
"No, but it means much to you. Perhaps if you help me, I might help you get back the precious that you care for so much."
"It'll help us get back the precious, my love. It will, if we are nice. Maybe it knows where it is! Then we can't kill it, no, precious, we cant. Or we won't get the precious back!" It looked at me with bulbous yellow- green eyes and nodded.
"We promise not to harm lady at all, if it will help us get the precious back."
"I will, if I can." I said. I let it go, and it scampered off, rubbing the red spots on his arms where I had held him. The spots almost seemed like...suns. I quickly raised my hands and stared. Now, in the centre of both palms, the Sun of Mordor showed pink against my palms . I got no more sleep that night.
*&*
It occurred to me the next day that my thirty-sixth birthday had passed me by without me noticing. Gollum continued ahead of me, at a pace I was hard pressed to follow. My mind drifted back to the events of the previous night, and the way the suns on my hands burnt his flesh, and then the words he spoke in the night afterwards, when he fell into sleep. From what he had said then I learnt much of what happened to him. How he had once been Smeagol, who murdered his best friend for the precious and then was called murderer by his people. He fled their prosecution into the mountains, where he lived among the goblins, using the precious to disguise himself. Then the 'Baggins' stole the precious, and Gollum has been consumed by a thirst for it ever since, and a need to have it back.
"Quickly, Lady! Quickly, Quickly! Nearly there."
"My name's Jané." I said, as I leapt across a gap in the marsh grass.
"Quickly, quickly." Was all he said in reply, and we continued on.
It was a further three days before we reached the end of the Dead Marshes. The Ash Mountains were aptly named, and a bitter wind blew around them, chilling to the bone.
"Where is it Lady plans to go?" Gollum asked.
"I'm not sure, Smeagol." I answered, looking around.
"What did it call us?" Gollum hissed. I turned, alarmed.
"Smeagol was your name, was it not?" I asked.
"We've not heard that name for ages, have we precious. No, we haven't. it might have been our name once, precious, we've forgotten, precious, we have."
"Where are you going?" I asked. I was worried that Gollum would reveal me on the mountainside.
"To find some orcses." Gollum said, and coughed. "Gollum, Gollum!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust, then spotted a good place to begin to climb. Gollum danced about below me, as I climbed. "Where does she climb to precious? Hmm, where does she climb to?"
"Up, Smeagol," I said with a smile. I looked around, and panic shot a dart through my heart. A company of orcs were coming our way. "Smeagol!" I cried, and scrambled down.
"What's she worried for, precious, hmm?"
"There are orcs. Many orcs, coming this way." He looked positively pleased. "Too many for you to kill and yet survive." I added. His expression darkened. I stretched out a hand from my precarious hold. "Take it, and we might yet live!" I exclaimed. At the moment he leapt for my wrist, since my hand burned him, and I pulled him up and against me, under the cloak. The cloak disguised us, so we looked no different from the rocks, and it refused to sway in the persistent breeze.
"I could of sworn I 'eard something!" one of them said. I closed my eyes.
"there's nothing here, you fool. Dragged us out 'ere for nothing!" the other said.
"Don't call me a fool!" a furious fight broke out beneath us, and I whispered to Gollum.
"Hold on, Smeagol. We need to get higher, or they'll find us." He wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms round my neck, and clung to me, as I searched for footrests and hand holds on the mountainside.
"'ere! I'm sure that rock's moved."
"You're an idiot for sure then. How would a rock move, eh?"
"Don't call me an idiot!" and the fight continued. I reached a largish ledge, and sat, panting slightly from the effort. Gollum detached himself from me and peered over the edge.
"Now we've nothing to eat, 'ave we precious? No, we don't."
"Well, you're welcome to climb down and try and get one without the others noticing." I said with a shrug.
"We could have done it with the precious, couldn't we, my love? But it's gone, the precious is gone!" he wailed. I clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Smeagol! Shush!" I hissed in his ear. "We'll get caught." Sure enough.
"What was that?" one of them asked. Smeagol inched backwards, and I went with him.
"I'll climb up and see." One said. I looked around frantically for an escape route. There was none, except a perilous climb straight up.
"Smeagol, come here!" I said softly.
"We're hungry, aren't we, precious?" was all he said, licking his lips.
"Oh great Lady, save us now!" I said, despairing. Gollum obviously cared only enough to strangle the monster as it appeared over the ledge, and have it for dinner. I drew my long knife, and nudged the pack towards the back of the ledge, so it would not fall over the edge. I peered over. There was one on the wall below us, and four more waiting below it, looking upwards. I pulled my face away hurriedly.
"Five of them, Smeagol." I said. He glanced at me over his bony shoulder.
"We knows, don't we precious? We won't go hungry for a while, will we?" I sighed, and squared my shoulders. Short of leaving Smeagol here, which I was loathe to do, there wasn't an awful lot I could do.
The head of an orc appeared, and Smeagol snapped his neck with an audible crack, then dragged it back onto the ledge. It took up a lot of space, was hideously ugly, and had a stench that would have offended a skunk.
"Ugh. Now what, Smeagol? All the rest are going to come up now." I said.
He coughed delightfully, I wondered if it was in fact his laugh. "Lady should go on. Wont get another chance like this, will she precious? No."
"You just don't want to share, do you?" I asked with a chuckle.
"Get your own!" Smeagol said, leaning possessively over the dead orc.
"I didn't mean it, Smeagol. Keep it. I shall continue. Be safe, yes?"
"We is always safe, isn't we, precious? Yes, we are. Gollum, gollum." I shrugged and pulled my pack back on, and began to climb again, before the orcs could come up to the ledge and catch me. I was half afraid Smeagol would betray me to them, but he didn't.
*&*
I made my way along the tops of the mountains, careful to stay on the side out of Mordor, that the great orange eye that I could see, even from here, did not see me. I was there for many months, making my way along an age old path that I remembered with my soul, not my mind.
I saw my destination four months into my climb. There was a line of mountains that stuck up into Mordor, and it would be from there that I would call. There had been something designed specifically for that, if I remembered rightly. By the end of the fourth month I was thin, and weak with the poison that Mordor now gave off. But I was now approaching the peak of the nalla'orod, the cry mountain, and my task was nearly over. The suns on my palms stung with harsh fire.
I reached the peak the following evening. I slumped by the spike of rock on the ledge that had been designed to hold the person using the nalla'orod, and slept.
I was awake before dawn, and felt better. I had slept sounder that night than I had any night since I crossed the Marshes and climbed into Mordor. Just as the first rays of sun cracked through the dense cloud above me, I whispered into the hole on the rock in the language of Anorondor, old Mordor : 'The Queen is returned.' The words echoed from the nalla'orod, and were magnified by the surrounding mountains until the words became a cry in which the message was still recognisable. I sank to the floor quickly as the orange beam of Sauron's eye passed over the nalla'orod, swung on, and returned. I spent the morning crouched beside the crying stone, until Sauron's eye no longer returned, and the echoes of my message were faded. I noticed the long line of names along the rock side, the names of the queens who had returned to Mordor from exile to do just as I had done, and I added my name to the list. Then I began the long trek back.
*&*
It was another long four months before I reached the edge of the Dead Marshes again, and those months were filled with close calls. My body was weak from lack of rest, and lembas no longer filled me as it used to, and I was no longer as alert as I should be in Mordor, and so my life was nearly forfeit more than once. I began the long slow walk across the marshes, and was relieved to see the tree that marked the halfway point. I collapsed under it, more than ready to spend the entire day at rest, when a familiar voice startled me half out of my skin.
"Lady does silly things, doesn't she, precious?" Smeagol appeared from behind the tree. "Goes far and long for little things! Silly Lady." He said shaking his head.
"Smeagol! Are you well?" I asked.
"We are still alive, if that is what Lady means, aren't we precious?" he crooned. "What has happened to Lady's hands? Has nasty suns burned them up?" he asked, pointing to my bandaged hands.
"No, they haven't burnt me." I said with a tired smile. The suns hadn't burnt me since I made the call at nalla'orod, though they were now sore red brands against my skin.
"Hm. Lady said she'd help us find the precious, if we helped her. And we did, we did precious. So now Lady must help us find the precious." I nodded.
"That is what we agreed, and that is what we shall do." I said. "Where shall we begin to look?" I asked.
"Shire." Smeagol said definitely. "Baggins from Shire."
"Ah." I nodded. "I know where the Shire is. We shall go there, and see about getting back your 'precious'." Smeagol nodded, and gave a blackened, gap-filled smile.
We went around Emyn Muil this time, to the north because Smeagol refused to go south. I could only imagine it went too near to Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, though I could not understand why he disliked them so.
Instead, we headed for the northern mountain pass that came out near to Rivendell, and near enough on the Great East Road, which ran straight through the Shire. As we made our way across the Brown Lands, I often sang songs, and occasionally Smeagol joined in for a few words. But that was only for the very oldest songs, which made me wonder how old he really was.
*&*
We were nearing Mirkwood when the scouts caught us. One moment we were walking in near-silence, and next we were surrounded by elven archers, dressed in the greens of Mirkwood. Smeagol cowered, and I immediately leapt forward to his defence.
"Don't hurt him!" I cried, drawing him to me, and shielding him with the cloak from Lothlorien.
"Where are you two going, so close to Mirkwood?" one of the archers asked.
"We are headed for the northern pass of the mountains, and the ford at the Old Forest Road, that we may come out on the other side of the Misty Mountains on the Great East Road, and from there continue west across Middle Earth. Our destination is our own." I said levelly.
"And who are you, to travel so boldly here?" the elf asked haughtily. He was really getting on my nerves.
"Our names are our own, to be given as we please." I retorted.
"Since you will not co-operate, we will take you with us." The elves moved quickly, separating me and Smeagol. He screamed his terror and rage at them, while I struggled as they held my arms.
"Stop it! You're hurting him! Stop!" I shouted. They did not stop.
"Sir!" one of the elves holding me back said. The haughty elf turned.
"What?"
"She wears a cloak and badge of Lorien, and her knife and ring are elven made." The captain stared at me for a moment.
"Release her." They did, and I ran to Smeagol, who lay curled and sobbing.
"Let him be - what has he done to you?" I asked. I leaned over him, and the elves moved away. "Smeagol? Smeagol, it's me. Listen Smeagol, they won't hurt you any more." I glared at their leader. "I won't let them. Take my hand Smeagol." I held it out, and he slowly raised his head, and grabbed my bandaged hand. He clung close to me, half-shrouded in my cloak.
"Where did you get the cloak and knife?" the captain asked, trying to bully me into answering.
"The cloak, pin and ring are from Lothlorien, and were a gift from the Lady of the Wood. The knife is from Rivendell and was a gift from my brother."
"And who might your brother be?" I did not answer him, merely stared defiantly, one arm around Smeagol.
"Bring them." The captain said, and strode off.