Title: Unlucky
Author: rabidsamfan
Chapter Four: Light
Summary: AU diversion – what if the cut Sam got in the Mines of Moria had been poisoned, after all?
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, but rather to J.R.R. Tolkien -- and several lines are quoted directly out of the chapter "Lothlorien." The best ones, of course.
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Frodo shivered under Aragorn's hand. "Do not speak so," he said. "I have lost one guide already this day. I do not wish to lose another."
"Nor do I mean you to," Aragorn said. "But none of the maps which you or Merry studied in Imladris show the Golden Wood in any detail, and it is an easy place to become confused if you stray from the River. The quest must not fail, Frodo, no matter how many of the Fellowship might falter along the way."
Frodo watched the ground with stinging eyes, and spoke even more softly so that none but Aragorn might hear. "What if it does fail, Aragorn? You said we lost all hope with Gandalf. Is there any reason left to even try?"
"But we have not lost the certainty of what will happen if we do not try," Aragorn said, and would have said more if not just then had Merry whistled softly from the far side of the tree.
"Aragorn! I think they're coming!"
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Pippin had soon reached the talan (or flet as such things were also called.) He was hoping for a house, and walls to hide behind, but what he found was nothing of the kind – just a flat platform nestled amid the topmost branches of the tree, with a screen fastened loosely on one side to deflect the wind. Gimli was already there, winding a bandage around Orophin's shoulder. The arrow that had hit him lay on the platform. It was the only arrow Pippin could see.
"That's one," he said, picking it up. Even an Orc arrow was better than none. "Have you seen any arrows? Legolas needs them."
"I've not had time to look," Gimli told him, and addressed the question to Orophin in the Elvish he had learned reluctantly as a child. It was not well phrased, and he knew it, but perhaps the sight of Pippin dancing with impatience with an arrow in his hand made the matter clear, for Orophin pointed to the southern edge of the flet.
There Pippin found large covered baskets set down into wells that had been carved right into the wood of the platform; the middle one held, among other things, fletching tools and arrows both finished and awaiting feathers. The arrows were four feet long and Pippin wondered how he could ever manage to climb down the ladder carrying such awkward things before his eye lit on a coil of rope. It was slender stuff, gray and almost glowing in the starlight, and soft on the hands, but still it seemed strong enough to Pippin for his needs.
"Here, Gimli," he said, bundling the finished arrows together in haste. "Lower these down on the rope, and I'll climb alongside and make sure they don't catch on anything or spill out."
"I can take them," Gimli offered, picking up his axe and sliding it into his belt.
But, "No," said Pippin, for the rope had reminded him of Sam, whom he'd often seen bundling garden stakes in the fall. Sam had a different knot for almost any occasion, learned on visits to his Uncle Andy, which he'd been pleased to demonstrate for the younger hobbits who visited Frodo at Bag End. It had been Sam who had first taught Pippin how to make a knot that would hold and yet come free when it was properly asked. "Sam's wanted a rope ever since we left Rivendell," Pippin said, remembering Sam's mutterings. "And now he needs one, if he's to climb the rest of the way up here. But I'm not strong enough alone to hold the line and steady him if he slips again."
"Very well," Gimli agreed. "But return as quickly as you can. I've a mind to deal with more of those orcs."
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Pippin was welcomed back to the lower branches by the sounds of fighting. A dozen orcs had climbed into the next tree over and made a sally across the branches, only to be driven back by the defenders. Aragorn and Rumil had ventured out onto the branches with blades, while Legolas and Haldir shot from where they stood. Even Merry was on his feet, and there was blood on his sword. Boromir stood braced over Sam. He and Frodo still were able to keep watch on the ground below, for the fighting had not yet reached that side of the tree; Sam was watching for Pippin, and holding the coiled end of the rope ladder in his lap.
"Arrows, Mr. Legolas," he called, as Pippin reached him. "Pass us your quiver." But Legolas came, leaping lightly from branch to branch.
"Give me a third of the arrows, and I will give the rest to the others," he said, as he shed his quiver and handed it to Pippin and Sam. Then he turned to Boromir. "Haldir thinks you should go with the Halflings, Boromir. This is not the best ground for your sword."
"This is no ground at all," said Boromir ruefully, for his boots were uncertain on the curve of the branch. "But if Aragorn will spare me his bow I can still be of use here below. My brother is the better bowman, yet I can hit my mark."
"There are more orcs than arrows, and some of them may get past us. Someone must watch the middle heights. And I do not think we will stay below for long. Knife work will be easier where the tree is narrower." Legolas took hold of the ladder and swung it towards Frodo, still above them. "Frodo, start climbing! The others will follow!"
"I'll go with Sam," Frodo protested.
"He'll be all right," Pippin said. "I've got a rope for him, and Gimli's got the other end."
"Then send him up!"
So Pippin tied the rope around Sam and Sam climbed. Frodo joined him on the ladder as soon as he was able, and Pippin and Boromir behind them both. Legolas then took the end of the ladder and brought it around to Merry's side of the tree.
"Pull the ladder up behind," he told Merry. "Do not let the orcs cut it and leave you stranded above."
"What about leaving you stranded below?" Merry thought, but he did not protest, and started upwards, hoping with all his heart that he might be as sure-footed as the Elves in this tall tree, or better, that the Orcs were not.
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Sam was dizzy and exhausted by the time he reached the platform, and Gimli had to haul him the last part of the way, and he lay where he was left, panting with the effort. Spots danced in front of his eyes, whether he closed them or no; he didn't protest as the others picked him up and set him next to Orophin and wrapped him in furs, indeed he was scarcely aware of anything but the pain in his head and the bite of the wind. He wanted desperately to sleep, and dared not, knowing that Frodo was in danger.
Frodo surveyed the platform with dismay. There was nothing to keep anyone from falling over the edges of it, except for the few branches that extended from the crown of the tree and held it in its place. The orcs might come from any side, or up through the hole in the center where Gimli and Merry and Pippin were drawing up the ladder. Boromir had remained ten feet below, in the hopes of discouraging their pursuers, but Frodo doubted he could stop them all. There were several orcs in the next tree over, and a few already in this one, clinging to it with their claws, and scoring deep into the wood with spikes attached to their iron shoes as they clambered from branch to branch. Sting was bright in his hand.
Looking out through a space on the south side Frodo could see all the valley of the Silverlode. The forest stretched across it, and he wondered about their road, finding the long dark line which marked the river. And as he gazed the gibbous moon began to rise from the mists in the distant east. Orange as a melon it was, with all the haze between, and slow to draw away from the clinging horizon; but as the world turned under it the mists were pulled away, and silver light began to flow down the moon's face and wash away the stains.
"Frodo! Look out!" The orcs had come. Gimli was shouting in his own language, his axe flashing in the new light. Merry knelt by the edge of the platform, slicing at claws and heads when they showed. Pippin had found something to throw. The sweet smell of broken apples came to Frodo like something out of a dream as he stepped between Sam and a looming shadow.
But something was happening. The light from the moon was still growing brighter. The orc hesitated; Frodo struck it and it stumbled back, falling to its knees, staring past him.
He wondered why, and turned. The light was silver, but the treetops of the valley were gold as a fallow field. And where the dark line of the river ran he saw a great luminosity coming out of the south. It was silver, like moonlight reflected from the water, and it followed the course of the river, increasing swiftly as it flowed upstream. Frodo had never seen anything like it, and he wondered if the Silverlode were named because the moon always mirrored from it so, but when the light reached the stream of Nimrodel it turned, and followed the smaller stream up until all the forest around was lit as brilliantly as morning.
The orcs howled and tried to hide from the light, but the defenders felt new strength come to them, and struck out all the harder. By the time the moon was a quarter of its way to zenith, none of the attackers remained nearby, and Frodo had Gimli let down the ladder, so that Aragorn and Boromir and the Elves could climb up to join them.
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A/N:
Thanks everyone for the reviews. I'm still trying to get the knack of how to answer them all!
Yellowrose: I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.
Roryb: There's not a lot of Tolkien in it this time, but I expect there will be more once I get them out of the tree.
Eykar: The horn of Gondor didn't dismay the orcs, so much as make them worry about who would respond. I looked at how the Uruk's reacted when they were fighting Boromir in "The Breaking of the Fellowship" and also at the moment in Rivendell for the effect on the others. I'm glad you like the action adventure parts of the story. There's a bit more of Sick!Sam to come but I really just thought about how having a more serious injury in the party would slow them down, and how it would change their experience with Haldir and the others.
Danny: I've no source on period medicine, but I'm not trying to be horribly authentic. It's pretty clear that Elvish medicine relies not only on herbs, but also upon an exercise of will.
Shirebound: This story certainly grew "like Topsy." Thank you so much for citing specific lines you liked.