Micah awoke with his face touching a hot surface. He knew right away that
Karod had once again manifested a desert to hinder him. He sat up, and
though he was partially correct, he couldn't prepare himself for what he
saw.
The dirt field had been turned to solid rock, and twisted spikes of stone stuck out everywhere, as if a coral reef had been drained and turned to stone. From this bed of rocky thorns rose high, broad walls of the same twisted rock, so that a sinister labyrinth of jagged rocks extended all the way to the horizon.
Belle watched Micah's face become drawn from despair. "Well," she said. "At least we don't have to worry about water anymore."
Micah brought his food bag down and sorted through its contents. He sighed, saying, "No, it's not the water we'll have to worry about."
Kokiri boots were known for being thick and durable, but after several miles of walking across the barbed desert-floor, his boots were full of holes, and his feet were beginning to feel cuts. He found himself tearing away material from the straps to patch up the soles. By midday, he had traveled less than a third of the distance he had planned. He could see the fortress, but it was still many miles off.
At one point, after climbing an otherwise impassible rise in the surface level, he lost his footing and tumbled all the way down the other side. He sat up wearily, coughing up dust, and checking his body for injuries. None were severe, but he was now covered in cuts and scrapes. Belle asked how he was.
"I'm fine," he grumbled, coughing. "Let's rest here."
He ate a bit of the last wafer of bread and gave some to Belle. He played the Song of Storms. The sky darkened, and it began to rain. Yet no matter how much he needed the nourishment, the heavy downpour brought stinging pain to his numerous wounds. Micah sat under an outcropping of a cliff, and there, he waited for the storm to end.
Fifteen minutes passed. He decided that, no matter how much the rain hurt, precious time was passing, and he needed to be on his way. He came out of the shelter and continued. The road was even tougher now that the rain made the rocks slippery. Micah and Belle pressed on.
An hour passed. The rain continued to pour. Belle, who was hiding in Micah's pocket again, asked, "Micah, did you play the song differently this time?"
"No," he said. "Why?"
"Because," said Belle. "I think you broke the sky."
Micah laughed, but suddenly, he realized that the rain had been going on far longer than it had even gone.
As he wondered, Micah slipped, tumbling down a thorny slope into a pool of water. He got to his feet, looked around, and gasped. The pool covered the entire desert.
"Oh, no," he whispered.
"What?" said Belle.
"It's Karod."
"Huh?"
"He's bringing on a flood."
Belle peeked out of the pocket. The storm, showing no sign of stopping, continued to pour. The rocky desert could not absorb the water. The water level was rising.
"We've got to get to higher land!" cried Micah, wading frantically through the water.
He looked around, seeking a cliff, but there were none, and he thought of how ironic it was that there were no cliffs when he needed them. He moved on northward, going faster than he had ever gone on the dirt field, ignoring the sharp rocks that harmed his feet. Through the sheets of rain and heavy murk, the land showed no signs of change, but still he pressed on.
Soon, he saw a sheer cliff, which he considered non-climbable but sought to attempt it anyway. The water was so deep; he could no longer walk but had to swim. The winds grew stronger, and the unseen wizard manifested oceanic currents that swept him this way and that. Still he kept his eye on his goal, this single piece of land that could save him from the flood.
He was close, but the current suddenly reversed, sending him crashing into the rock face. He could feel his skin tear and the cartilage break, but he ignored the pain. The current pulled him away from the wall, and continued to dash him against the cliff. Micah turned himself around so the shield on his back took the worst beating, and as the riptide began to suck him away, he wrapped his fingers tightly around a spike in the cliff. His arms burned with exertion, but still he held on. The current stopped its backward tug, and Micah quickly scrambled to bring his body out of the water.
He found himself hugging the jagged cliff face like a spider. He looked upward with a shudder. The climb would be difficult, and very long. He brought up his left arm, grabbed a spike, and continued with his left foot, and then his right arm. Slowly, he climbed upward. The winds tugged at his clothing, and at one point nearly tore him away. But he recovered, and continued the ascent.
Finally, he reached the top. By this time, the water level had come to the halfway point on the cliff. Micah wondered if he could have just treaded water while waiting for the level to rise, but he was far too tired to care. He lay with his back on the rocks, his lungs heaving. He drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke, his face was again dry and warm. As he lay with his eyes closed, he wondered if it was just a dream, but the fact that his injuries still existed reminded him that it was not. He opened his eyes. It was morning, apparently of the next day. He sat up, and winced at the pain. The foreboding desert still existed around him, but the water was gone, and the sky was clear.
Hunger tore at his belly. He brought down his food bag, but the water had washed everything out.
He sat cross-legged on the cliff. His injuries brought back vivid memories of the trek across the desert, and then the swim for survival. He put his hands on his face, which had struck the cliff. His nose was broken, but that was the most severe injury he had taken. He shook his head, surprised at his own stamina. If he had told himself, two years ago, this tale, he would have cringed with terror. But there he was, and the tale wasn't quite over yet.
He listened to the howling wind echo through twisted, curved sheets of rock. He began to realize that something was wrong.
He looked around, and patted his pocket. Suddenly, he began a frantic search, examining the rocks and peering down the cliff. He was filled with dread, and called, "Belle! Belle!"
There was no answer. Neither the fairy's annoying voice or the continuous flap of tiny wings filled the void in his atmosphere. Micah held his head in his hands, and for a moment he wondered if one could die in this world, but abandoned the wonder because he knew the answer.
Sobs welled up in his throat. He cried uncontrollably, removing his cap and tearing at his hair. Eyes moist with tears, he looked with curiosity at the cliff before him. Suddenly, the idea didn't sound so bad. The quest seemed so preposterous now, and the notion that he would complete it alone was out the window. He crept closer to the cliff.
"Good morning!" came a voice.
Micah swept around. "Belle!" he shouted, in a mix of joy and anger. "Where did you run off to?"
"I got a look around," said his fairy, coming close to him. Then she added, "Boy, you look terrible. You took quite a beating. Good thing you did, though, or else both of us would be drowned carrion for the vultures right now."
Micah frowned. "Isn't there a law or something that says you can't abandon me?" he growled.
"I don't know. But what are you gonna do, fire me? You were asleep, anyway."
"You never know. I just might tie you up in a bag and leave you for some bug collector to find."
"Look, the fortress isn't too far ahead. You wanna make it through this razor quarry before nightfall, you'd better hurry." And without a second look, Belle fluttered away. Grumbling, Micah got to his feet and hurried along.
The dirt field had been turned to solid rock, and twisted spikes of stone stuck out everywhere, as if a coral reef had been drained and turned to stone. From this bed of rocky thorns rose high, broad walls of the same twisted rock, so that a sinister labyrinth of jagged rocks extended all the way to the horizon.
Belle watched Micah's face become drawn from despair. "Well," she said. "At least we don't have to worry about water anymore."
Micah brought his food bag down and sorted through its contents. He sighed, saying, "No, it's not the water we'll have to worry about."
Kokiri boots were known for being thick and durable, but after several miles of walking across the barbed desert-floor, his boots were full of holes, and his feet were beginning to feel cuts. He found himself tearing away material from the straps to patch up the soles. By midday, he had traveled less than a third of the distance he had planned. He could see the fortress, but it was still many miles off.
At one point, after climbing an otherwise impassible rise in the surface level, he lost his footing and tumbled all the way down the other side. He sat up wearily, coughing up dust, and checking his body for injuries. None were severe, but he was now covered in cuts and scrapes. Belle asked how he was.
"I'm fine," he grumbled, coughing. "Let's rest here."
He ate a bit of the last wafer of bread and gave some to Belle. He played the Song of Storms. The sky darkened, and it began to rain. Yet no matter how much he needed the nourishment, the heavy downpour brought stinging pain to his numerous wounds. Micah sat under an outcropping of a cliff, and there, he waited for the storm to end.
Fifteen minutes passed. He decided that, no matter how much the rain hurt, precious time was passing, and he needed to be on his way. He came out of the shelter and continued. The road was even tougher now that the rain made the rocks slippery. Micah and Belle pressed on.
An hour passed. The rain continued to pour. Belle, who was hiding in Micah's pocket again, asked, "Micah, did you play the song differently this time?"
"No," he said. "Why?"
"Because," said Belle. "I think you broke the sky."
Micah laughed, but suddenly, he realized that the rain had been going on far longer than it had even gone.
As he wondered, Micah slipped, tumbling down a thorny slope into a pool of water. He got to his feet, looked around, and gasped. The pool covered the entire desert.
"Oh, no," he whispered.
"What?" said Belle.
"It's Karod."
"Huh?"
"He's bringing on a flood."
Belle peeked out of the pocket. The storm, showing no sign of stopping, continued to pour. The rocky desert could not absorb the water. The water level was rising.
"We've got to get to higher land!" cried Micah, wading frantically through the water.
He looked around, seeking a cliff, but there were none, and he thought of how ironic it was that there were no cliffs when he needed them. He moved on northward, going faster than he had ever gone on the dirt field, ignoring the sharp rocks that harmed his feet. Through the sheets of rain and heavy murk, the land showed no signs of change, but still he pressed on.
Soon, he saw a sheer cliff, which he considered non-climbable but sought to attempt it anyway. The water was so deep; he could no longer walk but had to swim. The winds grew stronger, and the unseen wizard manifested oceanic currents that swept him this way and that. Still he kept his eye on his goal, this single piece of land that could save him from the flood.
He was close, but the current suddenly reversed, sending him crashing into the rock face. He could feel his skin tear and the cartilage break, but he ignored the pain. The current pulled him away from the wall, and continued to dash him against the cliff. Micah turned himself around so the shield on his back took the worst beating, and as the riptide began to suck him away, he wrapped his fingers tightly around a spike in the cliff. His arms burned with exertion, but still he held on. The current stopped its backward tug, and Micah quickly scrambled to bring his body out of the water.
He found himself hugging the jagged cliff face like a spider. He looked upward with a shudder. The climb would be difficult, and very long. He brought up his left arm, grabbed a spike, and continued with his left foot, and then his right arm. Slowly, he climbed upward. The winds tugged at his clothing, and at one point nearly tore him away. But he recovered, and continued the ascent.
Finally, he reached the top. By this time, the water level had come to the halfway point on the cliff. Micah wondered if he could have just treaded water while waiting for the level to rise, but he was far too tired to care. He lay with his back on the rocks, his lungs heaving. He drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke, his face was again dry and warm. As he lay with his eyes closed, he wondered if it was just a dream, but the fact that his injuries still existed reminded him that it was not. He opened his eyes. It was morning, apparently of the next day. He sat up, and winced at the pain. The foreboding desert still existed around him, but the water was gone, and the sky was clear.
Hunger tore at his belly. He brought down his food bag, but the water had washed everything out.
He sat cross-legged on the cliff. His injuries brought back vivid memories of the trek across the desert, and then the swim for survival. He put his hands on his face, which had struck the cliff. His nose was broken, but that was the most severe injury he had taken. He shook his head, surprised at his own stamina. If he had told himself, two years ago, this tale, he would have cringed with terror. But there he was, and the tale wasn't quite over yet.
He listened to the howling wind echo through twisted, curved sheets of rock. He began to realize that something was wrong.
He looked around, and patted his pocket. Suddenly, he began a frantic search, examining the rocks and peering down the cliff. He was filled with dread, and called, "Belle! Belle!"
There was no answer. Neither the fairy's annoying voice or the continuous flap of tiny wings filled the void in his atmosphere. Micah held his head in his hands, and for a moment he wondered if one could die in this world, but abandoned the wonder because he knew the answer.
Sobs welled up in his throat. He cried uncontrollably, removing his cap and tearing at his hair. Eyes moist with tears, he looked with curiosity at the cliff before him. Suddenly, the idea didn't sound so bad. The quest seemed so preposterous now, and the notion that he would complete it alone was out the window. He crept closer to the cliff.
"Good morning!" came a voice.
Micah swept around. "Belle!" he shouted, in a mix of joy and anger. "Where did you run off to?"
"I got a look around," said his fairy, coming close to him. Then she added, "Boy, you look terrible. You took quite a beating. Good thing you did, though, or else both of us would be drowned carrion for the vultures right now."
Micah frowned. "Isn't there a law or something that says you can't abandon me?" he growled.
"I don't know. But what are you gonna do, fire me? You were asleep, anyway."
"You never know. I just might tie you up in a bag and leave you for some bug collector to find."
"Look, the fortress isn't too far ahead. You wanna make it through this razor quarry before nightfall, you'd better hurry." And without a second look, Belle fluttered away. Grumbling, Micah got to his feet and hurried along.
