Disclaimer: See chapter one, part one. Journey's End belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. (The Lord of the Rings 1955)
Chapter fourteen: Journey's End.
Frodo emptied his backpack and searched around for his water bottle. Sam was also roaming around, and at last, he took out a small leather-bound bag. Inside were the last remains of the leaves he had gathered all those months ago.
"Do you think this will work, Sam?" Frodo asked and handed him the water bottle.
"I am not sure, mister Frodo…. but at least it might help her to fight the fever, if only temporarily" he said.
Feavair had curled back up and her eyes were staring dead ahead. Sweat from the fever was running down her forehead, her hair was glued to her forehead and her body was shaking. Sam hurryingly mixed the medicine and handed it to Frodo.
"Feavair, you need to drink this," he said softly. Then with the most care he could manage, he lifted her up into a sitting position and put the bottle to her lips. Sam watched her drink the water hungrily; his insides were twisting with rage.
"Why do you think they did this to her?" he asked.
"To prevent her from escaping and going to the mountain, as long as she is blind there is not much she can do" Frodo said and took the bottle away from her lips. Feavair blinked her eyes a couple of times.
"We must let her rest for a while, we may rest as well" Frodo said and Sam nodded.
"But what about…. them…do you think they might return?" Sam asked concerned and Frodo shook his head.
"Nay, I think there are other matters that will prevent them"
"Legolas"
The elf name whispered awoke Frodo from his sleep. Sam had been awake, quit determined to keep guard, not sure why. If the enemy found them, there was no way they could escape and nothing he could do to protect them.
Feavair was twisting and turning and suddenly she sat up with a startled gasp. Frodo was quickly up on his legs and rushed to her aid. Her skin was not so flushed and there was less trace of sweat.
"Light?" she asked in the weakest voice Frodo had ever heard.
"Feavair…. you need to stay calm" Frodo whispered. She turned her face in the direction of his voice; tears were running down her cheek washing away dried blood and dirt.
"I…I can not see" she stuttered and Frodo gently took her hand in his.
"I know…. but be not afraid…you are not alone"
"Frodo?" she asked and he smiled sadly.
"Yes it is I…and Sam is here as well"
"Did…did they capture you?" she asked concerned and Sam shook his head.
"No, we came to rescue you" he said brightly.
"Rescue me?" she asked puzzled and Frodo nodded.
"Though you distracted them so that we could hurry to the mountain we could not leave you here to be tortured by the orcs" he said and cringed.
"He found me" her voice was filled with panic and she tried to stand on her own two feet.
"He is stronger, he knows I am here. I must hurry to the mountain"
Frodo slowly helped her up, with good aid from Sam.
"Yes we must…and we shall go there now!"
Sam walked ahead holding up Sting in case some of the orcs had survived the fight, or others had returned. The sword was calm and they could quite calmly walk out of the tower. Frodo quickly followed Sam holding her hand in his and guiding her carefully down the stairs.
Soon they came to a door and they halted. Frodo could feel Feavair tense as they started to slowly tread their way through the hideous bodies of the orcs. Sam shivered as he imagined the fight they had overheard, which had led to the orcs jumping at each other throat's. There was no need for them to fight their way out.
At last, they came to the archway and the gate. Sam withdrew the elven glass of Galadriel.
"When we get out, we need to run…do you think you can manage." Frodo asked and Feavair clutched his hand tighter and nodded.
Then they ran. Through the gates as they ran they could hear a crack, the keystone of the arch crashed almost on their heads and the wall above them crumbled and fell into ruin. A bell clang and from the Watchers and they heard a high and dreadful wail. Out of the black sky, there came a dropping like bolt of a winged shape, rending the clouds with its ghastly shriek.
Sam trusted the phial back into his breast. "Come on we need to run!" They fled down the road from the gate, they ran fifty paces and then they hid behind a jutting bastion of the cliff. It took them out of the sight from the tower. They bent down behind the rocks, near the bridge; they could hear the Nazgûl send out its deadly shrieks. All the cliffs echoed.
A head of them the road went eastwards putting them in sharp view of the tower. Sam swallowed deeply and turned to Frodo, he was still clutching Feavair`s hand. She was gasping for air and shacking; if it was from the fever or fear, none of the hobbits knew.
Suddenly a harsh bell rang and horns sounded through the darkness. They could not see ahead but they could hear the sound of iron-shod feet, and the swift clatter of hoofs.
"We must hide" Sam stuttered and Frodo nodded.
"Let us go over the bridge," Frodo suggested and Sam nodded, then Frodo turned to Feavair.
" Feavair ,lle ant ai` khila anmin" ( Feavair you need to follow me!)
He spoke the words softly, and in the back of his mind, he wondered when he had learned the tongue of the high elven. She nodded and squeezed his hand.
They scrambled on to the low parapet of the bridge. There was no longer any dreadful drop into the gulf, for the slopes of the Morgai had already risen, almost to the level of the road.
As they fell, they heard the rush of horsemen sweeping over the bridge and the sound of thundering orc feet, the landed in a huddle of thorny bushes. They lay still listening and waiting for the sound of hoof and foot to disappear.
They crawled out from the thorn bush bloody and thorn. Sam had to laugh a little as he dusted some of the twigs off his hair.
"I dare say mister Frodo….it looks like we have been to a war" he said. Their clothes were rent and tattered and their arms and faces bruised.
"Now, we must go down to the valley, and turn northward as soon as we can"
Day was coming again and in the world outside, far beyond the darkness of Mordor the sun was climbing over the mountains and greeting the people with a new day. However, with Sam, Frodo and Feavair it was still black, as if it was night. Slowly and painfully, they clambered down groping, stumbling among rocks, briar, and dead wood, down until they could go now further.
Feavair had not spoken since they left the tower, she just clanged to Frodo`s hand and let him guide her among the rocks. Now and then, dizziness and nausea overwhelmed her and she felt as if she had to double over, but she swallowed it back and followed.
She felt like she was walking in a dream or in thick fog. With the loss of sight came all the sounds, ten fold crashing down around her. She could not concentrate and she zoned out and told her self that soon the pain would be over.
"If…Sauron him self came and offered me a glass of water…I would shake his hand!" Sam said as they sat down to rest.
"Do not say such things," said Frodo quickly watching Feavair flinch forcefully at the sound of the Dark Lord's name.
It was the morning of 15 March, over the Vale of Anduin, the Sun was rising above the eastern shadow, and the southwest wind was blowing.
Theoden lay dying on the Pelennor fields.
Sam and Frodo stood still and gazed on the rim of light spread all alone the line of Ephel Duath, the mountains. Then they saw a black shape moving with great speed out of the West. It plunged deep into dark canopy and the voice of a Nazgûl pierced the air. It was the sound of pain, anguish and dismay. Frodo turned around and watched Feavair, but she did not tense at the sound of this Nazgûl, instead her shoulders straightened a little and she wiped some blood away from her forehead..
"There war was going well, did not one of the orcs say?" asked Sam and Frodo nodded.
"But the others are were not so sure, I have a feeling things are going good for us"
After what seemed like an hour they got up again and continued to walk. Frodo now lead the way closely followed by the blinded elf. With just the small glimpse of the sun, both Frodo and Sam felt stronger and Frodo sighed blissfully as he remembered the words of wisdom Feavair had spoken at the Crossroads.
Manke eller a`me`a, eller a` estela
They continued to walk nobody saying a word. They had been walking for a great many hours, when they suddenly heard a sound that made their hearts leap.
The sound of water.
They crawled and trudged their way through the stones and onward and upwards, across unknown territory. Some times, they stopped and eat what little they had left; sometimes they stopped because Feavair could no longer walk on.
Now and then, they slept, on shifts. Feavair did not speak, she just sat still, her legs pulled up under her chin and bare and bloody arms wrapped around her knees, her face hidden in her hair. She had no longer her soul for with the loss of sight and light the darkness had truly consumed her. The only reason she continued to breath was that she needed to end her pain and the anguish of the world.
Frodo and Sam grew nervous and weary, as the journey never seemed to stop. Frodo was amazed that he did no longer feel the burden of the ring. He had suspected that it would grow heavier the closer he got to the Enemy. He wondered if it had something to do with Feavair.
As he thought about the elf his heart started to wrench in agony in his chest. She had been no more then a scarred bird when they found her in Bree. In Rivendell, she had grown stronger and Lothlórien the light had been returned to her. Through their travel's in Mordor she had provided good spirit, stories and words of wisdom. She had kept their hopes up even when it seemed long gone.
He thought about the name whispered by her lips in pain in the tower. Did the elf prince, and the others, know what she was. Did they know that she was here, with them, prepared to end her life to save the others? That she carried a burden stronger then the Ring, that she had endured torture and agony beyond anyone else.
At last they stood at the edge, at the spirit of Mordor and stared at the mountain of doom.
The Feavair opened her mouth and sang softly and quietly in a whisper.
In western lands beneath the SunThe flowers may rise in Spring
The trees may bud, the waters run
The merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'this cloudless night
And swaying branches bear
The Elven-stars jewels white
Amid their branching hair
Through here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep.
Beyond all towers strong and high
Beyond all mountains steep
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars forever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done
Nor bid the Stars farewell.
Thanks for all the reviews.