Chapter 12
The Great Escape
The hall of the long corridor was quiet, all except the faint dripping of a wall, letting the rain water seep into its boundaries. The cold floor was damp, for they wore no shoes on their feet. Cobwebs gathered in the darkest corners, where the spiders waited for their prey. It was dark, besides the fiery torch the guard held high above his head to light the way. It burned with a dim light that was barely visible a few steps ahead. The prisoners walked in a straight line, one behind the other. First Farill, followed by Pippin, Merry and lastly Sam. They were quiet, their minds numb with fear. They knew what lay ahead, and could not accept this reality. They had been set on a journey to complete a task. Was this how it was to end? Farill turned her head and looked at Sam behind her. Fear gathered in her eyes, and as Sam saw this, his hope and bravery faded. If their leader lost hope, he did not know what would happen.
The guard that led them was a large, muscular man. He paid little attention to the prisoners as they walked behind him. His days were filled with nothing more than the service to the king. His wages were little, but yet enough to support his small family. Did he not understand? Did he ever once imagine that these prisoners that would be sentenced to death carried the fate of the world on their shoulders? That the future of his family relied on them? Of course he could not understand the realness of it when he was surrounded by evil. He was only a character in a dream. Unable to control the timeless events that affected him. He was being played, tricked into ideas is heart could not understand.
They walked outside into the quietness of Tharbad. No bells rang, no birds sang their songs of joy. It's eerie-ness filled their ears and Sam trembled. As he walked he managed to kick Merry on the back of his leg. He turned abruptly.
"Merry, do you remember what it was that Gandalf said to us before his departure?"
Merry desperately shook his head, yet faced forward again.
"He said, 'Do what is right and listen to within yourself.'"
"What do you suppose that means? Merry asked.
"I'm not sure, but we must keep ourselves from any foolish acts. Any slip and we could be done. We must not speak if the king questions us."
Merry nodded his head reverently. Then he gestured to Pippin who was close in front of him. Sam could tell that the words Merry spoke were his own and he became deeply relieved. Although Pippin had greatly matured since their last adventure, there was still a part of him that seemed to jump with excitement. There were some things he could not keep quiet about, and this, this was one of them.
Pippin looked back at Sam and his eyes seemed to agree. He acknowledged his faults and was willing to change.
The building in front of them was massive. Its heights reached new levels as it soared into the sky. The guard led them up to the stone steps and as they approached, a voice yelled, and the great doors opened before their eyes. Inside sat the king upon his thrown, waiting. His eyes were cold and his movements ceased. A new presence had awoke the spirits within the great hall. Monuments of the great kings stood in their places, their stone faces resting peacefully. This hall was highly decorated with gold glimmering in the walls, and decorative purple curtains hung along the windows. It was a room fit for a king, but the cold breeze froze the beauty that lay within. The frost was thick among the flowers, the ones that brought beauty.
They walked forward, their footsteps light as not to make a sound. They were nervous, trembling for what was to come, the fate of the ring at their fingertips. The king looked up as the prisoners trod towards him. His eyes were cold, frozen like everything else in the room.
A bitter smile crept quietly upon his face. He recognized them. Somehow, somewhere, although he had never spoken their names. All of them he recognized except the elf.
"My friends." He said welcoming them. But they did not feel welcomed. An eerie feeling settled into their minds keeping them from speaking.
Seeing that they did not return the reply the king continued.
"You are from the Shire, and your name is Samwise Gamgee, is it not? Yes Sam, I know much about you." His eyes suddenly shifted to Sam. And yet, his face was emotionless.
Sam did not speak, yet he felt the wrath of evil come down upon him. The pounding of footsteps echoed in his head from under his feet. Sounds, voices, luring him in to the evil that knew all. All except this. All except the power that lay beneath the depths of one certain mountain that planted its roots in Mordor.
"Speak!" the voice interrupted his thoughts and he jumped.
"I have nothing to say." Sam said.
"The King will not take this for an answer!" he yelled slapping his hand down upon the arm of his throne.
"Your majesty, we have no need to answer ur questions, for our hearts are clean and our business is our own!" she replied.
His eyes shifted once again to her. She was much too powerful and this he knew. He feared her power and could not answer to her plea.
"If you are not willing to speak, there will be consequences." He said in a low voice.
The guard saw his position was needed and stepped in to assist the king. The guard asked him, "Should I summon the executioner?"
"No, I think we should give them time." He smiled a cold smile. "Send them back to the jail cell. I have found out enough. I know your mission, for a possession of mine tells me these facts, and nor does it fail me."
The king turned to the guard once more. "Keep them in the cell until they are ready to speak. If they are never willing to tell me where they are going, let them rot for all I care!" They turned and followed the guard that had opened the heavy door.
The way back was slow and when they finally reached the room, they waited. They waited for the door to lock and waited for the presence of the guard to leave.
Dusk was falling upon the city and yet, all was quiet. Nothing had stirred all day, but this they decided was for the better.
Farill ran over to the door and unpiled the barrels. The metal rod still stuck there and she picked it up from its hiding spot.
She stuck it in the crevice and pulled with all her might. It opened a crack and then finally she was able to stick her hand through the hole. The hobbits ran over, excited to see what lay beyond. They heaved it up and set it on its side. Below lay the rushing of water. Its current was strong and yet the bottom was visible. Now Sam understood.
"But I can not swim."
Farill turned to him, her eyes dumbstruck. "What do you mean? We shall not be swimming!"
"How then are we to escape if we are not to swim?" asked Pippin.
"If Frodo was here, he could figure it out for sure!" said Sam, looking doubtfully upon his self.
"No, we are to escape a way other than swimming!" she said looking over to the barrels. The hobbits turned their heads.
"Farill, you brilliant!" Merry shouted.
"Shh," she said looking towards the door. "They may still be out there."
Merry quickly covered his mouth, acknowledging his mistake. Pippin nudged him in the side and Merry quickly shot a grin back at him. Now he had been the foolish one.
"You are nothing more than children!" Sam exclaimed, a worried smile escaping from its hiding place.
"The barrels had nothing inside their boundaries, and were completely hollow. The tops could be pried open and for this they used the rod. The lids popped off with such a sound that concluded that some sort of seal was present. It echoed loudly throughout the room, bouncing off the stone walls.
"Hopefully that did not cause a riot outside!" Farill acknowledged moving along to the next barrel and it again sounded with a loud pop. By the time four had been opened, their ears rang with such a profound ringing, they could barely stand the noise.
"Where will it take us?" Pippin asked suddenly, from his watching spot against the wall. The room grew quiet and everyone stopped. He had a troubled look on his face that made the others joy sink into the pits of their stomachs. They had never thought about this concept before. They were all curious now. Farill looked down upon the water and back to the window. The river flowed southwest into the great water. "It is flowing slow, we may be able to swim to shore, maybe. That is if the current doesn't take us. I make no promises to you at this point.
Sam's eyes opened wide. A great fear entered his face and he just stood there is disarray.
"But he cannot swim." Merry said pointing to Sam, recognizing his fear.
"Well…"began Farill but Sam interrupted her.
"No," he said, "I will be able to withstand it. Do not worry about me."
No one knew what would happen next. There was a long silence, and finally Farill spoke up, breaking the ice.
"Well then, if you're sure…"
"Yes, yes I am sure. I will not stop this pursuit because of my childless fear."
He went and climbed into a barrel. It was a tight fit, but he managed to slide in. Farill came and with one last goodbye, put the top on and hoisted him over the stone edge. Sam glided along the top of the water, in nothing but blackness. He could feel the coldness of the water on the outside of the barrel, but none was seeping in. He let out a sigh of relief, but he heard another faint splash behind him. He was not alone. They were in some kind of tunnel that led them under the city. It was still dark, and the faint splashing of water could be heard hitting the sides of the walls. His feet grew cold and numb, no blood was circulating. His phobia was becoming more and more life-threatening as he let his power sink into the hands of the cold rushing water of the river. He could not tell if the others had made it. Was Farill able to close herself in or was she still a prisoner of evil? He was curled up and his knees were almost touching his chest. He could not stay like this for long. They floated for a while longer and finally he could see they had passed out of the tunnel and into the wide-open river. But yet he could not yell out, for there were guards standing every few feet. They would not grow suspicious at the sight of a few many barrels floating down the river. It was common unless…
He heard a voice yell from behind him. "Abandon your cover. Shore is not far!" it belonged to Farill and he knew there was a chance. Above him there were two handles that withdrew inward from the top. This was their last chance, but he could not force himself to just push open the lid. His fear was too great now to overcome. But it was his only hope to escape from the evil of Tharbad, and he had no other choice. He pushed with all his might at the top and it popped off. It had been sitting upright but now had flipped over and water streamed in the opening. He was completely drenched but he knew he could now make it. He pushed off the bottom and his legs became free from their enchamberment. He kicked with all his might and slowly he could feel himself gliding to shore. The current was strong and he gasped for air as his head bobbed up and down below the water surface. A rocky shore could be seen on the other side and Pippin's head was elevating out of the water. He climbed on to shore as Merry followed him. Farill too was already on shore and Sam felt a great relief.
"Common Sam!" yelled Pippin from ashore. He was almost there, and he let his legs relax for one second and floated closer and closer to shore. Finally with all his strength he gave a mighty kick, and soft sand filled in between his toes. Its warm sensation filled his whole body. He had made it.
"Sam, are you alright?" Merry exclaimed helping him to shore.
"Yes, yes I am fine." He replied.
He had made it, and his only fear now was the rest of their journey.
