The East Gate
Authors The Eastgaters
Cast list
Frodo – Baylor
Samwise – Budgielover
Pippin – Marigold
Merry – Llinos
Legolas – Mainframe
Aragorn – Nilramiel
Boromir – Rachel Stonebreaker
Gimli – Q
Gollum – Llinos
The Wicked Elves – Baylor & Mainframe
Mister and Missus Tugman – Llinos
Story Editor Llinos
Beta Marigold
Chapter 10 – Findings and Failings
Pippin cringed when Boromir toppled Gimli backwards and the dwarf howled in pain. Boromir was in a temper but hadn't meant to do what he did; Pippin was sure. They all took it for granted that Gimli was made of iron, a façade that Gimli was happy to encourage but that must have hurt. Boromir was going to feel sorry later – as soon as Gimli realised what he had done! Pippin made a mental note to be standing as far away as he could when that occurred and to make sure that Gimli didn't have any weapons close to hand.
He was careful to be extra gentle with Gimli's leg when helping Boromir to manoeuvre the dwarf through the entry, and once the two bigger folk were through, Pippin left Boromir to look about him and scuttled back through and surveyed the little room for anything useful they may have left behind. He suddenly remembered the other stash of candles and retrieved them along with his spare matches. He grabbed Gimli's makeshift crutch and the sticks they would need to use as torches and climbed back into the hole. Knowing that Boromir's temper would not improve if he had to crawl back in here to shut the doors that were the evidence of their escape Pippin dropped his burdens and tugged hard on the inner doors, falling backwards with a squeak and pulling his foot out of the way barely in time as the heavy chamber doors swung shut and darkness fell.
"Pippin?" Boromir sounded concerned.
"I am all right." He scrambled backwards with the results of his scavenging, and pushed that door to as well, giving the door handle several twists to lock it. Boromir dropped the latch once more and pulled the rope through and untied it, coiled it and put it in his pack. Now they could not be followed this way should the orcs break through and the secret of the dwarves was still safe. While Boromir did this Pippin prepared a couple of torches, and lit one from the burning candle.
Gimli was still unconscious and the other two were at a loss as to how they were to proceed. Gimli would have to be their guide. They did not have time or energy to investigate every tunnel or branch that they came to. And it would be hard enough for Boromir to help Gimli along, awake and with the help of his crutch, let alone unconscious and injured. Boromir was also starting to be more than a bit concerned about his rough handling of the dwarf. He had not meant to cause him so much pain but he doubted that Gimli would stay his hand long enough to listen.
Before either of them could speak though, there was a low rumbling and man and hobbit looked down to see a very irate dwarf, his eyes fixed upon Boromir, and his axe lying much too near for comfort.
Quickly deciding that they couldn't afford any hard feelings between them, especially as they needed to rely on each other., Pippin knelt down at the dwarf's side, "Thank goodness you are awake Gimli. I was afraid you were out of your head when you started bellowing back there."
They both stared at him. "What do you mean?" asked Gimli, confused.
"When Boromir was helping you into the tunnel. I suppose the pain got the better of you there for a moment. You shouted some things and then passed right out." He gave Gimli his best sympathetic look. "Are you feeling better now?"
Gimli eyed first Pippin and then Boromir suspiciously. He did remember feeling a great deal of pain, but he thought that the dratted man had been the cause of it. But Boromir was now giving him a look that was almost the twin of Peregrin's...Gimli had the sudden feeling that he was being faced by Pippin and Merry, rather than Pippin and Boromir... but perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps it had been just the pain overwhelming him.
In the course of getting Gimli onto his feet Boromir caught Pippin's eye and Pippin grinned back cheekily, letting Boromir know with a look that he would think of a good way for Boromir to repay him sometime in the future.
Once they got started they moved surprisingly quickly, with Gimli giving basic directions. He seemed to read some sort of code in what looked to Boromir and Pippin to be simple cracks or bumps in the stone walls. Pippin went ahead of the others, as directed by Gimli, carrying the torch to make certain the way was clear. They had been travelling for several hours with only two stops when suddenly the man and dwarf heard Pippin, some way ahead and around a slight bend, cry out in distress. Boromir made to put Gimli down to go to his aid and the dwarf pulled one of his throwing axes from his belt at the same time, but neither needed to fear for the hobbit.
Pippin came running around the bend, and threw himself at Boromir, weeping. They both comforted the lad and tried to find out what had caused him such a fright, but for several minutes he simply could not speak. When he did master himself he whispered so that they could barely hear.
"I found the women and children." He turned his tear-streaked face to Gimli. "I am so sorry Gimli."
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"But the Precious. He saved It and now he will take It. Take It from uss!
"No, they is all weak now, maybe we follows a bit more. Sméagol runs and hides, hides and runs! They think we go – but perhaps we lose them! Lose the Precious!
"No, no. Can't lose the Precious. We knows where He goes. Precious calls us – It's ours – our birthday present! Stupid fat Bagginsess stole It! But we know where It goes – we follow and follow – we gets It back soon!"
Gollum shook himself like a dog emerging from a swim and licked his hands a little where they were cut from the sharp grass. Then scuttled off into the undergrowth, muttering and cursing.
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Aragorn looked around, senses alert. Both hobbits were conscious, but the Ranger doubted that either of them would move another step until they had rested. And this time, he agreed. He could hear fresh water running nearby, and the time had come to tend to the hurts of his companions.
Gollum was gone, and there were clear signs where he had pulled himself out of the fool's sand and run off in the direction from which he had come. It was unlikely that he would attack them again tonight, now that he had lost the element of surprise.
"Well," Aragorn's voice was grim, "I suppose it was too much to hope that the wretch drowned himself."
"No, but if he had, he might've taken Mr Frodo with him." Samwise peeled the sopping cloak and jacket off Frodo and wrapped the blanket around him, rubbing him briskly, noting his master was already starting to shiver.
Aragorn bent and picked up the waterskins. "I am going for water. Keep your eyes and ears open until I return." He paused, softening his expression. "Do not fear, you will be safe for a little while. Water is very close. I will be back before you can build a fire." He looked at Sam with an ironic smile, as if his last remark was a challenge. Then taking up his sword, he turned and followed the path Gollum had taken, towards the sound of water.
"Whew! No offence, sir, but I thought you were a goner for sure." Instantly Sam regretted the unconsidered remark; Frodo looked so miserable. Sam hadn't thought any of them could possibly get any filthier – he'd been right wrong about that. Gingerly he slid a lank, wet curl through his fingers and grimaced as a lump of congealing sand and muck adhered to his hand then slowly slid off to land with a disgusting "plop" on the ground.
Frodo shivered, only half aware, and drew the blanket tighter about his cold body. He was filthy and exhausted and miserable. If only he could rest for a bit, perhaps he could rally again. He thought with longing of the pleasant bathroom at Bag End, about piping hot water and soap and fluffy, comforting towels.
Sam patted his master's shoulder soothingly then transferred the blanket to dry the dark hair, urging Frodo to lean forward as much as he could without stressing his sore ribs. Sam knelt beside Frodo and rubbed briskly, trying to warm as well as dry him. "You'd best get out of them wet things," Sam remarked when Frodo was as dry as he could make him. Leaving his master to clutch the blanket to him, Sam opened Frodo's pack and shook out a clean – well, cleaner – set of clothes. Mindful of Aragorn's warning, all the while his eyes roamed the surrounding terrain, watching.
Sam was also marking the location of what firewood he could see. Aragorn had set him a challenge, he had no doubt of that. As soon as Frodo could spare him, he would gather up that wood and have a blaze going before Aragorn returned. Maybe they could use some of that water he was fetching to pour over Mr Frodo. Clean his hair, anyway. Sam looked down at the shivering form below him and sighed. 'What a mess,' he thought in discouragement and exhaustion. 'What an awful mess.'
Frodo's eyes kept shutting despite his endeavours to keep them open. If he could just sleep for a while…
"I am sorry, Sam," he mumbled, "but I am so weary. I must sleep, just for a little. Then I can go on. But not now."
Not waiting for an answer, Frodo closed his eyes and fell into a black, dreamless sleep.
'He's drifted off at last,' Sam thought, being careful to make no sound as he settled down by his master and leaned back against their piled packs. 'About time, too. Do him a world o' good to sleep for a while … and forget…' Sam's head jerked up just as he realised he was nodding.
'None of that, Samwise Gamgee! You go to sleep and that Gollum thing comes back, and what happens then, eh? Just you keep your eyes open and your sword in your hand … where's me sword?' Oh, he had sheathed it. A lot of good it would do him in its scabbard if he needed it in a hurry. Sam shifted to the side and carefully drew the weapon, laying it at his side with his hand loosely on the hilt.
Sam's eyes were drawn to his master when a shiver caught his attention. 'Can't have that. Just one second, Mr Frodo.' Glad of the excuse to move about, he rolled to the side and turned around, digging into his pack. 'One more blanket – no, two.' Frodo was chilled to the bone, poor soul. Hobbits weren't supposed to almost drown in shifting sands that looked like honest earth. Sam couldn't get all that filthy muck off him, but he could at least make certain Frodo was warm.
Sam rose to his feet and laid the double layer of blankets carefully over his sleeping master. While on his feet, he stretched hugely, stifling a yawn, and carefully turned about, casting a suspicious eye about him. Nothing untoward out there that he could see, but he had no trust of this cruel land. All they needed now was some of those filthy orcs to have been trailing them and come on them when Aragorn was off fetching water. Speaking of the man, should he be back by now?
Well, Sam could hardly begrudge the Ranger a wash. The music of the gurgling waters came easily to his ears, and he hoped that he could have a bath himself– even an ice-cold one – maybe when Aragorn got back and would stay with Mr Frodo. Surely there would be a backwater or little pool that wouldn't be too deep. He'd forgotten about the cut on his brow in all the excitement, and it was taking advantage of the neglect to burn fiercely again. He stopped himself from rubbing at it and busied himself repacking his bundle. Marvellous things, those blankets Lord Elrond gave them. Hardly took up any room in a pack, and still so warm. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled out one for himself.
'I'm not going to sleep,' he reminded himself sternly as he settled back against his pack with the blanket spread over his knees and pulled up to his shoulders. He leaned over Frodo and checked his breathing, watched his master's chest rise and fall for a few moments. A sudden surge of grief hit him unexpectedly and Sam choked, remembering the last time it had been just the two of them. Leaving the Shire, they were, before encountering Mr Merry and Master Pippin. Just the two of them… no danger, no pursuit, no living in terror of every rustle in the brush. No idea of what lay ahead of them…
Mr Merry and Master Pip – he hadn't thought of them in what seemed like a long time. And the others, too, of course. Gandalf he couldn't bear to think of – not yet. Sam closed his eyes, feeling treacherous tears gather there and slowly begin to leak down his face. He hoped the end had come quickly for his fellow hobbits, but he feared it had not. He couldn't bear to think of how he had seen Merry last, those bright curls matted with blood from his wound and his dancing eyes dimming. And Pippin … just a lad among all those awful beasts…
The sobs caught him out of the blue and he choked and put his hand over his mouth so that he would not wake Frodo with his grief. He wanted to pound the earth and scream, cry so loudly that all the world would hear and mourn with him. He'd failed, he had, in caring for them. Frodo was his master but he had always done for Merry and Pippin too whenever they came to visit or needed doing for.
Sam angrily scrubbed the tears from his face. Wouldn't do to let the Ranger see when he came back. He'd done the best he could. It just hadn't been good enough. He darted a quick look at Frodo to make sure his stifled outburst had not disturbed his master, but Frodo slept on, oblivious, exhausted beyond endurance. Sam sighed and wriggled down more comfortably against the pack, drawing the blanket up higher.
No use dwelling on his failures. The Gaffer had taught him that, standing by his side and regarding more than one failed cultivation effort. Nasturtiums it had been one year, planted to climb up the earthen south side of Bag End and bloom around Mr Bilbo's window in a riotous burst of colour. If Sam closed his eyes, he could just see his father standing with him and hear his gravely voice. "Too much sun," his da had said judiciously, turning the scorched blooms in his soil-stained fingers. "You didn't think it out, lad."
"I'm sorry, Da," Sam found himself muttering. "I won't make that mistake again." Sam's sandy head sagged forward on his breast, and he slept.
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None of the three wished to go on, but go on they must. Gimli and Pippin kept their eyes averted, save when they needed to watch their footing, but it was a small room thankfully, and they all heaved a sigh of relief when they had passed through. Boromir had to keep his eyes on where they were going and had taken in the whole room. He was horrified by what he had seen, but he at least had been warned. Pippin, poor lad, had walked into the room not knowing the gruesome sight that awaited him.
Boromir had not counted the bodies but there were more than a dozen adults and he could see the skeletons of perhaps half a dozen children, including at least one infant. They had all starved to death most likely for there was no sign of physical injury. They must have waited for their males to return and by the time they realised they would not come, there probably had not been food enough to try to escape the caverns. And anyway, to attempt to do so would risk the young ones falling into the hands of the orcs and meeting a horrific end, rather than a peaceful one among those who loved them.
A hard choice had been made here. Gimli was numb with grief and Boromir was practically carrying the dwarf for a good hundred yards past the room before he finally came out of his stupor. As if he had been waiting for Gimli to recover Peregrin left their side and moved to take the lead again. They could hear that he still wept quietly.
Boromir could find no words to say, and so merely squeezed the dwarf's upper arm as he would that of one of the men in his own Company that had suffered some loss. Gimli did not look up, but nodded once in acknowledgement.
Perhaps two more hours passed without further incident and they finally had to make a stop. They sat on the hard stone floor and made a meal out of the scraps remaining in their food pouches. Pippin was almost too weary to eat and actually fell back against Boromir, eyes closed, fast asleep, with a piece of dried apple in his hand. Boromir shifted to make Pippin more comfortable and yawned himself.
"How fare you Gimli?" It was clear the dwarf was in pain and they were all overcome with weariness.
"I am well enough." The dwarf muttered thickly. In truth he was in agony but there was naught that could be done, so no sense complaining about it. "I think that we will come to the hidden exit soon. The air smells much fresher, and see how the torch gutters."
The torch was in fact flickering rapidly and Boromir could feel a breeze, albeit very slight, upon his face but from where he could not tell. "It must be dark by now, and we are safe enough at the moment. Shall we rest here until the morning and then make our escape?"
Gimli was about to answer in the affirmative when Pippin suddenly bolted upright and to his feet.
Boromir reached out to steady him. "What is the matter, little one? We shall stay the night here. It is all right for you to take some rest."
Pippin didn't answer, just looked around frantically, then seemed to home in on whatever had alarmed him from sleep. "Footsteps!" He hissed. "I hear footsteps." He pointed above and to the front of where they sat.
The others heard nothing but Gimli took Pippin's word and quickly smothered the torch. Pippin pressed against Boromir, so silent the others could barely hear him breathing, and the three companions waited.
Then the other two heard the footsteps as well. And then voices, harsh orc voices, more than one. All three readied their weapons. But the voices and footsteps passed by and faded from hearing. Yet they waited until Pippin could no longer hear them before moving. Boromir left the others and strode forward quietly looking towards where they had heard the orcs.
At first he saw only darkness, then he saw in the midst of the darkness, stars. There was a small opening here and he was looking out into the blessed night, the crisp breeze in his face! If Peregrin had not heard the orcs approaching, their enemies' attention might have been drawn to the torchlight shining through the hole in the rocks and they could have easily looked in and seen the three. Luck had been with them indeed. They would move out of the view of this hole, Boromir decided, and rest. Then in the morning there would be some light...real light...and they would find the exit and leave this death hole! They would make it yet!
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Running silently, Aragorn followed the glaringly obvious trail left by Gollum towards the water. He could smell the foul creature, and the silt-laden muck clinging to the undergrowth, as well. "Worse than an orc, in some ways," he muttered to himself. "Perhaps I will surprise him at his bath and deal with him once and for all."
As expected, the Ranger came upon a small but swift-moving stream after only a few minutes. Gollum's footprints led straight into the water, and there were clear tracks in the sand on both sides. The creature had stopped here, though only for a few moments, and then continued away from the stream on the other side.
Aragorn paused, considering. Gollum had very little lead, and perhaps he could be captured... but the hobbits needed tending, and rest, and food. If he were able to lay hands on the wretch, would he kill him? Gandalf had advised against it, yet how much trouble and attention would be needed to keep Gollum bound and quiet, if he was caught and returned to camp? Yet again, were he in their keeping, there would be no more surprise attacks, and that was something to be considered.
The man sighed. His choices had betrayed him before, however wise and well intended. As much as he would like to have Gollum accounted for, the hobbits' needs were more important. He would have to forego following the still-damp prints, even if it meant greater vigilance tonight.
Wading into the middle of the stream, the Ranger turned and walked against the singing current. After about ten minutes, he came to a bend, beyond which the stream deepened into a shallow pool. This was what he had been seeking. He tossed his sword and the waterskins onto the bank and squatted down upon the gravelled streambed, bringing the cold water up to his chest. Quickly he washed away the worst of the sandy muck and orc blood, using fine sand from near the bank to scrub his face and hair. He did this as swiftly as he could, not bothering to remove any of his clothing, and thinking always of the two small ones who waited alone by the patch of fool's sand. Scrubbing his skin laid open a number of small cuts and scratches, and he detected the taste of his own blood in the water running down his face, but he paid no heed to it.
He emerged dripping from the pool, shaking the water out of his hair, and picked up his sword and the waterskins. He walked up the bank another few minutes, until the water ran clear and swift, drank deeply, and filled the skins.
Turning downstream, he followed the watercourse back to the place where Gollum had crossed. The prints on the opposite bank were now dry, but he could still see the impressions in the sandy soil. None of them looked fresh, and none looked to be going towards the hobbits. Good.
He hefted the waterskins and weighed his sword in his hand, wishing he had brought his bow. Fresh meat would do them all good, but with only his sword, he was unlikely to take anything. Ah, well, what little food they had left in their packs would have to suffice. He turned his back to the stream and made his way swiftly along what had become almost a path. As he went, he looked for plants with healing virtues, and was rewarded with a few that might prove helpful. He did hope Samwise had started a fire. His wet clothes clung to him and he was quite chilled.
But there was no fire. In fact, both hobbits were fast asleep, wrapped in blankets near the packs. Ah, sleep! He needed it badly himself, but not yet, not yet. He could hardly blame the hobbits for dropping off, but it was important that their wounds be cleansed and tended before they had a real rest.
He crouched beside Sam's head, what was visible of it above the tightly wrapped blanket, and spoke gently. "Samwise. Sam, wake up! The sun westers and you and Frodo should be tended before your injuries worsen."
Sam rolled over with a snort and was up on his forearms before he was aware of waking. He looked up into the Ranger's face, blinking blankly through clouds of confusion and weariness. He had fallen asleep? He had fallen asleep!
He would have groaned in anger at himself, save that Frodo slumbered next to him in exhausted abandon. Sam shook his head and sat up, pushing the blanket off, struggling to push away the grey clouds from his mind as well. Something cold dripped onto his hand and he watched another drop fall from the man's sopping hair. He was supposed to have made a fire. And now here was Aragorn, looking like he had swum a river fully clothed, dripping water everywhere and likely half-froze.
Completely mortified, Sam looked up into the man's eyes. "I'm sorry, sir," he whispered. "I'm right sorry. I didn't mean to."
"Do not worry, Sam," Aragorn began to reach out for some nearby pieces of kindling. "You're both exhausted and injured. I just wanted to make sure your wounds are cleansed, then you may both sleep again."
Sam leapt up and took the twigs from Aragorn. "Please, sir – sit. I'll have that fire made afore you can blink." He almost stepped on his unsheathed sword. Stooping, he caught it up and thrust it into the scabbard, his cheeks burning with mortification. He kept his back to the Ranger while hunting for more sticks. Picking up firewood cleared his head, but tears of utter self-contempt burned his eyes. How could he do such a thing? What if that spiteful Gollum-thing had come upon them while he slept as he shouldn't?
At least making a fire was something he could do and no mistake. He had the flames crackling merrily in such a hurry that he rather thought the Ranger was surprised.
The man had watched with some amusement and with genuine admiration as Sam built a compact, nearly smokeless fire in almost no time at all. Undoubtedly, had the young hobbit not fallen into an exhausted sleep, he would have had a serviceable blaze going long before Aragorn had returned from his wash.
That done, Sam turned guiltily to face Aragorn. "Please, sir, don't wake Mr Frodo yet. He's so tired. Can you let him sleep while I wash up a bit? It would be better if he don't wake while I'm gone. I'll only be a moment. Back before you know it…"
"Yes, Sam, but the water will be cold." Aragorn began. "Wouldn't you rather…"
Sam snatched up his blanket and escaped to the stream.
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Gimli ached everywhere. Not just his leg, which throbbed, but also his head and back, and even his arms from dragging himself along between the crutch and Boromir.
Boromir urged him on, Pippin silently watching, into some place perhaps more hidden. Gimli no longer cared. "I must rest," he gasped, shamed by his weakness.
"We shall stay here for what remains of this night." Boromir settled him on a slab of stone partially worked by the dwarves now gone to Durin. "You may sleep soon, Master Dwarf."
Gimli wiped his brow and shut his eyes against the concerned glances of his companions. "That is good," he whispered. The dwarf was completely exhausted and felt himself on the verge of passing out.
Boromir hoped that Gimli would be able to continue in the morning, so that they could leave this place. But if he could not, what then? He studied the dwarf for a moment before turning away. He needed to hide his own fear until he mastered it. It would do no one good if he let either of his companions see him in doubt.
Boromir's own shoulder ached, although not as fiercely as it had earlier. This was a good sign. He'd not damaged it too badly in his haste; perhaps just bruised it. Still, his own fatigue was beginning to take its toll and he longed to lie down and sleep for a few hours.
A slight noise from the hobbit brought Boromir's wandering mind back to the present. Peregrin had settled next to Gimli and had upset a small stone. Boromir smiled down at the youngling as the hobbit grimaced as an apology for disturbing the peace. Gimli did not even notice the sound let alone the bemused exchange of looks.
"Lad, I hate to ask you to be up and about just as you've sat down. But I need to see to Gimli's leg before we all can rest and I'm none too sure about the complete safety of our new hiding hole. I must ask you to use that keen hobbit eyesight and ferret about a bit.
"All right Boromir," Pippin stifled a yawn, "I'll do my best, although I'm not sure that will be so good right now."
"You're one of the finest scouts I've ever had," Boromir smiled as he watched Pippin visibly swell with the compliment. "Find out everything there is to know about this spot. We must rest here until morning. I'd not risk going out in the night when we can be easily hunted down even if Gimli were not injured. Daylight, and the orcs fear of it, will afford us some time to get ahead of them if they should somehow start to track us. Go to it, now."
Boromir offered his hand to Peregrin, lifting the hobbit off his feet before remembering that a hobbit generally weighs less than 3 stone and didn't need to be hefted as heartily, say, as would a dwarf. "Sorry lad, after lugging our friend around, I forget how little bulk a hobbit has."
"You don't know your own strength," Pippin grasped at the man's hand to steady himself as he was set upright on his own two feet once more.
"Now, Master Dwarf," Boromir sat in the spot just vacated by Pippin, "no hiding the truth from me. Your healing directly concerns my own survival. And that of our lad."
"You'll get no argument from me." Gimli sounded gruff but his leg was hurting and he hoped the man might even be able to help.
Boromir unslung his pack, handed a waterskin to Gimli and began untying the splint. The dwarf did have a slight fever, but if the leg was not too swollen and if no infection had set in, Boromir felt confident that after some rest he'd be able to move him along at a fairly quick pace given that they'd already manoeuvred over some rather rough terrain with minimal delay.
Gimli managed to remove his own pack with a little assistance and Boromir set it up as a sloping backrest. The man wedged his own pack against the dwarf's good side to give him some support and then he carefully examined the leg as best he could in the faint moonlight that was now filtering through the hole in the wall. All seemed well, save for a sore spot caused by one of the ties, and Boromir replaced the splint carefully, adjusting the tie so that it no longer rubbed the abrasion.
"Aye, well, thanks for your care," Gimli managed to whisper gruffly and added a nod of thanks. The well meaning but stiff-necked dwarf then dropped off into a much-needed sleep.
Quiet snores and the very faint rustling of a hobbit checking the perimeter crept on the edges of Boromir's thoughts as he contemplated many possible scenarios for tomorrow's final escape.
The packs would have to be thrown away if they were forced to run. He'd tell the lads in the morning and prepare them to drop everything except their swords and one of Gimli's axes. Those dratted axes! If they weren't so very, very useful, Boromir would have left them back in the guardroom - they made manoeuvring with the dwarf extremely difficult. Boromir had had to sling his pack and shield over one shoulder and tightly lash one of the axes to his own back in order to fit himself to Gimli's side well enough to be of any use.
Boromir stood and made his way quietly back to the small hole through which he'd earlier seen stars. He could see the half-moon now too, and the air smelled so sweet he swore he could taste honey on it! It was the scent of growing things, he was sure, though of what small plants or distant trees he didn't know.
Boromir looked towards the other side of the chamber to see Peregrin watching him. He motioned for the hobbit to join him. He could use some hobbit-cheer right about now. "So, tell me, did you find any treasures? Some decent food would be a good start."
"A good end too," Pippin replied glumly, "but there's not so much as a crumb."
Boromir smiled at the thought of what the word "food" was doing to take Peregrin's mind off their worse worries. "Sit, tell me your finds and then join our snoring friend in a short sleep. I will take first watch and you will have second. We leave at first light, if Gimli is up to the journey." He walked to where Gimli was sleeping, propped against the packs and carefully rummaged to find something for the hobbit to eat. Dried apple rings were the only fare left.
Pippin munched resignedly on the apple rings, food was food after all, and this was better than naught, "I couldn't see the actual door, on account of it being of dwarven design I suppose." He paused to remove a piece of dried apple that was stuck in his teeth. "But in one place the wall seemed smoother, so I think that must be the exit." Pippin took another piece of desiccated fruit looked at it and sighed. "There was little room to move farther than we have already come, as the tunnel narrows down to almost nothing not far beyond the smooth wall."
"How far did you follow it?" Boromir realised that Pippin had been out of his sight for a while and imagined that he had gone some way along that dark route.
"Well, I thought of exploring the tunnel but as the passage was not big enough even for a smallish orc to pass through there was no sense in taking the risk," Pippin admitted. "Besides I've had enough of squeezing through small dark tunnels with uncertain endings for one day."
Boromir laughed, Pippin never failed to produce the light relief that lifted the spirit, "I cannot fault you for that decision, honest and wise scout. No doubt the morning sun will throw more light on our position."
Weary almost beyond thought Pippin lay his head down on his pack as he related the last few details, his eyes drifting closed of their own accord, an apple ring still clutched in his fingers but with no strength left to even get it to his mouth. He wondered if Merry was hungry tonight, and if he had been able to rest. As hurt as he was Merry would need to rest, so he could get better. The last thing he was aware of was a sudden weight and warmth that he knew was Boromir's cloak covering him, then he was sound asleep.
Pippin's dreams were dark and he seemed to be searching for something…no, not something, someone…Merry…where was Merry? Merry sought him too, not resting, in pain and discomfort and consumed with worry over Pippin - somehow his dream-self knew that this was true and the need to reassure his cousin and himself drew him to Merry's struggling spirit.
He found his cousin lying on a small bed, dozing fitfully and so gaining no strength to keep fighting his battle. This would not do. Merry needed to sleep; he was very badly hurt, but Pippin refused to let himself feel fear, worried that Merry would sense it. Pippin tried to speak to Merry, to calm him, but his voice would not come and somehow Pippin understood that it was not he that could not speak, but Merry that could not hear.
There was a heaviness over them in this dream-place, wherever it was. It was stifling and hard to move, and sound did not carry, and Pippin felt muddled as he had after drinking the tea the healer had given him when he had broken his wrist. Ah, so Merry had been given something to ease the pain! Pippin could still feel it emanating from him. Merry's worry over something was causing his cousin to fight his proper rest and not let the drug do its work.
Not knowing what else to do to calm his cousin Pippin curled up next to him and carefully held him in his arms, resting Merry's head on his shoulder. Almost at once Merry calmed, smiled, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. In his own dream Pippin closed his eyes, and the last thing he knew was Merry's even breathing…
Then someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulder. Pippin mumbled, "Careful or you'll wake Merry. He's finally sleeping you know." Then he opened his eyes, blinked in the still dark passage and stretched like a cat. "Is it time for my watch, then?"
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As Merry drank the warm milk, his mind drifted off once more with the opium and pain blending into an alliance of numbness. He did not know where he was, but right now he did not have the strength to do anything about it.
He felt a tinge of fear in the back of his mind. He had been taken by strangers and did not really know if he could trust them or not. Also he worried, had he said anything in his feverish ramblings? Anything about the Ring, things that might endanger his cousin? Best not to worry on that for now, these people did not seem evil, whoever they were. They were nursing him and tending to him gently and kindly and at least he was no longer a burden to Legolas.
The woman washed him, carefully manoeuvring his limbs so as not to distress his wound. With a minimum of movement, she unwrapped him and cleansed away the mixture of black orc blood and his own spilled red blood, she even gently washed his curls and then carefully rebandaged the terrible wound.
"Mister Tugman! Come take a look at this here," she called suddenly. The woman was bathing the last part of the hobbit to be washed. "Did thee ever see such feets?"
"My but them be right hairy and all!" Mister Tugman knelt and took hold of Merry's foot, feeling the calloused, tough sole with amazement. "It be a kind of spell them elveses put on he no doubt. No child an Oi ever did see, has'n such hairy, tough feets!"
"Is… are hobbits' feet…" Merry croaked, still not sure how to make them understand. "Is what hobbits have…"
"There, there, hush my little un. Mither Tugman'll mind thee," The woman dried his feet off and tucked them back inside the blanket. "Don't thee worry none on thems. It bain't no fault o' thine if'n thy feets growed strange." She whispered to her husband, "Mebbe thass why his'n parents left he." but Merry's sharp ears heard it too and he sighed in defeat.
Frantic thoughts still battled around in Merry's head of what he should do and how he could explain to these people that he was not an orphan in need of parents, that he was an adult with a will of his own. The woman rocked him to and fro a little and fed him the rest of the warm milk. Then gradually as she laid him back on the cot, soothing his brow and whispering soft sing-song words to him, the warm milk and the sweetness of the honey joined the other opiates to lull him into a restless stupor.
The hobbit felt the woman move away, but still sleep eluded him. The pain was dulled to a familiar throb as his body became accustomed to its constant presence and as it receded, frantic thoughts of Pippin raced across his mind. Merry was certain he must have been torn to pieces by the orcs, but still he did not feel his death. Why was that? If Pip had died he would have known. If he were still living someone must go and rescue him.
Then Pippin was stroking his brow and calming his frenzied mind, holding him and whispering that it was all right and he must sleep now. Thankfully, Merry obeyed and sank back into his cousin's gentle embrace to let a gentle black blanket fall across his senses, dulling worry and pain until he finally slept.
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Merry woke to a soft touch on his brow. A gentle hand finger-combed through his curls and a sweet voice was whispering meaningless words in his ear. Legolas! He had come back and found him. Merry moaned slightly; now he would burden the poor elf again and he had no doubt caused him much trouble in searching for him.
But as his friend whispered the elvish words over and over, Merry felt an enormous surge of relief and he tried to smile up at the elf to let him know that he was very glad he had come.
As Legolas lifted him up and promised that all would be well, he felt another presence, someone tucking the blanket around him. Not the woman surely. It did not feel like she.
"Aaiiiiiiiiieeeee!" The scream made Merry's blood freeze in his veins, or so it felt. He realised with horror it was the kindly woman. She of course, meant well and must think now that the elf was stealing him away to some wicked purpose. But he wanted to go with Legolas and, weak as he was, frantically tried to lock his arms around the elf's neck and buried his face in the long golden locks that had worked their way loose from their bindings and now cascaded over his friend's shoulders freely.
"Put he down vile creatures! What thee be a doin' wi' my little un?" The woman picked up a sturdy broom and advanced on the two elves, shouting as she came, "Mister Tugman! Come thee here quick! Them elveses is stealing my little un."
The man now rushed into the room behind his wife. His breeches were hastily pulled on over his nightshirt and his braces dangled at his sides, but he was armed with a vicious-looking pikestaff and stabbed it towards the two elves as he barred the doorway. "Get thee foul paws of'n ourn little un! He be ourn now, Ye'll no leave this house wi' he or my name bain't Tugman!"
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To Be Continued…
Frodo at your service this chapter (with a little "help" from Haldir and Merry) Sorry for the long wait – various pressing engagements have kept certain writers and editors fromtheir hobbit duties, but all should be back on course now. Thank you all for your reviews, we appreciate each and every one.
Anyway I am now in the chair to answer your myriad questions or make smart comments.
Dashah: Wow, excellent chapter! Great suspense; update soon! (And Llinos...Any news on the updates of Recaptured? )
Frodo: Mlle Llinos has been working very diligently on The East Gate lately, but I'm sure she had not forgotten Recaptured. RIGHT, Mlle Llinos?
Merry: I hope so too, I'm in a bit of a fix there as well right now! Taps foot impatiently.
poppymuddyfoot: I'm yet another person who's just discovered this story. With so many of my favourite hobbit writers involved, how could I resist? And Llinos, I have been waiting (im)patiently for more Recaptured.
Merry: The hobbit writers are flattered that you find them irresistible and Llinos regrets the long wait for Recap – as do I!
poppymuddyfoot: Actually, I already reviewed this chapter, but I thought you might get a kick out of this. Every time I do a search for this story on FFN, instead of entering The East Gate, I type The Eat Gate. Every time. I think I've been spending too much time with the hobbits.
Frodo: I think you've been spending too much time with Pippin.
kylie: UP Date THIS STORY
Frodo: sniffs, mutters All these people ordering me about. Walk to Rivendell, take the Ring, climb up the fiery mountain . . .
Star-Stallion: I LOVE Merry and Pippin in this story! They're so sweet! Ooh dear; looks like Haldir and Legolas have been found out by that woman! OO' Not good! I wonder what these people have against Elves? Very strange...
Frodo: Yes, yes, they're very sweet. I, on the other hand, am quite brave and honourable. In case you hadn't noticed.
Star-Stallion: Ooh dear; looks like Haldir and Legolas have been found out by that woman! OO' Not good! I wonder what these people have against Elves? Very strange...
Haldir: Humans are, in our experience, perfidious, mendacious, treacherous mortals with bad breath and flat vowels, only slightly more acceptable than dwarves! But that's just my opinion.
Periantari: I loved this line from the beginning from Pippin: "I know all about the stubbornness of the dwarves Gimli snip the stubborns and i love the Pippin in this story he's doing EVERYTHING and he's oh so brave :) seriously has kept everything under control and such with Boromir and Gimli but one question about this portion... where is Gollum at this time? I thought that he was still free to do mischief... has he been confined somewhere?
Frodo: Let me assure you, Pippin did not speak in jest. The stubbornness of hobbits is quite renowned, and none can beat a Took for stubbornness. On top of that, there's not a Took can beat my youngest cousin for stubbornness! You can't imagine what bedtime was like when he was young. Oh, and Gollum was mired in that fool's sand.
Ethoniel: Anyway, hugs to Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pip! A manly slap on the back to Boromir (i know how you hate hugs) and hugs also to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. I can't wait until the Fellowship gets back together! I was watching the Two Towers EE the other day, and I kept confusing this story with the movie. Silly me!!:p
Frodo: Oh, thank you, I really needed a hug right now. Greatly appreciated, truly.
(Rest of cast): Um yes, thanks for the hugs.
Pip4: That's makes the score hobbits-3 the world-0!
Frodo: Hobbits 3, World 0. A word of advice – never bet against a hobbit.
storyfish: Yay! New chapters for me to read and enjoy! I definitely loved the whole Merry-talking-in-Frodo's head thing. And Frodo's response (no respect!) was laugh-out-loud. Plus, have I mentioned how much I love Pippin in this story? I'll say that he's definitely disarmed this loyal reader, not to mention the rest of middle earth. ;-) (crap, he's got me sword! leggo, you sneak!)
Frodo: Thank you, I've always thought of myself as quite witty. And please do not give Pippin any sharp objects – he always ends up running with them.
Hyperactive Forever: i wasn't laughing at Frodo, i swear!
As for my reviewly question If (i mean WHEN) Boromir, Gimli, and Pippin escape from the mines, is the story almost going to be over? please say no!
Frodo: frowns severely Laughing at Frodo? I should hope not. I AM the Bearer of The One Ring, Master of Bag End, and Wielder of Sting, I hope I need not remind you. And there certainly is quite a bit more story to be told.
domstygerr: Pippin you brave sweet lad, I cannot praise you enough. Merry my darling heart, Samwise, truly a great effort in saving Frodo, but I think my darling Merry also played a hand in that :) Way to go Merry!!
Frodo: My young cousins certainly are proving themselves, aren't they? puffs up with familial pride
smalldiver: I'm glad that Legolas has got Merry back (Little tip for shutting annoying woman up: shoot her with an arrow ;)), but I'm sure there'll be complications. There always are.
Haldir: I couldn't agree more about the arrow. notches bowstring
auntiemeesh: Hugs to all the hobbits and all the writers. :)
Frodo: Ah, more hugs. Thank you, thank you, I'll be signing copies of the Red Book in Lothlórien next week.
Mystarri: Legolas, I've got an idea to help you: Why don't you grab Merry, and run out of the house...? Gimli, how very noble of you. And Pippin's so cute, especially with that splinter...
Haldir: Grab Merry and run! That's what I keep saying!
Frodo: I shall overlook your lack of interest in the Ringbearer due to your great concern for my cousins.
pipinheart: Pippin has been very helpful and resourceful...
Frodo: Pippin has been quite helpful and resourceful, hasn't he? I think he takes after me.
Nayana Baggins: And Boromir is a big ole jerk!
Frodo: You may be best advised not to call Boromir of Gondor a "big ole jerk." But that's just a suggestion.
Ice Ember: Everyone made it! But poor Merry is still trapped with the people who sound like they might be on helium. Update soon plz!
Frodo: I'm not sure what "helium" is, but if it's a new form of pipeweed, I hope to find out more soon.
fliewatuet: Anyway, hugs and cookies for everyone,
Frodo: Cookies! Look, everyone, cookies!
my-fool-of-a-took: despite Boromir's earlier reluctance about hugs and hobbits, i think each hobbit in this chapter was entitled to one.
Frodo: Even great Lords of Gondor surely must recognize the importance of hugs to hobbits.
ringmarciel: Ah... Frodo this Frodo that. Anyway hope Merry is rescued by the elves.
Frodo: glares. takes down your name
lindahoyland: I hope Frodo gets his hot bath.
Frodo: You and me both. Sam, don't forget the bubbles.
tarielensa: Hugs and cuddles to all who enjoy them and hearty handshakes to the rest (you know who you are).
Frodo: I'm not certain if I received a hug or a handshake, but either way, thank you for the good wishes.
Merry: For Pity's sake Frodo – you got a hug! Think about it!
Maripo5a: Poor Merry, and poor Gimli, and poor everybody... Hugs all around! (Except to Boromir, to whom I offer a slow, lingering kiss--seems like you might like that--or a firm handshake. Whichever you prefer.)
Frodo: Ah, I'll just, you know, wait, um, over here. You and Boromir just, yes, that'll be fine.