Chapter 2: Various Tactical Errors Cancel Each Other Out
In the first chapter we have established that both heroes and villains aren't really in much of a hurry to get on with the plot. At least Frodo and his friends are finally on the road, as are the nazgûl. Back at Barad-dûr, Sauron wonders whether he should perhaps gather some armies and attack Minas Tirith now, but decides it would be better to wait for the spring. At Isengard, Saruman postpones the killing of Gandalf for another day.
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile in the Woody End of the Shire
"Can I see the map, Mr Frodo?"
"Um, I didn't bring a map."
"Why not?"
"Because, um, it would have taken up too much space."
"They can be folded, you know, meaning no disrespect."
Frodo stared ahead trying to hide his irritation.
"We should stop at the next village and buy a map," Sam went on.
"I'd rather not."
"Why not?"
"I didn't bring much money."
"Why –"
"I just didn't, okay?!" snapped Frodo and stormed ahead. Pippin followed him hastily, making urgent faces at Sam over his shoulder.
Sam trudged on. "Five months of preparation, eh?" he muttered under his breath.
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile back on the road
"They came off the road here and disappeared into the woods."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I could smell them quite clearly, and the Ring was calling to me as well."
"Why didn't you follow them?"
"Why should I pay for the off-road surcharge?"
oOoOoOo
The next day, somewhere in the Woody End
Gildor Inglorion looked at his irate girlfriend in bafflement. "What do you mean, do something about it?"
"Gildor! Young Baggins is being followed by nazgûl and you just let him wander off with nothing but some half-assed advice?"
"Hush, do not mention them, even in the bright day of the Shire!"
"That's what's worrying you?" She clenched her fists in disbelief. "That bothers you? Don't be so fricking superstitious! Nazgûl, nazgûl, nazgûl! There, nothing happened. In the meantime, though, the nazgûl are hunting down those poor hobbits and you haven't lifted a finger to help them."
"We gave them quite a nice supper last night," he pointed out.
"Great, that's a lot of help!"
"I suppose we could…"
"Yes, what?" She tapped her foot.
"Send some messages out, tell folk that Frodo is on his way."
"Isn't it supposed to be a secret?"
"Well, we'll send them only to the people who know about it."
She suppressed a scream. "I despair of you, I really do."
oOoOoOo
A little while later at the Maggots' farm
"Stay for supper, Mr Baggins."
"That's very kind of you, Mr Maggot, but I really need to hurry and get away from those Black riders."
"I can give you a lift to the ferry."
"Brilliant! Black Riders could never catch me whilst I'm travelling on a farm cart. To the supper table, my friends!"
oOoOoOo
Some time later by the ferry
Three nazgûl stared at the bare jetty.
"You let him get away, you numpty," said the first.
"Well, you let him get away yesterday, so there," the second replied.
"Gentlemen, please," said the third, "can we try and find a constructive solution? There is a bridge about twenty miles north from here. We know the Baggins brat is on his way to Crickhollow; we can be there in a few hours. Let's finish this tonight."
"Oh, I don't know," said the second. "I'm kind of all worn out from tramping through this horrible countryside. I want a rest. The Baggins brat will still be in Crickhollow tomorrow." He turned to the first. "What do you say?"
"My horse has lost a shoe."
"That settles it then."
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile in Crickhollow
Having narrowly escaped Black Riders, Frodo is delighted to have reached the safety of an unfortified house which he had given as his mail-forwarding address. He feels sure the Enemy cannot get him now, because the door is closed. He luxuriates in his bath and then has a lengthy supper.
"What are you going to do now?" asked Merry while Pippin and Sam licked their plates.
"Dunno," replied Frodo. "How quickly could the Black Riders get here?"
"Well, they could be here by now," said Merry pointedly.
"And how quickly could we get away?"
"Pretty much immediately. The ponies are ready, the luggage is ready; so if we all just nip to the loo, we can perhaps escape. You know, just in case you want to avoid being caught."
"Oh, I'm not sure. There's all these dishes to wash; it's slovenly to leave them. And Pippin still has to mop up the water in the bathroom. Let's sleep over it and leave tomorrow. I dare say they won't come tonight."
"If you say so," said Merry, slightly miffed that his efficiency had been disregarded.
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile somewhere to the south of the Shire.
A dozen Rangers were seated around a campfire, toasting marshmallows. Their horses ambled about in the soft grass.
"Just a thought," said one of the Rangers, a formidable fellow with shoulders as broad as an oxen yoke, "maybe we should go after them. If we take the Greenway, we can probably catch up with Aragorn in Bree. Aragorn thought it would be good if we escorted these hobbits, so let's do it."
"No," said Halbarad. "We must stick to Gandalf's plan."
"What exactly is Gandalf's plan?"
Halbarad scratched his head. "Um, to trust in courage and good fortune, I think. More marshmallows, anyone?"
oOoOoOo
The next day, in the Old Forest
"You know what would be a really great invention?" said Pippin while the hobbits scrambled down another steep-walled ravine that was leading them in the wrong direction entirely. "A device that tells you where north is."
"That already exists," said Merry. "It's called a map."
"No, that's not what I mean," replied Pippin, unruffled by the dripping sarcasm in Merry's voice. "I mean something you could carry around with you that would point to the north from wherever you are standing."
"Oh, I see." Merry stopped and looked back to where Frodo and Sam were more sliding than climbing down the bank. "That does sound useful, but I don't think it is possible. It would be beyond the magic of even the greatest elven craftsmen."
"More magical than rings that make you invisible?" asked Pippin.
"Um… Let's stop for a snack, shall we?"
oOoOoOo
A day later, at the Golden Perch in Stock
Three nazgûl were seated at a table in the corner by the fireplace. One was slumped over and snoring softly. The second was gesturing to the barkeep for more beer. The third was sitting primly upright and an expression of exasperation was discernible in the set of his shoulders. This was the one who went by the name of Jûnior.
"I think you should stop drinking, Jasûn," he said. "We have already lost two days to your little pit stop."
"Ah, don't be such a party pooper." Jasûn slammed his tankard on the table. "This is the best beer in the Eastfarthing, nay, in the whole Shire! Don't you agree, Jordûn?" He nudged the slumped-over nazgûl who responded with nothing more than a muffled groan.
"We could be back on our way home by now," whined Jûnior. "The Boss might give us a bonus for being the ones who brought him the Ring. But, oh, no, you two had to come here and drink like…like…"
"If you can't think of a good metaphor, shut up," said Jasûn.
"Simile," mumbled Jordûn.
"What?"
"If you use 'like' or 'as' then it's a simile, not a metaphor. I'm not drunk, you know. Just tired." With considerable effort, he lifted his head off the table. "Anyways. Back to work tomorrow!"
"That's what you said yesterday."
oOoOoOo
Some time later, at the edge of the Barrow-Downs
After much waving, Goldberry lowered her arm and rubbed the aching muscles. She returned to the house, closed the door and put on her pink pompom slippers. When she entered the kitchen, she found to her surprise that Tom was sitting on a stool by the window with a glass in his hand.
"Tom! What are you doing?"
"Ding-dong, dongle-on, derridel, my hearty! Tom is having a little tipple after his long labours."
"That's not what we agreed!"
"Dim-dumb, gristlethumb, what did we agree, my dearie?"
"You know exactly what we agreed!"
"Tin drum, icky scum, remind me, please, my petal. This mead has gone to Tom's head a little."
"We agreed that you would follow the hobbits discreetly in case they got into any trouble. Do I need to remind you, too, that those Barrow-Downs are crawling with wights who like nothing better than prey on innocent travellers?"
"Ping-pong, singalong, what's the worst that could happen?"
"They could get killed?"
"Well, yeah, maybe, but I don't have time to be frolicking about the countryside with some hobbits. I have flowers to pick, and Goldberry is waiting."
"I am Goldberry! And you, Tom Bombadil, will go after them now, double-quick!"
oOoOoOo
Another two days later, still at the Golden Perch in Stock
"I suppose we'd better get going. Barkeep, the bill please!"
The bill turned out to cause considerable embarrassment to the nazgûl, who could only rustle up three halfpennies and a half-eaten pear from their pockets. Shortly afterwards, they found themselves in the inn's kitchen, washing dishes.
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile, somewhere in Eriador
"No, good sir," said the milk maid, "never heard of it. Are you sure elves live there? I thought they were just the stuff of stories, not real."
"Well," said Boromir, straightening up his tunic, "I am not entirely sure, but I had this dream. It was like a poem and a riddle. Seek for the sword that was broken, In Imladris it dwells…"
"Shame you didn't dream a map to go with it, sir," replied the milk maid. "Or at least some decent directions. What do you need a broken sword for anyway? I see you have quite a big, strong sword there on … your belt." She winked.
Boromir felt himself blush and hastily mounted his horse. "Good day," he cried and cantered off.
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile in Bree
With screams of frustration, the nazgûl kicked at the bed steads and slashed at the pillows and bolsters.
"Quick, let's search the rest of the inn!" hissed the one known as Kevûn.
"No," replied the one called Rûmeo. "They are gone."
"Fiddlesticks! We know they're here."
"That Ferny dude said they would be in this room and they're not," observed the one who went by the name of Lûrri.
"Then clearly they have gone to a different room, you pestilent waste of space!"
"There's no need to be offensive. Khamûl said only to search one room."
"Why in Middle-earth would he say that?"
"Dunno. Good sportsmanship, I think. Anyway," said Rûmeo and drew himself up to his full height, an effect that was slightly spoiled when he hit his head on the low ceiling, "I am in charge tonight. We'll go back and report to Khamûl and Witchy."
"Can we at least drive off all the horses and ponies?"
"Oh, all right then."
oOoOoOo
A few days later at Imladris
The soft light of the dancing flames in the fireplace lit Elrond's face. His face was ageless, neither young nor old, but the recent shenanigans about the seating plans for the Yule celebrations had left him with dark rings under his eyes. And now this.
"Do we really have to do anything about it?" he asked in the voice of a long-suffering housekeeper.
"Of course we do," replied Glorfindel with energy. "We need to set a watch, both at the Last Bridge and at the ford to make sure the servants of the Enemy won't waylay the Ringbearer at these bottlenecks."
"There are not many of us who can ride openly against the Nine," wailed Elrond.
"We can rustle up a few," said Glorfindel. "At a pinch, I'm willing to take on all nine at once, and you could do the same. It's not as if they're balrogs."
"No," said Elrond. "I feel one of my migraines coming on. But ride to the Last Bridge by all means. Here –" He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a gemstone. "–here's a pretty trinket that you could put on the Bridge."
"What is this, a treasure hunt?" snapped Glorfindel.
"Ah," said Elrond with a sigh, "that would be fun. Let's have one next week. But for now, alas, duty calls. I must consult with Cook about the menu."
oOoOoOo
Meanwhile at Weathertop
Peering down at the road from the exposed summit of the hill, Frodo, Merry and Strider could discern five black figured riding towards each other on the road, two from the east and three from the west. When they met, they huddled together and one pointed at the hill where Strider and the hobbits crouched. He waved.
"Crumbs," whispered Frodo, "they've seen us. Whatever shall we do now?"
"Don't fret, there is hope yet" replied Strider. "Sam and Pippin must have found the firewood by now that my pals usually stash in the dell. We'll have a barbeque and a singalong."
"You cannot be serious!" cried Frodo.
"I am always serious." Strider arranged his featured to look sterner than ever. "Now I come to think of it," he chattered as they walked down the hillside towards the dell, "it kind of does make sense that the Enemy had this place watched. It's like the biggest landmark for miles and miles around. And chances of meeting Gandalf here were always minuscule. We should have come a different way."
"Could've, should've, would've," grumbled Merry.
oOoOoOo
The following day, somewhere in the wilderness
"We should have persevered!" growled Khamûl. "We were that close to getting that flaming ring!"
"But there were five of them and only five of us, and they had a fire!" said Lûrri.
"And why were there only five of us, you squirming maggot? Whose idea was it that some of us should chase after that blasted wizard? Who came up with that bloody stupid idea?"
"That would have been me," said the Witch King.
"Oh, I'm sorry," stuttered Khamûl. "I was sure it was Lûrri. I do seem to recall that Lûrri said –"
"Oh, shut up! Even if we'd all been there, we wouldn't have succeeded. The Halfling shouted the name of Her That Shall Not Be Named. My ears are still ringing."
"It's high time we dealt with this little problem. I heard you can get desensitisation therapy and –"
"I said SHUT UP!"
The Witch King pulled his robe closer round his shoulder and rode off into the sunset. Then, realising his mistake, he turned his horse and rode east. "Don't you dare say a word, any of you!" he roared as he galloped past his colleagues.
oOoOoOo
Eleven days later, at Imladris
"I worry about Frodo so, Gandalf," said Bilbo. "Won't you ride out and meet him on the road? At least as far as the ford?"
"All in good time, my dear Bilbo. First I need to get the corn on my left foot seen to."
oOoOoOo
The following day, in a small drawing room at Barad-dûr
Sauron and the Mouth of Sauron were sitting in front of the palantir, a bowl of popcorn between them.
"Get off the line, Saruman," said Sauron testily. "We're about to watch the final chase. Tonight, the Ring will be mine!"
The Mouth of Sauron looked at his master as if he expected something.
"What?" snapped Sauron.
"Oh, nothing," replied Mouth. "I just thought that would have been a good moment to say MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."
"Shhhhh, here it comes!" Sauron leaned forward as the image in the palantir began to home in on the Ford of Bruinen. Sunlight glinted on the rippling waters. To both sides of the river, the land was flat, treeless and entirely empty.
"Where are they?" whispered Mouth.
"Um, they're hiding in ambush," replied Sauron.
"Where?"
"Somewhere behind the rocks over there."
"That's quite far away," said Mouth.
"The curved surface of the palantir distorts the real proportions. And now be quiet. They can be here any minute now."
Indeed, he had barely finished his sentence when a group of figures could be seen emerging from the shade of the pine trees.
"Rats, they have a filthy elf with them!" cried Mouth.
"I said, be quiet!"
They watched as the group inched towards the ford, then suddenly the white horse leapt forward and sped away. At the same moment, several black horses burst out of the wood.
"Go!" Sauron whooped. "Go, go, go, GO!"
"Where's the ambush?" asked Mouth.
The ambush did in fact make an appearance just then. For an instant, it looked as if the nazgûl would reach the ford first, but seconds later the white horse ploughed through the water and climbed up on the far bank.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…!" shrieked Sauron and Mouth in unison.
"Wait, they can still get him," cried Sauron.
"You'll hurt your eye getting so close to the screen," said Mouth.
"Shut up. Look, Witchy has almost made it! Go, Witchy, go!"
The Witch King's horse was about to set hoof on the far bank, when some kind of interference seemed to blur the image.
"What's going on?"
"For pity's sake, it's that thrice-cursed river!" Sauron yelled. "Look, it's a flash flood! They'll all get swept away!"
And right enough, the sudden assault of the waters overpowered the nazgûl who were in the middle of the stream. On the near shore, the nasty elf forced the remaining black horses into the flood. Only the Witch King still sat on his steed and a single leap forward would have brought him safely ashore.
"Go, Witchy!" cried Sauron. "You can make it!"
"Witchy! Go get him, boy!" Mouth's voice squeaked with excitement.
At that moment, the Witch King's horse plunged backward instead of forward and the last of the black shapes disappeared into the foaming white chaos.
Sauron curled up in a corner of the room and whimpered softly.