Hello, everyone, so Here we go into the wild, i hope you enjoy this chapter I worked really hard to get this done, remember I do this for all of my followers, Favoriters, and reviewers. Please review.
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The night was rather quiet until about midnight when we heard my magical Quagmire go off and several shrieks were heard. The hobbits all awoke to this I smile to them, "Go back to sleep, that will knock them down for at least tonight." The bleary eyed hobbits nodded sleepily , and fell back to sleep.
Early in the morning Aragorn and I roused the hobbits, as soon as we had roused them all, he led the way to their bedrooms. The windows had been forced open and were swinging, and the curtains were flapping; but that was the smallest amount of damage done to the room, the beds were tossed about, and the bolsters slashed and flung upon the floor; the brown mat was torn to pieces, there were scorch marks on the wall there were shreds of a black cloak on the floor. The hobbits were looking at me with a new respect in their eye's.
Aragron immediately went to fetch the Butterbur. The poor man looked sleepy and frightened. He had hardly closed his eyes all night (so he said), but he had never heard a sound.
"Never has such a thing happened in my time!" he cried, raising his hands in horror. "Guests unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters ruined and all! What are we coming to?"
"Dark times," Aragorn tells him. "But for the present you may be left in peace, when you have got rid of us. We will leave at once. Never mind about breakfast: a drink and a bite standing will have to do. We shall be packed in a few minutes."
The hobbits seemed positively alarmed by this, I just shrugged and hoped we could escape Bree unnoticed.
Butterbur hurried off to see that their ponies were got ready, and to fetch them a 'bite'. But very soon he came back in dismay. Apparently the hobbits ponies had vanished! The stable-doors had all been opened in the night, and they were gone: not only the hobbit's ponies, but every other horse and beast in the place.
This news was not overly alarming, but slightly troublesome, we couldn't carry enough provisions for the road without at least one pony.
"Ponies would not help us to escape horsemen," Aragorn say at last, thoughtfully. "We should not go much slower on foot, not on the roads that I mean to take. I was going to walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count on getting anything to eat between here and Rivendell, except what we take with us; and we ought to take plenty to spare; for we may be delayed, or forced to go round-about, far out of the direct way. How much are you prepared to carry on your backs?"
I look at him then smile, then tell him, "sometimes I swear you are a mind reader."
"As much as we must," Pippin tells him
"I can carry enough for two," said Sam definately.
"Can't anything be done, Mr. Butterbur?" asked Frodo. "Can't we get a couple of ponies in the village, or even one just for the baggage? I don't suppose we could hire them, but we might be able to buy them," he added.
"I doubt it," said the landlord unhappily. "The two or three riding-ponies that there were in Bree were stabled in my yard, and they're gone. As for other animals, horses or ponies for draught or what not, there are very few of them in Bree, and they won't be for sale. But I'll do what I can. I'll rout out Bob and send him round as soon as may be."
"Yes," Aragorn says reluctantly, "you had better do that. I am afraid we shall have to try to get one pony at least. But so ends all hope of starting early, and slipping away quietly! We might as well have blown a horn to announce our departure. That was part of their plan, no doubt."
"This must be their payback on me for the quagmire i left behind, vengeful little bastards aren't they," I say nonchalantly to nods around the room
"There is one crumb of comfort," said Merry, "and more than a crumb, I hope: we can have breakfast while we wait – and sit down to it. Let's get hold of Nob!"
In the end there was more than three hours' delay. Bob came back with the report that no horse or pony was to be got for love or money in the neighbourhood – except one: Bill Ferny had one that he might possibly sell. "A poor old half-starved creature it is," said Bob; "but he won't part with it for less than thrice its worth, seeing how you're placed, not if I knows Bill Ferny."
"Bill Ferny?" said Frodo. "Isn't there some trick? Wouldn't the beast bolt back to him with all our stuff, or help in tracking us, or something?"
"I wonder," I muse. "But I cannot imagine any animal running home to him, once it got away. I fancy this is only an afterthought of kind Master Ferny's: just a way of increasing his profits from the affair. The largest danger I can think of is that the poor beast is probably nearly dead. But there does not seem any choice. What does he want for it?"
Bill Ferny's price was twelve silver pennies; and that was indeed at least three times the pony's value in those parts. It proved to be a bony, underfed, and dispirited animal; but it did not look like dying just yet. While they were discussing the niceties of the situation i was preparing the pony, putting our provisions and supplies on him, whispering to it softly in elvish. It was close on ten o'clock before we finally left. By that time the whole of Bree was buzzing with excitement. Frodo's vanishing trick; the appearance of the black horsemen; the robbing of the stables; and not least the news that Strider and Wraith the Rangers had joined the mysterious hobbits, made such a tale as would last for many uneventful years. Most of the inhabitants of Bree and Staddle, and many even from Combe and Archet, were crowded in the road to see the travellers start. The other guests in the inn were at the doors or hanging out of the windows. Which was a real pain, causing no end to headaches for me, the whole thing about me was that I was an enigma, something that no one was absolutely certain existed, now everyone would know, and I wish that people would not know me, because I am certain that Sauron is still searching for his lost daughter, me.
Aragorn had changed his mind, and had decided to leave Bree by the main road. Any attempt to set off across country at once would only make matters worse: half the inhabitants would follow us, to see what they were up to, and to prevent us from trespassing. Nothing was really in our favor, but the main road was most favorable to us, at least the people wouldn't follow us too far.
We tramped off, anxious and downhearted, under the eyes of the crowd. Not all the faces were friendly, nor all the words that were shouted. But Aragorn and me seemed to be held in awe by most of the Bree-landers, and those that we stared at, well me turned my head in there direction since my eyes were still hidden, to the crowd shut their mouths and drew away. He walked in front with Frodo; next came Merry and Pippin; and last came Sam and me leading the pony, which was laden with as much of our baggage as we had the heart to give it; but already it looked less dejected, as if it approved of the change in its fortunes. Sam was chewing an apple thoughtfully. He had a pocket full of them: a parting present from Nob and Bob. "Apples for walking, and a pipe for sitting," he tells me. "But I reckon I'll miss them both before long."
I agree with him on this. The hobbits took no notice of the inquisitive heads that peeped out of doors, or popped over walls and fences, as they passed, but i did and began taking count of how many seemed hostile.
Over the hedge another man was staring boldly. He had heavy black brows, and dark scornful eyes; his large mouth curled in a sneer. He was smoking a short black pipe. As they approached he took it out of his mouth and spat.
"Morning, Longshanks and Doxy!" he says. "Off early? Found some friends at last?" Aragorn nodded, but did not answer I pursed my lips, not trusting myself to not burn his sad little face off.
"Morning, my little friends!" he said to the others. "I suppose you know who you've taken up with? That's Stick-at-naught Strider, and No-face Wraith that is! Though I've heard other names not so pretty. Watch out tonight! And you, Sammie, don't go ill-treating my poor old pony! Pah!" He spat again.
Sam turns quickly. "And you, Ferny," he says "put your ugly face out of sight, or it will get hurt." With a sudden flick, quick as lightning, an apple left his hand and hit Bill square on the nose. He ducked too late, and curses came from behind the hedge. "Waste of a good apple," Sam tells regretfully, and strode on. I smile then walking next to him ask him, "May I have an apple?"
At last we left the village behind. The escort of children and stragglers that had followed us got tired and turned back at the South-gate. Passing through, they kept on along the Road for some miles. It bent to the left, curving back into its eastward line as it rounded the feet of Bree-hill, and then it began to run swiftly downwards into wooded country. To their left they could see some of the houses and hobbit-holes of Staddle on the gentler south-eastern slopes of the hill; down in a deep hollow away north of the Road there were wisps of rising smoke that showed where Combe lay; Archet was hidden in the trees beyond.
After the Road had run down some way, and had left Bree-hill standing tall and brown behind, they came on a narrow track that led off towards the North. "This is where we leave the open and take to cover," Aragorn tells the hobbits
"Not a "short cut", I hope," Pippin says apprehensivly. "Our last short cut through woods nearly ended in disaster."
"Ah, but you had not got me with you then," laughs Aragorn. "My cuts, short or long, don't go wrong." He took a look up and down the Road. No one was in sight; and he led the way quickly down towards the wooded valley.
His plan, was to go towards Archet at first, but to bear right and pass it on the east, and then to steer as straight as he could over the wild lands to Weathertop Hill. In that way they would, if all went well, cut off a great loop of the Road, which further on bent southwards to avoid the Midgewater Marshes. But, of course, we would have to pass through the marshes eventually, it was an unpleasant but bearable place.
However, in the meanwhile, walking was not unpleasant. The sun was shining, clear but not too hot. The woods in the valley were still leafy and full of colour, and seemed peaceful and wholesome. Aragorn guided them confidently among the many crossing paths, although left to themselves they would soon have been at a loss. He was taking a wandering course with many turns and doublings, to put off any pursuit. I was weaving through the woods checking for threats one time that i checked up with him he told me what he was hoping.
"Bill Ferny will have watched where we left the Road, for certain," he said; "though I don't think he will follow us himself. He knows the land round here well enough, but he knows he is not a match for me in a wood. It is what he may tell others that I am afraid of. I don't suppose they are far away. If they think we have made for Archet, so much the better."
"That is a slim hope to kling onto, out hunter's are not stupid, they know that we are intelligent to, we should be prepared for anything," I tell him as I slip off.
We saw very few living creatures the rest of the day. About an hour after we left bree, the hobbits stopped and brought out cooking utensils.
"Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall." Aragorn told them
"But what about breakfast?" Pippin inquires.
"You have already had it." I say confused
"Well we've had one yes, but what about second breakfast." Pippin says with an air of having defeated us in a well reasoned argument.
I shake my head in frustration and walk off, Aragorn following.
"Second breakfast, do hobbits really have second breakfast, It is a wonder that there is food in middle earth." I say to Aragorn
Aragorn only smiles and throws a couple apples behind him as i slip off once again.
The ground now became damp, and in places boggy and here and there they came upon pools, and wide stretches of reeds and rushes filled with the warbling of little hidden birds. They had to pick their way carefully to keep both dry-footed and on their proper course. At first they made fair progress, but as they went on, their passage became slower and more dangerous. The marshes were bewildering and treacherous, and there was no permanent trail even for Rangers to find through their shifting quagmires. The flies began to torment them, and the air was full of clouds of tiny midges that crept up their sleeves and breeches and into their hair.
"I am being eaten alive!" cried Pippin. "Midgewater! There are more midges than water!"
"What do they live on when they can't get hobbit?" Sam asks, scratching his neck.
"Anything and everything", I tell him remaining safe from the midges by use of magic, smiling under my cloak.
We spent a miserable day in this unpleasant country. Their camping-place was damp, cold, and uncomfortable; and the biting insects would not let them were also a large amount of cricket like creatures. There were thousands of them, and they squeaked all round, neek-breek, breek-neek, unceasingly all the night, until the hobbits were nearly frantic and I was nearly in tears from laughter.
The next day, the fourth, was little better for the hobbit sand the night almost as comfortless.
Late at night it seemed to me that far away there came a light in the eastern sky: it flashed and faded many times. It was not the dawn, for that was still some hours off.
"What is the light?" Frodo asks Aragorn, who had risen, and was standing, and me, gazing ahead into the night.
"I do not know," Aragorn answers. "It is too distant to make out. It is like lightning that leaps up from the hill-tops."
"It seems like some sort of battle of magic, I cannot make out where it is tho." I say
Frodo lay down again and I assume he fell right to sleep, I turn to Aragron and say, "get some sleep, I will not be resting on this night."
We had not gone far on the fifth day when we (at last) left the last straggling pools and reedbeds of the marshes behind us. The land before them began steadily to rise again. Away in the distance eastward they could now see a line of hills. The highest of them was at the right of the line and a little separated from the others. It had a conical top, slightly flattened at the summit.
"That is Weathertop," Aragorn says "The Old Road, which we have left far away on our right, runs to the south of it and passes not far from its foot. We might reach it by noon tomorrow, if we go straight towards it. I suppose we had better do so."
"What do you mean?" asked Frodo.
"I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It is close to the Road."
"But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?"
"Yes; but the hope is faint. If he comes this way at all, he may not pass through Bree, and so he may not know what we are doing. And anyway, unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all round. Indeed, there are many birds and beasts in this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil than they are."
The hobbits looked anxiously at the distant hills.
Sam looks up into the pale sky. "You do make me feel uncomfortable and lonesome, Strider!" he says.
"What do you advise us to do?" asks Frodo.
"I think," Aragorn answers slowly, as if he was not quite sure, "I think the best thing is to go as straight eastward from here as we can, to make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. There we can strike a path I know that runs at their feet; it will bring us to Weathertop from the north and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see."
I nodded looking into the skies hoping to not find a non-native bird,
All that day we plodded along, until the cold and early evening came down. The land became drier and more barren; but mists and vapours lay behind them on the marshes. A few melancholy birds were piping and wailing, until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows. That night the hobbits asked me for a tale of an adventure i had with gandalf when we were traveling together. I smile at the fond memories that it had brought up.
"Let me see hmm, ah yes I have one-
I told them of a time when Gandalf and me went to Mount Gundabad to try and find one of the seven dwarf rings, which had been in the settlement when it had fallen. It was a thrilling tale of us almost dying, and of me saving Gandalf from falling off a cliff.
"-And then I walked to the edge of the cliff after dispatching the orc that had knocked him off and offered my hand to him, asking him, 'where would you be without me old man?' 'I probably would be sitting somewhere smoking a pipe, but i am here galavanting across the mountains with you,' He tells me and we laugh. We were forced to leave after that because our lovely friends the orcs had brought several dozen trolls, apparently they were angry about us killing their fellows."
The hobbits looked flabbergasted at this story, Aragorn was feigning disinterest but I could tell he was very interested..
"What happened to the ring you were looking for?" Frodo inquiries.
"We never found it, we assumed that the orcs had sent it to Angmar, I guess after that it was sent to the land of shadows. But still i don't like to rely too much on guess work." I say
Aragorn cuts off any questions by saying, "Ok everyone we are up early tomorrow so get some sleep, you too Arindil, get some sleep."
Next morning we set out again soon after sunrise. There was a frost in the air, and the sky was a pale clear blue. The hobbits felt refreshed, as if they had had a night of unbroken sleep. Pippin declared that Frodo was looking twice the hobbit that he had been.
"Very odd," Frodo says, tightening his belt, "considering that there is actually a good deal less of me. I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith."
"Do not speak of such things!" I say quickly, fearing the implication and the feeling i was getting in my gut.
The hills drew nearer. We made an undulating ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there falling again to low clefts or passes leading into the eastern land beyond. Along the crest of the ridge the hobbits could see what looked to be the remains the fortress of Amûn-Sul. By night we had reached the feet of the westward slopes, and there they camped. In the morning we followed a clear path, which made me jumpy, I felt to exposed on the path.
"I wonder who made this path, and what for," said Merry, as they walked along one of these avenues, where the stones were unusually large and closely set. "I am not sure that I like it: it has a – well, rather a barrow-wightish look. Is there any barrow on Weathertop?"
"No. There is no barrow on Weathertop, nor on any of these hills," Aragorn tells him, "The Men of the West did not live here; though in their latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Sûl they called it. It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill's head. Yet once it was tall and fair. It is told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance."
The hobbits gazed at Aragorn.
"Who was Gil-galad?" asked Merry; but Aragorn did not answer, and seemed to be lost in thought. I was about to answer when, suddenly a low voice murmured:
Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.
I turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam's.
"Don't stop!" said Merry.
"That's all I know," stammered Sam, blushing. "I learned it from Mr. Bilbo when I was a lad. He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo that taught me my letters. He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote poetry. He wrote what I have just said."
"He did not make it up," I tell him "It is part of the lay that is called The Fall of Gil-galad, which is in an ancient tongue. I remember hearing it when I was a child, my adoptive father often sang it, he and Gil-galad were friends. Bilbo must have translated it. I never knew that."
"There was a lot more," said Sam, "all about Mordor. I didn't learn that part, it gave me the shivers. I never thought I should be going that way myself!"
"Going to Mordor!" cried Pippin. "I hope it won't come to that!"
I don't look at the hobbits, for i know what must be done to destroy the ring.
"Do not speak that name so loudly!" Aragon tells them.
Near Mid-day we arrive at weathertop, I head straight for the top as the hobbits and Aragorn went to the hovel in the side of the hill, I was later joined at the top by Aragorn, Frodo, and Merry. We stood in the ruined circle of stone surveying the country when that came upon me i was inspecting the earth for in the centre of the circle a cairn of broken stones had been piled. They were blackened as if with fire. About them the turf was burned to the roots and all within the ring the grass was scorched and shrivelled, as if flames had swept the hilltop; but there was no sign of any living thing.
I looked to aragorn then I say, "Aragorn, this is where the battle we witnessed a few days ago, These tracks look familiar, Gandalf was here," I say pointing to the ground near the carn, "But he was attacked by the Nazgûl he fled but not before leaving this." I hand Aragorn a stone that was white than the others on it was inscribed a G rune
"The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches," said Strider. "It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the marks might mean something quite different, and have nothing to do with us. Rangers use runes, and they come here sometimes."
"What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?" asked Merry.
"I should say," answered Strider, "that they stood for G3, and were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now. It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he had no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is so, we must be wary."
"I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they may mean," said Frodo. "It would be a great comfort to know that he was on the way, in front of us or behind us."
"Perhaps," Aragorn says"For myself, I believe that he was here, and was in danger. There have been scorching flames here; and now the light that we saw three nights ago in the eastern sky comes back to my mind. I guess that he was attacked on this hill-top, but with what result I cannot tell. He is here no longer, and we must now look after ourselves and make our own way to Rivendell, as best we can."
"GET DOWN," I yell to the others as I drop to the ground.
The others drop as well Aragorn whispers to me "What is it what did you see?"
"Nazgûl!"
The hobbits look towards me fearfully Frodo looks at me and asks me, "Do you think they saw us?"
I look at him my head nodding. Hastily we crept away and slipped down the north side of the hill to find their companions.
"How far is Rivendell from here?" Frodo asks
"At least a fortnight, let's hope we survive this" I say.
Sam and Peregrin had not been idle. They had explored the small dell and the surrounding slopes. Not far away they found a spring of clear water in the hillside, and near it footprints not more than a day or two old. In the dell itself they found recent traces of a fire, and other signs of a hasty camp. There were some fallen rocks on the edge of the dell nearest to the hill. Behind them Sam came upon a small store of firewood neatly stacked. Aragorn left to check these.
"It is just as I feared," he said, when he came back. "Sam and Pippin have trampled the soft ground, and the marks are spoilt or confused. Rangers have been here lately. It is they who left the firewood behind. But there are also several newer tracks that were not made by Rangers. At least one set was made, only a day or two ago, by heavy boots. At least one. I cannot now be certain, but I think there were many booted feet." He paused and stood in anxious thought.
Sam viewed the hollow with great dislike, now that he had heard news of their enemies on the Road, only a few miles away.
"Hadn't we better clear out quick, Mr. Strider, Mrs. Wraith?" he asked impatiently. "It is getting late, and I don't like this hole: it makes my heart sink somehow."
"Yes, we certainly must decide what to do at once," Aragorn answers, looking up and considering the time and the weather. "Well, Sam," he said at last, "I do not like this place either; but I cannot think of anywhere better that we could reach before nightfall. At least we are out of sight for the moment, and if we moved we should be much more likely to be seen by spies. All we could do would be to go right out of our way back north on this side of the line of hills, where the land is all much the same as it is here. The Road is watched, but we should have to cross it, if we tried to take cover in the thickets away to the south. On the north side of the Road beyond the hills the country is bare and flat for miles."
" Hear we have the best tactical position to defend from, we will have to keep the fire going all night, and prepare for battle." I say preparing a fire for the night.
"Can the Riders see?" asked Merry. "I mean, they seem usually to have used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smelling is the right word, at least in the daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you saw them down below; and now you talk of being seen, if we move."
"I was too careless on the hill-top," I answer. "I was very anxious to find some sign of Gandalf; but it was a mistake for four of us to go up and stand there so long. For the black horses can see, and the Riders can use men and other creatures as spies, as we found at Bree. They themselves do not see the world of light as we do, but our shapes cast shadows in their minds, which only the noon sun destroys; and in the dark they perceive many signs and forms that are hidden from us: then they are most to be feared. And at all times they smell the blood of living things, desiring and hating it. Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell. We can feel their presence – it troubled our hearts, as soon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly. Also," I add, dropping my voice a whisper, "the Ring draws them."
"Is there no escape then?" asks Frodo, looking round wildly. "If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!"
I purse my lips as Aragorn begins to explain to them, I am in the belief that they can sense me. We move down in the lowest and most sheltered corner of the dell I lit a fire, and prepared a meal. The shades of evening began to fall, and it grew cold. We were suddenly aware of great hunger, for we had not eaten anything since breakfast; and we dared not make more than a frugal supper.
"I don't see how our food can be made to last," Frodo says. "We have been careful enough in the last few days, and this supper is no feast; but we have used more than we ought, if we have two weeks still to go, and perhaps more."
"There is food in the wild," Aragorn tells him; "berry, root, and herb; and we have some skill as a hunter at need. You need not be afraid of starving before winter comes. But gathering and catching food is long and weary work, and we need haste. So tighten your belts, and think with hope of the tables of Elrond's house!"
The cold increased as darkness came on. Peering out from the edge of the dell they could see nothing but a grey land now vanishing quickly into shadow. The sky above had cleared again and was slowly filled with twinkling stars. Frodo and his companions huddled round the fire, wrapped in every garment and blanket they possessed; but Aragorn and me were content with a single cloak, and sat a little apart, drawing thoughtfully at our pipes.
As night fell and the light of the fire began to shine out brightly we began to tell them tales to keep their minds from fear. We knew many histories and legends of long ago, of Elves and Men and the good and evil deeds of the Elder Days.
"Tell us of Gil-galad," said Merry suddenly, when he paused at the end of a story of the Elf-kingdoms. "Do you know any more of that old lay that you spoke of?"
"I do indeed," answers Aragorn. "So also does Frodo and Arindil, for it concerns us closely." Merry and Pippin looked at Frodo who was staring into the fire, then at me. I proceed to glare at aragorn, but my cloak prevented him from seeing me.
"I know only the little that Gandalf has told me," Frodo slowly admits. "Gil-galad was the last of the great Elf-kings of Middle-earth. Gil-galad is Starlight in their tongue. With Elendil, the Elf-friend, he went to the land of—"
"No!" said Strider interrupting, "I do not think that tale should be told now with the servants of the Enemy at hand. If we win through to the house of Elrond, you may hear it there, told in full."
"Then tell us some other tale of the old days," begs Sam; "a tale about the Elves before the fading time. I would dearly like to hear more about Elves; the dark seems to press round so close."
"I will tell you the tale of Tinúviel," said Strider, "in brief – for it is a long tale of which the end is not known; and there are none now, except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up your hearts." He was silent for some time, and then he began not to speak but to chant softly:
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!
He called her by her Elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.
Aragorn sighed as I then spoke. "That is a song," I say, "in the mode that is called ann-thennath among us Elves, but is hard to render in the Common Tongue , and this is but a rough echo of it. It tells of the meeting of Beren son of Barahir and Lúthien Tinúviel. Beren was a mortal man, but Lúthien was the daughter of Thingol, a King of Elves upon Middle-earth when the world was young; and she was the fairest maiden that has ever been among all the children of this world. As the stars above the mists of the Northern lands was her loveliness, and in her face was a shining light. In those days the Great Enemy, of whom he in the dark tower was but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the North, and the Elves of the West coming back to Middle-earth made war upon him to regain the Silmarils which he had stolen; and the fathers of Men aided the Elves. But the Enemy was victorious and Barahir was slain, and Beren escaping through great peril came over the Mountains of Terror into the hidden Kingdom of Thingol in the forest of Neldoreth. There he beheld Lúthien singing and dancing in a glade beside the enchanted river Esgalduin; and he named her Tinúviel, that is Nightingale in the language of old. Many sorrows befell them afterwards, and they were parted long. Tinúviel rescued Beren from the dungeons of the deceiver, and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great Enemy from his throne, and took from his iron crown one of the three Silmarils, brightest of all jewels, to be the bride-price of Lúthien to Thingol her father. Yet at the last Beren was slain by the Wolf that came from the gates of Angband, and he died in the arms of Tinúviel. But she chose mortality, and to die from the world, so that she might follow him; and it is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering Seas, and after a brief time walking alive once more in the green woods, together they passed, long ago, beyond the confines of this world. So it is that Lúthien Tinúviel alone of the Elf-kindred has died indeed and left the world, and they have lost her whom they most loved. But from her the lineage of the Elf-lords of old descended among Men. There live still those of whom Lúthien was the foremother, and it is said that her line shall never fail. Elrond of Rivendell is of that Kin. For of Beren and Lúthien was born Dior Thingol's heir; and of him Elwing the White whom Eärendil wedded, he that sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril upon his brow. And of Eärendil came the Kings of Númenor, that is Westernesse."
As Strider was speaking they watched his strange eager face, dimly lit in the red glow of the wood-fire. His eyes shone, and his voice was rich and deep. Above him was a black starry sky. Suddenly a pale light appeared over the crown of Weathertop behind him. The waxing moon was climbing slowly above the hill that overshadowed them, and the stars above the hill-top faded.
The story ended. The hobbits moved and stretched. "Look!" said Merry. "The Moon is rising: it must be getting late."
Aragorn remained silent during the telling of the story. I smile and look at him, "Thinking of my adoptive sister are you Estil." I ask him coyly
He looks at me with a look of amusement in his eyes.
The others look out of the dell. Even as they did so, they saw on the top of the hill something small and dark against the glimmer of the moonrise. I felt a chill run down my back and a dread set in my heart.
"The enemy is here," I say standing up and drawing my sword and grabbing a torch from the fire.
"Keep close to the fire, with your faces outward!" cries Aragorn. "Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!"
For a breathless time they sat there, silent and alert, with their backs turned to the wood-fire, each gazing into the shadows that encircled them. Nothing happened. There was no sound or movement in the night. Frodo stirred, feeling that he must break the silence: he longed to shout out aloud.
"Hush!" whispered Strider. "What's that?" gasped Pippin at the same moment.
Over the lip of the little dell, on the side away from the hill, they felt, rather than saw, a shadow rise, one shadow or more than one. They strained their eyes, and the shadows seemed to grow. Soon there could be no doubt: three or four tall black figures were standing there on the slope, looking down on them. So black were they that they seemed like black holes in the deep shade behind them. I heard a faint hiss as of venomous breath and felt a thin piercing chill, The Black Breath Then the shapes slowly advanced.
Terror overcame Pippin and Merry, and they threw themselves flat on the ground. Sam shrank to Frodo's side. Frodo suddenly disappeared from sight. Three Nazgûl started advancing, I let out a fierce battle cry and yelled, "Náré." My sword lit on fire as I attacked one of the Nazgûl, from the cave entrance came another two. Aragorn had engaged another in battle, the other two joined the battle, the fifth was advancing it seemed to be reaching for something.
Suddenly a voice yelled out, "Elbereth! Gilthoniel!" as the Nazgûl plunged its blade downward, frodo suddenly appeared the blade lodged in his shoulder his fist clenched tightly, Aragorn threw his flaming brand at the beast nailing it in the face. I gave a shout "Náré" fire spread out in a circle around us, the wraiths fleeing from the burning ring around us is the last thing I see before falling to the ground, darkness consuming me.