Gandalf was leading the group. His vigilant eye staring under his dew-beading hat, he was walking through the fields with an elastic stride. Gerry shivered, tightened his shoulders while trying to convince himself that all this was not a nightmare. Even the sheep did not go out by a similar time! Once passed the first mile, the wizard decided to entrust the Hobbit with his mount: he had better keep his mind busy to take care of more unhappy than him. As a matter of fact, Gilles had obviously, no more than his master, the habbit of getting out at dawn. The fog dispersed its ghostly volutes as the travelers passed by. The Hobbit was wading in a thick and spongy grass. A deep silence surrounded them, as if the countryside around heeded the least sign they would leave in their path. From time to time, Gandalf whistled a short and repetitive air. A penetrating drizzle slowly and relentlessly invaded their clothing; at the end of the day it would leave them soaked, in spite of the wizard's mantel and the Hobbit's waxed cape. The air, saturated with moisture, did not propagate any more the fragrances of the fruit trees in flower in the orchards they crossed.
Gandalf guided them with a sure sense of directions: they had left Thalion towards the North-West, from the castle ditches, which gave access to the fields, without crossing the city itself. After a large turn to avoid any meeting, they joined the Greenway, a broad paved road leading northbound to Bree, more than eighty miles away. This road had been named this way, many centuries ago, because it was bordered with trees carefully tended for, for the travellers summer comfort. Moreover, in foggy weather, this double line of trees reduced the risks the merchants were to be mislaid and abducted by the barrow-wights, far in the north.
Gandalf and Gerry followed this road, anxiously listening to choked rumours of the countryside and scanning endlessly the opaque silver curtain which fled in front of them. They were walking for two hours when their pace, that followed the sounds of Gilles's horseshoes, slowed down without them consulting each other, until they completely stopped. The wizard had taken his hat off and bent his ear, with a discrete smile. Gerry, also on guard, glanced at him interrogatively. But he was the first to perceive distinctly and recognize the cawings which approached. Gandalf, who did not smile any more, put his hat back on and immediately have them leave the road and most furtively get away from it by a furlong. The pony harnessing had been ably loaded, and nothing tinkled in the satchels and bundles fastened on its back. They let the cawings pass; these also seemed to go up the greenway, at low altitude. Then they came back on the road because their progression was definitely easier there.
-« The road is searched… I feared that since my disappointment yesterday.», the wizard muttered.
At first the Hobbit could not believe in crows espying the road. Remembering at the couple which had preceded them up the sign of the inn, he faced the obvious and was fully aware that a will was at work to find them. The wizard resumed with a low voice, near the Hobbit's ear:
- « We shall change route: at the first bridge we find, we shall follow the watercourse downstream towards south-east. Watch out, I would like to make this detour and to disappear in this fog which protects us for the moment. »
They walked on furtively on close-cropped grass at the edge of the road, often stopping to listen ahead. Then in a low voice the wizard played his short, sharp and nerve-wrecking air again, listened a while and set out again. Half an hour afterwards, they found what they sought: a ravine emerged out of the fog, on both sides below the road. A bridge spread its three arches through a river which dark waters were invaded with buttercups. Two half-collapsed parapets bordered the work, firmly built but badly maintained. From place to place a pale green film masked the depth, that the Hobbit evaluated at a little more than four feet of calm water above a muddy bottom. The negligible current left any latitude for tadpoles to stroll between the algae, while dragonflies streaked with blue the round and brilliant leaves of water lilies. A mild scent of decomposing leaves went up to their nostrils. The small river softly curved at the bottom of a ten feet depression, a hundred-feet broad. The wizard moved back on the road, made a rather broad turning and joined the right bank downstream. Then, making sure that fog masked the bridge to him, he entrusted the pony to the Hobbit and came back on his own steps, giving his best to erase their prints. Once back on the bridge, he scanned northward as he could pierce the silver drizzle to the end of the road.
-« The game is on… », he muttered.
With his staff, Gandalf furtively traced a sign in the middle of the bridge. Choosing five small stones of different colors, he composed at the foot of the parapet a message that only rangers would be able to read. Then raising his two arms to the sky, he sang a small enticing tune he repeated three times, his voice lowering to the whisper of a light wind on a cobweb:
Faithful friend returns always,
Token revealed to his kin's man.
Foreigner goes his own ways,
To average man are secrets ban.
After a last glance to the North, the wizard broke the long stem of a thick plant with broad dark green leaves. At the break beaded a white liquid, the wizard smeared his boots with, even under the soles. Then he cautiously joined the Hobbit and imposed the same treatment to him, as well as to the pony. The light having slowly increased, the fog, though thinner, radiated with an unreal silver all around them. For some miles they followed the combe that widened and received tribute from some brooks. Then Gandalf had them walk at the bottom of the ravine, where they found a pebbled alley. They followed it alongside the river's right bank. Sometimes some narrow paths, cut by the sheep, went down to the bank.
Gandalf carefully avoided leaving prints and regularly renewed the olfactive camouflage of the small group. From time to time, he listened then threw his short and repetitive whistled tune. Along the way, the ravine still widened and the riverbed became more rocky and enlarged by many brooks. Drizzle ceased and fog was slowly dispelled. After a three hours walk only interrupted by a short pause, a sharp chirping was heard. The wizard stopped at once and launched a tweet, tightening his staff in the air. Soon a small thrush sat there, chirping furiously. The wizard answered her on the same tone, to the Hobbit's amazement. Once the small animal wooed, Gandalf listened attentively. After he chirped too for a few moments, the wizard sent it back. The thrush flew away without additional comment, disappearing in the vapors which were vanishing little by little.
-« Was it not afraid? », asked Gerry,
- « It is a « she ». I explained to her that you are a friend. »
The Hobbit was shocked by the off-hand way the wizard used not to answer his questions. He suddenly launched all the interrogations which tapped him:
- « But I mean: how is she not afraid of you? And it looks like she understands you! How can one speak to a bird? And it looks like she can speak! What did she say? And what did you say youself? And moreover why do we take this way? Where do you take me along? What do you fear? »
The wizard haughtily gazed at the Hobbit:
-«How would I know, better than you, why brigands tackle a lost Hobbit out of the Shire? What should I know that you hide from me? »
The Hobbit schrinked and discreetly checked that his treasure was well secured under his armpit. In front of his dumbness, the wizard changed subject:
- « In addition, why would you have birds speak? They communicate in their bird's ways. But do not be abused: all birds do not show the same gumption. Sparrows, for example, are like Hobbits: always nibbling. Crows pay allegiance to the most generous carrions supplier. Magpies feel like Dwarves, driven by gold. Thrushes are right and very faithful. Eagles are lords, alike the deep Dùnedain. You should know all that; a little observation is enough to teach you. »
The Hobbit held quiet, well decided to think twice before questioning the wizard again. Silently, they walked on and on along the bank, entering the waterstream whenever possible. The fog had now cleared up, it hardly remained but in the bottom of the depression the travellers followed towards East and South. They distinguished the sun intermittently, and Gandalf realized that midday was close. They halted at the confluence with an important river, which went down from North. The pony was aloud to stroll and graze around a long leach, while the travellers restored with a torta and cold meat. The Hobbit, anxious, did not take any pleasure with this fast meal without fire. At the end of the torta, a pale sun had woken up the insects of the meadows around. The river, from now on quite broad, rolled its clear waters on a stoned bed. The Hobbit foresaw there some trouts and crayfishes. He bathed his feet in the limpid stream, while the wizard took the pony along the bank of the affluent, to leave some misleading prints there. Then he went down again the bed of the tributary river, and the Hobbit followed him downstreams towards south-east.
-« Do you fear they may find us that far from the road?
- I feel a hostile will after us. Let us not delay. »
The travellers resumed their progression. Soon the Hobbit was perched on the pony and their pace increased. Several small affluents further, they took a new pause at some distance from the river whereas the sun was quickly going down the western horizon. The Hobbit askef for a fire which was refused to him with little tact:
- « Did you take the necessary wood bundles, chef-cook? »
As a matter of fact, no tree was found to brighten the meadow nore to provide enough fuel for a small warm picnic. The short pause and the cold meal did not fill Gerry's need for restoration.
-« But you are a wizard! You can light a fire!
- I need fuel, like anybody, you scatterbrained Took! »
The Hobbit started to taste the bitterness of physical as well as moral discomfort: he felt tired, dirty, anxious, in hiding, guilty and in addition he had no perspective that these increasing inconveniences would cease. That should last for many days. For the time being any revolt seemed useless, he bided his time and finished chewing a dried pear. Gerry froze suddenly. Far on the opposite bank, high on the slope, advanced a rider, wrapped in a dark hooded coat. He turned his head towards Gandalf who beckoned to him not to make a noise. The man must have ridden alongside the opposite bank and was going up the slope now. He whistled, and the travellers detected a large dog which was sniffing close to the bank. The animal ran to its master and both disappeared towards north.
The runaways resumed furtively their progression until twilight. They finally stopped and ate frugally. The Hobbit sank in an anxious sleep. Then he truly regretted a good fire: the temperature had dropped so much that they had to wrap in covers in addition to the oiled cloths. The night was short but the wizard slept lightly. The moon seldom showed its growing arc, until the gray dawn rang the hour of a new gloomy departure, without rejoicing of any kind. After a quick toilet and a small collation - to Gerry's mind - the travellers followed anxious Gandalf. Fortunately for the Hobbit - and unfortunately from the point of view of the wizard - the sun was rather quickly evaporating the morning fogs. Without being able to dry his soaked clothing, the Hobbit could slip on a dry shirt and breeches, which somewhat restored his fighting spirit. They had been walking for two hours alongside the river, now rather broad and fast, when they found a pebbles ford. They lost half an hour to ensure Gerry and the pony's passage with a rope, but Gandalf insisted because it was "the last place to make it before other difficulties would arise". He carefully avoided to specify these difficulties in spite of the Hobbit's curiosity.
On the left bank, they found a portage way, which supported their progression. The river now ran at the bottom of a vast basin, which became gradually populated with trees in bloom. Gandalf skipped the mid-morning pause to join a forest's edge. They left the bank and went up the slope on their left to reach the limit of the basin, to the edge of a beautiful elms and oaks forest. Then Gandalf scanned lengthily towards the north-west. He anxiously looked for a flight of crows which cruised from East to West. Suddenly the two black birds were attacked by a raptor plunging from the heights. Although smaller, it forced them to land before rising in concentric circles. Considering the signs as good predicts, Gandalf accepted a pause under the shelter of the forest.
-« My dear Hobbit, I believe that our chasers follow other paths than the river! », he said with an air of satisfaction while crunching a biscuit.
X-X-X
The wizard even afforded a small restoring nap between the roots of a centenary elm. The Hobbit found himself with nothing to do, though he wanted to prove useful. He collected some round stones and trained a little with his sling. Then he piled up some branches and bound them in a bundle, remembering the wizard's previous critical remark. Then he checked the equipment: he rolled the rope carefully, arranged the tools in the satchels so that they do not wound the pony nor make any noise. When he found two lamps in the satchels, he realized that their equipment had been carefully supplemented before their departure. He tested it thoroughly: the lighter worked well, he even succeeded in lighting a small fire with fallen leaves he took in a fairly dry shelter between old knotty roots. The acrid and thick yellow smoke awoke the wizard, who leapt on his feet and quickly extinguished the fire:
- « Absurd Took!, he roared, You just sent a signal that everyone can see from eight leagues around! »
His first fury passed, the wizard ordered Gerry to load the pony while he pondered a moment. He placed the sorry and crimson Hobbit on his mount and returned to the river bank, accelerating their pace. Obviously Gerry's blunder had changed Gandalf's plans. After about an hour, the Hobbit perceived the rumor of a discrete pursuit and warned the wizard about it.
- « Watch around, especially behind. Let me know as soon as you see something. We're almost there... », whispered Gandalf who accelerated even more.
Finally they reached a large hollow, the river rushed into. A narrow passage to the left allowed a man to sneak by the same route. You could still see the old river bed, partially collapsed and covered with trees: there were many thousands of years, that water had left it for a line of greater slope, below the surface. It took all the wizard's willpower and Gerry's affection to have poor Gilles move ahead. But they were interrupted by their pursuer's arrival in the small clearing that preceded the hollow. A rider dressed in dark leather and olive green canvas held on leash an almost entirely black wolfhound, who drew silently towards the fugitives. The rider dropped the flange and the mastiff rushed screaming. Seized with terror, the pony plunged forward, knocking Gerry who fell into the water. The wizard's sword made a quick reel, splitting in two the mouth of the monster, that fell into the roaring river. Facing this unexpected resistance, the black rider stopped his horse and began an emergency retreat. Having reached a respectable distance, he blowed a large horn and armed himself with his bow.
However Gerry could hang on to the pony's leach. The Hobbit's weight in the stream had forced the poor thing to stop a few dozen feet from the tunnel's entrance. Agile as a goat, Gandalf joined the unfortunate and pulled him from the water. When he had made sure the Hobbit was fine, he retraced his steps and sneaked a peak outside. A fairly well shot arrow planted in his blue hat. The wizard pulled back but he had seen enough. The archer was lying in ambush, it was not possible to reach him without risking life. Obviously his horn call would gather his fellows, who would not be far away. But Gandalf knew this place for he had been there once. He took a deep breath, imperiously said a word of command while raising his staff and struck the narrow stone passage before him. A lightning flashed the air and the cornice exploded over six feet. No chaser could now enter after them any more without risking an almost certain fall into the water and being swept away by the current. They would have to spend several hours securing each other with ropes. The wizard knelt beside the Hobbit and gave him a shot of cordial. He vigorously rubbed him, put him back on his feet and led him a little further along the ledge. A slightly wider platform allowed the Hobbit and pony to recover. They shared a loaf of bread, the Hobbit seasoned his share with various picklings. Gerry put dry clothes on. Both greedies being busy for a while, Gandalf came back to the cave entrance.
The Hobbit heard him mumble some ban curse or slow litany of secrecy. The voice of the wizard chanted softly then grew stronger at times, in a language which, though Gerry did not understand it, evoked in his mind marble columns, brazen grids, silver ramparts, walls of solid rock strengthened by Elven craftsmen beyond Human memory. Before his very eyes, the seven hidden doors of Gondolin rose one by one into the secret tunnel carved by a river, the living had forgotten. The temptation of a hidden life, the hope for an unspoiled existence, were taking shape in a timeless glamor, carried by the works, the pains and the faith of the high Elves of old. The song dragged then slowly died.
A long moment passed and then Gandalf reappeared near the Hobbit, his back more arched than usual. He made some light out of his staff. His worn face smiled with such weariness that the alarmed Hobbit felt the urge to take care of the old wizard. He could not imagine another way than offering him food, panacea of the Shire for the sadnesses of Hobbitlings or the hassles of their elders. The old man sat down beside the young Hobbit with gratitude and rested a while. The rumor of increasingly numerous troops crowding at the entrance of the tube reached them a stifled way, but neither were disturbed for a while. Then the Hobbit still worried about it. The wizard claimed that they would be safe for a long time:
- « I would even suggest that you should show up a little, to convince them to persevere at that end! », he whispered.
The mischievous spirit of the young Took revived his creative verve. He stationed himself at the edge of the pulverized road, cleared his throat and began to sing a little improvisation on a lively and popular Shire tune:
« Do you see this footpath narrow?
Alone may pass petty Dwarrow.
Can you scent my Halfling odour?
No dread to be devoured!
Haven't you seen me haste?
That didn't suit thour taste!
My poney neighs with his tail stiff,
Your mastiff whines and sniffs!
My pretty pathway underground
Rolls roots and stones around.
Thours seems avenues bodacious
Leading straight to dark nothingness.
Do thou want my treasure?
What then would occur? »
A volley of arrows fell into the water. The beginning of the song had intrigued Gandalf. The mocking tone had seemed particularly appropriate to him. The allusion to a dark path to nothingness had stealthily reminded him memories of old and evil roads, dark and straight, bordered with sharp towers and plunging to the furnaces of the enemy of the world. The boldness of the Hobbit's unconscious assumptions about their pursuers' obedience struck him, and a dark foreboding clutched his old heart. When the young Took spoke of his treasure, he knew that the Hobbit had a secret related to them being hunted by dark powers. But which ones? He silenced Gerry with a hand on his shoulder:
-« It is time to go. They seem convinced enough…
- I am deeply sorry to have attracted them, Gandalf.
- You have behaved as giddily as a young rabbit out of his burrow in the spring! Let this be a lesson! But I guess I should have given you instructions for caution. Forget it! A wizard is never short of arguments, you should know that! »
Gandalf, now resolved but bent, led the Hobbit and entrusted the pony to him. He rekindled the light of his staff and took the lead. The road sloped downward, slightly overhanging the underground river. The track had certainly been carved by Human hand, but to what end and at what time? The ceiling gradually lowered, forcing Gandalf to bend. Mosses that lined the walls at the entrance of the cave had now disappeared, giving way to a slimy, wet film. After an hour of cautious progress, the path emerged into a large room, whose walls sparkled depending on the orientation of the wizard's staff. The narrow platform overlooked river falls about twenty feet. The travelers slowly walked down the winding path in the fog caused by the fall; it took them another hour to force the pony to take a short flight of stairs. Gilles was put to the test when they had to wade in the water, fifty feet on a slippery stone, before following a dry corridor along the stream that took up again speed. They reached a second room, the wizard brightened. White stone columns rose to the ceiling, like a forest of lances darted in a volley. Others fell from the ceiling; the largest, about twenty-five feet long, crossed the room throughout. Down-to-earth thoughts had come to the Hobbit, who was dragging his wet and tired feet:
- « Gandalf, is there an exit out of these galleries?
- There will be an exit, even if I am to open it by tapping your head against the wall! », he replied with bristling eyebrows. He went on more smoothly:
- « Do you think I would have willingly ventured us into a dead-end? »
The Hobbit had only to show up a quiet confidence. Some thicker, shiny columns projected ghostly shadows on blurred walls. A discreet musty whiff surrounded him, but they saw no trace of spores on the walls. Travelers crossed the stone forest as its natural dripping fountains sang. When the Hobbit stumbled, the wizard realized it was high time for them to sleep. They settled on a dry surface and restored by the flickering light of Gandalf's staff. Gilles was treated to bread and fruits. They finally afforded a small pipe they slowly filled. The wizard was progressing rapidly in this venerable art:
- « This practice is as enjoyable to me as my little colored matches, said Gandalf. But I feel it also helps my concentration… »
They blew a few smoke rings as if they were on a comfortable smial porch in the Shire, forgetting for a moment their concerns, before slipping into a deep sleep.
Some six hours later, Gandalf had them back on their way. They walked so long from room to room that Gerry would have lost track of time if his Hobbit stomach had not given hints. Finally they reached a new room and left for a moment the edge of the underground river, only to return near it after a large loop of the river to the opposite wall. An arch of polished stone allowed them to cross the river, to the great displeasure of Gilles. Then they followed the right bank. Shortly before the end of the hall, Gandalf stopped the pony and advanced to observe a strange phenomenon. The river, before disappearing into a tunnel, ran along the steep wall on the left and produced a great surf, on the surface of which an animal was floating. This turbulence occurred immediately after a secondary stream evacuating some of the water flow to the left, at the foot of the first stone columns. Gandalf watched the animal for a while before admitting that it was the mastiff he had slain at the entrance. The wizard decided to take advantage of this chance. He endowed the rope with a climbing hook and turned back to cross the stone arch. Gerry, ending up in darkness, approached the pony. On the left bank, Gandalf joined the secondary flow and strove to catch the dog's corpse with his makeshift harpoon. After several attempts, he succeeded, and led the animal to the left flow, the diameter of which exceeded four feet. Then he returned alongside Gerry who asked for an explanation.
- « If I remember acurately, we shall be led to the right bank of the right arm of the river, Gandalf said thoughtfully. I do not know where exactly the left flow you saw emerges, but it will most likely happen North of where we will go out ourselves. With any luck, our chasers will expect us to go out at the same place and will establish their guard there. At worst we could reduce the number of attackers. »
After a snack they resumed their long and haunting journey through shadows and drippings. A few hours later, entering a large room, they noticed the floor was littered with feces. The wizard, illuminating the vault, recognized a large colony of bats.
-« We are approaching the exit, he said in a perky tone. Judging from the colony that is becoming restless, the day will soon fall. Le us find a clean place, eat and rest until these little beasts go out a-hunting. »
They followed Gandalf's plan to the letter and ventured out after two hours. The river finally borrowed a portion of fully immersed tunnel, but they found in the last room, thanks to both the wizard's memory and the bats coming out, a long steep slope that the brave pony took only a few moments to climb, so much he longed for the outside air. After Gandalf had probed and encouraged him, the Hobbit ventured out first, made a short tour of exploration and came back to the wizard. He too sniffed and lengthily looked from a little eminence, before concluding that there was no immediate danger, and that they were exactly where he had imagined they would. The pony hungrily pounced on fresh grass. The earth was soft, there was no way to erase its tracks apart from erasing each shoeprint by hand. Then the wizard sprinkled a powder all around the exit, with a smile to Gerry:
- « Dear Bane of the mastiffs, here is your own trick imitated and perfected by a wizard!
- What is that?
- A much improved version of your caraway. Hopefully we will not have to judge its effectiveness! »
The perked pony was charged with Gerry and the small group went well. They immediately returned to the river, which bed, now wide and calm, allowed them to advance without leaving any trace. The wizard had lifted his long gray mantel. His big black boots had vigorously cleft water for almost two hours when the Hobbit, dry on his pony, began to nod. The pony snorted increasingly often. The wizard made a last effort to reach a shingle bank he used as a ford. He still went along the left bank to find a workable climb. The fugitives disappeared into a grove of beech trees on the left bank. They crouched in the leaves and the exhausted Hobbit slept like a baby.
The wizard was tired but his troubles left him little respite. His intermittent sleep was cluttered with puzzles. What were those black riders doing in Eriador? Why did they hunt the Hobbit down? Because he had taken him under his protection? Because he had a treasure? And what was this treasure? Was the Hobbit tracked down as the heir of the Thain, on whom pressure was to be exerted? How could he throw their chasers off? Was he to provoke a confrontation to force them to flee? He could not be certain the Hobbit would be safe if he could not put him away first. The wizard completely awoke with the thought of this responsibility. Or was that his sixth sense?
He had decided to light his pipe in order to clear his mind, when he heard people on the opposite bank. He scanned darkness and numbered two horsemen flanked by at least one dog. The animal was breathing with great difficulty, as if its mouth and its lungs were irritated enough to cause pain with each breath. It whined and barked from time to time. Gandalf remained motionless for several minutes - fortunately Gilles did the same - after which he decided that any immediate danger was over.
The wizard reloaded the pony while a half full moon, red and fuzzy, began to descend into a blurred sky. Lifting the asleep Hobbit, he gently harnessed him on the pony's back and started again. He left the bank and headed due North as the sky on his right began to clear. After about a mile, he reached a drier and harder soil, on a small ridge of dark, flat and brittle stones. He sniffed around a long time and followed the ridge to the east.
A pink dawn succeeded the gray one, igniting grass spikes around him. An hour later, the wizard noticed a spruce wood on his left and sook shelter there. A few miles away, the Hobbit awoke as Gandalf was unloading the pony in a grassy clearing. Both were able to refresh in a little spring. The Hobbit ate like four while the wizard fell in a deep and restful sleep. This time he had left strict instructions, with eyebrows frowns and staff pounding: Gerry was to let him sleep for an hour, no more, and to do nothing that could betray their presence. The Hobbit faithfully performed his mission: he stood guard, listening to the slightest sounds of the forest around. He estimated that his vigil had come to an end, which evoked the idea of a second breakfast; so he sat on the fallen and rotten tree trunk Gilles was attached to.
He was rummaging in a satchel for a covert snack when he froze: at the edge of the clearing, about at stone throwing range, he had just seen a pair of yellow eyes staring at him from under a pine branch. His own sweat froze his spine for a moment but he managed to keep his Hobbit natural poise. The yellow eyes blinked from time to time. Gerry had therefore not been dreaming. He carelessly set on the pony, without losing sight of the yellow eyes. He stealthily armed himself with a sling and picked up a rather angular stone, then woke Gandalf, quietly whispering:
- « We have company. A dog or a wolf hides over there. It believes going unnoticed! »
The wizard was immediately alert. He got up, groaning in pain because of his back, looking at another direction as if there was nothing amiss.
-« I cannot see it but I feel its predator glance… he blew between his teeth. Why not practice your new toy? »
The sling issued two short and powerful whistles as the Hobbit managed his reels; the yellow eyes immediately disappeared with a hasty trampling: doubtless the animal turned to flee. Perhaps was it impeded in its flight? The stone flew. A cry of injured dog rose before a sound of galloping lame was fading under the trees. Gandalf rushed under the foliage, sword in hand, with a speed of captain of the guards, while the Hobbit was reloading the pony. The wizard came back with a concerned face:
- « That was for sure a black wolf or dog… You have harmed it, there is a little blood. Let us leave at once. »
However he took time to spread some of his assassin's powder.
X-X-X
Travelers crossed through the wood, following the slopes of ravines that gave towards East, and up the ridges to the North-East when usable ways arose. The short breaks, the endless walking, the meager meals completely exhausted the Hobbit, although he usually rode his pony. For now they were no more concerned to conceal their passage, cutting through short valleys as quick as possible, under a thinly veiled sun. Towards the end of the day, the wizard found what he wanted: a ridge of black rocks, they skirted the foot of which by veering slightly to the South. The edge of dark and layered stone rose and fell erratically between twenty and forty feet high.
After a league, they discovered a breach in the cliff and hurried up there. A path, carpeted with dead leaves, climbed right through the rift, on about an acre, but the pony was able to follow it. The slope was so steep that the Hobbit doubted it could go down this way. Gerry, bringing up the rear, saw at the top of the climb, two stone columns keeping the end of the path out of the rift. A fathom high and shaped like hawks perched on a hand, the statues darted their aquiline gaze to the slope as two idols of the ancient world to oversee the path. After a steep climb, Gandalf stopped under the hieratic figures that towered menacingly. He said in a solemn voice:
« Orodreth na Aran Cardolanië »1
The silence of the forest below seemed thicker, as if the trees themselves held their rustling to hear what would happen. Gerry had the unpleasant feeling that some red lights, hidden inside the stone orbits, followed him insistently. The statues answered in unison from a world beyond:
- « Lost na edrëa! »2.
Then the small group climbed the last few feet, in a supreme effort to force their heavy limbs to obey. The wizard spread his toxic substance at the foot of the statues. The setting sun revealed several towers of Men guarding the cliff. At Northwest, away atop the bow of the gray jagged ridge, stood a tall building. Closer, two furlongs to the Southeast, a ruined fort rested on the edge of the cliff. Gandalf sniffed from the top of his lungs, in the light westerly winds sweeping the crest. A raptor flew in large concentric circles on the sunset.
« Manwë's3 winds bear rumors of renewed hatred. Our pursuers gained on us all day. We shall be surrounded before the end of that night. It's time to entrench ourselves and reveal Gandalf the gray without his old coat... ", thought the wizard with a sigh of resignation. To the Hobbit whose looks interrogated him, he said:
- « He we are for the night. You will be able to rest. »
Within minutes they reached the fort. The light was rapidly declining. Three towers surrounding the keep had resisted the ravages of time, but the walls and the door had long since gone. Gandalf chose the seemingly most robust tower, standing proudly at the edge of the cliff. The first floor seemed solid, still surrounded by high walls on three-quarters of its perimeter, facing the outside of the enclosure. But the stairs up had collapsed. Gandalf had yet the Hobbit climb on that floor with all the supplies, helping him to scale the wall. He advised him to keep the packages ready for a hasty departure.
Then the wizard lighted a fire in the middle of the fort, sheltered by the half-collapsed walls of some old reserve or captain's lodge. He prepared a hot meal he shared with the young Hobbit, lying in ambush on the roof, while the pony was grazing weeds in the old yard. Finally he led the animal to the old stables, bringing him armfuls of plucked herbs. Meanwhile, the Hobbit was ready to curl up for the night. Clearing a drain, he discovered many oblong gray stones that had been sling bullets. As he asked the wizard whether he planned to sleep, Gandalf consented only to tell him he would do well to barricade and sleep while keeping his weapon within reach.
-« In case of trouble, you do not show. Stay hidden and confine to defend yourself if necessary. I'll be down there watching. »
Gerry was too tired to argue with such a determined wizard. So he gathered stones behind the remains of a niche. Having discovered a rusty and barbed iron grid that would cover a water evacuation, he stuck it in the narrow opening of the collapsed staircase. Then he laid down, keeping his belt on. However, the wizard continued his preparations: he firmly barricaded the entrance to Gilles stall, who found himself completely surrounded by a six feet high wall. Gandalf positioned old planks, balancing on the columns and walls in front of the stall. He spoke a few words of protection and preserving to calm the nervous pony. Finally the wizard bent on the fire and concocted a long secret brewing. Satisfied with his preparation, he fueled the fire and came out of its sphere of light. Then Gandalf crept stealthily back to the gap they had climbed to the cliff top, and there schemed some wizard business. After a short scouting around the old fort, he wrapped in his big coat and returned to lean against a wall of the collapsed tower, the furthest from the campfire, between two thick bushes. The stars were twinkling intermittently, and soon a clear almond moon rose and flooded the vicinity of the former stronghold with an unreal glow. The wizard seemed to recommend vigilance to his staff and slipped into the deep shade of the bushes.
The Hobbit rested the sleep of the fugitives - light, anxious, attentive. He dreamed confusedly that a collar tightened around his neck, or a bony hand slipped into his jacket to steal his treasure, when a voice, soft and sweet as a spring breeze, sad as a farewell, rose into the night air. He awoke. The moon was crossing the sky, faithful guardian of his sleep. A short and harmonious tune sounded as a warning and vanished quickly:
-"Rhynwaith taurhoth nuithir lendiali"4
Immediately after sounded a dog's cry of pain, followed by furious barking, harshly repressed by a whip. The wizard jumped to his feet, throwing his coat and hat on the bush in the shadow of the wall next to him. With a wave of his staff, he appeased the campfire. He looked around and slipped into the shadows away from the fort. Rumors of riders dismounting and weapons tingling out of the scabbard alerted the Hobbit at the top of his tower. Gerry carefully pulled away his blanket and hid behind a niche above the courtyard of the fort, his armed slingshot in hand. With trembling legs, he was looking about the wizard, when he noticed several shadows approaching the keep. Tall men, covered with black coats and dark hoods and armed with long glittering swords, progressed steadily towards the ruined tower opposite Gerry's refuge. He wanted to scream and tell the wizard but the words remained glued to the back of his throat, tight with fear. The swift and concentric progression of attackers to the collapsed tower ended in violent swearing. A sword fell on the ground, a cry of surprise and pain arose: "A viper." A man staggered aside, the other four moving to surround the fire.
A huge black dog, that Gerry had not previously spotted, prowled growling around the stall. Gandalf's words came to his mind: "Stick to defend yourself!" But the thought of poor Gilles, surrounded and unable to defend, woke his young courage. He planted himself on his short legs and raised his slingshot. But at that moment a man stormed to the side of the dog and began to demolish the barricade Gandalf had raised. Suddenly a heavy plank fell on his head, unbalanced by the precipitation of the man who fell to the ground, unconscious and his skull bleeding. The dog took advantage of the break-up and climbed the stony scree. The pony's neighing broke the Hobbit's heart, but he found the strength of character to overcome his fear and apply his address to a single goal. The sling whistled three times and the mastiff collapsed with a groan of pain, a trail of blood on its face.
But this masterstroke revealed the Hobbit to his enemies. After a swearword of hatred, one of the men ordered the others, in a horrible language, to seize the Hobbit... or worse. The other three men ran towards the tower, protecting their face with a small targe or the back of their leather glove. One of them received a stone in the knee, gasped and continued stumping. He tried to climb the collapsed wall right of the Hobbit, but could not succeed. Another began climbing the left wall, but was slowed down by his own weight that broke or unsealed the stones he leant on, as he progressed. The third entered the ground floor. Realizing the lack of stairs, he piled some rubble and grabbed the grid, trying to hoist himself. The hard-pressed Hobbit did not know on which front he was to face first. The threat of hands rising from the dark hole was the most impressive. The assailant growled in a low and dull voice using an approximative common language:
-« Give it to me, dirty little scum, or you'll be sorry! » The foreign accent also revealed a hateful lust. Gerry recognized the grinning face of the man from the inn at Thalion. But the mouth and chin were now deeply burned, crimson and covered with blisters. The swollen left eye oozed bloody humours streaming down the amputated mustache.
Disgusted both by the hideous appearance and by the hold of this individual upon him, the Hobbit ensured his treasure in his vest and drew his dagger. His fighting spirit revived, he gave a blow on the gloved hands that were already dislodgig the grid. The Hobbit's blade nicked the dark leather and severed several tendons.
-« You will not get it! Choke in your own hatred! », he shouted as a cry of victory.
The man collapsed in an inhuman cry. Some curses casted in a remote and guttural language reached him from the ground floor of the tower. Despite the hatred and animality it carried, the language seemed strangely close to him, although he did not comprehend it. Then a long silence followed, as if the evil of the attackers assembled for the final and irresistible assault. The captain, who had remained behind, grabbed his bow and walked toward the tower too. The Hobbit, glancing over the niche, shivered when he met the man's implacable gaze.
The captain was loading his bow near the fire, when the hearth blazed and one of the glowing logs collapsed, sending sparks into greased shards prepared nearby. Burning oil sprayed all around. The cape of the captain flared violently. While he attempted to extinguish the fire, all heard a yelp, the neighing of terrified horses followed by a cavalcade of mounts galloping. Moments later, Gandalf burst, riding a big dark and foaming steed, with reins and staff in one hand and sword in the other. The attackers did not need their captain's order to retreat. Gerry sent a rain of projectiles. Gandalf pursued the robbers, distributing sword strokes with generosity, but hampered by his mount's ardor.
He returned after a few minutes and ordered the Hobbit to pass any luggage. Then he brought him down from the platform and sent him to comfort the pony. The wizard reached into his bag to take a few bark chips he reduced to dust over the fire, uttering a vow of secrecy and concealment. He put on his coat and hat, not without checking inside with caution. The travelers were ready to go in minutes. They walked away as the dying fire gave off more and more of a thick smoke that enveloped them. Both mounted companions hurried forward in the smell of pine smoke and continued their gallop for an hour, until the gray dawn lit all around them. Gandalf, his eyebrows still bristled, wore an alert eagle profile. The heat of battle still smoldered in his glowing eyes. He authorized the group a brief pause during which he showed his sharp ways.
- « You disobeying Took! I told you to stay idle and hidden…
- But my poney was in danger…
- So you did well and you acquited yourself with honors. In fact, I did not take time for your injuries…
- I am safe, and Gilles either, I think. What did you do as they arrived? I thought you were hidden in the other tower.
- Oh! I dodged and let them focus on my stash. We needed one more mount, and furthermore to deprive them of their own. Once that was done, I came back to lend you a hand. Now, they probably still run after their horses. Judging by the nature of this one, they were treated in such a way that they will not be caught easily. Besides, I have sabotaged their saddles!
- Did they not try to stop you?
- Yes, of course. Ia an old wizard, but I still know how to handle my sword, master questioner! I had to kill a black wolf, and there was only one guard. He won't be able to use his weapon for a few weeks. But you as well behaved beautifully. You killed one of these dark creatures and hurt your assailant. You are a worthy descendant of the Bullroarer! "
Gerry would correct this genealogical approximation but a glance from the wizard had him change his mind:
- « Now we must hurry … »
Travelers progressed rapidly along the ridge that, after two hours ride, eventually flattened out and then vanished into short, more and more grassy hills. The trees became scarce and the prairie stretched its plains of flowers under a bright sunshine. They slowed the pace when they reached a small hollow, sheltered from view. The spring life burst around them as the sun rose. Riders and mounts quenched their thirst by a lovely little stream. An incredible variety of herbs, grasses and succulents abounded on its banks.
- « If rangers were here, they would teach you the virtues of these plants. I think we are not far from the river. Formerly there were certainly farms and mansions of the Dúnedain, at the time of the kingdom of Cardolan. This could explain all these medicinal plants that are rarely found in such variety and quantity. I would not be surprised to find the remains of a fortified villa nearby. For their forlorn last stand in this area, they recruited mercenaries who protected the border against incursions of wolves and robbers from Rhudaur. That is when they built the towers we saw and the keep you held against the enemy! »
The weary Hobbit found no solace in the anachronistic brotherhood of arms the wizard's memories evoked. The resources he had recently mustered in himself had destroyed the mirage of a pleasant and rewarding life without an effort of any kind. It seemed that after such an ordeal, he could never feel at peace and indulge in the sweetness of life. Gandalf seriously looked at him; he seemed preoccupied:
-« It was high time that you looked after yourself, that's for sure. And you show quite a satisfactory ability to overcome hardships, although you may be too rash. But obviously you carry a burden, a responsibility that I had no idea of. Maybe should you open yourself to me about that?
- I do not know what you mean.
- Indeed? I will ask our chasers the next time we cross their path... Maybe will they?
- You removed me from my home! You have forced me to leave my family. We have never seen such Big Folk in the Shire! I bet those ruffians have tried to get me at Thalion, and from there on, in the sole aim of harming you! Who knows which enemies you have made, by dint of wizards schemes in distant lands? Why did you need to attract them to me? »
The same hypothesis had indeed come to the mind of Gandalf, who envisioned it with some despair. His vehemence was but the echo of this fear and his bad conscience:
« I create enemies for myself while defending people like yours. »
A long stormy moment passed under the bright sun. The mist quickly retreated from the bottom of the valley. The wizard relented and sighed:
-« I will lead you to our destination despite this mystery, or even more because of it... We should go and enjoy the coverage mist offers us. On the open ground we have to walk on, it would be much wiser.
- Do you really think they did not give up? If I counted right, these ruffians have one man killed, one bitten by a viper, one heavily injured and one with a slight injury, not to mention their sordid critters, two died and the other poisoned.
- Their hatred is relentless all the more. They follow us, I can feel it. »
They resumed their ride, pushing their horses and giving them the minimum breaks.
X-X-X
Their swift ride did not, however, meet Gandalf' expectations. From the beginning of the afternoon, he frequently turned back, scanning the North and West insistently. Around them the beautiful spring day bloomed, insects buzzing and the temperature climbed. A fresh westerly breeze raised small clouds of pollen. The Hobbit was asleep on his trotting pony, at a time when, in the summer, he would have laid under a walnut's shade for a dissolute siesta. Gandalf, worried and sometimes struggling to control his stallion, perceived a relentless effort behind them, and wished at all cost reach the swans marshes, where throwing off their chasers would be a cinch. The day passed in a frantic ride. The wizard, very nervy, shortened the late afternoon break. They rode for an hour, when they arrived within sight of the large river. The grassy valleys spread their gentle slopes off to wide fields of reeds and cattails, enlivened by a few willows. Clouds of wading birds flew above the marshes in front of them and the river downstream, away on their right. Travelers looked to the east, under the shade of the last scattered trees of the prairie. Their escape was two hours ride ahead. They went bravely on this last leg.
But after an hour and a half of a cautious walking, the Hobbit saw several dark spots along the river bank and upstream, between them and the marsh. The magnifying wind was now carrying ash-gray clouds and had the vegetation ripple –but not these singular points. He told Gandalf who understood where his long-during and oppressing sense of insecurity came from. Other bandits were waiting in front of them, arranged as a net, ready to close in on their prey. The wizard gathered a few armfuls of dry branches, tied them and distributed the load on the horses they dismounted. They engaged in a tiny depression that seemed to lead to the North of the swamps.
-« Why choose this path, Gandalf? Would it not be better for you to press on straight, slaying riders in front of you with your lightnings?
- You do not fear our foes enough, young Took! Once discovered and without the element of surprise, we are more vulnerable than you think. By showing us too soon, we expose ourselves to the risk they get together and we would be doomed. I also feel the chasing behind us accelerates. We have to hide our approach and hit by surprise a weak point of this curtain of sentries. Our best option is to hide as long as possible up to the ford I know. After crossing, we'll be fine provided they are not immediately on our heels... Now hush! Our hope is in hiding and not in combat to the death. »
The travelers, making vows not to have been already spoted, progressed for an hour without seeing another soul. A small thrush came then fluttering around Gandalf, but her visit did not brighten the wizard's face. Exasperated, he sent her back. A few miles away, the small depression had melted into the plain. Gandalf sent the Hobbit scout ahead and they advanced more slowly. They reached the end of the ground of grasses and wildflowers. The wizard concocted a secret mixture he sprinkled on the fagots, the horses were loaded with. The anxious Hobbit then secretly returned to do his report: a horseman kept quite a loose guard ahead. An idea was born in the mind of Gandalf:
- « Here, Gerry. This is a balm of sleep, a Queen of the Elves gave me to fight my insomnia. Do you feel capable of spraying this thug with it? »
This mission raised minimal enthusiasm for the Hobbit but the perspective of losing their chasers for good decided him. He made a wide turn, progressing stealthily and without leaving any trace, as only Hobbits can do. The guard, sat on his saddle laid beneath a willow, had left his mount unattended, grazing a bit further near the river. From time to time he watched to the north-west, without much conviction. The Hobbit behaved with great skill despite his fear. He walked a few yards up in the back of the watchman and was about to throw the small bag of elvish pollen in the branches above him, when he sensed the presence of a dark dog. The monster was quietly progressing through the grass to position in his own back. He only had time to arm his throw. The bag of pollen reached the mouth of the monster in full leap and Gerry rolled in the grass to avoid it. When he stood up, trying to arm his sling with a stone out of his pocket, he saw the animal lying on its side, his head nodding up. He himself did not feel very brave. The Hobbit saw the monster lay his head and fall asleep, but not the man who grabbed him by the collar when he lost consciousness himself.
He was revived by violent blows. His bruised wrists were bound behind his back and the contents of his pockets spread between the roots of the willow, piled on a soiled cloth: his coins, some jewelry and cameos -pledges of love-, two stones, his sling and his knife. His purse lying gaping on the floor and his vest was open. The ventral inner pocket was torn, but the pipeweed gusset under his armpit had miraculously gone unnoticed. The treasure of Father Hornblower had escaped the search of the villain, who certainly knew nothing about pipe-weed...
-« Now here is the ratling from the cantons! You tell me where it is, at once! »
Gerry's spirits came back to him gradually. How long could he stand facing the villain? What would happen to him when he would have given the treasure?
- « I do not know what you mean! »
A volley of blows greeted this courageous response. Gerry screamed. The man drew a rapier.
-« Next time I will make you squeal with this! Where is it? »
The Hobbit felt the ring of an old halfling would not satisfy such a scoundrel.
-« I don't have it ! groaned Gerry
- Indeed? I thought so. The boss is after the old wandering man. You are no longer of any use to me! Thank you for your little trinkets. »
The ruffian raised his weapon when Gandalf's sword cleft through his head up and down. The mass of the robber collapsed heavily on the side. His face drawn with anxiety, the wizard rushed to the Hobbit.
-« You have nothing?
- I am crippled with bruises and pain, but I think I've nothing broken. »
The Hobbit was entitled to a dual sip of mead. Gandalf girded his belt, arranged his purse and gave him back his belongings. He fetched their mounts and Gerry sat on the pony.
-« You are made of a stronger dough than it seems at first sight... So it seem I do have it, whatever it may be? », threw the wizard, but the badly hit Hobbit gave him a look which asked for mercy:
-« He was about to kill me, I just tried to save time. For once you were late... »
The wizard did not comment and stopped torturing the poor young Hobbit. He sabotaged the saddle of the dead rider, took Gilles and his stalion's reins then went eastward. The travelers had barely covered a league when a long horn call was blown behind them. The skittish black steed reared, dominating Gandalf who dodged the horseshoe blows with great skill and even more luck. The wizard overpowered the stalion with difficulty and mounted it once more, applying all his will to thwart the secret orders that the faithful animal had obviously received and understood. The wise launched the last ride to the river. They heard the chase converge towards them at high speed, but Gandalf's memories did not fail him. They found their way without hesitation among flooded fields and muddy swamps.
After another league, Gandalf found a rangers trail and emptied his supply of powder on the ground. Flocks of birds took their flight in their path, giving a mark for their pursuers. Then they launched their mounts to the last gallop for getting to the river bank. A small grassy surface stretched almost dry and firm between two thin willows. On the contrary, the bank around had a muddy and indistinct appearance. This place looked like a pier, although Gerry could see no ferry. Before them, a large body of water, driven by a slow but powerful stream, ended in a degraded marsh plants. Gandalf sang a short elven song, raising his arms toward the East:
-« Edro Annon Gelydh »5
Three large black swans arose from clouds carried by the West wind, landed gracefully together at the surface of the river, and swam calmly toward them.
Gandalf unloaded their mounts of the wood bundles, he scattered quickly around the pier, attacked by swarms of marshes insects. He set them on fire with his staff, ordering a long and contagious combustion. The fire definitely began to take and extended when a new horn call sounded, much closer than the last. Other blows echoed in many places from their shore. The black horse, stolen to the ruffians, suddenly unleashed and fled to its master. The ropes that had attached the bundles on top of this horse were not completely loose. In its flight, the dark horse pulled a burning fagot. The wizard sat Gerry back on Gilles, grabbed the reins and said contentedly:
- « That will keep them busy! To the river! Let us follow the swans! »
The majestic birds bowed their slender neck before Gandalf, who gravely greeted them back, imitated by speechless Gerry. Then the wizard followed the swans in each of their aquatic ramblings. Fifteen minutes later, they had crossed the hundred fathoms of loamy stream and reached the swamp on the South bank, but Gandalf was soaked to the waist and completely muddy. Still clinging to the pony's mane, Gerry heard behind him a sinister crackling, while the surface of the dark waters around was covered with small fugitive tongues of yellow lights. Turning back, he saw that the willows lining the pier blazed with a yellow and green eerie fire. Two figures could be distinguished struggling in the flames, several others in the background trying to master terrorized mounts. This furnace could be seen from quite a distance, especially as darkness began to grow. Other Men had tried to bypass the flames and were pitifully stuck to the waist. Two of them had managed to emerge and even reach the bed of the stream. The most slender had paid with his life the absurd attempt to defeat the current of Eriador's most powerful river. The second had also lost ground and struggled to regain the North bank. The Hobbit warned the wizard who appeared troubled:
-« I never imagined they would brave the fire of Anor ... What force drives them so? What a pity for these centuries-old trees ... But let us not be discouraged and take advantage of the diversion… »
But his concerned tone showed a nagging doubt. It subsided when the rain suddenly fell from the grey clouds, while the black swans drew them further in the heart of the marshes. How many times had he been forced to kill in defense of his young protégé or himself? Could that have been avoided?
1 « Orodreth is the King of Cardolan ». He was the last sovereign of this kingdom at the time of its splendor.
2 The path is clear !
3 Manwë is the King of the Powers of the world, and tutelary force of the air and skys.
4 « A dog pack and the forest rangers interrupt your journey. »
5 Let the Noldor gate open!