When the Hobbit awoke, Gandalf gathered his belongings and had them leave without a word. The Hobbit could not remember the morning events. Gandalf told him plainly that a fight had taken place, and they would not have to worry about their pursuers. They went off a few miles North and reached shelter for nightfall. The valley was bathed by a small spring that welled up in the grass before slipping between flat rollers. The mixed vegetation reminded the travelers they were now approaching the first lower slopes of the northern mountains.
The evening was gloomy for both companions. The Hobbit vaguely felt a lack, as if a part of himself had been retracted. This moral amputation gave him an uneasy feeling of an irreparable theft, of a secret he owned but which remained inaccessible, by the sake of a superior will, occult and all-powerful. He searched tirelessly in the fragments of memories that Gandalf's delaying explanations did not support. For the first time he doubted the wizard, whose evasive answers aroused his suspicion. Gerry checked his treasure had not been stolen, and he blushed with shame in the twilight of the evening.
Gandalf for his part meditated the speech of the white wizard, shaken by his rebukes and mortified by the sanction. According to Saruman, a power was rising in the East, the head of their order was to fight in Eriador in person. Gandalf could neither detect these newcomers on time, nor count on his friends who had failed him. The two companions took refuge in the comfort of pipe-weed, and yet failed to share a moment of peace.
The following days were not merrier. The Hobbit, thanks to the constitution of his resilient little folk, was slowly recovering from his "memory hole" and applied to cheer old Gandalf, who seemed more absorbed than ever. Prolonged silences and incomprehensible grumbles that escaped the lips of the wizard, overcame the benevolent patience of Gerry, who finally gave up and became interested in landscape. They traveled by day, extending each stage, under often overcast and sometimes rainy skies. The gently undulating hills of Eregion faded. Travelers headed north. They crossed several spurs launched from the high peaks of the Misty Mountains to their right, before descending into the valley of the Greyflood. Then they inflected their route to Northeast along the river, at a good distance from the left bank. At times its thin gray ribbon was near enough for them to notice the silver and shimmering reflection of intermittent may sunshine.
-« Is it the River Greyflood I see there?
- This is the River Loudwater, the Bruinen of the Elves. It descends from the Misty Mountains in the North before passing through inaccessible defiles. It joins the Greyflood a few miles Southwest of here. If we may, we shall cross it as soon as possible. »
One afternoon, after a break near a stream, he noticed a romp in the woods on their right. He watched carefully, but noted nothing special. No doubt they had disturbed a deer or stag. Yet the event raised his attention, although Gandalf showed no alarm.
At the evening camp, Gerry insisted on having a hot meal and light. Facing the ill will of the wizard to set fire to the branches he had collected, the Hobbit used the lighter. He asked again Gandalf about the purpose of their trip, in order to lead him to reject any doubt and look to the future. A well-stuffed pipe gave some kick back to the wizard who was previously lost in his thoughts. Gandalf brightened somewhat to outline his vision of the situation in the North, although he often added remarks showing that he hesitated now about his priorities.
Gerry learned that various goblin tribes shared the North, from the two ends of the Western Misty Mountains up to the Grey Mountains, constantly at war against each other. These unstable clans competed for supremacy up to the Misty Mountains passes, East of Rivendell. The low military power of the Dùnedain did not allow them to eradicate this vile brood. They could merely contain them away from inhabited lands and possibly from roads. The control exercised by Dúnedain and Elves had no other purpose than to prevent the emergence of a leader, able to connive the clans up by force. The strikes they had to arrange then, needed their much scattered troops to be gathered. Such operations required careful planning and flawless action, otherwise failure would leave Eriador exposed for many years. Thus the risks of these military expeditions were carefully weighed. Gandalf continued:
-« We can not afford all the achievements that our heart desires. Secrecy is our best asset. An ally, a Dùnadan friend of mine, is tempted by a brilliant action that I consider reckless. Although my own actions may have, themselves, be considered reckless recently!
- « Why do you consider it reckless? », Gerry revived to deflect Gandalf from his sterile criticism.
- « My heart and my wisdom agree on this point, at least so did they when I felt I had enough wisdom. The purpose of the trip is far from our bases. We have strange and contradictory information on recent events affecting this part of the world.
- Where is this mysterious remote location?
- You will know more when we are safe in the beautiful valley of Rivendell. The exact location of this place is uncertain and distant. It will be dangerous to reach.
- So why go there?
- This is the main danger of too uncertain a goal, which shimmers off with misleading lights. This place could contain a hoard. This is what attracts my friends, who are in great need for gold.
- And what about yourself? Does the hoard draw you to this place?
- Your family is wealthy, dear Gerry. But, as they say in Bywater, "If hard work renders anyone richer, donkeys would have golden horseshoes!" So you may not realise that some wish to acquire wealth through a brilliant and courageous feat, rather than a long toiling life in the fields? But treasures usually go along with great dangers. The whole point I see in this matter, is the opportunity to destroy these perils. That is why I intend to join the expedition and advise its leader, assuming I know how to assert my views. However, once my objective is achieved, I do not see the need to let my share of the hoard to others. You neither, I guess?
- Am I entitled to a share? »
The mindless answer of the Hobbit - which as a matter of fact turned out to be a question - showed that his adventurous side was now offset by his need for comfort and certainty. He had tacitly agreed to participate in a distant and perilous expedition, attracted by the lure of adventure. The wizard immediately tested how deep the Hobbit's fearlessness had taken over:
- « Certainly, since you will also share dangers.
- You avoid designating it clearly, and I suppose, on purpose. With all respect, I am not sure the challenge is worth the reward. What would exactly be my role? You may have noticed that I am not built like a great warrior. »
As a matter of fact, the homebody side of the Hobbit remained awake. Gandalf temporized:
- « You are careful and I like that. But we are still sure of nothing about these dangers, or even about the treasure, I'm afraid. Your talents will probably help us discreetly explore the place. »
The Hobbit indulged in various objections. Eluding protests from Gerry, the wizard changed the subject:
- « By the way I must absolutely find the captain of the Rangers of Arnor. He must have his guards close ranks in the South.
- You told me that our pursuers would leave us alone, because the head of your order had destroyed them. But have you heard why they were chasing us? Could some others come after us? »
The Hobbit had come to believe that his magic ring was the primary cause for the pursuit. Gandalf did not answer immediately, as if exploring the consequences of his answer:
- « Saruman thinks he discovered everything: it seems I have crystallized the attention of our aggressors on me. It is better that he should be in charge of dismantling the threat, while I mind some other business. »
Gerry was tempted to disabuse the wizard and tell him he knew the cause of their worries. But his ring, it seemed, had strengthened his vow to return the treasure to its owner, to repair his fault by himself. The wizard seemed reassured to focus on another matter. Thus the Hobbit, for friendship toward the old wizard but also by cowardly selfishness, did not bring the conversation back on their pursuers.
So they laid for the night, but the Hobbit slept badly. Nightmares of furtive eyes surrounding the camp did not leave him. A frightened pony neighing pulled him out of his dream. Gandalf jumped up and grabbed a torch which shone like a thousand lights in his outstretched hand. Shadows retreated to the darkness of the woods, repelling nightly rumors afar. Gerry calmed the pony. He gathered a large pile of deadwood and fueled the fire. Gandalf, who seemed to experiment the same nightmares, did the same and established two more hearths to put the pony in the center of a well-lit area. Curling up in his blanket, Gerry sat next to Gilles and decided to stay up all night. Yet at dawn Gandalf woke him up, whereas the Hobbit did not remember when he had fallen asleep.
-« Come, Gerry, I found some footprints here! », said the wizard in a breath.
Indeed, a huge canine had obviously roamed around the camp during the night and had come near to flare. They left, troubled that their pursuers might not have gone... Or was it an isolated predator? Travelers changed their route to get nearer the river, hoping to find an open field that would allow them to see pursuers from further away. All day they forced the pace through elms and pines, without need to push the pony, which gave the best of himself. Then a slope of alders and oaks finished in a long flat and sparse space. Sometimes the Hobbit noticed hurried footsteps on the leaves of the undergrowth, away back or on his right.
At lunch break, the pony showed again signs of nervousness. Yet the surrounding woods, very sparse and quiet, seemed devoid of any animal life. Gandalf sniffed the air while Gerry cared about the mount:
- « This silence worries me. The woods in these regions should sound the song of many birds. They are also home to small rodents that came out of their winter sleep, we should have seen. A threat hangs over this land, unless we ourselves are the cause of this unusual peace? »
The wizard lit a fire by precaution, and piled a great bundle of wood in anticipation of future needs. He would load their poney with it, but for now he doubled its attachments. All senses in alert, they waited an hour so that the pony rests and grazes the sparse grass. Finally they harnessed and strode a laborious and worried path.
Walking for more than an hour, between the ferns and behind the pony Gandalf was pulling, the Hobbit had the unpleasant sensation of a gaze in his back. An annoying chill ran down his spine, but he mastered the urge to turn around and draw his dagger. Several times this horrifying feeling resumed. He still resisted, continuing his walk. Intermittently, his neck tingled insistently.
Suddenly he could stand it no more. Before he had time to think, he was acting against common sense. Gerry pulled out his treasure and pressed it in his right hand. He focused his attention on the powers that he attributed to his "Ring of Power", hardening his will while a vital desire grew, to return and stop the feeling of a predator darting his fragile neck. The pony, a few yards in front of him, disappeared for a moment behind the low branches of a chestnut tree. Gerry had managed to gather as much courage and conviction, as only his magic ring could grant him. After a deep breath, he put his treasure off, ready to overcome his fear.
Following in the footsteps of the mount, the Hobbit suddenly veered behind the chestnut and slipped silently up, climbing it as keen as a hunting ferret. Gradually, strong branches sprang vigorously from the trunk to the canopy. When he reached more than a pole height in the tree, he wedged his back against the rough trunk and leaned with both feet on flexible and strong branches. Calming his breath, he noticed the horrible feeling of stealthy examination had disappeared. Then, his feelings moving from visceral relief to lucid alarm, he realized his audacity: Gandalf was walking away with the pony and all their provisions, while Gerontius Took, armed with his sling and his beautiful dagger, quietly waiting for the passage of... what exactly? At least it would not take long to find out what was approaching. For his ring had given him this certitude: he knew a creature was following him!
After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, he heard a stealthy progression: an animal alternated advances and sniffles, near the chestnut. Gerry breathed slowly and deeply to calm his fear. The animal was now at the foot of the tree. The halfling clearly perceived his stuttering breathing and some undecided grunts. The beast walked around the tree and leaned a paw full of long claws, covered with brown hairs and notched with a long gash!
X-X-X
Gerry screamed in terror. A few feet below him, a creature half-man, half wolf, raised his glazing eyes of blood-thirsty beast at him. An ancient hatred shone in the depths of the orbits. The monster growling hoarse and unintelligible words, grabbed a low branch and hoisted there awkwardly. The huge hairy body grabbed the next branch but his back legs did not allow it to rest effectively on the branches; he missed and fell at the foot of the tree, ranting and drooling with his long carnivorous mouth. This time the Hobbit's survival instinct took over: he brandished his sling with courage but the shot was lost when the reeling leather strap hit branches.
The monster fell to the ground and raised his limb - half paw, half arm - towards the Hobbit, uttering a curse, in a language speakable by no mortal. Gerry felt directly hit by a flood of eternal hatred, as stung by the keen and implacable eyes of a mortal enemy he could never escape.
But Gandalf arrived at a run, singing an old song of strength and light. Gerry's heartblow passed quickly. The monster retreated, not without sending a final grunt up the chestnut. He received a small stone at the base of the ear and barked one last yell before dodging and running away on all fours in the undergrowth.
Gandalf, with bristly eyebrows and his staff forward, rushed as a hurricane under Gerry's sheltering tree. His wrath, which had subsided when he made sure the Hobbit was safe, once again erupted with the detailed narrative of events. He demanded a detailed description of the monster. But the Hobbit was not listening much, obsessed as he was by his ring of power and measuring how difficult it was to master it. He held forth about his control over his own fear:
- «I could dominate my emotions when it followed me, but I could not help but cry when I saw its hideous face!
- This is not a contest of individual courage! », Gandalf growled.
While pulling the pony, he roundly admonished his protégé for the risk he had incurred, and wondered what had made him so rash or altruist. Guessing no answer, he concluded:
- «At least now we know who we are dealing with!
- Who? You mean "What? "! I guess this pleasant gentleman is not the kind you would invite for tea?
- You have the right to laugh, because you have come out of this meeting alive! Gaur1 ! A terror escaped from the deep forests of the dark years.
- Gandalf, you still speak in riddles! But I'm not sure any more I want the answer to that one!
- From your description, I am inclined to believe that this is a werewolf, a creature of the ancient world, hatched and multiplied to torment Elves and Men in former times. It was indeed a person, whose horribly mutilated mind has let itself be dominated by its most visceral fears, its most basic needs and irrepressible hatred.
- It has hairy feet, like me... »
The wizard did not point out the Hobbit's humorous ramblings, that were supposed to be facetious and casual, but betrayed a dull terror. Gandalf continued:
- « I am puzzled. Yet its presence gives reason to Saruman. Not only seems our group to attract an ancient evil, but this evil has traveled extensively to reach these forests.
- So this monster is not home? So much the better! Maybe it will get tired if it has nowhere to feed or rest!
- I would not count too much on it. But now we have an advantage, thanks to you, we better identify the dangers that pursue us, so I will prepare myself accordingly. Keep high spirit, my dear Hobbit, the tables of Elrond are getting close. »
Respecting the meditation of the wizard who already customized a defense for the next night, the Hobbit began to speculate on the "tables of Elrond." The plural, to begin, seemed enticing. His Hobbit psychology first had some difficulty in imagining them otherwise than in terms of size, number, opulence or nutritional value of their food. This greatly increased his motivation. Then the possibility crept into his mind, that these beings, who bred beauty and grace since ancient times, had been able to develop culinary arts, that were unreachable by mortals. For a long moment this very hope surpassed all his fears. Gandalf did not know how far his encouragements had achieved their goal: the adventure could be worth the risk, after all...
The two travelers had resumed their swift and worried progress. They forced the pace and strode for hours, only interrupting for short snacks. They joined the river over a cliff while the day was quickly declining. The strong and turbulent flow, lit by a sun that set in the axis of the river, threw golden and silver reflections. A mist rose from the abyss in an uproar, that mosses and ferns lining the cliffwalls partly silenced. After getting his bearings, the wizard took them upstream in a race along the riverbank. A league further they overhung an impressive precipice, down which the river was boiling. Twilight assembled its pastel glows to the west. Gandalf announced smiling:
- « The Elves call this place Cabed Athrad2. This is the perfect place to hold pursuers at bay. »
The raging river had cut an island with steep banks. The island, winding for half a furlong, was accessible from the left bank by a narrow stretch of rock that spanned a chasm approximately two fathoms wide. Some pines and bushes had overrun a ruin, maybe a relay or forest cover, in the center of the island. They had great difficulty having the pony across the stone arch.
- « Once a wooden bridge widened this passage, which was guarded all year, Gandalf said bitterly. Where are the Dùnedain? »
The case went to the Hobbit who tempted poor Gilles with a carrot gleaned from the Elven garden, somewhat dried but that certainly seemed for the pony like a delectable candy in the wilderness. Then the mount safely reached the island, without losing any of its package. Relieved of his load, he was sheltered in the middle of collapsed walls covered with briers, tied up and covered for the night. Gerry stuck some branches of green leaves in the brambles to his attention.
The wizard quickly lit a fire just before the rocky arm. The two companions busied themselves to prepare defenses. The atmosphere of the camp tonight was firm and battling. Gandalf had regained his authority and the Hobbit showed attentive, motivated and applied. Should this be seen as an effect of the change his ring began to work on him? Whatever it was, he immerged in the preparations very seriously.
He was in charge of collecting all pine cones he could find. He also heaped suitable stones for his sling. He even ventured on the right bank. On this side the precipice was also important, but much larger and with no natural passage. A solid bridge of logs, built by the labor of men, spanned a broad and voluntary arch above the tumultuous and deadly waters. The pillars of a former stone bridge could still be distinguished underneath. On either sides of the wooden bridge's northern edge, stood two stone statues, a fathom high. Harsh weather had stripped etched details, but Gerry distinguished a resemblance with the stone guardians he had crossed a few days earlier, near the keep North of Cardolan or at the entrance of the vault of consciousness.
Large oak trees leaned over the North bank, like elderly men looking, over the water, for the bright memories of their youth. Approaching the hieratic monoliths, which shape evoked a helmeted guard, the Hobbit cleared his throat and enunciated emphatically, as he heard Gandalf do it a few days ago:
- « I do not recall the king's name, but I am a Hobbit of good will and friend of the free peoples. Please give way to the heir to the Thain of the Shire, who received patent from the King a long time ago. »
Thereupon he advanced timidly, watching the statues which cast neither a lightning flash nor a sensational fanfare, nor even any tremor. The little Hobbit felt very lonely but he braved the threshold of the bridge and the darkness of the North bank. It seemed that the clouds parted for a moment, revealing the stars, as to open the way for a friendly thought, launched in the night just in case. Equipped with a burlap sack, he gathered armfuls of firewood and pine cones. He also discovered a recently fallen tree, probably hit by lightning. The Hobbit picked some sections of fresh wood along with thick fragrant resin. At the camp, Gandalf congratulated him for his initiative and bustled while Gerry returned to pile some wood.
X-X-X
A distant roar was heard. It mingled a marauding wolf cry with an appeal to slaughter. Gerry hurried back near the wizard. A howl rang twice in the South bank's shadows while the moon rose to illuminate the clouds with an uncertain and threatening halo. The roar of the waves itself seemed to have stopped, for the time of these screams of another age of the world.
After a moment of stupor, Gandalf ordered additional timber reserves were accumulated. The two companions labored over a long time, watching the left bank permanently. Finally they considered themselves ready. Nothing moved on the South bank or made any sound, as far as the constant stream made them audible. The Hobbit's confidence rose with the flames the wizard revived, thanks to the wood he had brought. Gandalf ordered Gerry to take care of the pony and strengthen its ties, then he fashioned a hot meal that would support the fragile morale of his companion. He checked the accommodation of the pony and whispered in his ear a few verses of comfort and courage. Returning to sit by the fire, he said sipping his brew:
-« We are safe, now, I think. If it dares showing the tip of its nasty nose here, we have enough to receive it. »
The Hobbit savored this moment of comfortable security, warming his limbs by eating his soup. But a low growl was heard near the other side of the stone arch. Gandalf stood up, brandishing his staff, now as bright as a moonbeam. Gerry cocked his sling but he still could not see the monster, hidden in the shadows of the South bank.
The wizard raised his strong voice, directing his light to the opposite bank.
- « Go back to the darkness of your acursed forest! »
The growl grew louder in words of defiance, articulated in a language forgotten by mortals. But Gandalf knew that language. It wore the black mark of an enemy of the world. A huge dark figure stepped forward, picked up on itself, all muscles rolling under the thick silver-gray hide. Gerry, finally perceiving it, found it much bigger than his pursuer this afternoon. He immediately imagined that the werewolf had gone for his dad, as in the tales of his childhood. Inextinguishable hatred could be read in the split pupil. The shape straightened. It was the same animal as before: the companions could discern an open wound, bright with fresh blood at the base of the left ear. But it seemed more imposing, as if the accumulated hatred or the night had fortified it. Gandalf drew his sword, that cast a bright white glow, warning of the weapon's cold bite.
-« You shall not pass! The Anor fire is to scorch your hair and whiskers before consuming your hatred in purifying embers! »
The mention of mustaches startled the Hobbit. This grimacing face reminded him of another, almost as menacing though wildless... An even more powerful roar greeted the wizard's speech. The forest around them trembled. The monster made low to the ground, ready to pounce. With a gesture, Gandalf sharpened the fire which flames lit up the surrounding trees. His staff blazed a white flash. A cry of pain rose when the wizard darted the light ray on the monster's hideous face. The animal turned away groaning and returned to deep woods, far from the bank.
The two companions carefully peered the South bank for a while. A pitiful howl, hateful but annoyed, reached them from a hill before them. Gandalf said, with a smirk:
- « I think it understood! You may sleep, I'll watch for now. »
X-X-X
The Hobbit paid a short visit to the pony, he found nervous and sweaty under its blanket. He fueled the fire again. Then he laid near the hearth and managed to fall asleep. After two hours of restless sleep, another howl echoed through the night. The monster must be a few furlongs South of the island, on the low hill that Gerry distinguished now in the moonlight. The Hobbit scanned the tense face of the wizard and asked with hope:
-« Is it a farewell cry?
- I am wondering. This howling is full of hatred and helplessness, but also with some hope I can not explain...»
The long growl was no sooner finished that another roar replied, far to the southeast, from the foothills of the Misty Mountains, that was immediately repeated by a lupine chorus of a dozen voices. This time the morale of the camp came sharply down. Gerry recognized here the scenario of his old tales, where the whole family of the monster come and run to the kill. Gandalf immediately occupied the Hobbit, requiring him to coat the pine cones with a resinous mixture he had concocted. At regular intervals, the chorus sung a response to the repeated calls of the werewolf, coming closer. Gandalf looked for a small promontory and found the corner of the collapsed house the pony was stalled in. He strengthened it with fallen stone blocks; this would provide Gerry with a shooting platform that would keep him out of reach of their enemies for a while. He hoisted the Hobbit with a large supply of pine cones and all the stones Gerry had gathered. The besieged were now as ready as they would ever be.
Finally a concert of victorious howling sounded on the hill in front of the island, while a gibbous moon came down on a hazy horizon. The combined pack would certainly attack before dawn. Indeed, after a few furtive rustlings, a wave of screams suddenly covered the South bank. A huge gray wolves band crept inch by inch to the brightness limit of the fire. The werewolf stepped into their ranks, channeling their pack instinct. Gandalf regretted not having lit other fires along the bank of the island, as many wolves already leaped across the chasm, upstream and downstream of the stone arch. He cast a word of fire and seizing a few pine nuts, he threw several incandescent of them around the Hobbit and the pony's refuge. Each projectile radiated a blue flame even the more vivid as they were close to each other. The Hobbit imitated him, gradually filling a barrier of bright blue fires around his refuge. The pony tossed increasingly in the restricted space surrounded by flames, but it was well constrained.
Soon a large pack of wolves, that had jumped across the precipice and had gathered in the northern part of the island, walked stealthily toward Gerry's platform. The Hobbit saw a dozen pairs of predator's eyes reflect blue and yellow glows. He warned Gandalf who was holding in check half a dozen of the biggest wolves in front of the stone arch. Gerry's pack, wavering before the flaming pines that crackled in front of them, began to grow bolder. So Gerry aimed at the biggest on both sides of the collapsed house. Thus he managed to contain the pack. When a large black male pretended to pass between two weakening flames, he was fortunate enough to reach his spine. The pinecone remained glued to the pelt that burst in fire. The leader ran off, not without dispersing a few minor wolves, that leaped over the crevice. The trail of flames and screams could be followed from afar.
But soon Gandalf met his match. Despite the fire that blazed at the threshold of the stone arch, attacks from all sides had forced him to fight with his sword. He had a hard struggle precipitating several predators in the chasm. Others lay charred in front of the ark. Yet the wizard had to retreat. He was fighting now between the declining hearth and the ruin where the Hobbit stood. Gerry reached again the chest of a huge wolf. The animal immediately flamed, jumping like a raging mad dog. It fell into the fire he largely dispersed, then swung into the stream. Gandalf and Gerry threw their latest pinecones, wreaking havoc in the ranks of the animals. The wizard, out of breath, was driven back up to the entrance of the collapsed building. The Hobbit was helping his best, shooting now with his sling the howling mouths and demonic red eyes. Gandalf found himself at bay, pushed even further into the room. He fought for a moment near the pony. Gilles, terrified, unintentionally saved him from the fangs of a small wolf, unleashing a kick that left the carnivorous inert. A large white male tried to shake Gerry promontory; the Hobbit now had to face it with his dagger, and could no more lend a hand to the wizard.
Then strode the werewolf. Its presence clouded the dying hearth. He straightened at the building's entrance, pushing two wolves that were about to pounce on Gandalf. For now Gerry repelled with his dagger, attacks from young wolves leaping up to his promontory. With a loud growl of rage, the werewolf arched its legs before pouncing. A small shaggy wolf managed to seize the sword- arm of the wizard. A lightning laid it dead, along with its neighbor that was about to leap at the wise's throat. But the exhausted wizard had fallen, leaning a shoulder against the wall.
Fortunately the attention of the monster was diverted for a moment by a mysterious aerial enemy. With his staff, Gandalf, sweating and panting, slew a confused wolf and managed to come to his feet. Grimacing in pain, he mowed another that had seized one of the pony's hock. Then he turned to the monster, gathering his forces. The werewolf seemed to hunt an unwelcome bird that assailed him from all sides. Catching his breath, Gandalf was about to hit the monster in the back, when two enormous gray wolves jumped over the collapsed wall, next to the entrance. They positioned themselves in front of Gandalf and began a concerted highly effective attack, driving the wizard back to the pony.
Suddenly the werewolf, who was angrily biting the wind, gave a fierce cry that sounded more of a gurgling than a howling. It swerved and fell to the low wall of the entrance. Lying on the back, shaking with convulsions, it awkwardly tried to remove an arrow, deeply stuck in his throat.
The fighters immediately sensed a relaxation in the assault's intensity. Gerry was able to resume his sling and went on a rampage around the collapsed building. The twin wolves that coordinated their attack so skillfully retreated in good order outside the building. One of them was hit by an arrow; the other ran away yelping. But the monster was able to get up. Gandalf struck a blow on its shoulder with his broadsword, the tip of which broke off in a blue flash. A section remained stuck in the corrupted flesh but the werewolf, in a last effort, knokked the wizard down and fled. Gandalf, stunned but unharmed, stayed still several seconds to catch his breath. Finally, relying on his staff, he left the building, his hand firmly gripped on his chipped sword.
Two dozens wolves lied dead in the building and all around. The wizard slowly walked around the island, finishing off the wounded predators. He revived the fire and lit two more. Finally Gandalf helped the Hobbit to get off his shooting post. Gerry was shaking with uncontrollable nervous shivering. The wizard, full of caring, sat him in blankets by the fire, with a sip of cordial.
X-X-X
Dawn was just beginning to rise when a man calmly crossed the bridge of logs, a bow in hand. The wizard did not seem surprised at all. The man approached the hearth, sat down without further ado alongside the amazed Hobbit and said, smiling at Gandalf:
- « Now this place will be called Cabed Ngaurhoth3 ! »
The two companions greeted the newcomer with simplicity, sharing their food with him. Obviously he was the archer whose intervention had saved them from disaster.
- « It has been a long time for you to come! » muttered the wizard.
- « You are very welcome! » whispered the man smiling, as if he had just received warm thanks.
Gerry understood that the wizard and the newcomer had known each other for long, and that their bickering was only the result of a long work together. A small thrush came to rest on the shoulder of the archer who welcomed her with pleasure:
- «Ah, here is my beauty! » he said, laughing. He took the bird on his finger and placed her on a rock beside him. «Here, this is for you! » he added, fingering a few crumbs of dried meat to her attention. «You saved the old Gandalf, today, you deserve some respect, if not warm thanks ... »
The wizard said gruffly:
- «Indeed your help is utterly welcome today. Let us thank you both! But this charming little thrush has accomplished the most dangerous feat!
- It is true. She is precious to me in many ways. But I've never seen you in such a hard time.
- I was recently asked to act more cautiously, thus I restrained somehow in the use of my art.
- Could it be that you accept being lectured? »
The sarcasm bristled the eyebrow of the wizard who replied with a bitter tone:
- «I always bow to an argument which outweights mine.
- A horror of the elder days would perfectly justify you fully deploy your skills. Say rather that this opponent was particularly devious and cunning to dominate powerful allies. By the way that seems to me very disturbing. What a pity that I had no projectile forged by Master Elrond or his kin! The monster would be destroyed by now...
- It will take time to recover.
- And I bet the bands he had mustered will not follow it any more… »
The man stood up and stared at the South bank at length, his right hand as a visor. The Hobbit watched from below the archer who scrutinized the eastern hills with a look of falcon. Tall and powerfully built, he wore a blackened chainmail under a dark green surcoat. His brown leather hood covered some black curls on his high forehead. A winning smile could light his proud bearing, although awareness of a forever lost golden age blunted the rigor of his long face with melancholy. Crow's feet wrinkles cheered his gray temples, but strength and endurance radiated in all his limbs.
- « The wolves are gone, never to return... But this monster from a lost age of the world, is licking its wounds and brooding revenge…», he said slowly.
His dreamy eyes belied a voluntary jaw. He disbanded his bow and put it in a beautiful quiver covered with green and brown broidered leaves. The clouds vanished for a moment, revealing the moon as a crown to the Dùnadan's brow. The Hobbit exclaimed:
-« You are the King of the forests! »
The tall man turned back and smiled :
- « I yearn for more! But this is a generously granted title, Master Took, son of the Shire Thain! I deem it mine till better fortune! »
The Hobbit stood up and bowed, the South Farthing clumsy way.
- « So you know me?
- The King of the Forests knows all his subjects when they stride the groves of immemorial Arnor! »
Gandalf raised a wry eyebrow and interrupted the exchange:
- « Gerry, let me present you Arathorn, warlord of the Dúnedain of Arnor. »
Moved by respect and gratitude, the Hobbit knelt down and said:
- « My people are careless and prosaic. Out of respect for your long labors, whether through work or courage, I may serve you, I will. But truth is I am not good for anything... »
Astonishment gave way to compassion in the eyes of the Dùnadan. Then his face hardened, like a strategist who recognizes and seizes an opportunity:
- «Today I saw as much worth as I would like to instill in many young people. You'll stay with me, if you want to become... the prince of the Shire forests! »
Gandalf, who had hitherto attended the scene with a disapproving reserve, grumbled:
- «Do not dream of making a hero out of him! He is getting to behave as a decent Hobbit.
- Yet it is easier to be a hero than a decent man. We can be heroes once by chance; a decent man we have to be forever. 4 »
Gerry nodded, bowing. Growing in wisdom and prowess with such a mentor seemed to him the most enviable destinies. Furthermore, getting rid of the niggling guardianship of Gandalf would be a good trick to the wizard. Perhaps did the ranger understand that. Sitting back with a smile, Arathorn adjusted a heavy brown leather belt, on which hung a long sword and an Elven dagger in golden brown silk sheaths. The Hobbit soon fell into a dreamless sleep, reassured by the comforting presence of this unvarnished hero.
Gandalf stuffed and lit his pipe, keeping silent and focusing on his thoughts for a long time. Then he spoke again amidst smoke rings, while Gerry was peacefully snoring:
-« I have obligations to this young Hobbit, not to mention his father, who entrusted him to me. He carries a burden with him, although I don't know what it might be. I do not think wise to add to his difficulties by giving him unreachable dreams.
- Goodwill must be cultivated, you know that, Gandalf. I have duties as well, towards this people and this land, and I have to rely on worth, where I find it. »
The Dùnadan had spoken firmly. Probably Gandalf and Arathorn continued a debate they had begun a long time ago.
- « The night was rough for all of us. Let us leave that for the days to come. Thank you for having rushed to my call. You came just in time! »
X-X-X
The companions rested for a few hours. Dawn tinged the still snow-covered peaks with orange and fuchsia color, which veered to a warm yellow. A concert of chirping gradually rose around them while the sun was pointing over the Misty Mountains in a bright sky.
Arathorn watched over the Hobbit and the wizard, inspecting thoroughly the South bank to the tops of the surrounding hills.
He finished his guard walk with the certainty that the werewolf was seriously injured. Abundant traces of black blood defiled the woods for a long distance.
Gandalf was refreshing when the ranger came back to the camp. They quickly talked about the way forward, while exploring the North bank, and discussing the safest way to escape.
- «I see now that I should have crossed the bridge and burned it to make us safe and prevent any pursuit. » Gandalf said.
- «My men have rebuilt it to allow the passage of our arms, when a strong party is needed beyond En Egladil5.
- It is a brave move, but in my opinion, premature. You need to have it guarded it permanently, otherwise it is a threat against the security of the eastern route.
- Usually it is tightly monitored. Our guards would have eradicated a small party of orcs here. A bigger group would have been detected, tracked, spotted and eliminated further in the hills. But we suffered several attacks at all surveillance points on the Greyflood, from Tharbad to here. This has forced us to focus our device.
- Thus is the reason for the absence of your warbands in the South Downs!
- These enemies are not greedy short-sighted orcs, but well-armed and well-trained humans, who bred large black wolves. We had to join forces around Weathertop, where they had pursued us and fell into our trap. Now we are hounding the survivors from the South Downs, up to Thalion and on the Great East Road.
- Make sure that none of them find refuge in Tyrn Gorthad, even if it is dangerous to approach these parts.
- As a matter of fact I suspect an alliance with the forces of darkness. These men are well versed in the dark arts. Several escaped a quite inexplicable way. I was not surprised, when I arrived here to help you, to find a monster of the elder days. Do you think there is some collusion between our enemies and your attackers?
- I am rather sure about it. I would say they are looking for the same person. I do not know yet if it is me or the young Hobbit...
- Are you kidding?
- I have not joked since we left Thalion, more than a week ago! I inform you that Saruman, the head of my order, with his dunlendings allies, launched an offensive against the intruders and those Dunland tribes that helped them. He defeated several groups. Can you guess where they come from?
- Your revelations are troubling. I'm sure these men do not come from Eriador. They do not know enough of its ways. From their talking, I would say they are from eastern Rhovanion. We should fear collusion with the necromancer.
- I assume that Saruman came to this conclusion. He's caring about this threat now. They shall not cross the southern passes of the Misty Mountains or the gap of Rohan without him being notified and acting promptly. He has already had many more troops eliminated in the south.
- In this case it's all for the better! His reputation is that of a powerful wizard and an ally who keeps his word, even if we have no connection with him. »
The trust and praise of Arathorn somewhat hurted the feelings of the gray wizard, who nodded nonetheless. He continued:
- « You are now free to lead the expedition you intended.
- Imagine what could be accomplished after such a success!
- Promise me you will submit your plans to the concil...
- The decisions about my people will not depend on the interests of others, be they our surest allies!
- Master Elrond is not only your oldest and most loyal supporter! More importantly he is by birth the head of your house, the brother of your distant ancestor. This should at least arouse your sense of loyalty! Check with your friends, hear their opinions, then make your decisions and assume them. »
This argument had driven them angry. They parted, fulminating. Around noon Gandalf awoke the Hobbit and got ready for the final stage of their journey: to reach Rivendell. Arathorn meanwhile had planned to join his men to reorganize oversight and plan his expedition. After some erratic leagues under the direction of the ranger, anxious to cover their tracks, they parted. Gerry begged, tears in his eyes:
- «I thought you were coming with us. I wish to learn the arts of wilderness!
- We shall meet at Rivendell in a few days, young squire. Then my path will probably climb the high pass, East of the Last Homely Home. Then who loves me, follow me! »
Gandalf frowned and made no comment. The Dùnadan was the master of his decisions.
They were now at the rocky top of a naked hill. Behind them rose the mist in the valley of the Bruinen. Below them a grassy slope led to a forest of beech and oak. Arathorn described to them the way forward. Then they left, the wizard, the Hobbit and the pony engaged in the dreary slope.
Was it raw luck or some grace written in the stars? A furlong further, Gandalf noticed strange footprints in the soft ground amid tall grass. He whistled vigorously, much to the surprise of the Hobbit. Moments later, Arathorn appeared on their left, his companions hearing no approach, like a fields pixie appearing suddenly amids poppies and grasses:
-« Still needing help?
- It may well be... answered Gandalf grimly. I'll trust someone skilled in the art since I am fortunate enough to count a ranger among my allies. What do you think of these tracks? »
The Dùnadan leaned to the moss and carefully examined large areas of ground for several minutes. Rising, he said:
- « Small orcs, a dozen, bare feet and lightly armed. These are probably goblins of Mount Nassglan6, Tribe Nashlârs, not far from here. They are swift and sharp like snakes. Their shafts are often poisoned... They would move in fast bands and roam the hills North of here for plundering our sheep. Some pastors have returned to the area with our help; certainly that's what attracts them. These tracks led north, probably for the hills. They passed here two days ago.
- We have to run to their rescue! », Gerry yelled without thinking. He vaguely hoped to show his value, as a young squire before an accomplished knight.
Arathorn and Gandalf exchanged a discreet smile.
-« Do not worry, master Hobbit! We removed the cattle when the attacks began. Lambs and shepherds are safe far to the north-west. », the Dùnadan answered.
He raised his hand and threw a short cackle. The small thrush landed on his fist. After a quick confab, she flew off Northward. Arathorn continued:
- « They will not get far. Before nightfall they will be intercepted. But I'd better go with you, for your safety. »
Gandalf was much amused, without letting anything transpire except a gleam in his eye, by the pretext the Dùnadan adopted in extremis to change his mind without losing face. He liked him more for that. As for Gerry, he was overjoyed.
1 A were-wolf!
2 The ford of leaps.
3 The leap of the werewolves
4 Luigi Pirandello
5 En Egladil : The Angle. Strip of land situated between the rivers Greyflood (Mitheithel) and Bruinen.
6 White Head (as in arrow-head)