We have not yet gone far on the fifth day when we leave the last puddles and reed plains of the marshes behind us. The land in front of us begins to gently slope again. In the distance in the east we can now see a row of hills.
,,That highest hill on the right with the conical top, that's Weathertop." I say to Frodo. ,,The old road, which we left far to the right, runs south of it, and goes not far from the foot by. Maybe we'll reach it by tomorrow afternoon if we go straight for it. I guess we'll just have to do that."
,,What do you mean?"
,,I mean it's not certain what we will find when we reach Weathertop. It is close to the road."
,,But we hoped to find Gandalf there, right?"
,,Yes, but that hope is not great. Even if he comes this way, he doesn't have to come through Bree, so he might not know what we're doing. And in any case we shall miss each other, unless by pure chance we arrive there at the same time; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the horsemen do not find us in the wilderness, they will probably go to Weathertop themselves." The hobbits look anxiously at the distant hills. Frodo looks up with a fearful look.
,,You're making me feel worried and lonely, strider," he says.
,,What do you recommend we do?" Pippin now asks.
,,I think it is best to keep as straight east as possible from here, towards the row of hills, not towards the Weathertop. There we can reach a path that runs at the foot of it; that will take us from the north to the Weathertop in a less overt way." They all nod and we trudge on all day, until the cold and early evening. The land becomes drier and barren, but behind us mists and vapors hang above the swamps. At the end of the day we come to a stream coming out of the hills and I follow it along its banks as long as it is light. It is already night when we stop and camp under some gnarled alder trees near the stream bank. The hobbits soon fall asleep, but I cannot sleep. I sense danger in the air and I just don't trust it.
In the morning I find the path I was looking for. I turn right and follow it south. It runs very cunningly and I feel that Frodo is walking extra close to me. The path dives into vegetated valleys and runs close to high verges.
,,I wonder who made this path and for what purpose." Merry says as we walk past one of the stones, the stones here are unusually large, but I already knew that. "I don't quite trust it: it looks a bit eerie. Is there a burial mound on the Weathertop?"
,,No. There is no burial mound on the Weathertop nor on the other hills." I answer. ,,The people of the West did not live here, although they defended the hills against the evil from Angmar for a time in their last days. This path was built for the benefit of the forts along the wall. But long before that, in the early days of the Northern Kingdom, a great watchtower was built on the Weathertop - Amon Sûl, they called it. It was burned and destroyed and now there is nothing left of it but a kind of ring, like a rough crown on the top of the old hill. But once it was high and beautiful. The story goes that Elendil stood there watching for Gil-Galad's coming from the West, in the days of the last alliance."
,,Who was Gil-Galad?" asks Merry. Before I can answer, a soft voice sounds.
Gil-Galad was an Elven king
Of him the Harper's sadly sing
The last whose realm was fair and free
Between the mountains and the sea
His sword was long, his lance was keen
His shining helmet far was seen
The countless stars of Heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield
But long ago he rode away
and where he dwelleth none can say
For into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are
I turn around, surprised to see Sam singing this.
,,Go on." Merry says.
,,That's all I know." Sam stutters, blushing. ,,I learned it from Mr. Bilbo when I was a boy. He used to tell me stories like that, because he knew I always loved hearing about elves."
,,He didn't make it up." I say. ,,It's part of the song called 'The Fall of Gil-Galad', which was written in an ancient language. Bilbo must have translated it. I never knew."
,,There was a lot more, all about Mordor. I didn't learn that part: it gave me goosebumps. I never thought I would go there again."
,,Going to Mordor?!" Pippin exclaimed. ,,I hope it won't come to that."
,,Don't say that name so loudly!" I climb further up. ,,Come on, we're almost there." The four hobbits follow me all the way to the top. ,,We'll spend the night here tonight." I say to the four, who sit down exhausted. That sense of danger is even worse now and I sneak a look over the edge, only to see dark figures at the bottom of the hill. They are gathering. ,,The enemy is here." I'll let the hobbits know. ,,Don't move, don't show yourself!" They remain still as I crawl towards them. I grab the swords I brought with me. They are daggers to me, but swords to the hobbits. I give one to Sam "Frodo, Merry and Pippin. ,,These are for you, keep them close to you." I say to the four. "I'm going hunting, stay here and don't show yourself."
,,Neuma, wouldn't it be better to get out of here quickly?" Sam asks. ,,It's getting late and I don't really understand this hole; it makes my heart sink."
,,Yes, we do have to decide immediately what to do," I answer, looking up at the sky. ,,You know, Sam. I don't like this place either, but I don't know of a better place that we could imagine." could reach the night. In any case, we are invisible at the moment and if we left we would be spotted by spies much sooner. The only thing we could do is take a very long detour, back north on this side of the range of hills, where the scenery is much more like here. The road is guarded, but we would have to cross it if we tried to take cover in the undergrowth to the south. On the north side of the road, behind the hills, is the land bare and flat for miles."
,,Can the riders see?" asks Merry. ,,I mean they usually seem to have used their noses more than their eyes, smelling us, if smelling is the right word, at least during the day. But you left us flat when you saw them below; and now you say that if we move we will be seen."
,,I was careless on the hilltop. I longed desperately to find some sign of Gandalf, but it was wrong for all three of us to go up and stand there so long. For the black horses can see and the riders can use people and other creatures as spies, as we experienced in Bree. And at all times they smell the blood of living creatures, which they hate and thirst for. We can feel their presence - that is why it troubled our hearts as soon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours even more strongly. And also," now I start whispering. ,,the ring attracts them."
,,Is there no escape?" asks Frodo, looking restlessly around. ,,If I go away, I will be seen and hunted. If I stay, I will attract them." I empty my hand on Frodo's shoulder.
,,There is still hope. You are not alone. Let us take this wood prepared for the fire as a sign. There is little shelter or opportunity for defense here, but the fire will serve us both. Sauron can use fire for evil purposes, as he can do all things, but these horsemen dislike it and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness." Sam sighs.
,,That may well be the case, but I don't see how we can make ends meet with our provisions." He says. ,,We have been very careful in recent days and our evening meal with what we have left is not a banquet. If we still have two weeks or more ahead of us, we will never make it."
,,There is food in the wilderness. Berries, carrots and herbs and if necessary, I also have some experience as a hunter. You don't have to worry about dying of hunger before winter sets in. But gathering food and catching deer is a long and difficult job, and we are in a hurry. So tighten your belts and think with hope of the tables of Elrond's house!"
When night falls, I start telling them stories so that they can forget their fear a little.
,,Now tell us about Gil-Galad." Merry says suddenly when I remain silent about the Elf King at the end of my story. ,,Do you know more about that old song you spoke of?"
,,Of course. And Frodo too, because we are closely involved."
,,I only know the little that Gandalf has told me. Gil-Galad was the last of the great elven kings of Middle-earth. In their language, Gil-Galad means starlight. With Elendil, the friend of the elves, he went into the land..."
,,No," I say. ,,I don't think that story should be told now with the enemy's servants so close. If we succeed in reaching the house of Elrond, you will hear about it there, and in its entirety."
,,Then tell us another story from the old days," says Sam. ,,A story about the elves before the time of decay. I would like to hear more about elves; the darkness seems to envelop us so closely."
,,I will tell you the story of Tinúviel." I say. ,,In short, for it is a long story whose end is not known; and there is no one now but Elrond who remembers it as it used to be. It is a beautiful story, though it is sad, like all the stories of Middle-earth, but perhaps it will give you courage." I remain silent for a moment, then don't start talking, but I start singing softly.
The leaves were long, the grass was green
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair
And in the glade a light was seen,
of stars in shadow shimmering
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen
And lights of stars was in her hair,
and in her raiment glimmering
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hilltop high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!
He called her by her elvish name,
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw their mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and gray,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.
I sigh and remain silent before I start speaking again.
,,This is a song in the manner that the elves call ann-thennath, but it is difficult to convey in our common language and this is only a rough imitation of it. The story of the meeting between Beren, the son of Barahir and Lúthien Tinúviel. Beren was a mortal man, but Lúthien was the daughter of Thingol, an elf king in Middle-earth when the world was young, and she was the fairest maiden that ever lived among all the children of this world." I think for a moment of Lostariel .In my opinion she is now the most beautiful living in this world and I am very happy that she is my love.
,,She was lovely as the stars above the mists of the northern lands, and her face radiated light. At that time the great enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the north, and the elves of the west, returning to Middle-earth, made war with him to recover the Silmarils which he had stolen; and the forefathers of men helped the elves. But the enemy was victorious and Barahir was slain, and Beren, escaping great dangers, passed over the Mountains of Fear to the hidden kingdom of Thingol in the forest of Neldoreth. There he saw Lúthien singing and dancing in a clearing next to the enchanted river Esgalduin; and he called her name Tinúviel, which in the language of old means nightingale. Afterwards much sorrow came upon them, and they were separated for a long time. Tinúviel rescued Beren from the dungeons of Sauron and together they endured many dangers and even overthrew the great enemy from his throne and stole from his iron crown one of the three Silmarils, the fairest of all jewels, as Lúthien's dowry to Thingol, her father. Yet Beren was killed and died in Tinúviel's arms. But she chose mortality and wanted to leave the world that she might follow him; and the song has it that they met again behind the Parting Seas and after a short time, in which they again walked alive together through the green forests, they, long ago, overwrote the boundaries of this world. Thus it is that Lúthien Tinúviel is the only one of the elven race who really died and left the world, and that the elves lost her from those we loved most. But from her the line of the elven princes of old continued into the people. There are still living ones of which Lúthien is the matriarch and it is said that her branch will never become extinct. Elrond of Rivendell is one of that family. From Beren and Lúthien was born Dior, Thingol's heir, and from him Elwing the white whom Eärendil married, he who sent his ship from the mists of the world to the seas of heaven with the Silmaril on his brow. And from Eärendil the kings of Númenor, or Westernisse descended."
Suddenly a pale light appears on the crown of the Weathertop behind us. The waxing moon rises slowly over the hill that overshadowed us and the stars above the peak fade. Sam and Merry get up and walk away from the fire. Frodo and Pippin sit in silence. Everything seems calm and quiet, but I feel an icy oppression coming over my heart. Sam comes running back from the edge of the valley towards me.
,,I don't know what it is, but I suddenly felt scared. I dare not for any money in the world leave this valley; I feel something crawling up the slope."
,,Did you see anything?" Frodo asks, jumping up.
,,No sir. I didn't see anything, but I didn't stop to look."
,,I saw something," says Merry. ,,Or so I thought - in the west, where the moonlight shines on the plain behind the shadow of the hilltops, I thought I saw two or three black figures. They seemed to be heading our way. to move out." My eyes wide.
,,Stay close to the fire, with your back to it!" I shout. ,,Take some of those long sticks in your hands." It doesn't take long before I see a shadow rising. The shadows grow larger and three or four tall black figures stand looking down at us. Nazgul s! Pippin and Merry are overcome with fear and throw themselves flat on the ground. Sam sneaks to Frodo's side. Frodo is no less afraid than his companions; he shivers as if it were bitterly cold. I hide myself so I can strike at the right time. I hold my bow, ready to fire a few arrows, and look at the ringwraiths. I emerge from my hiding place for a brief moment, and see one of the ringwraiths slowly moving towards Frodo. Frodo holds his sword to his face but he is terrified. Four Nazgul s appear and together with the fifth ghost they come to the group. I need to distract some! Pippin tries to stab one of the ghosts with his sword, but the Nazgul blocks his attempt very easily, sending him flying into a rock. Another Nazgul reaches out and sweeps Merry and Sam aside in one motion. Frodo drops his sword and tries to run away but fails. I grab my sword and hold it in front of me.
,,Narv- magol." I whisper and see my sword light up with fire. I emerge and begin my diversionary maneuver. I see Frodo going backwards as far as he can while he's trying to grab the ring. He shouldn't do that right now. Frodo's back hits a wall, saying he can't go any further and then he disappears, again. I don't think and jump in front of Frodo, a ringwraith blocks his sword and rolls out of the way as it screeches and it tries to kill me. I am fighting the Nazgul s, but I am far away from Frodo now. In the corner of my eyes I see one of the ringwraiths aiming his sword at Frodo. I thrust my burning sword into my opponent's face and try to get to Frodo as quickly as possible to come, but when he emerges again, a scream of pain can also be heard. I grab a torch with my free hand and fight until the ringwraiths flee away. I think I set four of them on fire.
,,Neuma, help him!" Sam shouts at me and I run to Frodo. I look at his shoulder where the wound is, but immediately shake my head.
,,He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." I say and see the blade turn into ash. ,,This is beyond my skills. He needs Elvish medicine." I pick him up bridal style and bring him to the fire. He must have Athelas.
,,Stay with him!" I say and then run to the Trollshaws forest. Fortunately the ringwraiths do not follow me. I search through the entire forest until I find the Athelas plant. I quickly pick a small bunch and run back to Weathertop, where I see a protective Sam with his sword pointed at me. I ignore his gesture and kneel next to Frodo.
,,I'm not a black rider, Sam." I say gently. ,,And I'm not in cahoots with them. There were only five of the enemy. Why they weren't all there I don't know, but I suspect that they had not expected any resistance. They have gone away for the time being, but not far, I fear. They will come again another night if we cannot escape. They are waiting, I think, only because they think their task is nearly accomplished and that the ring cannot fly much further. I fear, Sam, that they think your master has received a mortal wound, which will subject him to their will. We shall see!" Sam almost bursts into sobs. ,,Don't despair, you have to trust me. Your Frodo is tougher than I thought, although Gandalf has hinted that that might be the case. He has not been killed and I believe he will withstand the evil power of the wound longer than his enemies expect." I take the Athelas from my belt pocket. ,,I had to walk far to find these leaves, for these plants do not grow on the bare hills, but in the thickets south of the road." I squeeze a leaf between my fingers and it exudes a sweet and pungent scent. ,,It is fortunate that I could find it, for it is a medicinal plant that the people of the west brought to Middle-earth. They have called it Athelas, but it now grows sparingly and exclusively near places where they used to live or encamp; and it is not known in the north, except to a few of those who wander in the wilderness. It has a great healing effect, but the healing power for a wound like this may be small." I throw the leaves into boiling water and wash Frodo's shoulder. The herb immediately has some power over the wound, but it is not nearly enough. He must get to Elrond as quickly as possible. ,,We must leave the Weathertop as quickly as possible. I think the enemy has been watching this place for several days. If Gandalf was here, he was probably forced to drive away. And he probably won't return. In any case, we are in great danger here after dark since tonight's attack, and we can hardly expose ourselves to greater danger wherever we go."