TA 3017

The afternoon sun is not especially warm, but it is kind, bathing the dapple glade in a gentle golden glow. Huddled in a patch of sunlight, I sit swathed in Gandalf's cloak. My own garments are scattered about, draped over stones and hanging from branches in the hope that they would dry sufficiently by morning that the mud could be beaten out of them. The wizard himself is gathering kindling, having declared, quite rightly, that the cloak and tunic has no chance of drying unassisted. He adds that the temperature will surely drop precipitously after sundown and he does not fancy hauling a frozen corpse hundreds of miles to Rivendell.

I'm tired of watching my friend work and so I stare at my bare feet where they poke out from under the tent of grey wool. I wiggle the toes of my left, disturbing the dry dusting of fallen leaves. The cool air feels soothing around appendages ordinarily entombed in layer upon layer of cloth and leather. My eyes follow a long, curling scar that wraps around the top of my foot. It is a memento of my last foray into the shadows of the East.

,,You should do something about your hair," Gandalf remarks, depositing an armload of fuel on the ground and easing himself onto a nearby stone. ,,you look like a drowned cat."

,,Thank you. You're very kind." I round my shoulders as a tickling gust of wind sends a chill over my body. ,,Perhaps next time you would prefer to search the wetlands while I take the high ground."

,,Next time," Gandalf mutters dourly, busying himself with scraping out a hollow to vent the fire. ,,did you find anything at all?" I shake my head and the straggling tangles of my hair tug at my neck.

,,There was an island of shale in the midst of the mire, which struck me as a perfect hiding-place, but if ever he was there he abandoned it long ago. There were pits in the loam as if something had once rooted there for grubs, but they might just as easily have been the work of an animal: the rains of at least two seasons have worn them smooth. I saw nothing else: no sign of shelter, no bones or offal or any hint of habitation."

,,And for that you went crawling through miles of swamp muck?" Gandalf picks up one of my cast-off boots and studies the shower of grimy water that falls from it.

,,Were your efforts at all fruitful?" I ask warily, cautious of my friend's formidable temper, but needing a reply despite the knowledge that it will not be comforting.

,,No!" Gandalf slams his fist against his knee and his head bolts forward. His shoulders heave in a sharp exhalation of fury. ,,No." He grunts, kneading his temple with the knuckles of his left hand. ,,Nothing. I searched every cave and cranny that I could find: there are no signs of the hateful creature." I tug the cloak more around my shoulders.

,,It was a thin hope. We had only one rumor, a disjointed tale of some shadow in these hills. After all the false trails we have followed it was perhaps ridiculous to anticipate any other result." Gandalf snorts. ,,You will never catch a light like that." I say, somewhat shocked at my own bravery. Ordinarily it's not wise to press Gandalf when he is this enraged, but the frustration is only natural and I cannot help but share it.

,,Very well, you do it!" Gandalf snaps, flinging the flint. I close my eyes, flinching reflexively as it glances sharply off of my shin. I favored my friend with a long, level look. Gandalf grounds his teeth and hoists himself onto his feet, stomping over to collect his tool. ,,Never mind. Sit there and try to dry out. Keep your arms covered, the last thing we need is for you to take sick from the chill."

,,I am not as cold as all that." I assure him. ,,Now that I'm out of those wet things I feel like a new woman." Gandalf scowls blankly at me.

,,Are you truly so unaffected or are you trying to anger me?"

,,Why should I be affected? It is only a little mud."

,,Only a little mud, bah!" the wizard grunts. ,,Elrond himself would not have recognized you." I shrug my shoulders and the borrowed cloak tugs at my knees.

,,I have wallowed in worse." Gandalf casts me another withering glare and turns his attention back to the fire, feeding his sparks first with dry grass, then with leaves and at last with small sticks of kindling. ,,All of our intelligence indicates that he dwelt long in these lands and I have searched hundreds of such places these last years! We agreed to part company to look for him and look, I did. If you think of me as inept then I suggest you find some other unfortunate person to accompany you on your endless quest."

,,Do not forget, Neuma, that it was you who proposed this search in the first place." Barks Gandalf. ,,Fifteen years we have labored and for nothing! Where was the captain of the Rangers when I needed her? Where were her skills in tracking and in the chase where this quest is concerned? I am well-equipped to accomplish nothing, without any assistance from you." My eyes widen and my jaw grows slick. One foot slips against the leaves and my knee falls to earth. I stare at my friend, utterly unable to speak. This makes Gandalf return to his senses as a look of profound weariness swells forward to quench the fire in his eyes. ,,I am sorry." He murmurs. ,,Those words were undeserved."

,,Not entirely," I say softly. ,,I have felt that failure. I admit that I had hoped that these last whispers might bear fruit. Now that it is plain they will not, it seems we are swiftly running out of places to look."

,,We will never find the creature." Gandalf says. ,,It has been too long: he has roamed too far. Maybe he is deep in the South. Maybe he is dead. Maybe he was never here at all."

,,He was here." I argue, my shoulders slumps wearily. ,,Long ago." Gandalf bows over his lap and buries his head in his hands. Silence envelopes the glade, while the sunlight seems to dim and the air grows cold - too cold for these distant southern lands. I hitch the cloak around my arms and hug the garment to my body as I rise. On bare feet I pad towards my friend and kneel, carefully to keep the cloth secured around myself. I press my shoulder bracingly against Gandalf's. ,,We will find him," I whisper. ,,we must." Gandalf only shakes his head, rolling it from side to side against his palms.

,,No, we will not. And we will never learn the truth."

,,We need to head into the mountains. He dwelt long beneath the Hithaeglir. We have already sought him in the wet places where food is plentiful. If he took shelter anywhere else, it would be in the mountains." Gandalf raises his head, leaning to his right as he turns to stare at me. Slowly he shakes his head from side to side, before launching himself to his feet, grabbing my cloak from the tree it was hanging on and turns to me.

,,I am going to find something to eat. Stay by the fire and watch your back." I nod wordlessly, watching as my friend disappears amid the twisted trees. Left alone I let my arms fall limply into my lap. The cloak slips from my shoulders, but I don't care. Gandalf is right. The trail is too cold. We have failed. I have failed. We will never learn how Gollum had come by Bilbo's ring, nor how long he had possessed it. We have no hope of discovering whether the trinket that the hobbit had brought him from his adventures was the ring that Sauron sought, or whether it was merely some trifle; some simple ring of invisibility, perhaps, wrought by Celebrimbor's folk as a prelude to their greater works. For fifteen years, the Dúnedain have kept a double watch upon the borders of the Shire at the expense of the rest of Eriador. Now it will be impossible to say whether that watch was necessary or not.

I'm weary of the hunt. All my talent seems to avail me nothing against the wiles of this creature I seek and the bitterness of failure galls me. Yet to admit defeat after nineteen years of intermittent labor, after suffering countless privations and indignities in the name of this search, is something I cannot endure. I cannot abandon the trail now, having come this far. It's not pride that drives me: my pride has slowly been leached away by stagnant waters and bogs choked with filth and lonely journeys over vast empty lands. I'm driven now only by desperation. There is too much at stake. We have to find him. We have to have answers. Answers, at last, after a lifetime of riddles. With a heavy sigh, I tug Gandalf's cloak back up onto my shoulders and creep a little nearer to the fire, feeding it carefully with a fresh branch. Grimly I warm myself, waiting for my friend to return.