Nineteen: Reflections of Life
They all slept through the day under the great fan of Daerwen's wing, undisturbed in the heart of the forest. Even Talion drowsed against her warm side, in the shade of the trees, and woke less weary than before. The others ate the last of the fish from the evening before, which Horza seared to perfection over the fire, while the wraith checked the harness over and then strapped it back on.
When that was done, he came around to the dragon's head and crouched next to her. "How are you doing, sweetheart? Will you need a longer rest when we reach the Orocarni?"
Daerwen stretched and yawned widely, but said, "If we rest again and resume flying by day, I'll be alright until we get to the Southern Reaches. It will be more turbulent in the mountains but better for gliding, especially if we cross and fly on the eastern side to catch the winds off the sea."
The necromancer patted her scales. "I trust your judgment. If you think it'll help, then that's what we'll do."
She nuzzled him and purred.
They took off at dusk, spiraling upward on a fading breeze, and soared east, following the southernmost tributary of the Sea over the steppes that faded to desert, away from the setting sun and into the gathering dark. The moon was fading to new, leaving the sky awash with stars, and even Horza was silent, admiring the shining lights which seemed so much closer and larger where Daerwen rode the upper winds.
Talion studied them as well, remembering one of the rare peaceful moments he and Celebrimbor had had in Sauron's Mordor. They had been down in Núrn after taking Sharkhburz, before Brûz's betrayal, and he had been resting in the long grass beyond the fortress's walls. The sun had set, the thinnest sliver of the moon had come out - a night very like this one - and apropos of nothing, he had asked Celebrimbor what constellations the Elves saw in the sky, if they had legends about them the way Men did.
They did, and many more besides, and the two of them had shared stories from dusk to dawn while the stars wheeled overhead.
The Orocarni rose slowly over the horizon, nearly of a height with the Ered Nimrais, and not nearly so dark and looming as the ranges of Mordor even now that Sauron was gone. Daerwen found a pass between the peaks and followed it, picking up a little speed. It was fortunate that they were making the passage by the fading night, for it would have been a struggle if she had had to fight the winds coming off the sea during the day, howling gales forced up into the high mountains making it dangerous to fly unless the lands were well known - and the flier was without passengers.
The land between the Red Mountains and the Sea was rich and green, and humid as well even long into the night. Though the East Sea was barely a smudge on the horizon in the grey dawn, Talion could smell the faintest hint of salty air, stronger than the Sea of Núrnen and sure to get stronger still as the day did and the wind picked up. Roads of packed earth snaked through the trees, visible in breaks in the canopy, and towns filled clearings here and there, and one still-lit city in the distance, bigger even than Minas Tirith and straddling the mouth of a wide river that spilled back out into the sea.
Take us down wherever you think is best, sweetheart.
Daerwen rumbled softly. He knew her well, and could feel the beginnings of weariness in her wingbeats. I will go a little further south. There are sure to be a lot of people around a city that size, and if we don't want anyone seeing us…
Good idea - but don't strain yourself.
The sun was just cresting the horizon when she found a small valley in the foothills. It was reachable from the ground only by a perilous climb up a sheer cliff face, made even more treacherous by a thin stream spilling over the edge and leaving the rock slick with water and algae. But the valley itself was calm and quiet, thickly forested, with the stream babbling in its bed wandering through the trunks. She landed on an outcrop of rock over the water - the stream had worn away the soil below it, forming a natural bridge - and her passengers unhooked themselves from her harness and slid off her back, leaving her free to pad over to the trees and stretch out in the shade.
Gimli stayed on the outcrop to examine the rock, while Legolas hopped down and began examining the plants. "What a strange land this is! The language is unfamiliar, but the trees speak to me as they do in the West, as if their ancestors knew us!"
Talion and Aragorn joined Daerwen in the shade for the moment. "Isn't where the Elves woke somewhere south of here?" the wraith asked. "Celebrimbor mentioned it a few times, though I can't remember the name."
"Cuiviénen, yes!" He beamed. "That was on the western side of the Orocarni, many ages ago, but it seems the plants have spread beyond the lands of my ancestors, and still remember our touch and respond to our voices."
"Or perhaps there are Avari here also, though I doubt we'll find them unless they allow themselves to be found."
"Perhaps," Legolas said, looking around with fresh eyes. But then he paused and turned to Talion, who had dug a small fishing net out of the dragon's saddlebags and was casting it into the stream, seeking some small morsels to tide Daerwen over until she was rested enough to hunt again. "Avari - here - also?"
The Nagzûl blinked, pausing in his casting, then let out a soft 'ah'. "Yes, 'also'. There is a clan of Avari that dwells in Mordor, in the Forest of Carnán in Núrn, and they helped defend her woods against Sauron for many long years in exchange for her protection. I can introduce you when we get back, if you like, but I don't know if they'll be interested in a relationship with the Eldar. They didn't seem to care very much about Eltariel, at least."
"It seems that there is much more going on in Mordor than even I knew," Aragorn said.
"Indeed. As you said, I was only able to paint the broad strokes for you, and some things inevitably fell through the cracks."
"Like Mozû and Tamnaeth?" Horza grinned.
"I think that's a more recent development, or at least I don't remember it from before my fall. But so you've seen it as well, then? Mozû is an Orc, and the Overlord of Núrn," Talion explained, noting the looks of confusion on the others, "and Tamnaeth is one of the Avari, what we would probably call a Ranger. Mozû's been cautiously courting her for the past few years, and she's been reciprocating, so we'll see how this goes."
"Hopefully better than Pushkrímp and Gerdi."
"Sweet merciful Eru, let it be better than Pushkrímp and Gerdi!"
"Gerdi is - a dwarf?" Gimli said, bewildered, looking up from the rock.
"From the Orocarni, yes. She came west for a time with some of her kin while I held Mordor," said the necromancer. "And Pushkrímp was a Warchief under Nakrá, whom you've met. Most of this I learned after the fact, but as I understand it, their 'relationship' was purely physical… until Gerdi became with child."
Horza started snickering at the looks of utter shock on the others' faces.
"When he was born, Darmuri was definitely half-Orc. I still don't know what their fight was about - I don't think anyone does, really - but Sauron lost an entire division, nearly three thousand warriors, when he tried to take advantage of the chaos and ended up getting between them, and Shindrâm, the fortress in Lithlad, almost burned to the ground, despite being made of stone. But afterwards, Gerdi took Darmuri and left Mordor, and Pushkrímp swore that he would never speak of it. He died not long after, holding off an assault from the Nine, and refused resurrection."
"...I don't know how to respond to that," said the dwarf.
"Neither do I." The Nagzûl resumed casting the net, and tossed a few squirming silver fish into Daerwen's open mouth. "I don't know if Eru will listen to someone like me, and I'm not going to forbid Mozû and Tamnaeth from anything, but I'll definitely pray that they don't end up like Pushkrímp and Gerdi."
"I think we all will," said Aragorn. "But I will not deny that makes me curious: if they are wed and Tamnaeth goes west now as her ancestors did not in ages past, will the Valar allow Mozû to join her in Valinor?"
"I'm curious about that myself."
As the day wore on, Talion "hunted" for the others while they rested, putting out a quiet call with his Ring. A deer answered his summons, still fairly healthy but old and ready to die nonetheless, especially in a manner that was not fleeing in terror from wolves and other predators. It went to sleep peacefully under his hands and never woke up again.
The necromancer called a few mindless shades - mere echoes of the people they had been, rather than true summonings - to carry it up into the valley, and butchered and roasted it long and slow, wrapped in green leaves and heaped with red coals from a small smokeless fire. He woke the others when he judged it cooked, and they ate gladly. Daerwen finished what they could not before going back to sleep.
Now it was Talion's turn to ask for their own tale while he moved between the dragon and the stream, bathing her weary wings in snowmelt trickling down from the high mountains. "Shall I begin at the beginning?" Aragorn asked, "With Isildur cutting the One from the hand of Sauron and its loss in the Anduin?"
"That I, at least, already know," the Nagzûl said, "That was the vision I had, where I saw Isildur. I can show it to you, if you wish."
They did. He flicked his Ring, and channeled its power such that the image bloomed in all their minds, and watched for a second time as Isildur cut Sauron down and claimed the One. Then the king raced through the trees on the edge of the Gladden Fields and into the marshes themselves, the Ring lending him strength and speed and power against the Orcs attacking him and slaying his people - but there the One betrayed him, and slipped from his finger.
It fell into the waters of the marshes, and then Isildur fell with it, no longer mighty and invulnerable, Orc arrows piercing his bright steel armor and slamming home into his back.
There Talion ended the vision. Perhaps someday he would tell Isildur's Heir of his ancestor's ultimate fate, enslaved by Sauron with another Ring of Power and at last released, but not today. He would do it in private, where Elessar could weigh his own heart and mind and keep his own counsel.
"The Wise guessed well," said the king, and then told of how two and a half thousand years later, the One was found by a halfling by the name of Déagol, who was then murdered by his cousin, then known as Sméagol but later as Gollum.
"Ah, that one," Talion said, with a grimace of disgust.
"You had dealings with him?"
"A few, and none pleasant. He was in Mordor before your time, Horza, and be glad you never met him; he was very dangerous, though you would never have guessed it just from looking at him - he was the most pitiful creature I've ever seen. The One is what turned him into that?"
"Yes. For five hundred years he lurked in the depths of the Misty Mountains, with naught but the Ring for company." Aragorn diverged then to tell of the Quest for Erebor, where the One abandoned Gollum, too, and came to Bilbo Baggins, who bore it out of the mountains and used it to great effect while helping Thorin Oakenshield oust Smaug from the Lonely Mountain.
Daerwen snorted when she heard how the northern dragon came to his end, though she did not open her eyes where she was still curled up under the trees. "He was an idiot," she said bluntly, tail thumping softly on the grass. "If he had been that bent on keeping the treasure, he should have just stayed in the mountain and waited them out. The dwarves might have had lineage behind them, but that mattered little when they themselves were few in number and had no magic to wield against him or even ancient and powerful weapons from their kin. What could they have done to harm him while he was within the walls of Erebor?" She snorted again and shook her head. "He was an idiot, and deserved what he got."
"Do you intend to try the mountain for yourself, and do better?" Gimli asked, both wary and curious.
"Never," she declared at once, opening her eyes to look at him. "Gold is beautiful, I won't deny that, and I like to look at it when it's brought through Adar's fortress. But it has no worth of its own unless used or shaped or spent; otherwise it sits and does nothing, and as much as I may love it, it will never love me back. No, I will not seek a hoard of gold - not when I already have one more rare and valuable than that."
"Oh? And what is that?"
"I hoard Ringwraith-necromancers," she said, with a toothy grin. "It's not my fault there's only one."
She butted affectionately against the necromancer in question, then dropped her head in his lap once again. He smiled and scratched her scales, making her purr. "I am honored to be your treasure, sweetheart."
Elessar continued the tale with Sauron being driven out of Mirkwood by the White Council, and later the passing of the One from Bilbo to Frodo, though many long years passed before they realized that this Ring of Power was in fact the One Ring, which claimed dominion over all others.
Frodo fled his land, the Shire, together with others of his people, all of them pursued by agents of the enemy, both Ringwraiths and other more mundane foes. They came to Bree in Old Arnor, where Aragorn met him as Strider for the first time, then fled further still, making for Rivendell - the Elven city of Imladris, the Last Homely House East of the Sea. On the road the Witch-king stabbed Frodo with the Morgul Blade, though they reached Rivendell and healing in the House of Elrond in time to save him from becoming a wraith like the Nine.
Then the king spoke of the Council of Elrond, and Legolas and Gimli joined in, telling their parts. Talion exchanged the briefest glances with Horza and Daerwen at the mention of Boromir, which he knew Elessar noticed but set aside for the moment.
They finished for the night with Frodo volunteering to take the Ring to its destruction, which made all three of Mordor's denizens stare at the others. "He volunteered," Horza said, disbelieving. "He volunteered to take the One Ring, basically the Dark Lord himself, to Mordor, to destroy it. He had no idea what he was getting into, did he?"
"None of us did."
They flew on the next three days to the Southern Reaches, riding the salt-sea winds, and stayed one night with the Ironfist dwarf clan, who had a strong citadel in the high mountains. Many of the dwarves had gone west as Sauron's evil influence spread, but more than a few still lingered, and they greeted Gimli warmly, and Talion as well when he introduced himself to them, though they were wary of Legolas and Aragorn - and especially Horza. Even so, they gave them all rooms for the night, and gave Daerwen leave to hunt in the woods below the citadel, before they continued on their journey.
Aragorn continued their tale along the way, touching only briefly on the Company's journey south along the Misty Mountains but spending a bit more time on the splendor of Moria. Gimli rhapsodized about it also, then remembered; "Ah, but you have seen it, haven't you?"
"We have," Talion confirmed with a soft smile. "Even dark and empty, the halls of Khazad-dûm are a wonder to behold."
It was Legolas who told them of Gandalf's brief battle with Durin's Bane, how their wills strove against one another in the Unseen World, before the Bridge of Khazad-dûm broke under the wizard's staff and Durin's Bane fell - and dragged Gandalf after him.
They fled the halls of Moria to Lothlórien beyond, and lingered there for a time in the timeless Golden Wood, under the protection of the Lady Galadriel, before setting off down the Anduin.
Then… the attack from Saruman's Orcs, the death of Boromir, and the Breaking of the Fellowship at the Falls of Rauros.
"Boromir confessed to me, in his last moments, that he tried to take the Ring from Frodo," Aragorn said quietly, "but you already knew that, didn't you?"
"I suspected," Talion replied. "He told me that he had done some harm to the Ringbearer, though not what - but given the nature of the One, and those he met on his journey, it didn't take much to guess."
"He told you?" Legolas asked, frowning.
"You set him adrift in an Elven boat, and sent him over the falls," the necromancer said. "Some of his gear was lost, but his body was not, and the boat did not capsize. It ran aground in Ithilien, where it was found by some Rangers who knew me before my fall. They wanted to return him to the White City but could not, so instead they sneaked his body into an Elven barrow that I had told them of, hidden under Minas Morgul, where by its magic he was protected against decay.
"And when I returned… At their request, I found that his soul was not yet beyond my reach, and went out to him on the Farthest Shore. I asked, and he agreed, and I resurrected him with my Ring.
"He is not dead. Not anymore. He lives now in Dale, helping with the reconstruction after the War of the Ring - though had I known that it was you who knew him, I would have allowed him to return at once to Gondor."
The Three Hunters were silent in shock for a long moment, before Legolas turned to Aragorn and said, "Well, I suppose we have indeed found 'something interesting' to take back to Arwen."
Gimli sputtered and protested that they could not just assume that Boromir would want to abandon the life he had built in Dale, and furthermore even if he did, how did Legolas propose to get him from the North back to Gondor without a month-long walk?
Talion saw Daerwen and Horza exchange a mischievous glance, before the dragon said, "Well, if he wants to return home, I took him north, and I can just as easily bring him back south."
The dwarf sighed even as the Elf laughed.