LOTR Fan Fiction: The Witch of Angmar - Part #6

The Witch of Angmar

Legacy of the Fellowship

Part Six

Sting Awakes

I

t took Salrean, Rose and Peri nearly four days to reach the far side of the Dim Hills. A sudden change in the weather had slowed them considerably. The first signs of autumn arrived with a bite to the air, gusting winds, and storms that rumbled in from the north every afternoon before unleashing their fury on the world below.

Rose soon discovered that, despite her dreams of journeys and adventure, she was not so fond of travelling after all. True to their name, the Dim Hills were drab and grey; covered with wind-stunted trees and blackthorn. It was a dismal place, and one she and Peri were glad not to linger in. After spending the first night trying to find a comfortable spot upon a ground strewn with lumpy tree roots, followed by a windy day interspersed with showers that never allowed her clothes to dry, Rose started to sorely miss her parents’ comfortable hobbit hole, her soft mattress and goose-feather pillows. By the third morning, when she woke up sneezing, and with her limbs aching, Rose could not believe she had ever lamented the comfort and security of her old life.

Peri was right – she had known nothing of the world beyond the Shire. No wonder he had mocked her. Peri, for his part, appeared to be dealing with the discomforts of their journey more stoically than her, while Salrean hardly seemed to notice the driving rain, howling wind or wet ground they were forced to sleep on every night.

Late morning, on their third day out from Hobbiton, they encountered a village.

“This is Trill,” Salrean told them as she led the way into the settlement.

Trill appeared little more than a collection of thatch-roofed hovels scattered around a muddy clearing. A tall fence, made of sharp wooden palings, ringed the village.

“The people here are of Dúnedain blood, like me,” Salrean continued. “I stayed here on my way south. We should be safe enough while I replenish our supplies.”

“Are we staying overnight?” Rose asked with a sneeze. She blew her nose on her handkerchief and dared to hope that she could sleep once more on a real mattress. Her sniffles had deteriorated into a terrible cold. She wanted nothing more than to rest a bit.

Salrean shook her head, dashing Rose’s hopes into the mud. “There is no time. We must press north.”

The hobbits stifled their disappointment and gazed around at the village with interest – everything was so much bigger here, so much taller. Villagers came out to greet the newcomers, their gaze settling curiously on the hobbits. Rose was amazed to see that most of the children were her height. They were a tall, lean race, with the same high cheek bones as Salrean – the same long, dark hair and brooding eyes.

Yet, even Salrean stood out here. The other women wore long ankle-length tunics, cinched in at the waist with girdles. One or two wore veils over their hair. Salrean strode through the village like a man, and dressed like one, despite her long dark hair that hung in a long braid over one shoulder. The long sword she carried swung at her side as she walked.

An elderly man, obviously the village leader, greeted the ranger in the muddy central clearing.

“Salrean! What’s this?” he boomed, his keen gaze sweeping over her two companions. “Halflings! I don’t believe it.”

Salrean’s serious face blossomed into a smile. Watching her, Rose realised that it was the first real smile she had seen the ranger give since they had left the Shire.

“Believe it Wendill,” Salrean slapped him on the back. “Let me introduce Rose Fairbairn and Pericles Took – descendants of Samwise the Great and Peregrin Took.”

Wendill’s eyes widened. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

A crowd of villagers was now forming around them, and Rose felt her already flushed cheeks grow hot under their scrutiny. She was not used to being the centre of attention, or to looking different to everyone else. Beside her, Peri was starting to look a little concerned.

“Do the folk here like hobbits?” he hissed at Salrean. She turned from Wendill and looked down at him with a smile.

“The folk here have never seen a hobbit before today. They know history well enough though; that ‘twas hobbits that saved Middle Earth from Sauron. Don’t be troubled Master Took – you will come to no harm in Trill.”

***

Seated at a long table in front of a glowing fire pit in Wendill’s hall, Rose took a spoonful of mutton broth and sighed contentedly. The hot liquid was a soothing balm on her scratchy throat; its heat seeping through her aching limbs and easing the discomfort of her cold. Beside her, Peri ripped off a piece of bread from one of the huge loaves in the centre of the table and took a bite. Chewing hungrily, Peri watched Wendill and Salrean converse at the opposite end of the table.

“Don’t you trust her?” Rose asked Peri, upon seeing the direction of his gaze.

Peri shook his head and began to butter his bread.

“Has she given me reason to?”

“She’s looked after us well enough so far.”

Peri shrugged, before frowning. “Trust is earned.”

Rose returned to her broth and caught a few sentences of Wendill and Salrean’s conversation.

“Any news from the north?” Salrean asked. “Has my father sent word of the witch’s movements?”

Wendill shook his head. “Nay, but we have had increasing problems with goblins in the past week or so. Two raids since I saw you last – the biggest bands yet.”

Salrean’s face darkened. “Did you lose any warriors?”

“A few – men we could not afford to lose.”

Salrean looked troubled. “They are growing bold.”

“Aye, and with good reason. ‘Tis true then that Morwyn plans to march south?”

Salrean nodded.

Wendill’s face grew grave. There was no need to mention what would happen if Morwyn’s army of hillmen and goblins managed to reach Trill, or of the thousands who would have already perished in Farnost if the Witch of Angmar’s plans were successful.

“You will send word?” he asked quietly, “If it comes to that, you will give me a chance to get my people to safety?”

“Of course,” Salrean replied, before her face hardened. “Yet, I believe it will not come to pass. A great distance still lies between here and Angmar. Arnor has been rebuilt. ‘Tis true these lands are not as powerful as the kingdoms of old, but with Farnost and Annúminas rebuilt, there is hope. There is courage.”

“Of course lass,” Wendill smiled. “Our people have known so much bloodshed over the years, such fear, that it has tempered us like blades. The long peace seemed merely a blink of an eye to us.”

“Peace will come again,” Salrean replied with such conviction that Rose, still listening, believed her. “Darkness will not prevail.”

***

They left Trill in the early afternoon, walking north into the gently falling rain. Wendill had given Salrean plenty of food to last them for the next leg of their journey – two loaves of bread, cured ham, hard cheese and a bag of apples. It was another four days to Annúminas and Salrean informed them that there would be no another villages en-route.

The hot meal had done Rose much good, and she set off in much higher spirits than she had started the day in. Around her, the rain fell in a silent mist. The wind that had battered them for the last couple of days had died and not a whisper of a breeze stirred the trees around them.

They walked through a rugged landscape of sparse woods and rocky valleys; a land far removed from the rolling green of the Shire. The foreignness of it gave Rose yet another pang of homesickness for her home in the Tower Hills. It was so untamed out here, and forgotten. At times, it felt as if they were the only three beings alive in Middle Earth.

The light gradually faded and the grey day slipped into a gloomy dusk.

Salrean was leading them down the side of a wooded ravine, in search of a suitable campsite for the night, when Peri, who had been trailing behind Rose, called out.

“Rose, your sword! It’s glowing.”

Rose stopped, turning back to Peri with a frown.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look!”

Rose looked down at where Sting hung in its scabbard around her hips. A faint blue glow emanated from the top of the scabbard.

“Draw your sword Rose,” Salrean instructed. Peri’s words had caused her to retrace her steps back to where the two hobbits stood.

Rose slowly did as asked; sharply inhaling as the beautifully crafted blade shone blue in the dusk.

“Why does it glow so?” Salrean asked, genuinely mystified.

“‘Tis a warning,” Peri replied, his voice suddenly brittle. Peri knew – all hobbits did – what Sting’s blade glowing blue meant. They had all heard the tales from the Red Book enough times to never forget it. “Goblins are about.”

At that moment, three silhouettes burst from the trees ahead.

Rose’s breath caught in her throat. She only had to take one look at the three shapes, even at this distance, to know that they were not men. They did not move like men. They were smaller than the warriors Rose had seen in Trill. They bent forward and had an odd, shambling, scampering gait.

As they drew close, Salrean drew forth her sword in one sweeping arc and strode forward to meet them.

“Get back,” she shouted to Rose and Peri. Not needing to be told twice, the two hobbits clung together and scrambled back up the ravine.

Rose caught a glimpse of the goblins as they drew closer, and her limbs turned to jelly. These three were dressed for battle, encased in scavenged pieces of leather and plate armour. They had large pointed ears, and their skin was pale with a green tinge, as if they never saw daylight. Bulbous, staring eyes with pinprick pupils, fastened on the hobbits. One of them fixed its gaze upon Rose. Then it smiled, revealing a mouth full of sharp, rotting teeth.

“Halflings,” it crowed in obvious glee. “So far from home.”

With that, the goblin raised its curved sword and rushed straight for Rose.

Salrean leaped to intercept it; her long blade slicing into the goblin’s abdomen. It crumpled with a blood-curdling scream that echoed down the ravine. Not pausing, Salrean stepped over the fallen goblin and engaged its two companions, her cloak billowing behind her as she moved.

The goblins fought savagely, but without Salrean’s grace or skill. Still, it was two against one, and the fight dragged out, the sound of clashing steel ringing in Rose ears.

Yet, she and Peri were so intent on watching Salrean fight that they did not notice the wounded goblin crawling along the ground towards them. It was only when Peri heard the rattle of its breath that he glanced down. The goblin was just a few feet away from them, and it was reaching towards Rose’s ankle. Seeing Peri’s gaze upon it, the goblin staggered to its feet, clutching his grievously-wounded mid-section.

“Rose!” Peri shouted.

It came at her, maddened; swinging its lethal blade like a scythe.

Without thinking, Rose raised Sting before her. The goblin’s staring eyes fastened on the blade, its face freezing.

“An elf blade!” it shrieked, shrinking back, its face twisting.

The moment of hesitation was all Rose had. She knew that if she did not act, the goblin would skewer her; Salrean would never reach her in time.

She rushed forward, gripping Sting’s hilt with both hands, and plunged the blade into the base of its neck.

The goblin dropped its sword and fell gurgling. Horrified, Rose dropped Sting and scrambled backwards, before losing her footing and falling onto her bottom.

Salrean dispatched the third goblin and wiped her blade clean on a bed of ferns. Then, she turned to her companions. She saw Rose sitting, wide-eyed on the ground, next to a goblin – the goblin she had thought she had already killed.

Sting lay on the ground next to the fallen goblin. As Salrean watched, the blade’s pale-blue fire faded.

Salrean sheathed her sword and strode over to Rose, helping her to her feet. Then, she picked up Sting and examined the blade.

“An Elvish long knife,” she murmured, her gaze tracing the writing that curved along the flat of the blade. “I cannot read Elvish, what does it say?”

“Maegnas aen estar nin dagnir in yngyl im,” Rose replied, “Sting is my name; I am the spider's bane”. Tears welled in her eyes then. “My father used to recite it to me.”

Salrean wiped Sting’s blade clean on the undergrowth and handed the weapon back to Rose. “Few weapons remain that were crafted by the Elves. ‘Tis a beautiful blade, and a very useful one to carry with you in a land crawling with goblins. Keep it safe.”

Rose nodded and sheathed Sting without comment.

“Are you both unhurt?” Salrean’s gaze swept over the hobbits pale faces, relieved to see that even though the skirmish had given them a fright, they were not cowed. She had read that despite their rosy-cheeked, gentle appearance, hobbits were made of sterner stuff than other races gave them credit for. She was glad to see the stories were indeed true.

“Yes,” Peri replied, “a bit shaken but well enough.”

“Come,” she said with a brief, tight smile. “These three will be scouts – there’s bound to be a larger band nearby. We should move on, and quickly.”

Needing no encouragement, Rose and Peri followed Salrean down the wooded slope, and into the gathering dusk.

End of Part #6

Be back for Part #7 on 13 September!

LOTR Fan Fiction: The Witch of Angmar - Part #5

The Witch of Angmar

Legacy of the Fellowship

Part Five

Into the Wild

“

Don’t tell anyone I’m here, even your parents.”

“Why?” Peri frowned, opening the door to a room at the back of the inn, and motioning for Rose to enter.

“I don’t want my mother knowing I’m here,” Rose whispered urgently. “One of my neighbours is bound to be travelling to Hobbiton. They’ll be looking for me. Someone will remember seeing me in the Green Dragon earlier in the day, but I want them all to think I have left.”

Peri’s frown deepened.

“If anyone asks, I came to see you at lunchtime and then I left – you don’t know where I went.” Rose sat down on the narrow bed near the window of the tiny room Peri had ushered her into. “Please Peri,” she said, the fight going out of her. “You promised you would help.”

Peri gazed back at her, his brow smoothing.

“Very well, I won’t say anything. Keep out of sight and I will bring you something to eat later.”

Rose nodded. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and gave her a worried look before slipping out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Rose lay back on the bed and stared up the low wood-beam ceiling. Her eyes burned; they were dry and sore from all the tears she had shed. She had cried herself out. Now, she felt as if there was a ragged hole in the middle of her chest; a piece of her was missing that could never be replaced.

Rose felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her. She had spent the entire journey to Hobbiton ruminating over the events that had thrown her life into turmoil. Here, stretched out on a soft bed, she could not keep her eyes open.

I’ll just have a short nap, she told herself, closing her eyes. Moments later, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

Rose awoke to find the room drenched in muted lamplight. Peri stood, with his back to her, rummaging through the contents of his leather satchel. He was dressed for travel, in a hard-wearing long-sleeved shirt and well-worn leather waist-coat, and had strapped a cloak to his satchel.

“What time is it?” Rose croaked, sitting up groggily and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“‘Tis almost midnight,” Peri replied, turning to face her. “You were exhausted so I let you sleep. Are you hungry?”

Rose nodded, feeling her stomach growl. Peri passed her a cheese and pickled onion sandwich and she ate hungrily, watching him finish checking his belongings.

“I’ve packed some food that should be enough for the next few days at least,” Peri continued, before glancing her way. “You should know that there’s a search party out looking for you. My parents are furious with me for letting you leave. We’ll need to be careful making our way up to the Party Field.”

Rose nodded, her mouth full. She had not realised she was so hungry. Finishing her sandwich, and brushing crumbs from her lap, Rose climbed to her feet and stretched.

“I’m sorry you had to lie to your parents,” she finally replied to Peri’s comment, “but ‘tis better this way.”

Peri reached for his satchel before pausing. Worry lined his sensitive face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“You do realise we may not come back.”

Rose shrugged, attempting to hide her apprehension with the same bravado she had seen Peri himself use on occasion. “We’re not trekking to Mordor to cast the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom,” she reminded him with more levity than she felt. “We are merely accompanying Salrean north to aid her people – and to gain retribution for my father. They’ve already stolen the book, there’s nothing else we have that they want. I don’t think it will be that dangerous.”

Peri smiled then, although there was little humour in the expression, and raised an eyebrow. “Famous last words. If you knew what lay beyond our borders, you would be a little less confident.”

Rose Fairbairn and Peri Took slipped from the rear entrance of the Green Dragon and kept to the shadows. The night was cool, still and moonless. It was so dark that had Peri not known the way, Rose would have easily have wandered in the wrong direction and risked falling into Bywater Pool. Yet, the darkness was also their ally. Rose could hear the voices, some near, some far, of those searching Hobbiton for her, or for any sign of the man who had murdered her father. Peri easily avoided being seen, skirting the edge of the Inn like a cat, and slipping through the deep shadows up the hill towards the Party Field. Rose followed close at his heels.

Although she had not voiced her thoughts on the matter, Rose was hugely relieved that Peri had agreed to join her. On her own, the whole undertaking seemed overwhelming; with his company she would find it easier to keep her purpose.

A short while later, they reached the old oaks, where Rose and Pepper had slept overnight on the eve of the fireworks, and slipped under the welcoming boughs.

“Salrean,” Rose whispered. “Are you there?”

Silence followed, but Rose suddenly had the sensation that someone was indeed waiting in the darkness; she could hear the faint whisper of breathing.

“Salrean?”

“I’m here,” the woman replied; her voice was low but there was a hard edge to it. “I did not think you would come.”

“I had to,” Rose replied, careful to keep her voice quiet. “Have you not heard? They killed my father.”

Silence followed before Salrean eventually spoke once more. “I know, and I am sorry for your loss. Yet, ‘tis a pity that it took a tragedy for you to listen to me. If you had returned straight home and taken the book, your father’s death may have been avoided.”

Rose drew back, anger rising. “Are you blaming me for this?”

“I’m disappointed in you both,” Salrean replied, avoiding the accusation. “You should have heeded my words. Your father is dead and the Red Book taken – this bodes ill for us all. I have a mind to leave you both here and travel north on my own.”

Anger momentarily rendered Rose mute.

“You only care for that book,” she eventually managed between clenched teeth. “Even if I had believed you, I would not have taken the Red Book till this morning. I could not have stopped this.”

Silence stretched between them before Salrean eventually spoke.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Salrean’s voice was gentler now, as she realised she had spoken out of turn. “I apologise Rose. I am angry at myself more than anything. I thought I was days ahead of Morwyn’s servant, but in reality he was at my heels. I have failed my father – and I have failed you.”

Rose did not reply. She still seethed with anger, and even Salrean’s humility could not soothe her. Moments passed, and when Rose had gained control of her temper she finally spoke.

“We’re coming with you,” she told Salrean firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “You owe us that, at least. Yes, we will help you, if we can, but I travel north to find the man who killed my father – and to make him pay.”

Salrean stepped forward, her cloak rustling. It was so dark, she was merely a black outline against the night. Yet, Rose could feel the ranger’s intense gaze settling upon her.

“‘Tis not like a hobbit to seek vengeance so,” she commented. “‘Tis wise?”

“I seek revenge, not wisdom,” Rose replied, folding her arms across her chest stubbornly. “By killing my father, Morwyn and her servant have made this personal to me and my family. I would know what is written within the Red Book that is worth murdering an innocent hobbit for.”

Rose could feel Salrean’s disapproval, but she did not care. She was too raw with grief to take anyone else’s opinion into consideration. “Salrean, would you not seek the man who murdered your father to the ends of earth?” she pressed.

Salrean sighed and Rose knew she was softening. “I would – but my people are not filled with good hobbit sense. And we have a blood-soaked history to prove it.” Salrean paused then, shifting slightly to the right, her shadowed gaze resting on Peri. “What of you Master Took? Will you join Rose on her quest and be her protector?”

“I doubt I could protect Rose from anything that she couldn’t deal with herself,” Peri replied shortly, “but yes, Rose has asked me to come with her, and I will.”

“Very well,” Salrean replied, lowering her voice further as she stepped close to the hobbits. “We have talked long enough. Hobbiton is thick with patrols so we will not speak again until we are clear of them. We will make our way north, through Overhill and into Bindbole Wood.”

“And then?” Peri asked.

“I will take you north-east to Farnost, where my people reside,” Salrean replied, “but first, we travel due north to Annúminas in the Lost Kingdom of Arnor.  An old family friend lives in the ruins of Annúminas; I think we could use his advice.”

Rose did not argue; they were now leaving the only world she had ever known. Despite that she barely knew Salrean and had no reason to trust her, Rose knew she would have to put her faith in the female ranger from now on. She was confident that Peri would look out for her at least.

“Very well,” Rose replied, her voice more resolute than she actually felt. “As long as this detour doesn’t cost us precious time. Let us be on our way.”

When the first light of dawn stained the eastern sky, Salrean, Rose and Peri were deep within Bindbole Wood. The sun filtered through the trees, promising a warm day to come. They kept off the road, for Salrean worried that patrols looking for Rose would be using it; instead weaving through the tightly-packed trees.

Rose glanced around her with interest as they walked. Bindbole was much darker and wilder than the woodland she was used to. They had already seen a boar crashing through the undergrowth and a few deer flitting through the trees like sprites.

Salrean walked a few strides ahead of the hobbits; her long legs covering ground much faster than her companions. She was dressed in brown leather breeches and a jacket, with a travel-stained green cloak wrapped about her shoulders. On her feet she wore supple leather boots that moulded to her calves.

“These woods are not safe these days,” Salrean warned them. “Goblins prey on travellers here.”

Goblins.

“Are you sure?” Rose looked around nervously, glad that Salrean had not mentioned this till now. She would have spent last night jumping at shadows, if she had realised that goblins lurked in the darkness.

“I was attacked by two of them on my way to Hobbiton,” Salrean replied. “In these parts ‘tis safer if you travel off the road.”

“There are goblins in the Shire?” Peri piped up, his eyes huge. Like Rose, he now glanced about him warily.

“There have been for many years,” Salrean replied with a tight smile. “We are on the edge of the Shire here, far from your comfortable hobbit holes and tended fields. Life is harsher out in the wild. See those hills up ahead,” Salrean motioned to where a rugged silhouette rose to the north against a pale sky. “Those are the Dim Hills; once we reach them we will no longer be within the Shire.”

Rose’s stomach clenched at this news. Naively, she had thought they would travel for a couple of days before leaving the Shire behind. The rest of the world was closer at hand than she had thought.

“What happened to the goblins who attacked you?” Peri persisted, frowning.

“I killed them,” Salrean replied, her tone matter-of-fact, before she patted the hilt of the sword that hung by her side. Then, seeing the hobbits’ horrified faces, she shook her head. “It was either that or die upon their blades. There are no half-measures out here Pericles.”

End of Part #5

Be back for Part #6 on 30 August!