The
Witch of Angmar
Legacy
of the Fellowship
Part
Fifteen
Azil leads the way
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A
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freezing wind howled over the bleak, shrubby
hills of central Angmar. It was hard to believe the weather was still mild
further south. The four companions bent low into the teeth of the gale that
seemed to blow straight from the frozen north. According to their goblin guide,
Carn Dûm lay four days walk to the north – although
that estimate was based on them not encountering any obstacles en route.
“Hordes
of hill-men and goblins now guard the Witch’s fortress,” Azil had told them
that morning as they packed up camp. “We will have travel west and skirt the
fringes of their armies if we wish to reach Carn
Dûm.”
“Very well,” Salrean had agreed. The ranger now strode at Azil’s
side. She did not trust the goblin and so had tied a rope around his neck with
a knot that would strangle him if he tried to escape. She held the other end
and let the rope fall slack between them. Rose knew, however, that the ranger
was ever watchful of the goblin.
Relations between Rose and Salrean had been frosty ever since
Rose’s refusal to go a step further with the ranger if she hurt Azil. The
ranger had warned her of the goblin’s sly ways. He could not be trusted. He
would try and escape at the first chance.
Rose knew all this, but was still glad of her decision.
Even Salrean did not know this land well. Azil had traversed
these hills previously; he had hidden from the hill-men and goblins sent after
him. He knew how to ‘become one’ with the shadows when necessary and he would
teach them to do the same.
At the end of the first day out from the Black Woods, the
landscape became scarred and ugly. Deep ravines, twisted trees covered in a
strange black fungus, and sharp boulders made of a pitted black stone
surrounded the company for as far as the eye could see in every direction. They
travelled northeast along a dried up river bed with a grey sky overhead.
“There is woodland up ahead,” Azil told them, his gaze
darting to Rose’s face as he spoke. “Morwyn and Targkok’s armies will be
patrolling it – but the woods will be safer than continuing out in the open.”
Rose nodded, aware that Salrean was watching her.
“Thank you Azil, that sounds like the best choice.”
Azil nodded back vigorously, seemingly eager to please.
“Kind she-hobbit,” he gave a smile that revealed small,
yellowed and pointy teeth. “I will take you to Carn Dûm since you promise to
set me free.”
“Of course,” Rose assured him, looking away from those feral
teeth, which made her a little nervous. “As soon as you lead us to the fortress
you are free to go.”
***
A chill, windy night settled over the sparse woodland. These
woods, full of skeleton trees, were very different to the dense Black Woods. It
was not so easy to hide here. An icy breeze whispered through the trees,
ruffling the thick layer of leaves that carpeted the ground.
This close to Carn Dûm they could not risk lighting a fire. As
such, the four companions huddled at the base of a huge, black elm that had a
split at the base of its trunk. It was a cramped but sheltered spot and the
hobbits and the ranger took turns at taking watch.
“Be wary of our prisoner,” Salrean warned Rose before
wrapping her thick cloak about her in preparation for trying to get some sleep.
“He knows you are sympathetic to him. He will try to convince you to set him
free.”
“I will not!” Azil hissed, appearing affronted by the
ranger’s suggestion. “I made a promise and will see it out.”
“The day a goblin keeps his word is the day the elves return
from the west,” Salrean replied. “Be careful, Rose.”
With Salrean’s warning ringing in her ears, Rose sat, hunched
by the edge of the hollow, her eyes scanning the silent woodland. Her sight had
adjusted to the darkness; yet, even so, she could make out very little.
Peri had curled up next to her, his body pressed against hers
for warmth. The contact felt reassuring and Rose slowly relaxed as the rhythmic
rise and fall of Peri’s breathing grew deeper; signalling that he had fallen
into a deep, exhausted sleep. In her hands, numbed from the cold night, she
held Azil’s rope.
Unlike Peri and Salrean, who were soon sleeping peacefully,
the goblin did not rest. Instead, he watched Rose silently; his large eyes
glowing like pale moons in the darkness.
“Why don’t you sleep?” Rose asked Azil eventually, tiring of
being stared at. “Surely you must be tired?”
“I cannot sleep here, so close to Carn Dûm,” he responded,
his voice subdued. “My master still looks for me – I dare not close my eyes
lest he finds me.”
“You’ll have to sleep eventually,” Rose answered with a shake
of her head, “or you’ll be no use to us.”
“Why does the she-hobbit not sleep for a short while?” Azil
suggested innocently. “I will keep watch.”
Rose stifled a laugh at that. “I think not. You would be off
in an instant, and you would steal everything we own.”
Azil shook his head in vehement denial. “Never. You must not
listen to the poisonous words of the ranger – those of Farnost hate my people.
They will think the worst of us, even without cause.”
“I think you have given them plenty of cause,” Rose frowned,
remembering the goblins that had attacked them outside the walls of Farnost.
“In fact I know it.”
“I thought you were my friend,” Azil’s face crumpled in hurt,
“but now I see you are just like all the others.”
“Friend?” Rose replied, not bothering to hide her surprise.
“Of course we are friends. If you help us and keep your word, you will be my
friend for life. Hobbits have long memories.”
Azil nodded hesitantly before lapsing back into silence. He
remained so for the rest of Rose’s watch and feigned sleep when Rose gently
woke Peri to take his turn.
“Watch him,” Rose whispered in Peri’s ear. “He may look like
he’s sleeping but he’s not.”
Peri nodded, his expression masked by darkness. Without
another world, Rose bundled herself up in her cloak, pulled up her hood to
shield her head and face from the cold and did her best to get some sleep.
The next morning they rose early, with the first watery
streams of sunlight filtering through the naked trees. None of the companions
were in high spirits. It had been a cold night and their bodies were chilled,
cramped and sore.
Rose had forgotten what it felt like to be warm. She longed
for nothing else but a roaring fire to warm her toes in front of. She thought
of her parents’ cosy hobbit hole and the crackling fire her mother would have
going in the sitting room, and instantly regretted the thought. She missed her
mother. She missed the Tower Hills and she missed the Shire. It would be the
beginning of autumn now and the smell of wood-smoke would lace the air. Hobbits
would be roasting chestnuts over open fires, cracking open the first of the
walnuts and frying mushrooms in butter.
Mushrooms.
Rose’s mouth watered at the thought before she banished
thoughts of home and focused on the grim morning and the long day of walking
ahead. There was wafer bread and hard cheese for breakfast, washed down with
stale water.
They resumed their journey, walking in pairs with Azil and
Salrean in front and the hobbits bringing up the rear – and they had not been
walking long when Salrean halted and bent to examine some tracks.
“Men,” she announced. “They passed this way a short while
ago. We must be careful.”
Azil nodded, his bright gaze darting around him.
“They are close – I can smell them.”
“Really?” Peri gave Azil a probing look. “I can’t smell
anything.”
Azil sniffed. “Goblins have a highly developed sense of
smell. There were five of them and they went east.”
“I’d say the same,” Salrean responded. “Come, we must move
quickly. There will be others.”
The company moved on, travelling swiftly now, and making an
effort not to stand on twigs or brush against anything that would make a noise.
They had been travelling a short while when Salrean suddenly stopped once more.
Her body was rigid; alerting Rose to danger.
The others watched as the ranger crouched low and crept
forward towards where a thick wall of conifers blocked their view beyond.
Gently, Salrean parted the branches and four pairs of eyes gazed through the
gap.
Rose’s breath stilled.
On the other side of the trees, just yards away from where
they stood, the woodland suddenly ended. Beyond, distressingly close to the
woods, a carpet of bristling spears and ragged banners that flapped in the
breeze, marched north through a barren, scarred landscape.
They were men; grim-faced and dressed in swathes of grey
clothing to protect them from the cold. Many wore fur coats about their
shoulders. They carried crude weapons – iron blades, axes and spears – but it
was their faces that frightened Rose.
They were the faces of men who had only ever known a bleak,
violent world. Men that hope had
forsaken.
“Hill-men,” Azil hissed over Salrean’s shoulder. “Patrolling
the borders of Carn Dûm.”
“You’ve led us too close to the edge of the woodland,”
Salrean hissed back. “We should not be this far east! You’ve led us into
danger.”
“I did not realise we were this close,” Azil protested, his
pale eyes bulging. His thin face was rigid with panic. “I swear!”
“We need to move,” Salrean swivelled, nearly colliding with
her companions who were all peering over her shoulder. “Now.”
The urgency in the ranger’s voice, something she had only
heard in moments of mortal danger, alarmed Rose. She tore her gaze away from
the grey, marching mass as Salrean gently let the branches fall back into place
and focused on obeying the woman who had led them this far safely. Salrean
turned and moved west, pulling Azil behind her. Rose exchanged a worried glance
with Peri before he followed.
Rose hesitated. Perhaps Salrean was just being over cautious.
They had not been seen, at least. If they slipped away none of the hill-men
would be any the wiser.
Rose was finishing this thought, and hurrying to catch Peri
up, when a group of men burst out into Salrean’s path from behind a thicket of
coppicing trees.
With the lightening reflexes that had kept her alive on many
occasions, Salrean leapt backwards, letting go of Azil’s rope and drawing her
long sword in one movement. The goblin let out a shriek and shuffled backwards out
of Salrean’s way. Peri, who was just a few paces behind, drew the sword he had
been gifted at Farnost and rushed to Salrean’s aid.
There were too many of them. They swarmed out of the shadows
and rushed at Salrean and Peri, yelling as they came. For an instant, Rose was
frozen there, watching the scene unfold. Then, Azil was hurtling towards her,
arms flailing – shouting a hissing, incomprehensible tongue. A moment later, he
grabbed Rose, his thin fingers biting into her flesh, and threw her over his shoulder.
Azil only stood half a foot taller than Rose, and was all wiry sinew and bone;
yet he was frighteningly strong. He carried her as if she weighed nothing.
“No!” Rose shouted, jolted out of her fright and began to
struggle. “Let me down – set me free!”
“Stupid she-hobbit!” Azil wheezed sprinting through the trees
like a hare. “If I stop now we’re both dead!”
“Peri!” Rose shouted, her voice raw. “Salrean! We can’t just
leave them – they need us!”
“You can’t help them now,” Azil panted, not easing his grip
for a moment. “If they’re not already dead they soon will be.”
“No!” Tears coursed down Rose’s face and she began to writhe
like a landed fish.
“Stop it!” Azil grunted, his bony fingers digging even deeper
into her flesh until she gasped in pain. “Do you want to get us killed too?”
Skeleton trees rushed past in a blur and the shouting and
clash of blades behind them gradually muted.
“Peri,” Rose sobbed, sagging against Azil’s back. She could
not bear the thought of him, skewered on a hill-man’s blade. He had only come
on this journey, to look after her. They had been so close to their
destination.
It could not end like this.
End of Part #15
Be back for Part #16
on 24 January!
_____________________________________________
I
hope you are enjoying the story so far – thanks for the encouragement from all
those LOTR fans out there. I am writing this story for you. J
I have a wee
favour to ask you, my readers.
Every year the SFFANZ (Science Fiction and Fantasy Association of New Zealand) run the Sir Julius Vogel Awards for New Zealand writers of Science Fiction, Fantasy or Horror.
This year, I would like to submit THE WITCH OF ANGMAR.
However, since is a vote-based award, I need your help.
If you are reading, and enjoying, my LOTR fan fiction THE WITCH OF ANGMAR I would be delighted if you could vote for it!
It's easy to vote – just copy and paste one of the below into an email. The only part you need to fill in is No.9 – which requires your name and email address.
If you do decide to vote for me – THANK YOU!
Every year the SFFANZ (Science Fiction and Fantasy Association of New Zealand) run the Sir Julius Vogel Awards for New Zealand writers of Science Fiction, Fantasy or Horror.
This year, I would like to submit THE WITCH OF ANGMAR.
However, since is a vote-based award, I need your help.
If you are reading, and enjoying, my LOTR fan fiction THE WITCH OF ANGMAR I would be delighted if you could vote for it!
It's easy to vote – just copy and paste one of the below into an email. The only part you need to fill in is No.9 – which requires your name and email address.
If you do decide to vote for me – THANK YOU!
If you wish to vote for THE WITCH
OF ANGMAR just copy and paste the following into an email and
send to: sjv_awards@sffanz.org.nz
Hello,
I would like to nominate the
following fan fiction for the Sir Julius Vogel Award, 2014:
- THE WITCH OF ANGMAR (The Lord of the Rings Fan Fiction)
- Author: Sam J. Charlton
- Type of work: Serialised novel, fan fiction
- Year of publication: 2013
- Published on a blog: http://epicfantasyadventures.blogspot.com/ or available on author's website: http://samjcharlton.com/LOTR_Fan_Fiction.html
- Author contact: samanthajcharlton@gmail.com /Website: http://samjcharlton.com
- Fan award category
- GENRE - fantasy
- Contact details of the person making the nomination e.g. email
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