The
Witch of Angmar
Legacy
of the Fellowship
Part
Sixteen
Captives and Choices
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alrean stumbled forward and fell to her knees as a whip
lashed against her back. Peri heard her breath hiss between her teeth in agony,
but she did not cry out. Instead, the ranger struggled to her feet and threw a
vicious look over her shoulder at the hill man behind her.
“Faster!” the man, a huge individual made even more imposing
by the ragged fur cloak he wore around his broad shoulders, snarled.
A sea of hill-men, all traveling north, surged around the
captives. There was no escape from them. Even if Peri and Salrean had been able
to slip the bonds pinning their arms behind their backs, they could never have
fought their way out through the press of humanity around them.
Even Salrean, with her warrior’s heart, had conceded defeat.
She had fought off as many as she could in the woods – they both had – until
there were just too many assailants. At that point, Salrean had thrown her
sword to the ground and raised her hands in surrender. Peri had done the same –
it was either that or perish.
“I did not travel all this way to die upon a hill-man’s
blade,” Salrean had whispered to Peri, moments before they were taken captive.
“If they don’t kill us now, they’ll take us north to Carn Dûm. That’s
where we want to go.”
“But
we’ll be her prisoners,” Peri had hissed back, icy terror seeping into him.
“She’ll torture us – turn us into her servants!”
Salrean’s
face had turned fierce at that. “She can try.”
Peri moved forward with Salrean, jogging to keep up with her
long stride. She knew better than to insult the whip-wielder; he had the look
of a man who was just waiting for an excuse to beat someone to death. Peri had
felt the touch of that whip earlier; and his shoulders still burned from it. He
was exhausted, but still he jogged on, terrified of hearing that tell-tale
whistle cut the air behind him.
It was a cold, sunless afternoon; the world was grey from one
horizon to the other. Little seemed to grow this far north and the few plants
that did were spiny and stunted. The wind blew in Peri’s face, causing his eyes
to water. He had long lost all sensation in his cheeks and nose.
All the while, as he marched north surrounded by the hill-men
horde, Peri thought about Rose.
Where was she – and where was that sly goblin who had led
them straight into danger?
Terrifying thoughts about what might have happened to her
distracted him from his own plight, from the fatigue in his limbs and the raw
wind the chilled him to the bone. He could not stand the thought of being
parted from her; could not bear to think that she was hurt, lost – or dead.
Curse
Azil, he thought bitterly. This
is all his doing. If I ever set eyes on the ferret again, I shall wring his
deceitful throat.
***
Rose slumped onto the leafy ground and fought the urge to lie
down and close her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to block out the world. After
leaving Peri and Salrean to those hill-men – where they were likely to have met
their deaths – a terrible sense of hopelessness had consumed her.
Azil, who had carried her all this way without rest, sank
down next to her. His breath rattled in his chest.
“We outran them,” he wheezed, triumphant despite his
exhaustion. “We lost them, she-hobbit.”
“Yes,” Rose looked up at him, her face bleak, “but we left
Salrean and Peri behind.”
Azil returned her gaze steadily. He did not pretend to look
sorry, for he was not. He was a creature that would do anything to survive,
even if it meant leaving others to die. Frankly, Rose was stunned that he had
risked his own neck to save her; even if there was part of her that wished he
had left her behind.
“I can’t go on without them,” she whispered, fresh tears
stinging her eyes. “We were companions; the quest depended on us staying
together.”
Azil continued to observe her, before shrugging. Around them
the shadows were lengthening; turning the grey, skeleton woods even gloomier.
“It will be night soon,” he observed. “I have taken us west,
almost to the edge of the woods. We should be safe here till morning.”
“And what then?”
Azil met her gaze, his pale eyes frighteningly intense. “I
made you a promise, she-hobbit,” he told her, although the regret in his tone
was evident. “And Azil is true to his word. I will take you north to Carn Dûm if you
wish it – to the secret way in the ranger spoke of – but no further.”
Rose
stared back at him, stunned. She had not expected this.
It
was on the tip of her tongue to tell him it mattered not, that she would not go
a step further north without her companions at the her side, but she held her
tongue. Such an offer was generous – and would not be made twice.
“I’m
not sure I can continue,” she finally admitted hesitantly. “I don’t think I’m
strong enough to do this alone.”
“That
is for you to decide,” Azil replied with another shrug, before heaving himself
to his feet. He was so tired that he swayed slightly. “The offer is there. You
have tonight to decide. In the morning I will take you on to Carn Dûm, or back
the way we came – the choice is yours.”
Azil
looked away from Rose then, his gaze darting around the darkening woods. “Let
us find somewhere safe to rest,” he told her. “For it is not safe out here in
the open – it is not safe anywhere this far north.”
Rose
nodded numbly before stiffly climbing to her feet. She followed the goblin
through the trees while he searched for a suitable spot to camp. They walked
for a while, and it was nearly dark by the time Azil found a place he was happy
with. It was a small hollow, under a bank full of tree roots. There, they
wedged themselves in like two badgers and watched as the last rays of light
disappeared from the world and darkness fell.
They
had little in the way of food – for Peri had been carrying the bulk of their
supplies – so supper was one stale piece of wafer bread shared between them.
“I
will hunt for rabbits tomorrow,” Azil promised her, “juicy and sweet ones.”
Rose
nodded and gave him a weak smile, although misery had robbed her of an
appetite. She was so hungry that her stomach felt knotted and painful – yet the
thought of Peri dying at the hands of those hill-men made it difficult to
swallow the dry wafer bread.
After
their meagre supper, the pair lapsed into silence. Azil, used to solitude, was
not a chatterer. Rose was relieved that he left her alone; even if her thoughts
were bleak and painful.
She
lay awake for many hours, on her back, listening to the night. Sleep did not
come easily. She had too much on her mind – and an important decision to make.
***
“I
have decided,” Rose told Azil the next morning. They had just climbed out of
their burrow and were stretching their stiff, cold limbs. “We shall go north to
Carn Dûm.”
Azil
nodded, his expression giving nothing away. Rose knew he loathed the thought of
going anywhere near that ruined fortress, yet this morning he hid his feelings.
“And
why?” he queried, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Now that your companions have
gone, what do you hope to gain from entering the Witch’s lair?”
“I
don’t know they’re dead,” Rose voiced the thought that had plagued her for most
of the night. “In fact, I imagine Morwyn has instructed her servants to bring
anyone trying to reach Carn Dûm directly to her. I believe Salrean and Peri are
still alive – and even if there’s but a glimmer of hope, I must try to rescue
them.”
Azil
regarded her silently for a moment, an odd expression on his wizened face.
“I
do not understand hobbits,” he admitted eventually. “You look soft and foolish,
like children, and yet you have a core of iron. The stories really are true
then…”
“What
stories?”
Azil
hesitated a moment, as if unwilling to explain further.
“I
grew up in the dark of Moria,” he said eventually, “and heard many a tale of
hobbits, and how they defeated the great Sauron. I expected fierce creatures,
wily survivors like we goblins – instead you appeared bumbling and innocent. I
can see I was deceived – you are like
the stories.”
Rose
smiled at that. “Indeed you were deceived. Although not all of us are made of
the same mettle as Bilbo, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. Most of us are as unadventurous
as we look.”
The
goblin snorted at that. “Not you though. Come, we still have at least three
days hard travel ahead of us – and many a servant of Morwyn to slip by. The
days are shorter this far north, we must make the most of the daylight.”
Rose
nodded and, wrapping her cloak tightly about her to ward of the morning’s
chill, followed Azil into the trees.
***
“We
are nearing Carn Dûm.”
Azil’s
announcement, mid-afternoon on the third day of travel, caught the hobbit by
surprise. He had not spoken more than a handful of works since daybreak; the
further north they travelled through the bleak woods, the more morose he had become.
Rose sensed it took his entire will not to abandon her and flee south. Only the
fact that he had given her his word kept him going.
He
looked nervous now, his eyes darting around as if he expected goblins to erupt
from the trees at any moment.
“I
have taken you west,” he explained, his voice a low whispering hiss, “to the
rocky slopes just beyond the towers of the stronghold. Very soon we shall see
it.”
Rose
nodded, remembering Barandur’s words. It seemed like an age ago now – yet she
was glad that she had, indeed, memorised his instructions – for there was no
one else present to remind her of them.
To the west of the
towers of Carn Dûm, there is a collection of jagged rocks that climb the
mountainside. Make your way into the centre of them, and under a sharp rock,
darker than all the others, you will find a tunnel. It will take you deep under
Carn Dûm, into the dungeons; from there you can make your way up into the
fortress itself.
As
Azil had warned, the bare trees gradually grew sparser, and the landscape
rockier. A chill mist crept across the ground, its thin tendrils snaking around
their legs as they walked. The earth was parched and bare; what little grass
grew was pale, wispy and dry. It was a barren, lonely land and Rose would have
given anything to be back in her parents’ hobbit hole at that moment. Still,
she forced herself on, following the goblin up an incline.
There,
at the top, she had her first glimpse of Angmar’s infamous fortress.
Carn
Dûm was even more forbidding than she had expected, and even at this distance
she could feel malevolence radiating out from it. She and Azil stood on the
edge of a rocky valley. On the side nearest to them, Rose spied the jagged
rocks that Barandur had described, where she would have to venture to find the
secret way in. The fortress sat to the east, partly obscured by rocky outcrops
and swirling mist. Austere, black towers – some completely ruined, others less
so – and topped with horned turrets, rose into the pale sky. Crumbling walls
and fortifications snaked along the rocky outcrops around the fortress, making Carn
Dûm look as if it was part of the landscape. Rose had expected the ancient
citadel to be more of a shell, however it appeared that the Witch of Angmar had
been industrious of late. The Witch Tower rose high above all the others, its
obsidian surface pitted with age.
Rose’s
gaze seized upon the great tower and she shuddered. She could not imagine
taking one step further, yet it was to that evil place that she must journey.
She
only hoped that, if she indeed managed to reach it, that she would find Salrean
and Peri alive when she arrived.
End of Part #16
Be back for Part #17
on 7 February!
_____________________________________________
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:
1.
THE
WITCH OF ANGMAR (The Lord of the Rings Fan Fiction)
2.
Author:
Sam J. Charlton
3.
Type
of work: Serialised novel, fan fiction
4.
Year
of publication: 2013
5.
Published
on a blog: http://epicfantasyadventures.blogspot.com/ or
available on author's
website: http://samjcharlton.com/LOTR_Fan_Fiction.html
7.
Fan
award category
8.
GENRE
- fantasy
9.
Contact
details of the person making the nomination e.g. email
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