The Witch of Angmar
Legacy
of the Fellowship
Part
Nine
Ethorn
A
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shadow
moved amongst the trees – tall and threatening.
Rose’s
heart leapt at the sight of it. Fumbling for Sting, she skidded to a halt,
causing Peri to collide with her. He opened his mouth to protest but Rose
swivelled round and placed a finger to her lips – silencing him.
Ahead,
Salrean had also halted. She drew her sword, her gaze scanning the dense
woodland that rose either side of the narrow forest path and formed a canopy
above their heads. They were less than a day’s travel from Farnost – and their
journey had been blessedly uneventful.
Until
now.
Leaves
rustled and branches shifted. Then, a dark shape stepped out from the dense
foliage.
It
was a man, shrouded in a travel-stained, dark cape. The cloak snagged on a
branch and parted slightly, revealing a thick leather vest underneath. Rose
recognised the clothing instantly, for it was the same as Salrean’s.
The
shadow that had given her such a fright was a ranger.
“Ethorn!”
Salrean re-sheathed her sword with relief. Then, her face broke into a warm
smile. “Must you sneak up on folk like that? I was about to run you through.”
The
man, tall and long-limbed with shaggy dark hair framing a swarthy face,
grinned. He had the look of a man who
passed most of his life outdoors; his teeth were white against his tanned skin.
“Is
that any welcome for your future husband?” his gaze settled upon Salrean’s
face, eyes twinkling. His grin widened when she blushed.
“Idiot.
I’m not marrying anyone, least of all you.”
The
newcomer laughed, before he shifted his attention to Salrean’s two companions.
As his gaze settled upon them, his good humour faded.
“You
did it then? Your father will be pleased.”
There
was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice. Like Barandur, this man appeared to
hold little love for Rendur of Farnost. Rose’s trepidation at meeting Salrean’s
father increased. Did anyone, besides his daughter, hold a good opinion of the
Chieftain of Farnost?
Salrean
shook her head. “I wasn’t entirely successful. I brought Rose Fairbairn and
Pericles Took back with me – they are the descendants of Samwise Gamgee and Peregrin
Took – but one of Morwyn’s servants reached the Red Book before I could make it
safe. He killed Rose’s father and stole it.”
Ethorn’s
penetrating gaze rested upon Rose.
“I
am sorry to hear that,” he murmured. “This is ill news indeed. I am sorry for
your loss Rose.”
Rose
nodded back. Despite that they had only just met, she appreciated his words.
Ethorn
then glanced at Salrean once more. “I’ve been looking for you for the past few
days. This forest is now crawling with goblins. You must have encountered some?”
“We
were attacked a few days out from the Shire,” Salrean replied, “but since
Annúminas, we have seen no one.”
“Then
you have been lucky,” Ethorn replied, his handsome face grim. “I killed four
this morning. They grow bold. We have moved all the folk on the outskirts of
Farnost within the city walls. Every evening, after sunset, goblins crawl from the
woods and attack. We must hurry if we are to make it home by dusk. We cannot
remain out here after dark.”
Rose
felt her heart flutter against her ribs at Ethorn’s words. She was glad he had
found them, for otherwise they would have continued, unwary, into danger. Yet,
this news meant that the situation, here in the north, was worse than she had
thought. It appeared that the Witch of Angmar’s influence had made the goblins
ever bolder. They would seek to destroy what villages they could and strike
fear into the hearts of men – making it easy for Morwyn to sweep south.
“Very
well,” Salrean nodded, her face mirroring Ethorn’s. “Let’s move on.”
They
picked up their pace, moving at slow jog along the forest path. Rose and Peri
were a lot fitter now than at the beginning of their journey – but even so,
they struggled to keep up with the rangers’ long strides. Salrean and Ethorn
ran on a few yards ahead, hardly seeming to tire.
On
and on they ran, and by mid-afternoon, the forest had grown sparser, with
stretches of meadow in-between copses of woodland. This far north, autumn had
already made its presence felt, for many of the leaves were turning gold and
the air had a bite to it.
Eventually,
they took a short rest in the middle of a wide clearing, where they found the
remnants of a campsite. Whoever had camped here, had left the area in a mess.
They had hacked at nearby trees for firewood and left piles of filth and food
scraps scattered around the ashes of their campsite.
“Goblins,”
Ethorn’s face tightened with distaste before he knelt down and examined the
ashes. “I’d say they’re the ones I met this morning while searching for you. At
least those goblins won’t be bothering us.”
“I
hope it was them,” Rose replied, glancing around the clearing nervously,
half-expecting goblins to burst out of the trees at any moment.
“Rose
has a sword that warns you when goblins approach,” Salrean straightened up
after scanning the clearing. “It glows blue. Rose, show him Sting – let’s see
if any goblins are around.”
Rose
slowly drew Sting free of its scabbard. The elvish blade glowed silver in the
afternoon light, without a trace of blue. She let out the breath she had been
holding. They were safe for the moment, at least.
“‘Tis
a beautiful blade,” Ethorn stepped forward, his gaze tracing the elvish
inscription, “and a perfect size for a hobbit. Pay close attention to it as we
approach Farnost, for a little prior warning could very well save our lives.”
Rose
nodded and re-sheathed the sword.
They
continued their journey north-east, at a run. The rangers had picked up the
pace slightly but, even so, the light gradually began to fade – and still there
was no sign of Farnost rising up above the trees. Rose pushed herself on, her
weary feet beginning to stumble on the uneven ground. More than once, Peri
grabbed her as she tripped over a tree root, or when her ankle gave way.
“I’m
not sure how much longer I can go on,” she gasped. Beside her, Peri’s face was
red and coated with sweat.
“Neither
am I,” he panted. “I can’t take much more of this.”
Fortunately
for the hobbits, a short while later, the trees parted. They followed the two
rangers out into a wide expanse of rolling, windswept grassland dotted with low
trees. There, in the distance, rose the walls of Farnost.
The
city sat at the southern end of the North Downs. Rose could see the shadows of
the hills rolling away into the hazy northern horizon. Like Annúminas, Farnost
appeared a collection of old and new. Ruined towers sat propped up against more
recent ones, and inside the new city wall, Rose caught glimpses of the original
crumbling fortifications. The pale stone of the city reflected the red glow of
the setting sun to the west, making Farnost appear blood-stained.
Rose
felt a pang of sadness at the sight of it. This part of Middle Earth had known
much war, devastation and bloodshed – and now dark times had come once more. It
seemed so cruel, so unnecessary. No wonder the Dúnedain were such a strong
people; they had been forced to withstand so much.
Heartened
by the sight of their destination, the travellers, including the two exhausted
hobbits, quickened their pace. Rose’s heart pounded in her ears; her breath now
coming in ragged bursts that tore at her chest with every breath. Yet, she
pushed herself on.
The
light had all but faded and Rose could see the people of Farnost had lit their
fires; it was a welcoming sight after a long journey. Fortunately, they were on
the last stretch and the city beckoned as it drew ever closer.
Then,
out of the corner of her eye, Rose glimpsed a flash of blue. She looked down
and her throat constricted painfully.
Sting
had begun to glow.
Rose
was drawing in her breath to shout a warning to her companions, when she caught
sight of figures moving towards her, from the east, across the scrubby
grassland. Even at this distance, she recognised them instantly, for they did not
move like men.
“Make
for the gates!” Ethorn shouted. He had also seen them.
The
goblins let out hooting cries and scrambled towards the travellers, covering
the ground with frightening speed.
Rose
struggled to pull Sting free of its scabbard and, in doing so, tripped, nearly
impaling herself on the blade.
“Peri!”
she screamed. “Help me!”
Peri
was already a few yards ahead, not having realising that Rose had fallen. He
turned, the whites of his eyes bright in the fading light and sprinted back to
her.
The
goblins were drawing close now. The hobbits had just moments before they
reached them.
“Salrean!”
Peri shouted, his voice shrill with fear. “Ethorn!”
Peri
heaved Rose to her feet. Trembling, they turned to face the first goblin that
bore down upon them. Peri was unarmed; it was up to Rose to defend them.
The
sight of the goblin almost caused her legs to collapse under her. She almost
dropped Sting at the sight of its bulbous, glistening eyes, the open mouth
crowded full of sharp teeth, and the sharp blade clenched in its fist that
whistled towards her. She staggered back against Peri, holding Sting out before
her. It was a weapon she had no idea how to wield.
The
sight of the glowing blue blade pulled the goblin up short. It stopped, just a
yard away from where Rose and Peri huddled, its head inclining slightly.
“Elf
blade!” it hissed. “Where does a Halfling get one of those?”
Moments
later, more goblins crowded up behind their leader, eyes with pinprick pupils
glowing in the gathering dusk.
Suddenly,
there was a whisper of boots on dry grass, and two cloaked figures leaped over
the hobbits, providing a barrier between them and the goblins.
Salrean
and Ethorn had come back for them.
“Run!”
Ethorn commanded. His voice was flat and hard and he did not glance back at the
hobbits. “They are closing the gates. Run and don’t look back!”
Rose
and Peri did not need to be told twice. They turned and fled like hares across
the last stretch, towards where the shadow of the city walls fell across the
grasslands. Behind them, they heard shouts, the clash of steel, and the crunch
of bones breaking – but, as instructed, they did not glance back. Rose hoped
that the rangers would not be foolish enough to take on all the goblins. She
hoped that they would know when to turn and run.
Ahead,
the great gates of Farnost loomed; two huge oaken doors, studded with iron
spikes. They were slowly drawing closed. Rose gritted her teeth and forced her
exhausted legs to sprint the last distance.
She
and Peri slid inside, just as the heavy doors boomed shut. They skidded to a
halt, and looked up into the surprised faces of the guards inside. Like most of
the Dúnedain, these men had never seen a hobbit.
“Wait!”
Peri shouted, turning back to the gates. “Salrean and Ethorn are out there.
They’re surrounded by goblins and vastly outnumbered. Help them!”
The
guard stared at Peri a moment, as if he did not speak their tongue, before they
realised that the Halfling was speaking of two of their rangers.
The
guard closest to them, a broad-shouldered, heavy-set man dressed in
battle-scarred leather armour, exploded into action.
“Open
the gates!” he shouted. “Veldur, Gonthorn, Nathil – with me!”
Rose
and Peri scrambled back as three tall, well-built men strode out of the
shadows. Their faces were frightening and Rose was relieved their fury was not
directed at her.
Slowly,
the gates drew open, the gears and chains grinding. Then, when there was a gap
large enough, the four guards slipped through and disappeared into the
darkness.
End of Part #9
Be back for Part #10 on 25 October!
