Part 28 (1/2)

Guided by Trotter and Gandalf as usual they struck a good path. It looked to Frodo, as far as he could guess in the gathering dark, like the remains of an ancient road that had once run broad and well-planned from now deserted Hollin to the pa.s.s beneath Taragaer. A crescent moon rose over the mountains, and cast a pale light which was helpful - but was not welcomed by Trotter or Gandalf. It stayed but a little while and left them to the stars.(19) At midnight they had been going on again for an hour or more from their first halt. Frodo kept looking up at the sky, partly because of its beauty, partly because of Elrond's words. Suddenly he saw or felt a shadow pa.s.s over the stars - as if they faded and flashed out again. He s.h.i.+vered. 'Did you see anything?' he said to Gandalf, who was just in front. 'No, but I felt it, whatever it was,' said the wizard. 'It may be nothing, just a wisp of thin cloud.' It did not sound as if he thought much of his own explanation.(20) Nothing more happened that night. The next morning was even brighter than before, but the wind was turning back eastward and the air was chill. For three more nights they marched on, climbing steadily and ever more slowly as their road wound into the hills and the mountains drew nearer and nearer. On the third morning Taragaer towered up before them, a mighty peak tipped with snow like silver, but with sheer naked sides dull red as if stained with blood.

There was a black look in the air, and the sun was wan. The wind was now gone towards the North. Gandalf sniffed and looked back. 'Winter is behind,' he said quietly to Trotter. 'The peaks behind are whiter than they were.'

'And tonight,' said Trotter, 'we shall be high up on our way to the red pa.s.s of Cris-caron. What do you think of our course now? If we are not seen in that narrow place - and waylaid by some evil, l as would be easy there - the weather may prove as bad an enemy.'(21) 'I think no good of any part of our course, as you know well, Master Peregrin,' snapped Gandalf. 'Still we have to go on. It is no good whatever our trying to cross further south into the land of Rohan. The Horse-kings have long been in the service of Sauron.'(22) 'No, I know that. But there is a way - not over Cris-caron, as you are well aware.'

'Of course I am. But I am not going to risk that, until I am quite sure there is no other way. I shall think things out while the others rest and sleep.'(23) In the late afternoon, before preparations were made for moving, Gandalf poke to the travellers. 'We have now come to our first serious difficulty and doubt,' he said. 'The pa.s.s that we ought to take is up there ahead' - he waved his hand towards Taragaer: its sides were now dark and sullen, for the sun had gone, and its head was in grey cloud. 'It will take us at least two marches to get near the top of the pa.s.s. From certain signs we have seen recently I fear it may be watched or guarded; and in any case Trotter and I have doubts of the weather, on this wind. But I am afraid we must go on. We can't go back into the winter; and further south the pa.s.ses are held. Tonight we must push along as hard as we can.'

The hearts of the travellers sank at his words. But they hurried with their preparations, and started off at as good a pace as they could make. It was heavy going.(24) The winding and twisting road had long been neglected and in places was blocked with fallen stones, over which they had great difficulty in finding any way to lead the pack ponies.(25) The night grew deadly dark under the great clouds; a bitter wind swirled among the rocks. By midnight they had already climbed to the very knees of the great mountains, and were going straight up under a mountain-side, with a deep ravine guessed but unseen on their right. Suddenly Frodo felt soft cold touches on his face. He put out his arm, and saw white snowflakes settle on his sleeve. Before long they were falling fast, swirling from every direction into his eyes, and filling all the air. The dark shapes of Gandalf and Trotter, a few paces in front, could hardly be seen.

'I don't like this,' panted Sam just behind. 'Snow is all right on a fine morning, seen from a window; but I like to be in bed while it's falling.' As a matter of fact snow fell very seldom in most parts of the s.h.i.+re except the moors of the Northfarthing. There would occasionally, in January or February, be a thin white dusting of it, but [it] soon vanished, and only rarely in cold winters was there a real fall - enough to make s...o...b..a.l.l.s of.

Gandalf halted. Frodo thought as he came up by him that he already looked almost like a snow-man. Snow was white on his hood and bowed shoulders, and it was already getting thick on the ground under foot.

'This is a bad business! ' said the wizard. 'I never bargained for this, and left snow out of my plans. It seldom falls as far south as this except on the high peaks, and here we are not halfway up even to the high pa.s.s. I wonder if the Enemy has anything to do with it. He has strange powers and many allies.'

'We had better get all the party together,' said Trotter. 'We don't want to lose anyone on a night like this.'

For a while they struggled on. The snow became a blinding blizzard, and soon it was in places almost knee-deep. 'It'll be up over my head before long,' said Merry. Faramond was dragging behind and needed what help Merry and Sam could give him. Frodo felt his own legs like lead at every step.

Suddenly they heard strange sounds: they may have been but tricks of the rising wind in cracks and gullies of the rocks, but it sounded like hoa.r.s.e cries and howls of harsh laughter. Then stones began to fall whirling like leaves on the wind, and cras.h.i.+ng onto the path and the rocks on either hand. Every now and again they heard in the darkness a dull rumble as a great boulder rolled down thunderously from hidden heights in the dark above.

The party halted. 'We can't get any further tonight,' said Trotter. 'You can call it the wind if you like, but I eall it voices and those stones are aimed at us, or at least at the path.'

'I do call it the wind,' said Gandalf; 'but that does not make the rest untrue. Not all the servants of the Enemy have bodies or arms and legs.'(26) 'What can we do?' asked Frodo. His heart suddenly failed him, and he felt alone and lost in dark and driving snow, mocked at by demons of the mountains.

'Stop here or go back,' answered Gandalf. 'We are protected at present by the high wall on our left, and a deep gully on the right. Further up there is a wide shallow valley, and the road runs at the bottom of two long slopes. We should now hardly get through there without damage, quite apart from the snow.'(27) After some debate they retreated to a spot they had pa.s.sed just before the snow came on. There the path pa.s.sed under a low overhanging cliff. It faced southwards and they hoped it would give them some protection from the wind. But the eddying blasts whirled in from either side, and the snow came down thicker than ever. They huddled together with their backs to the wall. The two ponies stood dejected but patiently in front of them and served as some kind of screen, but before long the snow was up to their bellies and still mounting. The hobbits crouching behind were nearly buried. A great sleepiness came over Frodo, and he felt himself fast sinking into a warm and hazy dream. He thought a fire was warming his toes, and out of the shadows he heard Bilbo's voice speaking. 'I don't think much of your diary,' he heard him say. 'Snow(storm) on December 2nd:(28) there was no need to come back to report that.'

Suddenly he felt himself violently shaken, and came back painfully to wakefulness. Boromir had lifted him right off the ground. 'This snow will be the death of the hobbits, Gandalf,' he said. 'We must do something.'

'Give them this,' said Gandalf, fumbling in his pack that lay beside him, and drawing out a leather flagon. 'Just a little each - for all of us. It is very precious: one of Elrond's cordials, and I did not expect to have to use it so soon.'

As soon as Frodo had swallowed a little of the potent cordial, he felt new strength of heart, and the heavy sleepiness left his limbs. The others revived as quickly.

Boromir now endeavoured to clear away the snow and make a free s.p.a.ce under the rock-wall. Finding his hands and feet slow tools, and his sword not much better, he took a f.a.ggot from the fuel that they carried on one of the ponies, in case they should need fire in places where there was no wood. He bound it tight and thrust a staff in the midst, so that it looked like a large mallet; but he used it as a ram to thrust back the soft snow, till it was packed hard into a wall before them and could not be pushed further away. For the moment things looked better, and in the small cleared s.p.a.ce the travellers stood and took short paces, stamping to keep their limbs awake. But the snow continued to fall unrelenting; and it became plain that they were likely enough to be all buried in snow again before the night was out.(29) 'What about a fire?' said Trotter suddenly. 'As for giving ourselves away: personally I think our whereabouts is pretty well known or guessed already - by somebody.'

In desperation they decided to light a fire if they could, even if it meant sacrificing all the fuel that they had with them. It taxed even Gandalf's power to kindle the wet wood in that windy place. Ordinary methods were of no use, though each of the travellers had tinder and flint. They had brought some fir cones and little bundles of dried gra.s.s for kindling, but no fire would catch in them, until Gandalf thrust his wand into the midst of them and caused a great spark of blue and green flame to spring out.

'Well, if any enemy is watching,' he said, 'that will give me away. Let us hope other eyes are as blinded by the storm as ours. But anyway a fire is a good thing to see.' The wood now burned merrily and kept a clear circle all round it in which the travellers gathered somewhat heartened; but looking round Gandalf saw anxious eyes revealed by the dancing flames. The wood was burning fast, and the snow was not yet lessening.

'Daylight will soon be showing,' said Gandalf as cheerily as he could, but added: 'if any daylight can get through the snow- clouds.'

The fire burned low and the last f.a.ggot was thrown on. Trotter stood up and stared into the blackness above. 'I believe it is getting less,' he said. For a long while the others gazed at the flakes coming ..... down out of the darkness, to be revealed for a moment white in the light of the fire; but they could see little difference. After a while, however, it became plain that Trotter was right. The flakes became fewer and fewer. The wind grew less. The daylight began to grow pale grey and diffused. Then the snow ceased altogether. As the light grew stronger it showed a shapeless world all about them. The high places were hid in clouds (that threatened still more snow), but below them they could see dim white hills and domes and valleys in which the path they had come by seemed altogether lost.

'The sooner we make a move, and get down again, the better,' said Trotter.(30) 'There is more snow still to fall up here! ' But much as they all desired to get down again it was easier to speak of it than to manage it. The snow round about was already some feet deep: up to the necks of the hobbits or over their heads in places; and it was still soft. If they had [had] northern sledges or snowshoes [they] would have been of little use. Gandalf could only just manage to get forward with labour, more like swimming (and burrowing) than walking. Boromir was the tallest of the party: being some six feet high and broad-shouldered as well. He went ahead a little way to test the path. The snow was everywhere above even his knees, and in many places he sank up to the waist. The situation looked fairly desperate.

'I will go on down if I can,' he said.(31) 'As far as I can make out our course of last night, the path seems to turn right round a or two below the turn we ought to come on to a flat s.p.a.ce at the top ] of a long steep slope - very heavy going it was coming up. From there I may be able to get some view and some idea of how the snow lies further down.' He struggled forward slowly, and after a while disappeared round the turn.

It was nearly an hour before he came back, tired but with some encouraging news. 'There is a deep wind drift just the other side of the turn, and I was nearly buried in it; but beyond that the snow quickly gets less. At the top of the slope it is no more than ankle- deep and it is only sprinkled on the ground from there down: or so it seems.'

'It may be only sprinkled further down,' grunted Gandalf; 'but it is not sprinkled up here. Even the snow seems to have been aimed specially at us.'

'How are toe to get to the turn?' asked Trotter.

'I don't know!' said Boromir. 'it is a pity Gandalf can't produce flame enough to melt us a pathway.'

'I daresay it is,' snapped Candaif; 'but even I need a few materials to work upon. I car. kindle fire not feed it. What you want is a dragon not a wizard.'

'Indeed I think a tame dragon would actually be more useful at the moment than a wild wizard,' said Boromir - with a laugh that did not in any way appease Gandalf.

'At the moment, at the moment,' he replied. 'Later on we may see. I am old enough to be your great-grandfather's ancestor - but I am not doddery yet. It will serve you right if you meet a wild dragon.'(32) 'Well, well! When heads are at a loss bodies must serve they say in my country,' said Boromir. 'We must just try and thrust our way through. Put the little folk on the ponies, two on each. I will carry the smallest; you go behind, Gandalf, and I will go in front.' At once he set about unloading the ponies of their burdens. 'I will come back for these when we have forced a pa.s.sage,' he said. Frodo and Sam were mounted on one of the ponies, Merry and Trotter on the other. Then picking up Faramond Boromir strode forward.

Slowly they ploughed their way forward. It took some time to reach the bend, but they did so without mishap. After a short halt they laboured on to the edge of the drift. Suddenly Boromir stumbled on some hidden stone, and fell headlong. Faramond was thrown from his shoulder into deep snow and disappeared. The pony behind reared and then fell also, tumbling both Frodo and Sam into the drift. Trotter however managed to hold back the second pony.

For some moments all was confusion. But Boromir got up, shaking the snow from his face and eyes, and went to the head of the floundering and kicking pony. When he had got it onto its feet again, he went to the rescue of the hobbits who had vanished into deep holes in the yielding snow. Picking up first Faramond and then Frodo he ploughed his way through the remainder of the drift and set them on their feet beyond. He then returned for the pony and Sam. 'Follow now in my track! ' he cried to the remaining three. 'The worst is over! '

At last they all came to the head of the long slope. Gandalf bowed to Boromir. 'If I was testy,' he said, 'forgive me. Even the wisest wizard does not like to see his plans go awry. Thank goodness for plain strength and good sense. We are grateful to you, Boromir of Ond.'(33) They looked out from the high place where they stood over the lands. Daylight was now as full as it would be, unless the heavy clouds were broken. Far below, and over the tumbled country falling away from the foot of the incline, Frodo thought he could see the dell from which they had started to climb the night before.

His legs ached and his head was dizzy as he thought of the long painful march down again. In the distance, below him but still high above the lower hills, he saw many black specks moving in the air. 'The birds again,' he said in a low voice, pointing. 'It can't be helped now, said Gandalf. 'Whether they are good or bad, or nothing to do with us, we must go on down at once.' The wind was blowing stiffly again over the pa.s.s hidden in the clouds behind; and already some snowflakes were drifting down.

It was late in the afternoon, and the grey light was already again waning fast when they got back to their camp of the previous night. They were weary and very hungry. The mountains were veiled in a deepening dusk full of snow: even there in the foothills snow was falling gently. The birds had vanished.

They had no fuel for a fire, and made themselves as warm as they could with all their spare furs and blankets. Gandalf spared them each one more mouthful of the cordial. When they had eaten, Gandalf called a council.

'We cannot of course go on again tonight,' he said. 'We all need a good rest, and I think we had better stay here till tomorrow evening.'

'And when we move where are we to go to?' asked Frodo. 'It is no use trying the pa.s.s again; but you said yourself last night in this very spot that we could not now cross the pa.s.ses further north because of winter, nor further south because of enemies.'

'There is no need to remind me,' said Gandalf. 'The choice is now between going on with our journey - by some road or other - or returning to Rivendell.'

The faces of the hobbits revealed plainly enough the pleasure they felt at the mere mention of returning to Rivendell. Sam's face brightened visibly, and he glanced at his master. But Frodo looked troubled.

'I wish I was back in Rivendell,' he acknowledged. 'But would not that be going back also on all that was spoken and decided there?' he asked.

'Yes,' replied Gandalf. 'Our journey was already delayed perhaps too long. After the winter it would be quite vain. If we return it will mean the siege of Rivendell, and likely enough its fall and destruction.'

'Then we must go on,' said Frodo with a sigh, and Sam sank back into gloom. 'We must go on - if there is any road to take.' 'There is, or there may be,' said Gandalf. 'But I have not mentioned it to you before, and have hardly even thought of it while there was hope of the pa.s.s of Cris-caron. For it is not a pleasant road.'

'If it is worse than the pa.s.s of Cris-caron it must be very nasty indeed,' said Merry. 'But you had better now tell us about it.' 'Have you ever heard of the Mines of Moria or the Black Gulf?'(34) asked Gandalf.

'Yes,' answered Frodo. 'I think so. I seem to remember Bilbo speaking of them long ago, when he told me tales of the dwarves and goblins. But I have no idea where they are.'

'They are not far away,' said the wizard. 'They are in these mountains. They were made by the Dwarves of Durin's clan many hundreds of years ago, when elves dwelt in Hollin, and there was peace between the two races. In those ancient days Durin dwelt in Caron-dun, and there was traffic on the Great River. But the Goblins - fierce orcs (35) in great number - drove them out after many wars, and most of the dwarves that escaped removed far into the North. They have often tried to regain these mines, but never so far as I know have they succeeded. King Thror was killed there after he fled from Dale when the dragon came, as you may remember from Bilbo's tales. As Gloin told us, the dwarves of Dale think Balin came here, but no news has come from him. '(36) 'How can the mines [of the] Black Gulf help us?' asked Boromir. 'It sounds a name of ill-omen.'

'It is so, or has become so,' answered Gandalf. 'But one must tread the path need chooses. If there are orcs in the mines, it will prove ill for us. But most of the goblins of the Misty Mountains were destroyed in the Battle of Five Armies at the Lonely Mountain. There is a chance that the mines are still deserted. There is even a chance that dwarves are there, and that Balin lives in secret in some deep hall. If either of these chances prove true, then we may get through. For the mines go right through and under this western arm of the mountains. The tunnels of Moria were of old the most famous in the northern world. There were two secret gates on the western side, though the chief entrance was on the East looking upon Caron-dun.(37) I pa.s.sed right through, many years ago, when I was looking for Thror and Thrain. But I have never been since - I have never wished to repeat the experience.'(38) 'And I don't wish for it even once,' said Merry. 'Nor me,' muttered Sam.

'Of course not,' said Gandalf. 'Who would? But the question is, will you follow me, if I take the risk?'

There was no answer for some time. 'How far are the western gates?'asked Frodo at length.

'About ten (39) miles south of Cris-caron,' said Trotter.