Aspects of Aragorn 23 "The Journey to Mirkwood part 2" part 1

[inzilbeth]

Here's the second part of Aragorn's long journey.

Disclaimer: No profit will be made from these stories. All quotes from the works of J.R.R.Tolkien are reproduced here without the permission of The Tolkien Estate or New Line Cinema. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

To Cairistiona and Estelcontar: my most grateful thanks for their ongoing encouragement and support.

 

And thanks to Cairistiona for the beta.

 

 

Chapter 23: The Journey to Mirkwood part 2

 

  But where could he possibly hope to find shelter when he could barely see further than a few feet in front of him? Aragorn was so cold, he was beginning to have difficulty thinking clearly. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to focus; this was not the first time he had been trapped in a blizzard. His seemingly desperate situation still provided him with a choice and he had a decision to make, though neither option was particularly hopeful. He could either stay where he was and dig into the snow until the blizzard passed or keep moving and seek shelter. Settling down for the night in deep snow out in the bitter wind did not appeal greatly so he decided to press on the best he could.

 

   While Aragorn was no longer entirely sure of their exact location, he knew they were somewhere in the foothills of the mountains. Here, abundant clusters of fir trees grew on the shallow slopes. Surely if he ploughed on in a straight line in any direction, he would stumble into a copse sooner or later. This simple logic cheered him. He glanced down at Gollum, who looked a vision of abject misery. In order to speak to him, Aragorn slowly bent his frozen limbs so that his words might reach his captive’s ear before the wind blew them into the wastes.

 

   “What say you and I find somewhere to rest away from this accursed weather, hey Gollum?” He had almost given up expecting any sort of reply from the creature, but he occasionally persevered with his attempts at communication. For once, the accusing stare had left Gollum’s eye, but, even in the straits in which he found himself, he stubbornly refused to answer. Aragorn sighed and simply tugged on the leash. Gollum was forced to follow as Aragorn pushed himself to keep moving, his shoulders hunched and bent against the howling wind as he trudged onwards. How many laboured and impossible strides he managed to complete, he could not remember, yet he continued to battle his way through the steadily rising drifts.

 

   He was beginning to feel giddy from cold and hunger, his soaked clothes now offering him little protection from the fearsome elements. He was fast reaching the end of his endurance when, suddenly, he was aware of there being something very large standing in front of him, blocking his path. It was a tree, a huge, towering fir tree that stood tall and proud against the buffeting winds and driving snow. Aragorn sank to his knees with relief and, on his hands and knees, crawled through the snow piled high in front of it before sliding under the branches onto a thick layer of fallen needles. Sheltered beneath the tree’s dense boughs, the needles had remained dry and now provided a welcome bed for the frozen Ranger and his companion. Snuggled against the trunk, Aragorn was at last cocooned from the worst of the weather by the comforting branches of the tree, which reached almost to the ground like a tent all about him.

 

   He pulled Gollum into his den and there they sat, side by side, protected from the storm while they waited for the blizzard to blow itself out. Aragorn desperately wanted to sleep. Exhaustion was almost as big a problem for him as hunger and cold. Throughout his long journey, he had never risked taking his eyes off Gollum for long, and the constant threat of attack meant he could scarcely find any rest. He almost smiled at the irony of his situation. Gollum was going nowhere in this weather and none of his enemies would be abroad either, and yet he still could not sleep because the cold would claim him if he did. He sat with his knees drawn up in front of him and his arms wrapped around his chest. He shivered incessantly but he knew that to be a good sign. He thought no further than surviving this one night. There was no sense in dwelling on the long leagues he still had to travel if he was ever to reach Mirkwood. He had no illusions about just how difficult a journey still lay ahead of him, but at this moment, none of that mattered. His only concern was to still be alive in the morning.

 

   All night, while the wind blew and the snow fell, he sat hunched up, his head periodically dropping to his chin as sleep threatened to overcome him. But always he jerked himself back to wakefulness in time. Whenever his eyes closed, he thought of Arwen. Now that she had returned to Rivendell, she filled his thoughts even more vividly than when she was but a receding memory. He tried to conjure up her face as she had appeared to him the last time he had seen her. He remembered her eyes had shone as she smiled at him and her hair had been caught by the wind as she stood watching him slowly disappear from her sight. For a moment, that image of her was all the sustenance he needed. He was able to forget the cold and his tortured stomach as the memory of her standing there waving to him filled his heart. But when he opened his eyes again he saw only Gollum, sitting looking at him with a scowl on his face.

 

     At last dawn broke far away in the east and Aragorn’s thoughts turned to the day ahead. The wind had dropped and the sky was bright and clear. Much as he dreaded leaving his little sanctuary, he knew he had to keep moving as he must eat that day. Gollum sat apart from him now. With his hands secured in front of him, he was able to root around in the dank bed of needles. Every now and then, he raised his hands to his mouth and swallowed something. Aragorn tried not to look too closely at what he was eating. Whatever nourishment Gollum was finding, he was not yet so desperate as to join him in his morning snack. Instead, he pushed his way through the snow that had piled against the outer branches of the tree and ventured forth once more into the white wilderness.

 

   The landscape had changed completely during the night. Drifts, taller than he, fenced the land about him. Finding his route once more looked to be an impossible task. Gazing about him, he realized he had spent the night on the edge of what appeared to be a sizable woodland. Dragging a reluctant Gollum from their hideout, he set off into the woods and soon found himself wandering under beech and oak as well as pines and furs. There was less snow under the trees so the going was much easier. He knew if he was to find any food at all, it would have to be here among the trees.

 

   He had not gone far when his hunter’s eye spotted a small hole in a low branch of a tree which was chewed and gnawed all around the opening. A little further along, he noticed a similar hole. He was far too hungry to feel any regret over what he was about to do. He placed a corner of his cloak over the one opening and poked the end of the orc blade into the other. The small, furry occupant of the hollow branch was soon dislodged from its nest and trapped in the cloak as it tried to make its escape. Aragorn grabbed it, and, with a skilful twist of the frantically wriggling body, he broke the squirrel’s neck in one well practised movement. At last he had caught his breakfast and, as the sun was beginning to shed its warming rays upon the frozen land, he decided to build a fire and roast it. The damp leaves were slow to catch and his numb fingers fumbled clumsily with his flint, but eventually a few sparks found a hold on the kindling and Aragorn had his fire. As he prepared and roasted his meal, he tethered Gollum to a tree where he was able to continue rooting for whatever it was that so fascinated him in the leaf litter.

 

   Finally, thawed only a little, but fed, Aragorn and his captive, set off once more on their long journey. As he emerged from the shade of the trees, the brightness of the snow, glistening like silver under the rising sun, hurt his eyes. He squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked about him, trying to gather his bearings. He set his path northwards by the sun and continued on his way. The drifts were deep and their progress laboured but on Aragorn strode, always driving the reluctant Gollum before him.

 

~oo0oo~

 

   Eventually, after many days of toil in freezing conditions, he found his way to the Old Forest Road. There he remained hidden, watching, for a long while before he dared to come forth and cross over it. This was just the sort of place he expected there to be spies. He saw none, but by now he was fairly sure his passage north would have been marked. There was nothing though he could do about it, but, as he continued on northwards, he became even more watchful and cautious.

 

   Good fortune was with him, though, when two days later he reached the Anduin at the Carrock and there, to his overwhelming relief, he was met by the Beornings. Gandalf had once introduced him to these people many years ago and, remembering him, Grimbeorn and his kin gladly aided him now.

 

   Immediately, as he walked towards the shivering Ranger, Grimbeorn removed his own cloak and wrapped it around Aragorn’s shoulders. “You look half starved, as well as freezing to death, man,” he said as he drew Aragorn into a warming hug. Aragorn was grateful for the comfort, but he was also embarrassed at how relieved he was when Grimbeorn released him again. Bilbo’s account of Beorn’s ability to transform into a bear was never far from his mind and somehow he half expected this descendent of his to suddenly sprout fur and claws in front of his very eyes. 

 

 “Come eat, Aragorn. Honeycakes and fresh baked bread with lashings of cream is what you need by the look of you. That should put some fat on your bones.” Grimbeorn slapped him on the back and threw back his head, roaring with laughter. Aragorn was far too tired to fully participate in any joviality, but he gladly joined Grimbeorn and his men for their supper.

 

   The Beornings, though, were understandably curious about his companion.

 

   “Is it a dwarf?” asked Grimbeorn, stroking his beard, thoughtfully. “Or is it one of those little people; oh what where they called now? Beorn met one, once upon a time.”

 

   “I believe the name you are searching for is ‘hobbit’,” said Aragorn, smiling at the bemused looks on the faces around him.

 

   “Well, hobbit, then,” said Grimbeorn rather doubtfully. “He doesn’t look at all as I imagined that folk would. What does he eat? He’s welcome to join us, but he doesn’t appear very friendly.”

 

   “He eats very little,” said Aragorn, “though he likes fish best of all when I can catch it, but I have been unable to provide much of that. I would leave him to his own company. He’ll not willingly join us or appreciate your efforts at friendship.”

 

   So Gollum remained tethered while the men ate. He scowled at them with evident dislike and they soon lost interest in him. He was nonetheless provided with a generous meal of honeycakes, which he scarcely touched.

 

   Aragorn, however, gratefully ate his fill and the honeycakes he found particularly agreeable. Their syrupy sweetness was especially welcome after a diet of nothing but roots and meat. Also, they recalled to him happy memories of distant days in the nursery when his mother would bake them for him. The mead was excellent and no sooner had he downed one jar than his cup was filled again. Eventually, he began to feel warm again for the first time since he left Lothlórien.

 

   Aragorn spent a couple of very pleasant days with the Beornings where he was able to indulge in the rest he so desperately needed. The cheerful company of these good men raised his spirits enormously as he prepared to set off on the potentially most dangerous part of his journey.  When he was at last fit to leave, Grimbeorn and his men helped him ford the Great River before sending him on his way with an ample supply of food.

 

~oo0oo~

 

   North of the Carrock, Aragorn came to the Forest Gate and, leaving the sunlit vales of Anduin behind, he entered into the dark and dangerous forest of Mirkwood. He was taking the Elf-path that would eventually bring him to the Elven realm in the east of the forest, but little did he like the prospect of dragging Gollum all that way through the oppressive gloom of that menacing place. He had rarely travelled this way before and then he usually had Gandalf for company.

 

   It was dark even in the day in that forest, but the nights he found to be far worse as the dark was so intense, he could see absolutely nothing, not even his hand in front of his face. He strapped up Gollum more tightly than ever, afraid of losing him now so close to his destination. He had been warned by Gandalf against the dangers of straying from the path but, as the Beornings had given him sufficient food and water to see them both through this last stage of their journey, he was hopeful that he would not need to.

   He anticipated his first real problem would come at the Enchanted Stream which he would have to cross without touching the water. Hopefully, the boat would be there, but if it was not, he had not really considered what he would do. However, luck, if that is what it could be called, was with him once again and when he reached the bank he found a small boat tethered as if waiting for him. He bundled Gollum into it without mishap and swiftly rowed across the stream before continuing on his way. But the further he went into the forest, the more depressing and menacing it seemed to become. It was impossible to shake off the feeling of being watched.

 

   That night Aragorn struggled to stay awake. He had not slept for four nights and was intending not to sleep at all until he was safely within the underground halls of Thranduil’s palace. But he was now very weary and sleep kept catching up with him, if only for a few moments at a time.

 

   Suddenly, he awoke with a start as a scream pierced his consciousness. It was Gollum. Aragorn froze. In the pitch black of night, he strained all his senses to try and deduce what was happening before he sprang into action. Gollum was tied to his waist and was tugging on the leash with all his might. Aragorn could hear movement all about him; the sound of twigs and leaves being trampled as something approached. Whatever it was that was out there seemed very large and was nearly upon them.

 

   Suddenly, he jumped as he felt something brush against his leg and try to grab him. Instantly, the blade that was always in his hand, even as he rested, slashed at the darkness and at once struck flesh. There was a cry, a deep cold cry, and whatever it was retreated. But only a pace or two; Aragorn sensed it had not gone far and he knew it was not alone. Using the rope tied between them, he guided himself to Gollum, who for once did not pull away, but remained close beside him. The noises around them intensified and Aragorn prepared to attack, though he had little doubt that their situation was perilous. All at once the creatures charged. Aragorn flailed his weapons desperately in every direction, fighting completely blind and lashing out randomly as many long legs assaulted him.

 

   The noise was deafening, but above the screams of Gollum and the screeching and hissing of the huge beasts, Aragorn suddenly heard a hunting horn somewhere up ahead of them on the road. Then dimly, there came the lights of torches and he could hear the sound of voices coming towards him. He allowed himself to breathe again as he realized the Elves were heading his way. As the lights approached, they illuminated his attackers and Aragorn’s blades were at last able to find their mark. He was surrounded by three giant spiders, which lunged at him in a final attempt to snatch their easy meal before the Elves arrived. Gollum squealed even louder at the sight of the enormous arachnids and cowered behind Aragorn who battled with renewed vigour now that hope had returned. He determinedly maintained his defence until help finally arrived.

 

   Now it was the spiders that were beset. As arrows started to fly past his head, Aragorn dropped to the ground, pulling Gollum down with him. Soon the hideous beasts were fleeing and the Elves were in their midst. There were a dozen or more green clad Wood Elves in the group, each with an arrow in his bow, now walking towards Aragorn and Gollum. Aragorn got to his feet and slowly raised his hands as they approached, but then a grin spread across his face.

 

   “Mae govannen, Legolas!” he said. “That was a most timely arrival!”

 

   “Aragorn of the Dúnedain?” said the lead Elf in amazement. “What brings you to these parts? We have not seen you for many a year. But tell me first, what is that?” He pointed incredulously at Gollum who was crouched behind Aragorn and peeping out from behind his leg. Much as he loathed this hateful man, Gollum hated the Elves even more.

 

   “That, mellon nîn, is a long story,” said Aragorn, laughing with relief now that the trials of his journey were finally over. “I will tell you my tale when we have reached your father’s halls, for that is where we are heading.” 

 

   “This is not the creature that Mithrandir told us of, is it?” asked Legolas. “He does not look very dangerous.”

 

   “Do not be deceived by his small size, Legolas," Aragorn said as he held up his still bandaged hand for the Elf to see. "But I will speak no more of him until we are safely away from prying eyes and ears.” 

 

   Legolas nodded his agreement. “You look weary. It may yet take us another two days and nights to reach the Causeway. Rest a while, if you can. It is still a few hours before the dawn.”

 

   Aragorn smiled his gratitude. Sleep could not come a moment to soon. Even the fervour of battle which so often kept him from resting once the fight was over, could not keep him from sleep now. He gladly sank to the ground where he stood and curled up on the path, pulling what remained of his cloak around him. Gollum stayed close beside him, cringing from the Elves. But Aragorn paid him little heed as he slid into the welcoming arms of sleep. The last thing he remembered was someone laying a cloak over him. And as he slept, the Elves maintained a silent vigil.

 

   In the morning, Legolas offered to relieve Aragorn of his prisoner. “Others can lead him for you now, if you wish,” he said. But Aragorn hesitated, even though he would be only too delighted never to lay eyes on the miserable creature ever again.

 

   “Thank you, Legolas,” he said, dipping his head, respectfully. “But I shall not ask that of you. I have driven him many, many miles; I will see him to the very end of my journey.”

 

   “As you wish,” said Legolas who seemed relieved not to have to take responsibility for the strange looking creature just yet.

 

   Soon the Company of Elven warriors was ready to depart and Aragorn set off with his escort.   He was relieved beyond measure to have their assistance on the last stage of his journey. Suddenly Mirkwood was not remotely as dark or oppressive as it had been and Aragorn found his tired limbs walked with more purpose now that he was no longer alone though the last miles still took a determined effort to complete. Without the hindrance of Gollum, the Elves moved more swiftly than he, but after a couple of days, they at last reached the halls of the Elvenking. They passed over the great Causeway and through the magic doors that secured the entrance to the underground chambers where many of this ancient people lived, safe from the evil within the forest.

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Comments

[inzilbeth-liz.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much, Lady R. You're very kind and I'm thrilled you enjoyed this.

I love the idea of Arwen's memory sustaining Aragorn too.