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inzilbethI was going to call this chapter 'The Road to Pelargir' but I couldn't get Bob hope and Bing Crosby out of my mind!
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 32: The Black Ships
But when the dawn came, cold and pale, Aragorn rose at once, and led the Company forth upon the journey of greatest haste and weariness that any among them had known, save he alone, and only his will held them to go on.
The Passing of the Grey Company The Return of the King
~oo0oo~
Calembel was deserted.
There was no sign of life to be seen anywhere in the small, but thriving, market town which straddled the banks of the River Ciril as it made its hasty decent through Lamedon to the open sea beyond. It was late in the evening when the Grey Company passed through the main street, the horses’ hooves echoing eerily on the cobbled path. Doors gaped open and baskets of groceries lay abandoned on the empty pavements; the inhabitants had seemingly left in a hurry.
“Where do you suppose everyone has gone?” asked Gimli, looking about him. “A pint or two of ale and bite of supper at one of these fine looking inns wouldn’t have gone amiss after the day we’ve had.”
Aragorn riding beside him, smiled grimly. “I doubt we will find many on this journey who will be prepared to stand and welcome us,” he said.
“Well, I can’t say I blame them,” replied Gimli who was still glancing around the empty streets in the hope of espying someone who might be prepared to offer them more enticing fare than the stale rations they carried with them. “It wouldn’t take much for me to be off myself with that bunch of rogues at our heels.”
Aragorn said nothing. He too preferred not to glance behind at the Shadow Host more than was necessary. The long ride from the Stone of Erech with an army of dead men in their wake had left them all with ragged nerves. His men were weary and in need of a decent meal. But they would find none here. Instead they rode on through the deserted streets until they crossed the river at the ford. Once they were clear of the town, Aragorn called a halt.
“We will rest a while here,” he shouted. The Grey Company dismounted at once, grateful that their long day in the saddle was over. They immediately began their usual evening routine of setting up camp and caring for the horses but all the while the Shadow host hovered a little apart. Aragorn noticed how the men kept their eyes averted and their backs turned as they went about their tasks.
Yet it was a beautiful evening, the sky a blaze of colour as the sun set like a red fire behind the Pinnath Gelin. It was a welcome sight, boding a fine day for the morrow if a cold night ahead. They had covered a reasonable distance that day and Aragorn felt he owned his men at least one night’s sleep after the wakeful and wretched one they had spent at Erech. A rest would serve them all better in the long run than pressing on with their journey into the night. He himself had barely slept for days and he had yet to completely shake off the weariness that had gripped him ever since his encounter with the Palantír. He stood for a moment rubbing fatigue from his eyes. None needed a respite more than he.
“I would care for Roheryn for you, Estel, if you would permit it.”
Aragorn opened his eyes to see Elrohir standing in front of him with a hand on his horse’s bridle.
He was about to decline, not particularly wishing to appear as exhausted as he felt, but he was suddenly aware that Halbarad was kneeling on the ground a little apart from the others. He was silhouetted against the flaming sun but Aragorn could see the great banner laid out flat in front of him. He was furling it with extraordinary precision. Something about the meticulousness of his movements sparked a warning note in Aragorn’s mind and he decided to accept the offer after all.
“Thank you, my brother; your offer is timely as I wish to speak with Halbarad.”
As Elrohir led the horse away, Aragorn watched Halbarad for a moment longer, noticing the considered attention than his kinsman put into every cease and fold of the cloth. Before each turn of the staff, he carefully smoothed the jewels into place with his hand before winding the banner by another half turn. He would then pause and smooth the next section to his satisfaction before continuing.
The sight unexpectedly pierced Aragorn’s heart. He could almost feel the reverence that went into every one of Halbarad’s movements and he realised the banner was very bit as much a symbol of hope for Halbarad as it was for himself. He wondered if all the men felt the same way. Ever since Halbarad had handed it to him on the plains of Rohan, he had hoped with every fibre of his being that one day they would all see the symbols of the king flying from the top of the tower of Ecthelion, and with it would come a new era of prosperity for their people. But so much now rested on what he must achieve in the next few days and weeks if there was to be any hope of that ever coming to pass. The weight of expectation became almost crippling if he allowed himself to dwell upon such matters.
He walked across to his kinsman and stood over him as he worked.
“I never asked you, Hal,” he said. “Is the banner very wearying on the arms to hold loft? I wondered if you tired of carrying it.”
Halbarad immediately shook his head though he did not look up. “Nay, it is not a burden in the slightest,” he said firmly as he continued with what he was doing. The banner was fully furled now and he was securing the thongs that bound it to the staff.
“And I would have no other carry it for you.”
The job done, he got to his feet and looked Aragorn fully in the eye.
“As long as I live and breathe, I would do this for you. You surely know that?”
Aragorn was surprised by the passion in his old friend’s voice.
“Hal, I would not even consider any other for this task.”
But there was a strange look in Halbarad’s eye that Aragorn had not seen before and it troubled him. It was more one of sadness and regret than of fear. Suddenly, the words he had spoken as they stood on the threshold of the terrible door that led into the mountain returned to him.
My death lies beyond it, he had said. Halbarad was not greatly given to foresight, as far as he knew, and at the time Aragorn had taken his words to be nothing more than the thoughts running through all their minds as they stood poised to enter that dreadful hole. Yet, as he thought of them now, he felt a sudden frisson of fear and had to resist the urge to draw Halbarad into his embrace.
Instead, he stared at him uncomfortably, wondering what, if anything, he should say, but then Halbarad’s face broke into a grin and the moment passed.
“Well you might have had some foolish idea of asking one of your brothers to relieve me of it for a while.”
But Aragorn was not so easily distracted and did not return his smile.
“No, I would not do that,” he said, sensing that this mattered greatly to Halbarad. “Arwen asked you to bring this standard to me, not my brothers. She would have done that with good reason. This standard, if it is ever borne into battle, will herald the coming of the
But Halbarad merely laughed, dismissing his concerns. “She is wise, your lady,” he said as he clapped Aragorn on the back. “Come, let us find something to eat,” and, as he strode off to where the men were setting up camp in search of supper, Aragorn let the matter drop.
~oo0oo~
“What is all this do you suppose, Aragorn?” asked Gimli, looking up at the deep, unearthly darkness that filled the Eastern sky. There was no sign of the dawn, and the dense blackness creeping steadily towards them seemed to swallow the very night itself.
“Even underground a Dwarf can tell the hour of the day and this Dwarf knows the sun should have risen by now.”
“I believe you are right,” said Aragorn as he came to stand beside him, a cup of tea in his hand. “This darkness is not the natural dark of the World. Something is surely amiss.”
“Well we can make a sound guess as to who is behind this,” said Gimli. Without thinking, his hands reached for his axe as if the culprit was standing right before him. “But I for one don’t care for it.”
Aragorn stood considered this disturbing development for a moment. “Neither do I, Gimli, but perhaps it does not bode as ill as we fear,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “If the Enemy is moving then this is only as we hoped. But if this is so then so must we, and with all haste.” He poured the dregs of his tea into the grass and stashed his mug in his pack.
“Come, we must be on our way at once,” he said as he picked up his few belongings and strode towards the horses which were picketed a little away from the camp.
“We do not wait for the dawn,” Aragorn cried to his men as he went. Immediately the camp was a hive of activity as the men quickly rolled up blankets and doused the fire. Gimli followed him and waited beside Arod for Legolas.
The men were soon ready to leave and tacking up their horses. Aragorn threw the saddle onto Roheryn and secured the girth.
“I am sorry, my friend,” he said softly to the horse as he paused for a moment to pull his ears affectionately and scratch his forehead. “We have another hard ride in front of us today.”
And the day after and the day after that, he thought ruefully to himself but there was no need to trouble the horse with what yet lay ahead. His pack securely in place, he risked a glance at the Shadow Host which had assembled nearer as they prepared to break camp. He did not relish riding all the way to Pelargir in this darkness with that ghostly hoard on their heels but it would appear they had no choice. It was ninety three leagues from Erech to Pelargir. In their first day’s ride from the Black Stone, they had not yet covered a quarter of that distance.
In a matter of minutes, all were ready to depart and Aragorn leaped on to Roheryn’s back though with noticeably less athleticism than he had two days ago. And as soon as the Company set off at a steady trot into the grim darkness, his muscles immediately complained at the renewed contact with the saddle.
They continued steadily on their way through the uplands of Lamedon as they headed south-west towards the river Ringlo. As soon as the going underfoot allowed, Aragorn eased Roheryn into a canter. Halbarad’s rode beside him, holding aloft the standard. Behind him were Legolas and Gimli. His brothers brought up the rear, and after them came the Shadow Host. They appeared little more than a grey mist in the darkness yet none could forget their presence for a single moment.
The terrain was rough and uneven, difficult for the horses to travel over at anything more than a steady canter. They picked their way as best they could under the black sky but they would have little opportunity for greater speed until they reached the lowlands. Then Aragorn knew he would need to take the horses and the men to the limits of their endurance if they were to reach Minas Tirith in time to prevent the city’s utter destruction.
On they rode, for hour after endless hour. They passed small hamlets as well as sizeable villages but they saw no one. Few words passed between any of the men yet the tension in the air was almost palpable. The Dead men made no sound as they drifted along effortlessly behind them. The Grey Company maintained their steady pace all morning until, as mid day approached, Aragorn allowed the horses a breather. But as they broke back to a walk, he suddenly became aware of a grey mist creeping forwards and swirling about him as if a sudden fog had descended. He heard shouts from some of the men and looked behind quickly.
The Shadow host was overtaking the Grey Company.
The Army of Dead men had grown stronger and even more terrible since they left Erech. None of the Dúnedain looked upon them if they could avoid it. Even by the light of day, the ghostly shapes of long dead warriors were terrifying enough. By this darkness of Mordor it was almost enough to send even the bravest man screaming into the cover of the hills. But Aragorn could not allow the dead to overtake the living. It was vital that he had complete command of them if they were to do their part. As the ghostly host continued to surge forward, he turned Roheryn to face them and cried in a great voice.
“Wait, Men of the Mountain, I bid you do as Isildur’s Heir commands. Do not come forward until such time as he summons you to honour your oath.”
Behind him, his men immediately pulled up their horses. Then after a few agonising moments, and to Aragorn’s overwhelming relief, the Shadow host halted too. They were dreadful to behold close up. Their hollow faces were fell and terrible. They shook their spears and waved their swords but they did as they were commanded. It was a crucial moment and Aragorn silently let out a long breath.
They might yet fulfil his need.
“Ride on,” he cried to his Men over his shoulder as he circled Roheryn back to their path. And as they continued on their way, he noticed, with grim satisfaction, that the Host remained firmly at the rear and did not attempt to surge forward again.
~oo0oo~
All day they rode on under the oppressive darkness which deepened as the day progressed. Aragorn was relentless in leading them all forward as fast as their horses could carry them. Late in the afternoon they stopped briefly for a few minutes when they reached the Ringlo. Here they refilled the water skins and allowed the horses to drink their fill. They were lathering badly in their thick winter coats and appreciated the chance to cool down as they waded through the deep water. As the Company emerged onto the far bank of the river, Halbarad rode up closer beside Aragorn and kept his voice low.
“The men can not take much more of this,” he said. “We must stop, if only for a little while. It will soon be dusk by my reckoning and my stomach tells me it’s time to eat.”
Aragorn looked behind him at the tired faces of his men. Their willingness to suffer so on his behalf stung his heart.
“We can not rest yet, Hal,” he said. “I am sorry, but we must press on. Bear with me a few more hours yet; then we shall rest a while, I promise.”
Halbarad did not argue and Aragorn felt even worse than if he had. For the rest of that day and well into the night, they pressed on through the foothills of the
“Estel, if we have to sit on you and pin you to the ground for the rest of the night, you are not taking a turn on watch. Is that understood?” Elladan could still very effectively play the big brother when he chose to and in the end Aragorn gave up. On any other road he might have been tempted to remind Elladan of the difficulties he would encounter should he attempt to do any such thing, but he had no strength to spare on such foolish arguments now. Even so, half a night was all he would allow and at an hour well before a dawn that might have heralded a bright spring day, the Grey Company was swiftly on its way again.
The unrelenting darkness was disorientating. It was impossible to say quite when they reached Linhir, the sprawling town that had grown up along either side of the fords on the river Gilrain, though it was sometime on that third day since leaving Erech. They had put the Uplands behind them and had been able to cover more ground now that the going was easier for the horses. But as they rode towards the town, they found the place in total uproar.
An advance host from Umbar and Harad had sailed up the river and was engaging the men of Lamedon in battle. The fighting was fierce as the enemy was a sizable host and things looked to be going ill for the men of Gondor. But as the Grey Company approached with the Shadow Host hard at their rear, all gave up the battle and fled in terror.
“Ah, these dead men have their uses, I’ll grant them that,” said Gimli, grinning at the sight of so many fighting men reduced to whimpering fops by the terror of the approaching Dead men. The men of Linhir found sanctuary within the town while the Haradrim, denied a retreat to their vessels, took flight across the ford and began the long road back to Pelargir. Only one stout hearted man found the courage to stand and face them. He stood proudly in the middle of the main street, waiting for the newcomers to approach, his sword held high and defiant.
“Name yourselves,” he cried boldly, though the rift of terror in his voice was unmistakable.
Aragorn immediately jumped down from Roheryn and raised a hand in a sign of peace.
“Stay your sword and have no fear,” he said. “I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and Isildur’s Heir of Gondor. I ride from the North with all speed to Pelargir to deliver her from our enemies.”
He may have intended his words to ease the man’s heart, but they did no such thing. The man sank to his knees, shaking with uncontrollable fear which he felt as keenly for this strange man and his wild claim as for his unearthly companions. Yet his grip on his sword was as strong as ever.
“Isildur’s Heir? Did you say Isildur’s Heir?”
Aragorn walked towards him and smiled.
“Yes, my good man, you heard aright,” he said softly as he raised the trembling man to his feet. “Pray, tell me your name.”
The man stood staring at him in amazement yet he managed to mumble: “Angbor is my name. I am the lord of Lamedon.”
“Then, Angbor, lord of Lamedon, I bid you gather to you all men who can fight and come after us. I shall have need of every sword and every axe that Gondor can raise.”
But the lord of Lamedon could not take his eyes of the Shadow Host. “But, but, what of the ghosts? None will follow the likes of them. And what of you, are you real, or are you some ghost yourself stepped out of some ancient legend?”
“Oh, I am real enough,” said Aragorn with a gentle smile as he turned and walked back to his men. “And as for the ghosts, only the enemies of Gondor need fear them. Follow at a safe distance if it eases your fear but I beseech you to heed my call.” He paused to pick up Roheryn’s reins. “At Pelargir the Heir of Isildur will have need of you.” [1]
Then he swung himself up into the saddle and with a wave of his hand, his Company departed across the ford, and the dead men swept after them.
Angbor stood watching them go in stunned disbelief. “The Heir of Isildur will have need of you,” he said aloud to himself as the words slowly started to sink in. “The Heir of Isildur? Oh my word, the Heir of Isildur. Did you hear that?” He was practically screaming now. “Everyone, get out here and stop skulking. We’ve a war to go to!”
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-22 12:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-22 06:55 am (UTC)Yes, poor Halbarad, Aragorn will be heart broken.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-23 08:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-24 08:45 am (UTC)“Wait, Men of the Mountain, I bid you do as Isildur’s Heir commands. Do not come forward until such time as he summons you to honour your oath.”
It's a bit odd to hear Aragorn referring to himself both in the first and third person here.
Other than that, a fine chapter. I liked the meeting of Angbor and Aragorn.
Will you do a chapter on Aragorn's healing of Faramir (as well as Merry and Eowyn I assume) - I'm always interested in seeing how fan writers handle that...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-24 01:30 pm (UTC)How much and how little of LOTR to include in this series has been quite a problem. As the recalling of Faramir is already covered very well, I decided to write the scene where Aragorn recalls Sam and Frodo at the Black Gate instead. It's another of those hugely important things than Aragorn does that only gets a one line mention. In writing this scene though I did see it as a way to explore just what exactly was it that Aragorn did in the Houses of Healing. Mind you, even after writing it, I'm still anything but certain!
Glad you enjoyed and thanks for commenting.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-15 05:08 am (UTC)Second off: ANGBOR IS AMAZING. I fell in love with him with that last line. Ah, it's really the minor characters that turn out the most unexpected...
*whistles and rushes off to part two*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-16 01:24 pm (UTC)This was a complicated chapter to piece together so I'm so glad you're enjoying it.