Live Journal FeedPLEASE READ: I feel that it is my duty to inform readers – sometime in the future, there will be a possibly upsetting non-canon character death. It pains me to remove the character from this story, but I feel that it is a necessity in order to allow the plot to progress in the direction I desire. I will not warn you again; the chapter in which the death actually occurs will not have a heading like this one, for that will spoil the plot. Be aware of that fact – I WILL NOT REPEAT IT.
Much thanks to my Beta, Hufflepuff/VanaTheEverYoung.
Chapter 13: The Elven Staff~
Harry gripped the silky Elven rope with all his might. The silver cord felt so delicate under his hands, yet it held his weight. He felt as though the smooth threads of the rope would slide through his sweaty palms, and the ground would rush up to meet him, but amazingly he was able to hold his position without even looping the cord around his hand.
He braced his feet against the rock face in front of him and began his descent into the mist. Frodo and Sam had insisted on going first, despite Harry’s protests. Now their voices drifted up from below.
“Don’t look down, Harry!” Sam called.
“I’m trying! It’s very hard not to, though!”
He heard Frodo give a laugh and say quietly to Sam, “Really, I don’t recall ever being this testy at the age of sixteen.”
Harry scowled to himself and continued his slow descent, finally penetrating the mist and spotting the faces of the two Hobbits. Though they had sounded merry earlier, their expressions had once more become subdued.
“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Harry said, wiping his palms on his cloak. “Better than dodging Bludgers, at any rate.” He noticed that the Hobbits wore curious looks. “Wizard sport. Maybe I’ll explain sometime.”
Frodo nodded, but Sam looked back up the cliff and groaned.
“Ah, you fool, Samwise Gamgee!”
“Sorry, Sam?”
“Just a thought, Mr. Frodo – we can’t just leave this here. Galadriel herself gave it to me. Real Elvish rope.”
Frodo gazed upward and muttered, “Yes…and we cannot leave it for anyone to follow.”
“Who in their right mind would follow us into a place as desolate as this?” Harry asked. This must be the place that Gimli mentioned. It was indeed a barren, rock-strewn place that seemed nigh impassable. No matter in which direction he looked, everything appeared the same to Harry. The Four-Point Spell had led them a little further southward than they might have come without it, but the landscape never seemed to change.
“I assure you, the Enemy will at least try. Now, we must find a way to undo the rope without climbing back up there.…”
“My knot’s not going to come loose easily,” Sam said.
“A Severing Charm?” Harry asked as he drew out his wand.
Sam cringed. “I’d rather not. But if it is the only way…” He gave the rope a final tug.
The rope slid down the cliff fluidly, coming to rest in a neat pile at Sam’s feet.
“Real Elvish rope?” Frodo smiled.
Sam did not reply, but put the curiously untied cord into his pack once more.
“Harry, now that we have come down the cliff, could you find the way southward once more?”
Harry laid his wand flat into his palm and whispered, “Point me.” The wand spun around a few times before coming to rest, its tip pointing in the direction off to the left – and to the right there was another solid rock face. Sighing, Harry stowed his wand back in his jerkin.
“Come on. We’ll have to find a way around this so we can go in that direction.” Gesturing to the Hobbits, he plunged into the maze of rocks once more.
They clambered over and around sharp boulders for hours. Harry would usually help Frodo and Sam up first, then they would use the rope and together they would help him over the stones. Over and around, over and around…. Their search for a way south seemed fruitless, for whenever Harry performed the Four-point Spell the wand would point in the most impassable direction, and they would have to find another way over, getting hopelessly lost all the while. No matter which direction they chose, the landscape never altered. Just rocks, rocks, and more rocks.
After another day of going in circles, Sam sat himself down on the ground and said, “It’s no use. The harder we try to get to Mordor, the harder it gets to get there. Not that I’m anxious to see it but…” He glanced over at Frodo.
“It has to be done,” the other Hobbit replied, looking off into the distance. Harry followed his gaze and noticed an orange glow on the horizon, peering over shadowy mountains. Mordor.
A sudden pain seared across his scar. He clapped a hand to his forehead, blinking hard, but the pain was gone almost as soon as it had come.
“Mr. Frodo?” Sam’s voice asked.
Harry lowered his hand and turned around to see Frodo sitting on a rock, breathing heavily and clutching a hand to his chest – over the Ring. “It’s becoming more of a burden,” Frodo said faintly. His hand moved over to his left shoulder, rubbing the place where the Morgul knife had stabbed him. “We must find a way out of here, and quickly.”
Sam looked concernedly over at his friend. “Well, not without some food first,” he said briskly. “Come on, Harry, I don’t reckon we’ve eaten for more than ten hours.”
“What’s it going to be now? Sausages or stew?” Harry joked.
Sam heaved a theatrical sigh. “Well, unfortunately, I think not. But we have…” He opened his pack and pulled out a mallorn leaf-wrapped package. “Lembas.” He laid it down carefully before searching once again. “And more lembas. And even more lembas.”
There was a short silence, during which Harry and Sam tried to keep straight faces. Then Frodo burst out laughing.
“I am glad you two are here with me,” he said. “Your spirits are always up, while mine…” He indicated the Ring’s chain.
“It’ll be over soon enough, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said firmly. “Here.” He broke off pieces of lembas and tossed some first to Frodo, then to Harry.
Chewing thoughtfully, Harry gazed out over the east. “It’s like Sauron doesn’t want us there,” he said.
Sam scowled. “Aye, that’s true enough. Though I’m sure that if he knew just what Mr. Frodo was carrying he’d make it seem all the easier so we’d walk right into a trap.”
Harry placed the last bit of lembas in his mouth and swallowed. After several weeks’ sustenance on nothing but the Elven bread, water, and the occasional bit of dried fruit from his provisions, he had gotten used to the unusual sensation of feeling satisfied with only a few bites. But he knew he would have to watch his supplies – even lembas could only last so long.
“I expect that we’ll all look like wraiths once this is over,” Harry said, taking a swig from his water skin.
Frodo shuddered. “Don’t put it like that. It’s enough to know that we’re not alone in this Emyn Muil, but to even think about those foul demons…”
“Not alone?” Sam asked.
Frodo nodded and replied quietly, “Someone is following us; we can only hope that we’ll lose him.”
He tried to sound nonchalant, but Harry and Sam detected the worry in his tone. As they set out once more, they made sure their weapons were in easy reach.
Two days later they were still hopelessly lost, and their clothes were now soaked from a day’s worth of rain. Bone-weary and too exhausted to clamber over the slippery rocks, they settled down within a fair-sized fissure between two boulders. But while the Hobbits were small enough to stretch their limbs comfortably, the cave was too small for Harry to fully extend his legs. After two hours of sitting and waiting, he said to the two Hobbits, “I’m going out for a bit. It’s just a little cramped in here.”
They both gave small nods of acknowledgement, eyes half-closed as they leaned against the walls. Harry crawled out of the cave and breathed in the smell of rain. Never in his life had the air smelled so fresh, despite the fact that he was on a completely mad adventure in the wilderness close to Mordor.
He looked at the walking staff held in his right hand. Even though he did not need it for support, he felt a strange connection with it that compelled him to carry it everywhere. The smooth golden wood felt just right in his palm – the surface was silky and the golden Elvish characters were perfectly flush with the wood around them. He still did not understand them, and he still could not comprehend the gold tracery around the sphere on top. There seemed to be a pattern, but every time he tried to look for it, any sense of order vanished before his eyes.
I should have asked Hermione, he thought. Of course, she hadn’t exactly been speaking with him at that time, but he hoped that she and Ron were all right. It had been less than a week since he had seen his friends, but it felt as though an entire year had passed while they were trapped inside the maze of the Emyn Muil.
If only I could blast the rock out of the way without worrying about it. Using the Reductor Curse was too risky, what with the way the rocks were precariously placed. And his wand was stored inside his jerkin, which he did not want to get any wetter than it already was. Idly, he jabbed the staff at a smaller stone and imagined it breaking into several pieces.
CRACK! The rock shattered into many smooth fragments the same moment that lightning flashed overhead.
Harry stood frozen on the spot as the thunder rumbled, heedless of the fact that the hood of his Lórien cloak had fallen and that his glasses were becoming rain-spattered. What was that? He had not yet learned how to cast spells silently, and he had not even thought the incantation Reducto. Yet something had happened, for he had felt the wood grow warm under his wet, cold fingers. A warmth had seemed to come from his very heart, spreading a slow, pleasant heat through his rain-soaked person.
Before he could ponder this further, Sam’s head emerged from the cave mouth. “Harry…Mr. Frodo’s just about gone to sleep, but he thinks that you should come inside. Thunderstorms are always a danger, like my Gaffer always said.”
“Gaffer?”
“My ole’ dad. It’s what everyone else calls him back – ”
BOOM. A fork of lightning split the sky, coming close – entirely too close. Harry saw a boulder collapse in the distance, followed by another that had just been struck by lightning.
Something echoed in the depths of Harry’s mind. It would spell ‘Gandalf is here’ for all to see. And somehow, inexplicably, Harry understood…
“Sam! Get Frodo out of there!”
“But Harry, he’s just settled in and we’re almost dry and all – ”
“Now! This isn’t an ordinary thunderstorm. Someone’s trying to bring the cliffs down around us! They’ll collapse the cave!”
The gardener needed no telling twice. In seconds he had thrown all of the bags out to Harry, who held them in his arms as Sam went to get Frodo up.
The rumbles were coming closer, if that was even possible. Harry glanced back and saw Frodo and Sam crawling as fast as they could out of the cave. Then, without warning, a bolt of lightning struck the rock face above the cave mouth.
The Hobbits froze mere feet from the entrance. Harry’s eyes flicked upward, and he stared transfixed at the sight. Slowly, ever so slowly, fractures appeared in the cliff accompanied by cracking sounds. Frodo gave a cry.
Harry’s jerked his gaze away from the hypnotic web of cracks, returning to the faces of the terrified Hobbits. It wouldn’t be much longer before the rocks collapsed…
“Come on! Get out of there!” Harry yelled.
Sam dragged Frodo forward. They reached the mouth of the cave when another brilliant flash lit the sky just overhead.
Harry watched in horror as the lightning struck the rock – not once, not twice, but three times. The rock crumbled and began to fall just as the Hobbits started crawling outside.
Without thinking, Harry flung the packs from his arms and pointed the staff, concentrating hard and hoping, praying that it would work a second time…He closed his eyes, not willing to see whether the rocks had buried his two companions, wishing that the thunder would go on so that he would not hear their desperate cries…
“Harry!”
In his mind’s eye, he willed the mass of shattered stone to move to the left. A fiery rush of power had taken hold of him, a power that made his very being thrum with its strength. Yet it was getting more difficult to hold on….
“Harry!” He heard Frodo’s voice this time, more urgent than Sam’s had been.
He opened his eyes and let go.
There were Frodo and Sam, shaking before him with wide eyes, but otherwise quite unharmed. A pile of rocks lay beside them, its dust beginning to settle in the rain. Suddenly the warmth of this new magic dissipated, leaving Harry cold and weak. His knees buckled and he sat down hard, breathing heavily and leaning against the opposite cliff face to support himself.
“Harry? Are you all right?”
He glanced up; Frodo and Sam were leaning over him, concern written upon their features. “I…I’m fine,” he managed, more weakly than he expected.
“Take something to drink, here – ” Sam held out a water skin, which Harry gratefully accepted. After a few gulps of the cold water, he felt the strength returning to his limbs, and he pulled himself upright on his staff.
“I’m better now. I reckon I was just exhausted.” He looked down and saw the two Hobbits still staring at him, but with much different expressions.
“How?” Frodo asked softly. “How did you do it?”
“Only Gandalf could have reacted as fast,” Sam added thoughtfully.
“I…I didn’t…”
“Who else would have, then?” Frodo said.
“I don’t know,” Harry confessed. “I’m not sure how I did it.”
The Hobbit’s blue eyes flicked towards the golden staff in Harry’s hands. “That is the Lady’s gift, is it not?”
I valan vellwain vi dortha.
“Yes. I thought it was just a walking staff.”
“Clearly it is much more,” Frodo said.
The strongest power dwells within.
Was this the answer he was looking for? He had a vague notion about what he had done…but how? “I don’t really know what I did.”
Frodo and Sam regarded him skeptically for a few moments. Then Frodo said, “Keep it close. You might need it again – and thank you for saving my life and Sam’s once again.”
“That’s twice you owe me,” Harry grinned.
Frodo smiled, but his expression quickly grew somber. “And the debt will not go unpaid if the occasion ever arises that I must save you. Come, we must find a new place to rest….”
They sheltered themselves behind a cliff, pulling their cloaks over their heads and curling up against the rock face. The storm abated as Harry sat awake, too unsettled to fall fully asleep.
* * *
A crackling sound and the smell of cooking greeted Harry when he woke the next morning. Wiping his glasses and pulling his hood back, he spotted Sam crouching over a small fire with a pan full of sizzling meat.
“’Morning, Harry,” the Hobbit said.
Harry straightened up and stretched. “What’s all that for? We have lembas, don’t we?”
“Well, yes, but seeing as we had to sit through that horrible weather last night, I thought that something hot would set us all on our feet right this morning. Especially Mr. Frodo,” he added, glancing over at their companion. Frodo’s face was pulled into a frown, even in slumber.
“So what is it?”
“Salted pork. I left it in a pot of rainwater last night to soften…it’s about the only fresh water we’ll get right now. And there are a few apples in my pack, if you’d like. Matter of fact, I was thinking about cooking a few.”
Sam removed the sizzling meat from the pan and began cutting two wrinkled apples into wedges. As he lowered them onto the pork fat, Frodo stretched and awoke.
“Good morning, Sam and Harry. What have you got there?”
Poking the contents of the pan with a fork, Sam replied, “Just some fried apples and pork.”
“My dear Sam! You didn’t have to. We have lembas.”
“Aye, but the Elven bread isn’t properly filling – and it’s isn’t hot neither. Anyways, it’ll hopefully make up for sleeping in that storm, at least partly.”
“It will more than make up for it,” Frodo replied. “Thank you.”
They ate their breakfasts quickly, despite their wishes to sit and savor the meal. Harry hadn’t realized just how much he missed the feeling of real food settling in his stomach until today. Sam was right – the lembas just wasn’t enough, even though it eased their hunger and gave them energy.
A thick fog had replaced the storm from the night before, and they had even more trouble than usual navigating through the rocks. Midway through the day, Sam looked around and remarked, “This place looks strangely familiar.”
Harry groaned. “We were here a few hours ago. It’s no use; even with the Four-point Spell, we’re still going in circles!”
“Urgh! Mr. Frodo, can you smell that? I reckon there’s a nasty bog somewhere here.”
“Yes,” Frodo said softly. “I can smell it.”
He seemed altogether lost in thought. Harry and Sam glanced at him.
His eyes met theirs as he said quietly, “We’re not alone.”
* * *
Later that night, the three companions lay sleeping at the foot of a cliff. Frodo tossed and turned, unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. Harry and Sam were snoring quietly on either side of him, wrapped in their cloaks.
At last he fell into an uneasy sleep plagued by that same dream. The Wraiths on Weathertop, the pounding hooves, the flame-wreathed Eye. The Ring, branding its inscription into his flesh. And then the dream continued…
The Eye’s pupil of never-ending darkness bored into him, and he stared right back. Someone was muttering in the uncouth tongue of Mordor, a dark chant, an evil song. He felt fear, yes, but also defiance.
Then the Ring was wrenched from his closed fingers, and he felt as though a piece of his very being was ripped away…Someone was laughing, deep and menacing, but the voice was growing higher as the flames dimmed and the Eye turned into dark smoke in the shape of a Man or an Elf…
He saw Sauron’s back. Towering and strong and fair as an Elf-lord was he, though much more terrible…And then his cold laugh rang out, a sound that chilled Frodo even as he stood there, silent and defiant…
“You are a thief, Frodo Baggins. Did you not realize that you had taken what was mine?” Sauron raised his hand and Frodo saw the Ring upon the middle finger, glinting in the strange light of the chamber.
The Lord of the Ring did not turn as he continued speaking. “It was always mine. Only I have the power to control it; any lesser being would be controlled by it, driven mad by the very desire to hold it.” He paused. “Why do you remain silent, thief? For that is what you are. Nothing but a filthy thief.”
“…They’re filthy little thieves! Curse them!”
A guttural, hissing voice replaced Sauron’s deep and sonorous tones, jerking Frodo awake. Here was their follower. He opened his eyes and saw Harry’s frozen expression, but the young Man remained motionless. On Frodo’s other side Sam’s snores had ceased.
The voice grew closer. “Where iss it, Precious?”
Frodo signaled to Harry with small motions of his fingers. Stand and seize him when I do. Harry gave the barest of nods in reply.
“We wants it!”
“NOW!” Frodo cried. He sprang to his feet and grabbed the creature’s wrist, tugging hard. Sam had seized the creature’s other arm, and Harry was at Frodo’s side.
The creature tumbled from the wall, hissing and spitting, and Frodo was thrown against a rock. Stars winked before his eyes, and the Ring had escaped from beneath his shirt, now easy to spot.
For such an emaciated being, the creature fought hard. He had wrapped himself around Sam from behind, and Harry was struggling to free the other Hobbit from the creature’s stranglehold. Then, as Frodo’s vision cleared, he caught the creature’s gaze momentarily. The luminous green orbs moved from his face to the Ring dangling from its chain, and the creature released Sam, now lunging for Frodo.
Frodo could not sit up in time. The creature leapt upon him, fingers scrabbling at his chest and throat as Sam struggled to hold him back. Yet even as Frodo tried to tuck the Ring back into his shirt, Harry’s voice rang out.
“ENOUGH! Sam, back off!”
“But – ”
“Do as I say!”
Frodo felt the pressure of the creature’s hands upon his throat, slowly cutting off his breath.
“Relashio!”
The creature flew backwards. Frodo raised his head in time to see Harry pointing his wand once more.
“Incarcerous!” Ropes shot out of Harry’s wand and bound themselves tightly around the creature, covering even his mouth.
“Who are you?” Harry demanded. He severed the ropes binding the creature’s mouth shut with a careful spell, making sure his wand was in plain view. “You know what I can do with this if I want. Answer me! Why were you following us?”
“Gollum,” Frodo said quietly. “He is called Gollum, or so my uncle Bilbo told me.”
“That only answers half of my question. Why were you following us?” he asked again.
A menacing light shone from the creature’s eyes as he spat, “Mustn’t ask us. It must release us.”
“I will not. Answer, or I will…”
“Leave it to me, Harry.” Frodo unsheathed the sword at his side and crouched next to the bound figure. “Do you know what this is?”
Anger welled up in Gollum’s features. “Yess…”
“Listen to me, or your throat will feel Sting’s blade. I know why you were following us – ”
“The Precious is ours, it is! Ours!”
“It is not, and it will not fall into your possession. We cannot risk you running off to tell the Enemy where we are; therefore, you will remain tied and will follow us until we see fit.
“Leave his hands tied, Harry. Sam, use your Elven rope to put around his neck, but carefully! We will set a guard and exchange places after a few hours, so we all can continue sleeping.”
* * *
The next day dawned bright and clear. All would have been well, except that Gollum moaned continuously in a loud voice.
“It burns us! Take it off us, we asks you! Elveses made it, curse them…”
“Quiet down, will you?” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll make you! Do you want us to be spotted?”
Gollum stopped crawling and howled his misery to the sky in response.
“Every Orc in Mordor’s going to hear this racket, Mr. Frodo!” Sam said, tugging at the Elvish rope.
Frodo turned and gazed at the creature. After Gandalf had told him Gollum’s sad history, he had not been able to comprehend why exactly Bilbo had left Gollum alive. The creature had tried to kill Bilbo, after all. Yet as he stared at the skeletal limbs and emaciated features, he could finally understand why Bilbo had spared Gollum from death.
Sméagol had been his name once, the name of a creature not unlike a Hobbit. But then the Ring had cast a shadow upon his path.
Frodo knew just how strong the Ring pulled at his heart. He had been unable to even drop the Ring into the fire at his home, for it had shaken his resolve. But to live bound to the Ring for nearly six hundred years…
Pity welled up in his heart. Gollum had been like a Hobbit once, so perhaps he could be saved. The riddles Gollum had chosen during the game with Bilbo had proven that there was a small part of him that was still longing for the light. Perhaps he can be fully turned back, Frodo thought, looking at his two other companions.
* * *
Harry pointed his wand at Gollum. Sam was staring at the creature with a look of revulsion on his face, which was perfectly understandable. Gollum’s enormous eyes were shut as he moaned piteously on the rock-strewn ground.
“Shut up, will you, before I have to curse you!” Harry hissed again. “You’re making a racket!”
Gollum’s pale eyes flickered to the wand, and he bared his teeth. “Nasssty sstick. We hates it!”
“Then pipe down, or I’ll use the nasty stick on you.”
Gollum started howling miserably once again. Fed up, Harry made a jabbing motion towards the emaciated creature and said, “Silencio!”
Gollum clutched at his throat, now unable to speak. His large, hate-filled eyes glared at Harry, who felt little remorse. This creature was treacherous and could not be trusted…
“Harry, release him from whatever spell you are using.”
“But Frodo – ”
“He might deserve death for the damage he has caused, but he also deserves our pity. Release him.”
“But he doesn’t deserve your trust. And you’re blindly giving it to him?”
“Mr. Frodo…”
“You must be gentle, Sam. He might yet be turned to goodness.”
“He won’t.”
The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he knew what he was saying. Something deep inside him gave him this conviction. Frodo’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“And how do you know that?” he said in a soft voice.
“I know.”
The Hobbit scrutinized him for another few moments before saying, “Very well. Release him.”
“He’ll make a racket,” Harry replied.
Frodo sighed and moved towards the creature. “Gollum.”
The piteous, emaciated face turned to face him, pale green eyes beseeching.
“Do you know the way to Mordor?”
A nod.
Frodo crouched. “You have ventured into that land?”
Another nod, more frantic this time.
“How do I know that I can trust you?”
Gollum threw a glare at Harry, who still had his wand in his hand. He pointed to his throat and turned his gaze on Frodo.
“Harry, let him speak.”
Harry grudgingly muttered “Audictus!”, pointing his wand at Gollum.
At once the creature began to plead with Frodo. “Don’t kill us. Don’t let the tall one use the nasssty stick.”
“I cannot promise you that.”
“Then we will do whatever it wantss! Please, please, take it off us!” he cried, tugging at the silvery rope.
“I cannot trust that you will not run away and alert the Enemy.”
Gollum looked crestfallen. “It doesn’t believe us, Precious! Why would we lets Him know?” His eyes flicked back to Frodo’s face. “We will swear…”
“On what?”
“On…on…on the Precious! Yesss….We will serve the master of the Precious. Take it off us, we asks!”
Silence filled the rock-enclosed area as Frodo weighed his decision. Then something seemed to snap in Sam.
“You’re lying!” He started towards Gollum as if to attack.
“No, Sam!” Frodo cried out. Harry grabbed the gardener by the shoulders, bringing him up short. Gollum had sprung aside and had begun to speed away, but the Elven rope around his neck snapped him back. He lay there in the stony ground, wheezing pathetically.
“He has sworn to listen to me, Sam. He will not harm you.”
That oath is no good, Harry thought. He is treacherous, Frodo, why can’t you see that?
But something else told him that there was more to Gollum’s story, and that Frodo knew enough to spare him the punishment he truly deserved. Grudgingly, Harry placed the wand back into his jerkin.
“Very well, Frodo. I do not trust him yet, but the Ring will hold him to his oath.”
“Aye, best keep an eye on him, no matter what,” Sam added.
Frodo gave an approving nod to his companions before turning to face Gollum once more. Carefully, he released the ropes binding Gollum’s hands and slipped the silver cord off his neck.
“Thank you, Master! We will do whatever you wants…”
“I hold you to your word,” Frodo said sternly. “You will lead us to the Black Gate of Mordor.”
