Walk To Rivendell" aka "The Eowyn Challenge"

[Anorial]

Hi Nurumaiel, nice to meet you! I'm at 110 miles right now.

Cheers,
Anorial

[Nurumaiel]

And pleased to meet you, Anorial. You really are cruising along! 110 miles, eh? Look out around Old Man Willow. When I was back there he nearly got Merry and Pippin.

(I have an odd feeling there are countless Merrys and Pippins running about right now. I see them here with me, but I know they're with Anorial too, and weren't they up at the Anduin giving foot massages? I guess so long as they don't meet each other and die of fright!!)

Obeying Gandalf's request I have updated the Walker's List, which can be found on the first page of the thread, second post. I do apologize if I miscalculated any mileages. Now I'm off for some late-night walking.

Happy walking!

[Alatáriël Lossëhelin]

it is the common opinion that it was all my fault for teaching the hobbits to play baseball. I don't remember being hit....

Nurumaiel: Welcome back!! Sorry to hear you've had shoulder problems--those hobbits can sure get carried away sometimes, can't they?

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We have almost reached the Cross-roads, and we will then have to turn East to Minas Morgul. Just before dawn today we made camp on a great hog-back of land covered with gorse bushes. The bushes were quite tall, and Gollum and the halflings were able to walk upright under them, although I had to crouch to keep from being impaled on the thorns.

Instead of the sun, a dark cloud rose from the Nameless Land to spread westwards. The sun could not pierce this shadow, and the day continued to grow darker and darker. Gollum disappeared soon after we stopped, and when he returns we must continue our journey. I try to appear confident and unafraid in front of the hobbits, but my heart quails at the thought of the Dead City. Many dreadful tales have been told in Rivendell of the horrors that dwell in Minas Morgul. When my fears begin to overwhelm me, the determination and strength of will of my small companions give me the courage to persevere in spite of my dread.

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"Haven't you had no sleep, Mr. Frodo?" he said. "What's the time? Seems to be getting late!"

"No it isn't," said Frodo. "But the day is getting darker instead of lighter: darker and darker. As far as I can tell, it isn't midday yet, and you've only slept for about three hours."

...At that moment a rolling and rumbling noise was heard again, louder now and deeper. The ground seemed to quiver under their feet. "I think we are in for trouble anyhow," said Frodo. "I'm afraid our journey is drawing to an end."

"Maybe," said Sam; "but where there's life there's hope, as my Gaffer used to say; and need of vittles, as he mostways used to add. You have a bite, Mr. Frodo, and then a bit of sleep."

...Frodo gave no sign of what was passing in his mind. He sighed, hoisted his pack, and prepared to go out into the ever-gathering darkness...Without the crack of a twig or the rustle of a leaf they passed and vanished.

[Alatáriël Lossëhelin]

Yesterday, we journeyed from the Cross-roads into Morgul Vale, where Gollum led us to his 'secret' path over the Mountains of Shadow. While we watched from across the Valley, the Witch King led his army westward for the attack on Minas Tirith. I fear for the city, for the army was huge. I hope Faramir and his men were able to cross the Anduin in time.

We climbed up two sets of stairs: the Straight Stair was the most difficult for the halflings, although the Winding Stair was longer. I followed behind (and below) them so that I would be able to catch them if they slipped or fell. When we reached the top, we ate a little and then rested for a few hours before venturing into the lightless tunnel. As we travelled through the passages, we realized that Gollum had betrayed us and we were lost in the darkness and the stench. When it seemed that we were trapped by the horror of Shelob, the Ringbearer drew his sword and with the light of the star-glass we were able to make our escape.

After Frodo cut the web that covered the entrance of the tunnel, he suddenly ran shouting out into the open, heading for the pass. I heard a hiss behind me, and something hard hit my head. When I awoke, I saw the figure of Sam standing in the cleft of the pass, but there was no sign of Frodo. Suddenly, before my eyes, Sam vanished. When I reached the cleft myself, he reappeared just ahead of me. There was no time for us to exchange tales, as the knowledge that Frodo was a prisoner of the orcs spurred us into action.

When we entered the Tower, we found no live orcs and the place stank of death. We feared that Frodo had also been slain, but we found him in the highest chamber--alive, but naked. Since he had no other clothes, we dressed him in orc gear, and Sam and I wore helms with the sign of the red eye and cloaks to hide our clothes, so that we would match.

We have escaped from the Enemy, and must now make our way across Gorgoroth towards Mt. Doom. May Elbereth protect us!

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Sam gave no more thought to it. He ran to the figure huddled on the floor. It was Frodo.

He was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags: his arm was flung up, shielding his head, and across his side there ran an ugly whip-weal.

"Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!" cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. "It's Sam, I've come!" He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast. Frodo opened his eyes.

"Am I still dreaming?" he muttered. "But the other dreams were horrible."

"You're not dreaming at all, Master," said Sam. "It's real. It's me. I've come."

"I can hardly believe it," said Frodo, clutching him. "There was an orc with a whip, and then it turns into Sam! Then I wasn't dreaming after all when I heard that singing down below, and I tried to answer? Was it you?"

"It was indeed, Mr. Frodo. I'd given up hope, almost. I couldn't find you."

"Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam," said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam's gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.

Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him.

[Alatáriël Lossëhelin]

We have journeyed north from the Tower for several days, following alongside the orc-road. Our food supplies now consist of lembas only, and a few wafers are all that remain. Water has been most difficult, as there are very few streams in these hills. I fear we may soon have to journey along the roadway, as scrambling among these hills is rapidly consuming the Ringbearer's dwindling strength.

The day after our escape, the wind changed to the West and the smokes of Mt. Doom began to roll back. How we long for word of our friends...it is plain that not all things are going the Enemy's way. Yesterday, we overheard orcs speaking of the destruction of the Witch-king. If true, this is good news beyond all hope. However, for the three of us here in Mordor, all we can do is try to elude capture for as long as possible, and continue our journey towards the Mountain.

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When Sam thought of water even his hopeful spirit quailed. Beyond the Morgai there was the dreadful plain of Gorgoroth to cross.

"Now you go to sleep first, Mr. Frodo," he said. "It's getting dark again. I reckon this day is nearly over."

Frodo sighed and was asleep almost before the words were spoken. Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo's hand; and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself awake, he crawled from the hiding-place and looked out. The land seemed full of creaking and cracking and sly noises, but there was no sound of voice or of foot. Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master's, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo's side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.