Chapter 61. ...And All the King’s Men

At Jack’s cry, Hilly jerked his head up, instantly alert for trouble. He stared at the silvering hair of the Man leaping from rock to rock, stopping in the middle of the River, rope coiled over one shoulder.

 ‘Pippin,’ he hissed, shaking his cousin. ‘It’s Jack! I’d swear it is!’

Pippin wiped at his eyes and raised his head, taking in the situation at once. Hope bloomed briefly when he saw his son, clinging to the rock as water thundered over the edge of the falls to either side of his precarious hold, only to turn at once to bleak despair when he saw Jack's purpose. It was clear to him that Jack had been waiting on the opposite shore for the other Men. ‘So he was a ruffian after all,’ he gritted.

Hilly took up his bow and pulled an arrow from his quiver, sighting carefully, but the Thain jerked at his arm, spoiling his aim.

 ‘What—!’ he said impatiently.

 ‘Wait,’ Pippin said, voice hard and cold and when Hilly glanced at him the escort lowered his bow. The Thain’s face looked as if it might have been carven from stone, and his eyes glinted dangerously. ‘He has a rope,’ he continued. ‘He might be Farry’s only chance. Wait,’ he said again, ‘until he has Farry, and when he reaches the opposite shore, bring him down.’

 ‘Aye,’ Hilly said, and set himself to wait and watch.

***

Jack reached the midpoint of the Stepping Stones and stopped to consider. A sturdy tree branch was lodged between this rock and the next, as if the fates had anticipated his need.  He lifted the rope to his lips and breathed a benediction, then fastened one end to the branch, jerking hard to check the fastness of his anchor. It appeared it would take an axe to dislodge the branch, and of course he could trust the rope to do its part.

He shook out a loop from the other end of the rope and raised his voice once more. ‘Farry!’ he cried. ‘Hold fast! I’m going to throw the rope to you! Put it around yourself and I’ll haul you in!’

The little hobbit waved one arm, clinging to the rock with the other.

 ‘Now then,’ Jack whispered. ‘Fly true!’ He drew back his arm, aimed, and threw. The elven-rope obediently snaked through the air, settling directly by the hobbit lad, so directly that Pippin winced, thinking it would strike his little son... but it didn’t.

The Thain held his breath as Farry let go with one hand to pull the loop over himself. His fists clenched when he heard Farry call back, confidence in his tone. ‘Ready!’

Jack nodded and began to haul. It was a battle, with all the force of the water against him, but the rope helped to lend him strength. While the hobbits watched, breathless, Jack pulled Farry from the edge of the falls to the relative safety of the Stepping Stones.

 ‘Ready,’ Pippin echoed as the Man took up Farry and hugged him close. The Man paused then, and it seemed to the watching hobbits that he and Faramir spoke, though no sound came to them over the roar of the waterfalls. Pippin’s hand closed on Hilly’s arm, tightened there, and released as Jack removed the rope from Faramir and coiled it upon the broad rock where they stood.

 ‘Ready,’ Hilly replied, watching the Man narrowly. Right through the heart, he vowed, just as soon as the Man’s feet were safely ashore. But to his surprise Jack turned towards them and began leaping the gaps between the stones.

The arrow fell from Hilly’s hand as the Man leapt from the nearest rock, splashing in the shallows of the River.

 ‘Da!’ Farry called, even as Pippin was rising to his feet to seize his son from the Man.

 ‘Thain Peregrin,’ the Man said respectfully.

 ‘Jack,’ Pippin whispered, and the Man smiled.

 ‘At your service, and at your family’s service,’ Jack said with a graceful bow, and then he whirled and leapt to the first rock on his way back across the River, on to the second rock, and the third.

 ‘Wait!’ Hilly shouted, but the Man did not heed.

Farry released his choking-tight hold on his father and reared back. ‘Pippin-lad!’ he said. ‘He’s gone to get him!’

 ‘Pip-lad?’ Pippin said, dumbfounded. He exchanged glances with Hilly, then looked to the River. Jack had stopped where he’d left the rope, and now the Man tied the end of the rope about himself, and to the hobbits’ consternation he lowered himself into the water, working his way down the rope, easing himself towards the edge of the falls, and Farry’s erstwhile sanctuary.

 ‘He was holding fast to my braces,’ Farry said as he watched. ‘He was holding to one of my braces when we fell in. I managed to grab the rock, but he was swept over. I thought he was lost, but I heard him cry from below. He fell onto a ledge...’

Hilly didn’t wait to hear the rest, but rose abruptly and began to pick his way along the bank. The land fell away steeply as the waterfall descended with a roar into the gorge below. Creeping as close as he dared to the edge of the precipice, the escort saw now a tiny figure not far from the top of the falls, clinging to a precarious perch. ‘Pip-lad!’ he shouted, but doubted the lad heard him.

Pippin hugged Farry as if he’d never let him go again, burying his face in the lad’s curls, shuddering with reaction. ‘Jack’s going after him,’ he said, closing his eyes.

 ‘Jack’ll save him,’ Faramir said in utmost confidence. ‘He said he would.’

Pippin nodded and hugged his lad closer. He felt dizzy, drained, and didn’t know how he’d manage to stir from the spot.

In the next moment there was a jingle of mail, and he looked up to see guardsmen surrounding him. Looking further, he saw Frodo-lad, still perched on the back of a tall horse.

 ‘We were on patrol, not far from your picnic,’ a grizzled sergeant said. ‘The lad said there were ruffians, took two of the children...’

 ‘This one’s safe,’ Pippin said, his arms tightening on Farry once more. ‘The other’s in the River.’

The guardsman blanched, and then his jaw tightened. ‘We’ll work our way downriver,’ he said.

 ‘Jack’s going to save him,’ Farry piped up.

 ‘I’m sure he is, lad,’ the sergeant said gruffly, and then he arose and began to snap orders. Two of the members of his patrol began to leap across the Stepping Stones, pausing when they reached the taut rope fastened to the tree branch. They appeared to confer, fingering the rope, and then leaving the rope they proceeded to the other side. Two more began to make their way down the precipitous bank, down beside the waterfall, down into the gorge. These stopped when they saw Jack, hanging over the side of the waterfall, just reaching Pip-lad’s shelf.

***

Water arched to either side of them, thundering down into the mist below. Pip-lad’s refuge projected out from the face of the falls, long enough for a Man to stretch out, were he so inclined. The young Gamgee huddled in the centre, hugging himself and shivering.  His eyes widened as the Man appeared above him, climbing slowly down until he reached the ledge.

 ‘Stay away,’ he sobbed. ‘Keep away!’

 ‘Steady, lad,’ Jack soothed, even as he raised his voice to be heard above the waters. ‘I’m here to help you.’ He moved very slowly, for he didn’t want to startle the little one into falling. ‘Steady, lad,’ he repeated.

 ‘Mama,’ the tiny hobbit whimpered, burying his face under his arms and huddling into as small a ball as he could make himself. ‘Dad!’

Jack spoke comfort as he inched his way closer, and at last he had the lad!—safe in his arms. He gathered the shivering little one close, so small, less than half the size of little Rob... ‘There-there,’ he soothed. ‘We’ll soon have you to your Mama.’

At first Pip-lad drew away, but suddenly he clung, tight and trusting, and Jack gently patted the lad’s back as he considered his course. He could climb up again, surely, but there was all the power of the falls to be reckoned with. He wasn’t sure he could haul himself back to the Stepping Stones against the force of the water, even if Pip-lad were to cling to his back, leaving both his hands free for the effort. He might go down—he thought the rope was long enough—down this projection of rock to the bottom of the falls, though how they’d escape being pounded to death by the plunging waters was beyond his reckoning.

Motion on the bank caught his eye, and he inhaled sharply to see the guardsmen halted there, staring at him. He looked across to the other bank, meeting the gaze of two more, standing, waiting. More were working their way to the base of the falls, and no doubt still more were at the top, ready to take hold of his rope and haul him and the lad in... not that it matter what happened to him, but they’d soon connect him to the shop, and Will...

His resolve hardening, he gave the young hobbit’s back another pat and straightened, saying briskly. ‘We’re going to get you out of here now.’

 ‘How?’ Pippin-lad gulped, clinging tighter, as if he feared the Man would launch him into the thundering waters that surrounded them.

 ‘Here now,’ Jack said, freeing one hand to loosen the rope’s embrace around his waist. He stepped out of the loop and pulled it up and around the hobbit lad, tightening the loop securely below the lad’s armpits. ‘You’re going to fly like a bird does, fly through the air, though my elven-rope will hold you safe all the while, and won’t let you fall.’

 ‘Elven-rope?’ the lad said in wonder, but he froze as he comprehended the rest. ‘Fly?’

 ‘Fly,’ Jack affirmed, managing to loose the clinging fists from his shirt and holding them tightly in his hand before he swung the lad away at the end of the rope. The lad screamed, a high, thin sound of terror.

The Thain jerked, Farry said in wonder, ‘What’s that?’ and the sergeant swore, jumping to his feet and turning towards the gorge. Frodo-lad slid from his high perch atop the sergeant's horse, suppressing a cry as he landed badly, turning his ankle.

Heart in his mouth, Hilly watched little Pip-lad swinging at the end of the rope like the pendulum on the dwarf-made clock in the Thain’s study. He could see Jack’s purpose, as did the guardsmen halfway down the side of the gorge. They moved to intercept the hobbit, who continued to shriek as the swings grew wider.

Hilly caught his breath as one of the guardsmen stretched out his hand, almost touching the tiny foot at the end of a swing, nearly falling into the gorge as the backward swing took the hobbit away from him, saved only by his comrade’s steadying grip. Another swing and... ‘He has him!’ he shouted, exultation rising in him. ‘He has him!’

He felt someone grab his shoulder and looked up to see the grizzled sergeant, grim expression turned to wonder as he stared at his Men below them. ‘He has him!’ he said again, and the sergeant nodded and muttered an awe-filled expletive.

Jack watched narrowly, maintaining his hold on the rope as the guardsman removed the loop from the hobbit child and stood hesitating. The two guardsmen were conferring. At last one looked up and began gesturing.

Jack nodded and waved his hand as he caught the gist, just as if he were in full agreement. They were going up to the Stepping Stones, he gathered, and they’d haul him up from there. He put on a broad smile, gave the rope a tug, pointed expressively upwards, and waved again.

Once the guardsmen dropped the rope and turned to climb out of the gorge, Jack took a deep breath. ‘I’m counting on you,’ he told the rope. ‘You’ve never failed me yet.’

He pulled in the rope and settled the loop around his waist once more. After all, if he lost his grip and fell, he was counting on the rope to catch him before he was dashed to pieces on the rocks below the falls. He gave a nod and a wave to the guardsmen watching from the opposite bank... and then he began to lower himself, smiling privately at their consternation. One of them began to make his way to the top of the gorge, probably to race across the Stepping Stones to report the ruffian’s attempt to escape. Jack must be well down before they reached the rope and began to haul him up again.

He let himself slide faster, ever downwards, trusting the rope to catch him—which it did. Too short by a length, he realised, dangling in the mist above the roiling waters. Too short. He’d have to drop into the waters from here, and there’d be no chance to call the rope from its anchor.

He struggled to release himself, but the loop held him tight in its embrace. ‘Have to get down!’ he said aloud in his frustration. ‘Will...’ They mustn’t take him alive, mustn’t be led to young Will, mustn’t...’ Despair took him in the pit of his stomach as he felt the rope jerk, felt himself move upwards and stop.

***

Pippin watched as the small huddle of guardsmen on the broad stone in the middle of the River took hold of the elven-line and began to pull. It was tricky business, three Men on a rock with rushing water to either side.

 ‘Look, Farry,’ he said. ‘They’ll have Jack up and safe, soon enough.’

Hilly sat nearby, Pip-lad in his lap, and the escort was doing his best to soothe the lad, who’d developed a sudden horror of Men, not surprisingly. Frodo-lad had limped over and was hovering over his small brother, adding his own words of comfort. Pip-lad had continued to shriek, even as the guardsmen brought him to the waiting grown hobbits, and hadn’t stopped until Hilly had taken the lad in his arms and sat down, crooning a lullaby. The song sounded incongruous, considering the situation they were in, but it calmed Pip-lad enough that he stopped shrieking and huddled, trembling, in Hilly’s lap.

Hilly looked up to see the rescue proceeding, in time to see the rope sliding through the guardsmen’s hands as if it were greased. There were shouts of alarm from the other side of the gorge, and loud curses from the Men on the Stepping Stones. Hilly watched with amazement as the rope, somehow come free of the anchoring branch, whipped itself clear of the hands that grasped it, falling into the waters and disappearing in the flood.

Thrusting his burden into Frodo-lad's arms, Hilly jumped to his feet and ran to the edge of the gorge. He looked at the ledge where Jack had rescued Pip-lad, but it was empty. He looked down the falls to the bottom, seeing no sign of Man or rope. The guardsmen were climbing down the walls of the gorge towards the base of the falls, evidently searching, but Jack was gone just as if he’d never been.