59: Into the Scamelas

They reached a point in the tunnel system where it split, with one fork heading almost due west, according to Gléomund and the other heading more or less north.

"Here we come to a parting of ways," the old tutor said to Aragorn. "Sigefred will guide you to where you can leave the tunnels and show you the way to the Scamelas."

"The tunnel does not go all the way?" Denethor asked.

Gléomund shook his head. "No. Or rather it does go a little further southwest beyond where Sigefred will bring you up to the surface, but it deadends and there are no other ways out at that point. I never understood why until you mentioned the licweg, Lord Thorongil. It never occurred to me that it actually existed or that is why the tunnels did not go any further west than they do."

Aragorn nodded. "Perhaps the tales were enough to prevent anyone from tunneling further west."

"Or not," Denethor said with a faint frown.

"Explain," Aragorn demanded, wondering what the Gondorian was thinking.

Denethor shook his head. "This is pure supposition, of course, but what if they didn’t stop short, but actually met up with the licweg, realized what they had found and decided to block the tunnel at that end. That would explain why the tunnel continues further than the exit to street level."

"Has anyone actually examined that dead end?" Aragorn asked Gléomund.

"No, at least not to my knowledge. The maps we have of the tunnel system do not even indicate that the tunnel continues beyond the exit. We only learned of it when we came down here but as there was no obvious exit at the dead end we just assumed that work was disrupted at that point for some reason and never resumed."

"No obvious exit," Aragorn mused aloud, looking pointedly at Denethor, who nodded.

"And what was blocked can always be unblocked."

Aragorn nodded as well. "You may be correct, my friend," he said, "and it would be worth exploring if Sigefred can take us there, but first we must find my cousin and Wídfara." He turned to Gléomund and clasped the man in a warrior’s embrace. "Thengel is waiting for the gates to open at dawn or thereabouts. I know you will not fail him."

"We will not," Gléomund replied. "Thengel King shall have his throne back before day’s end."

"Lord Béma guide you and may Elbereth’s light shine upon you," Aragorn said solemnly.

"And with you, son," the old man said with great emotion. "Take care of Sigefred for me. He shows great promise and if we both survive this day I hope to take him under my wing and teach him all that I know."

Sigefred gave an exasperated sigh. "But Gléomund, I want to be a warrior like Captain Folcwine or Lord Thorongil. I don’t want to spend my days surrounded by boring books and dusty scrolls and...."

"We’ll talk about it later," Gléomund said firmly. "Right now, we both have our tasks to perform if ever Thengel King is to reclaim his rightful heritage."

The young man nodded glumly and Thorongil cast a knowing smile at the royal tutor before clapping a hand on Sigefred’s shoulder. "Come. The night grows old and there is much that must be done ere daylight."

With that the two groups parted and Sigefred led the way for Aragorn and Denethor. The tunnel was low and both men had to stoop a bit to avoid banging their heads on the ceiling. It snaked its way first south and then north but always moving westward. They could hear Sigefred muttering to himself and Aragorn caught some of the boy’s words and smiled to himself.

"....books and scrolls. Bah! Swords and spears are better."

After a few minutes though, the boy came to a halt and put a finger to his lips as he turned to the two men. "We are coming close to the surface," he whispered. "You must make no sound for it will be heard."

The two men nodded their understanding and then they resumed their trek. Less than five minutes later, Sigefred stopped again and using hand signals motioned his companions closer and pointed upward. Just above them was a trapdoor with an iron ring in its center. Sigefred motioned for Aragorn, who was the tallest of them, to reach up and pull on the ring, which he did. As the door was pulled open, straw fell down around them. When the last of it had fallen Aragorn looked up into darkness. He hoped that there was no one around to see them come up but Sigefred appeared unconcerned, so he kept his worries to himself.

Still silent, Sigefred mimed being hoisted up and Aragorn cupped his hands while the boy handed their torch to Denethor. As soon as he was up, he scrabbled about for a moment and then a rope ladder was thrown down, its upper end tied firmly to the door. Sigefred knelt at the edge of the opening and reached down to take the torch from Denethor, freeing the man’s hands for climbing.

Aragorn found they had come up into a narrow windowless room, perhaps no more than ten paces across, which explained why Sigefred had been unconcerned. Small bales of straw were stacked at the north end. A few bales were set along the east wall as well. As soon as they were all out, Sigefred handed the torch to Denethor again, reaching back down to roll the ladder up into a small bundle, undoing the ties and shoving it into a small and obviously secret cubbyhole in the east wall. Then he reached down and pulled the door up by the ring set on its upper side. The door closed with a soft snick and Sigefred let the ring fall into a depression in the wood that put it flush with the rest of the door. Standing, he took out a small knife and cut the binding rope of a nearby bale, strewing the straw about until the door was hidden. Satisfied with his efforts, he grinned at the two men and, still remaining silent, motioned them forward, taking the torch once again, heading for a door at the south end of the room. Sigefred put his back to the door and motioned the other two closer so he could speak to them.

"This door leads out onto the street that runs from the gate to the Scamelas," he said softly. "We turn right as we leave."

The other two nodded. Then Aragorn dared a question. "Why was there no sign of straw in the tunnel?"

Sigefred grinned. "Usually, if anyone needs to use this exit, at least two others come with him and collect the straw to take away. New bales are added to the pile here every once in awhile. This is actually a storage alley for the stables. Those who are responsible for the bales know enough not to place any above the door."

"Surely not all who handle the bales know about the tunnel," Denethor whispered in surprise, "and the straw does not completely hide the door."

Sigefred shook his head. "True, but the one in charge of the bales is a friend and if any asks he just tells them that the door leads to a cold cellar for ice."

The two men nodded, impressed by the simplicity of the ruse, for blocks of ice were generally stored in such cellars insulated by straw. Sigefred then turned back to the door and removed a knot in the wood that was at eye level, revealing a small hole through which he could look out. Seemingly satisfied, he replaced the knot and Aragorn noticed that it did not lie completely flush to the door, making it easy for someone to pull it out. Meanwhile, Sigefred cautiously opened the door and then slipped outside with the other two following. Aragorn was surprised that the door had no lock but on second thought realized there was no need. The bales were for the nearby stables. It would be wasted effort to always have to hunt for a key whenever new bales were to be stored or removed.

Closing the door softly the three glanced nervously about, but the street was dark and empty. Sigefred moved to the right and they headed west. A hundred paces on they came to another street lined with empty stalls. "The Scamelas," Sigefred whispered unnecessarily. It was a narrow lane that seemed to wander rather than move straight up along the side of the mount where Meduseld loomed and Aragorn realized that was because it actually followed the shape of the cliff to their left. They stepped cautiously along, keeping to the shadows where the moon, now nearly at zenith, shone down, illuminating the area enough that Sigefred doused their torch without being told, much to Aragorn’s approval. The boy shoved it into his belt, rather than dropping it, knowing that they might need it later.

His eyes roamed the area and he strained his ears to hear the footfalls of anyone coming down the street but there was nothing. He wondered how far up the Scamelas they needed to go to sense the Darkness. It didn’t matter, for suddenly he felt a wave of nausea strike him and then he was falling back into one of the stalls, gasping for breath. Denethor was leaning against a post, his eyes tightly shut while Sigefred was kneeling above a pool of vomit. Aragorn gathered his scattered wits and went to the boy, pulling him upright.

"Take a deep breath," he whispered, pulling out his water flask and giving it to the boy who rinsed out his mouth before speaking.

"I... I forgot..." he stuttered. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, youngster," Aragorn said, giving him a comradely smile. "Are you well?"

Sigefred nodded, still looking sheepish. Denethor came to him, his face pale but composed. "There is definitely something evil here, though it does not have the stench of the Enemy."

Aragorn nodded. "Nay. Its aura is cold, not hot."

"Any sign of your friends?" Sigefred asked.

"If they were taken...." Aragorn started to say, but then a sound, indistinct yet loud enough to alert him, sent him pushing Sigefred into a pool of shadow. Denethor followed silently and both men drew their swords, looking about for the source of the sound. Then, it came again, a sort of scraping and it came, not from the street, but from above them. Sigefred gasped and pointed and Aragorn looked to see two dark figures clutching the cliffside, inching their way down to street level. From their shapes he recognized Gilhael and Wídfara and smiled. He glanced at his companions, put a finger to his lips and motioned for them to remain where they were, then made his way across the street to where he guessed the climbers would descend to the street. There were spaces between the stalls and Aragorn could see that the two would reach the ground just past where they had encountered the wall of evil. He slipped quietly from shadow to shadow until he was in position and then waited.

Gilhael and Wídfara were making their way down cautiously and Aragorn smiled when he heard a heartfelt sigh of relief coming from Wídfara when that young man touched ground. Gilhael was right behind him. He clapped the younger man on the shoulder and then the two of them made their stealthy way between the stalls to the street. Aragorn, hidden in the shadows and absolutely still, waited until they were past him, indeed until Gilhael was more than a sword-length beyond him before he stepped out of the shadows.

"Lovely night for a stroll, don’t you think?" he asked softly, speaking Sindarin to alert his cousin of his presence.

Wídfara actually jumped in fright, stifling a yell even as he fumbled for his sword, only to have his feet tangle themselves so that he found himself overbalanced, crashing into Gilhael. They ended up in a heap in the middle of the street with Gilhael, who had not had a chance to draw his own sword, cursing softly in Sindarin as he pushed the now embarrassed Wídfara off him. Aragorn just stared down at the two of them in unfeigned surprise.

"And now that you’ve alerted everyone in Edoras...." he couldn’t help saying as he bent down and gave them both a hand up, still speaking Sindarin.

Gilhael scowled while Wídfara tried not to look at anyone. By now Denethor and Sigefred had come to them, the latter wide-eyed while the former tried to hide a grin at the discomfiture of the two arrivals and failed.

"So what were you doing scaling the cliffs?" Aragorn asked.

"You don’t know...." Wídfara started to say but Aragorn shook his head.

"In fact, I do, but come, we are too exposed here. Sigefred, back to the tunnels. Denethor stay with him. We’ll be right behind you."

"What..." Wídfara insisted but Gilhael took him by the arm and shook it slightly.

"My cousin is correct, youngster," he said softly but firmly. "Time enough for questions and explanations later."

With that he pulled the Rider with him, following Denethor while Aragorn took up the rearguard. The trip back down the street was done in fraught silence, for they feared that the unintended commotion might have alerted someone, but luck held and soon Sigefred was ushering them into the storage room, lighting the torch he had stuck into his belt with his flint and tinder. In minutes the trap door was lowered, but they didn’t bother with the ladder. Gilhael took Wídfara’s arms and lowered him to the floor and then did the same with Sigefred. The three older men simply jumped down one at a time, then Sigefred pushed the door closed.

"Well?" Gilhael asked, glaring at Aragorn. "Was that really necessary?"

Aragorn had the grace to look sheepish but he couldn’t resist the grin. "You should have seen your faces," he said and Gilhael just rolled his eyes in disgust.

"Enough of this," the older Dúnadan said. "Tell us quickly what is happening. Why are you not at the gates?"

"Why were you climbing the cliff?" Denethor asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Gilhael sighed and nodded, gesturing that they should all sit, which they did, bunching the straw to act as cushions. Quickly the two groups exchanged news and when they were done they sat in silence for a time, digesting all that they had heard. Then Gilhael glanced at Sigefred. "Can you show us where the tunnel ends?"

The boy nodded and leaping up, grabbed the torch which he had pushed into a nearby sconce before sitting. "Follow me," he said and soon they were trailing him further west. The tunnel made a slow curve to the south and then they were all gagging and making a quick retreat as waves of evil swept over them, stronger than they had felt before. When they had recovered their senses, they stared at one another, their expressions grim.

"Well, there’s no way to see if we could reach the licweg that way," Denethor said with a gasp as he tried to clear the stench of evil from his lungs.

"I like not the feel of this, Cousin," Gilhael said coldly. "It smacks too much of the Barrowdowns."

Aragorn nodded. "My thought as well. Would that the Elves were with us. They would not be as overwhelmed and their powers are greater than ours. They would be able to defeat what lies there."

"Well, they are not here," Gilhael said shortly. "We’ll just have to do what we can."

The two young Rohirrim stared at them with trepidation and Sigefred, much to his shame, could not stop trembling. Aragorn absently put an arm around the boy’s shoulders, wrapping his cloak over him to give him extra warmth.

Denethor, meanwhile, was frowning in thought. "I said earlier that this Darkness did not have the same sense of evil as I am accustomed to feel when dealing with the Enemy. What are the barrowdowns and what lies within them?"

Aragorn answered. "They are the graves of the kings of Cardolan that once was part of Arnor. Tyrn Gorthad the Elves call it. Some evil wights inhabit the grave mounds. It is a dangerous place and often the Dúnedain, together with the Elves of Imladris, have had to place spells of binding upon them lest they roamed free. Someday it is hoped that the wights may be expelled altogether, but for now we are content to merely contain them and their evil influence."

"And this is a similar thing that you sense here?" Denethor demanded and both Dúnedain nodded.

"D-do you know how t-to kill it?" Sigefred asked, still not fully recovered from the experience.

Aragorn gave him a sympathetic smile. "One cannot kill what is already dead, Sigefred."

"Th-then what will you do?" the boy asked bleakly.

"What we can," Gilhael answered, his expression grim and determined.

"But first we need to find a way into the licweg," Wídfara pointed out, his face abnormally pale and his eyes full of fiercely controlled fear.

"There’s a way into Meduseld from these tunnels," Aragorn said. "Sigefred can show us the way."

"Then let us go," Gilhael said. "Dawn comes nigh and whatever lies in the licweg I deem is meant to be used by the traitors against Thengel. We must not allow that to happen."

"No," Aragorn said, nodding. "Above all else, we must not allow that."

Wídfara sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I should have stayed at home with my da and raised sheep," he muttered.

The three older men chuckled and even Sigefred managed to scare up a tremulous smile. Then Aragorn turned to Sigefred. "Are you up to leading us again, youngster?"

Sigefred still looked ill and his trembling had not ceased entirely but he nodded gamely. "Yes, lord," he said simply. "Come. I will lead you to Meduseld."

With that, he pulled himself out of Aragorn’s embrace and took the vanguard with Aragorn right behind him. Denethor and Wídfara followed with Gilhael taking the rear.

The sky to the east was beginning to lighten to grey, heralding the coming dawn, while four men and a boy made their way through the dark tunnels to face a deeper darkness than any of them had ever known before.