16: Sacrifice

"No, we are not cursed," Eärnur whispered in answer to Ercassë’s words of hopelessness, "just very unlucky."

Laurendil gave his fellow Elf a wry look, then motioned with his head back towards the woods. "Come, let’s move further upstream where we can be neither seen nor heard and discuss our options."

"What options?" Valandil hissed.

"That is what we must discuss," Laurendil replied in a reasonable tone and without another word he set off through the woods. The Mortals were forced to follow him with Eärnur taking up the rear. The going was slow for the woods here were pathless and they dared not walk along the riverbank where they would be exposed to sight. Eventually though they left the wall well behind them and came out to where they had discovered the nénuvar and lórefen used to bring down Fiondil’s fever. There they all took their ease; Eärnur sat on the bank and dipped his feet into the clear cold water. Fiondil did the same with obvious relief. The Elf gave the young Man a rueful look.

"I spent nearly four hundred years among the fisherfolk and often went barefoot so my feet are more used to being unshod. I fear, though, that your feet will suffer greatly."

Fiondil shrugged. "Can’t be helped," he said in a low tone. "If we can reach that village Valandil mentioned mayhap we can find boots or something for our feet, otherwise...."

The Elf nodded then turned his attention to Laurendil who was speaking. "We cannot remain in this valley or we’re courting death," he said. "There are only two ways out that I can see. One is to climb the southwestern ridge over to the next valley. Unfortunately we would have to wait until daylight to attempt it and most likely we would be discovered before we were halfway up the slope."

"I don’t know if one can even climb these ridges," Valandil said musingly. "Leastwise, I’ve never heard tell of it, though I doubt anyone has had the need to test that theory until now." He flashed them all a wry grin.

"What’s our other option?" Fiondil asked.

Laurendil pointed. "You’re soaking your feet in it."

"Huh?"

Laurendil nodded. "While the river is not very deep so close to its source it is deep enough that we can float downstream. We’ll need to find large enough tree limbs to do so, but I’m sure we’ll have no problem with that."

"Float down... past the guards?" Ercassë asked in a tight voice.

"Yes," Laurendil answered. "The trickiest part will be at the bridge, but if we can pass them unnoticed we should do well."

"I would think that seeing several logs suddenly come down the river might arouse some suspicion on the part of these guards," Boromir stated dubiously.

"That’s the real weakness to the plan," Laurendil allowed with a rueful smile, "but those are, as I see it, the only two options open to us. So, my friends, which route shall we take?"

"Why this ridge and not the other?" Vandiel asked.

"We would have to climb about where the cave entrance is," her brother explained. "It’s the only place I noticed that wasn’t a sheer cliff."

"And there is the danger that Sauron’s guards are making their way through the cavern even as we speak," Eärnur added.

Fiondil gave the Elf a strange look. "You always speak of Zigûr, never of Ar-Pharazôn. Do you truly believe that Zigûr holds power over the king?"

Eärnur nodded. "Yes, I do. Ar-Pharazôn erred in bringing Sauron to this island. His presence has hastened the rate of corruption in the hearts of most of your people which has grown over these last four hundred years. I fear that a great disaster may well befall this island, one that will spell the doom for your people."

The Teler’s words left the Mortals feeling even more glum than before. Laurendil cast his fellow Elf a measuring look but Eärnur merely shrugged and shook his head.

"So what do we do?" Ercassë asked with a sigh.

"Climbing the ridge presents its own problems," Laurendil said. "It would be treacherous enough during the day but at night, even Eärnur and I would find the way difficult. I think our best option is the river. If we wait until the middle of the night when the guards are less vigilant we might have a better chance of slipping by them."

"That’s assuming that they don’t come looking for us," Fiondil pointed out.

"I doubt they will," Eärnur said, "else they would have moved into the valley rather than stationing themselves at the wall. Besides, with the night coming, they would not be able to hunt us. That will have to wait until morning."

Laurendil nodded. "At the moment they are merely blocking all the known ways into the valley, confident that we are trapped. I plan to disabuse them of that notion if at all possible."

The others nodded, knowing the Elf was correct. "I think we need a diversion though," Boromir said and they all looked at the older Man in surprise.

"What sort of diversion, Boromir?" Vandiel asked.

"From what you’ve described," Boromir began, "it seems to me that the only way for you to pass the guards at the bridge is if they are not there, or at least not paying attention to the river because they are too busy with something or someone else."

There was a moment or two when no one moved or spoke, trying to grasp the implications of the old steward’s words. "No," Ercassë whispered in denial, shaking her head. Vandiel was doing the same, her expression as stricken as the other maiden’s. Valandil and Fiondil looked, not so much stricken, as resigned.

"Explain," was all Laurendil said softly.

Boromir nodded, turning his face towards the Elf, recognizing perhaps that this was the one he had to convince of his plan. "My blindness is only a hindrance to you and I can only slow you down," he said calmly. "I am also old, even by the standards of our people. The years of my youth are past and soon I will die, as all Men must. My heart speaks to me of this, therefore, I will choose the manner of my own death." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I think I knew that I would not be returning from this venture," he said in a voice barely audible to the other Mortals, as if speaking to himself, "therefore I will create a diversion for you that will hopefully draw the guards away from the bridge or at least cause them not to pay attention to the river."

"How do you propose to do this?" Eärnur asked and it seemed to the younger Númenórëans that the two Elves had accepted Boromir’s proposal.

"Lead me to the edge of the woodlands and tell me how to walk. When the guards are speaking to me then you must leave."

"Are you sure of this, mellon nîn?" Laurendil asked, his expression unreadable to the younger Mortals. The eyes of both Elves were dark with memories of other sacrifices and bespoke of unfathomable pain. Eärnur’s memory was more recent, centering upon a vicious storm that had swept the coast some thirty years earlier and the Men of two sailing ships struggling to save one another, while Laurendil’s memory took him further back to the figure of a lone Mortal battling an army of orcs while the Elven armies made good their escape from the debacle that was ever afterwards known as the Nirnaeth.

Boromir nodded. "Yes, I am sure." Then he turned his sightless eyes towards Vandiel and Ercassë who were quietly weeping. "Nay, daughters," he admonished them "do not weep. Keep your tears for Númenórë when she falls."

Even the Elves looked nonplused at the steward’s words. "F-falls?" Ercassë whispered.

"Yes," Boromir replied. "I have seen it in the foresight that may come to those who are near death."

"Night is coming," Laurendil said, cutting off any further questions about Boromir’s supposed foreseeing. He did not doubt the Mortal, for he had seen that particular gift manifest itself even among the Edain, but he did not think it necessary to ask for details, if any details could be garnered. Most foreseeings, he knew, were vague and open to interpretation at best, downright misleading at worst. Better to concentrate on the here and now and worry about the future later.

Eärnur nodded. "If we are to do this, now is the time." He turned to Fiondil. "Let’s see if we can’t find some suitable material on which to float down the river."

Fiondil nodded and rose with a little help from Eärnur and together they set off to find some tree limbs. Valandil, in the meantime, searched the nearby woods for a suitable walking stick. He finally found one that was the right length and relatively straight. He handed it to Boromir.

"It would be easier for you to make your way along the bank of the river," the younger Man suggested. "That way you can walk towards the bridge on your own while the rest of us are in the river. I think if we stay close to the bank we’ll be able to keep our own pace rather than letting the river take us. We don’t want to reach the bridge before you."

Boromir nodded and quietly thanked the younger Man. Valandil gave the old steward a brief hug before turning away. The two maidens also hugged Boromir as well as kissing him, weeping all the while. Fiondil and Eärnur approached, dragging a couple of large willow limbs, dropping them on the bank. Fiondil then made his own farewell to Boromir, quietly thanking him for helping to rescue him. Finally, the two Elves approached the old Man. Eärnur just bent down and gave Boromir a brief kiss on his forehead. Laurendil did the same, then spoke a blessing in Quenya: "Nai Eru tye mánata, meldonya," before releasing the Mortal and stepping away.

"Namárië. Tell my sister and the Lady that it was my own choice," Boromir said, then allowed Valandil to lead him to the bank of the river. The younger Man spoke softly to him, giving him directions and warnings before releasing him and allowing him to make his own way. Boromir used the stick to good effect and was soon walking confidently towards the bridge. Only when a stand of trees blocked their view of him did the others stir.

"Come," Laurendil said softly. "We must finish making our own preparations."

Reluctantly, the younger Mortals helped to drag the two large and awkward limbs into the river. Laurendil agreed to take one while Eärnur took the other. "Let the maidens float with me," the older Elf said, "while you take Valandil and Fiondil."

At Eärnur’s suggestion, the two Men hung on to the limb so that they were facing upstream, their bodies floating underneath the limb, while Eärnur faced the bridge. "When we get near the bridge, duck your heads under so that you are mostly underwater and therefore invisible to the guards in the dark. I will maneuver the limb as best I can to avoid any rocks."

Laurendil decided to follow Eärnur’s example and had Vandiel and Ercassë copy their brothers. Before wading into the river the two maidens held a rapid conversation between them and then much to the surprise, and amusement, of the onlooking males, they stripped out of their dresses. Then, borrowing Laurendil’s knife, they ripped the lower half of their chemises from the hem to just above the knee. Then they tore strips from their dresses to tie around their legs, thus binding the ends of the chemises together into makeshift breeches.

"This way our shifts won’t float and be visible to the guards," Vandiel said as she returned the knife to Laurendil and adjusted her cloak around her before stepping into the water. "Also, we shouldn’t be weighed down by our heavy dresses."

Laurendil and Eärnur exchanged amused glances at the maidens’ matter-of-fact practicality. "That is well thought of, Vandiel," Laurendil said as he took her hand to help her find her purchase. Soon, they were set and the two Elves pushed off, with Laurendil first while Eärnur counted slowly to sixty before following.

Laurendil estimated that Boromir’s pace would not bring him to the bridge for at least a half an hour, giving them plenty of time to reach it from the river. He had divined Eärnur’s true reason for suggesting the Mortals hang on to the limbs facing away from the bridge: they would unlikely see or hear much when Boromir was killed, as assuredly he would be. He very much doubted that Sauron would be interested in keeping any of the Mortals alive; he was after the Elves.

He slowed their approach to the bridge when he saw the torches flickering ahead and over the sound of the river heard someone shout a warning. He could see Boromir standing still in the midst of a ring of guards. One of them was speaking.

"Where are the others, old man?"

"They are climbing the western slope," Boromir said, turning slightly to point towards the southwest ridge.

"And why are you not with them?" the guard asked with a sneer.

"I cannot climb," Boromir said, "I am blind and old. I decided to try another way out."

"Well you’ve found it, old man," the guard answered with a cruel laugh. "Here is your way out." With that he grabbed Boromir by the shoulder with one hand and thrust his short sword into the steward’s midsection. Boromir gave a surprised gasp before collapsing to the ground while the guards stood about watching him die. Laurendil closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for the good Man’s soul. Meanwhile he and Eärnur had been slowly making their way closer to the bridge, staying close to the eastern bank where the trees overshadowed them, providing them with additional cover.

When the guards were sure that Boromir was dead, the one who had led the questioning turned to his fellows. "He may be lying but I do not want to take the chance. Take half the troop to the next valley over. I’ll take the other half upstream and see if we can’t trap these rebels."

"You know we’re not supposed to enter the Valley of Tombs itself," his second-in-command reminded him.

"No more we won’t," the captain said. "We’ll spread along the western bank of the river which marks the boundary of the valley from the mountain. You do the same on the other side. They won’t have any choice but to come down either to you or to me but either way they’re trapped."

"We should leave a few people here just in case," the other guard suggested and that idea was accepted. With a shout of orders most of the guards began climbing back over the bridge while the captain led his men up the western bank of the river.

Laurendil thanked the Valar that both he and Eärnur had elected to stay along the eastern bank. Judging that the time was right when all was confusion, Laurendil shoved the willow limb into the middle of the current, quietly warning the maidens what he planned to do. Then, taking a deep breath, he ducked under the branch and held on, praying that in the hubbub of movement, the guards would not notice an errant log or two floating down the river.

****

Nirnaeth: (Sindarin) The Dagor Nirnaeth Arnediad, or Battle of Unnumbered Tears, in which the Elven armies were defeated by Morgoth.

Nai Eru tye mánata, meldonya: (Quenya) ‘God bless you, my friend’; an attested phrase [Parma Eldalamberon 17, "Words, Phrases and Passages in the Lord of the Rings", page 75.]