17: The Journey South

Laurendil held his breath for as long as he could before he dared to lift his head out of the water to see where they were. He had heard no shouts of alarm or the sudden zing of arrows attempting to hit a moving target in the dark but did not discount the possibility of still being discovered, so he was cautious about raising his head above water. He need not have worried. Opening his eyes he encountered only darkness and the sight of stars high above. Lifting himself further up he looked back to see the bridge behind them. At that moment both maidens came up for air, sputtering and gasping for breath.

"Are we safe? Did we make it?" Vandiel demanded, her eyes still closed against the water running down her face.

"Yes, we’ve passed the bridge," Laurendil said softly, "but speak not so loudly for sound carries across water and we are not out of the woods yet, as they say."

The two maidens nodded their heads and Laurendil pushed the log towards the eastern bank. He wanted to stop and see where the rest of their party was. They reached the shallower part of the river and both women clambered up onto the bank, taking deep breaths and shivering in the cold. Laurendil stayed in the water and looked about. All was dark and still. Far in the west he could espy thin wavering points of light that marked the troop of guards heading for the next valley in a fruitless search for ‘rebels’. He smiled grimly to himself, some of the older memories of fighting in Beleriand coming to the fore. He turned suddenly at movement caught at the periphery of his sight and sighed in relief when he saw that it was Eärnur rising from the river, making his way towards them with Valandil and Fiondil in tow. The younger elf flashed him a wide smile.

"Well, that worked better than I thought it might," he said, speaking almost too softly for the Mortals to hear.

"O thou of little faith," Laurendil quipped and Eärnur’s grin widened even more, if that was at all possible.

"What about Boromir?" Ercassë asked, still shivering against the cold and the wet.

"He died as he lived, child," Laurendil said gently, "serving the Light. Valar valuvar."

"Valar valuvar," echoed Eärnur. "We should not linger. There is still the village to be gotten past."

"Can we stop there for clothes and food?" Vandiel asked, but both Elves and the two Men shook their heads.

"Too dangerous," Valandil answered his sister. "That village is the staging point for the Arandili who are even now seeking for us. We should avoid the village at all cost."

"The river is still our best route," Eärnur said. "We should put many leagues behind us before we seek another way to Nindamos."

To that there was no argument and in short order they were all back in the water, clinging to their tree limbs, allowing the river to speed them on their way. The village, they found, was dark with only a token guard watching the road. They were able to slip silently by and soon the village was behind them. They continued to float down river for at least another hour before Laurendil deemed it safe for them to leave it, coming out where willows overshadowed the banks, providing them with additional cover.

Laurendil had managed to keep flint and tinder dry by wrapping it in several layers of oiled cloth and placing it inside a water-proofed pocket of his tunic so it was not long before they had a warming fire going and they began to dry out. It was sometime after midnight though before any of them felt sufficiently dry and warm enough to consider sleeping. Ercassë cried at the thought of having to leave Boromir’s body behind. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Valandil was the one to offer her some comfort and she eventually fell asleep in his arms. At which point, Laurendil suggested the other Mortals also get what sleep they might.

"We will not travel during the day," he told them, "so sleep as much as you need to and we will travel again at night. Eärnur and I will keep watch."

It was a testament to how low their spirits were that none of them, not even Fiondil, offered any objections or demanded that they share in the watch. Soon, the Mortals were huddled together with the two maidens in the middle while Laurendil took roost in the crook of a willow tree. Eärnur agreed to stay by the fire and tend it, singing softly a song of mourning for the fallen Boromir.

Laurendil’s heart was too heavy with sorrow even for a dirge. Instead, he thought back over the events of the last week and wondered at it all, especially what role the Valar played in it and how it all seemed to ‘fit’ — Eärnur being sent to the Star Island, the centuries that followed when all believed him dead, then he himself being sent and finding his dear friend alive. He looked down at the top of Eärnur’s silvery head and smiled at him fondly. How strange was fate in all its workings.

*Say rather, how wondrous are the designs of Ilúvatar,* came an errant thought, the voice unfamiliar. He lifted his eyes again and gazed southward where the Siril flowed. Dawn was slowly creeping across the landscape and the river disappeared into the pale grey distance as mist rose to obscure his view. The Elf sighed, making himself more comfortable in his perch. They were not free yet and Nindamos still lay many days away.

****

For the next four nights they traveled, stopping at dawn to sleep. They had thought to take to the river again when they woke the first night, but Fiondil was feeling feverish and they dared not risk it.

"I wish we had more of the plants we used to bring the fever down the first time," Vandiel said.

"I will be well, Vandiel," Fiondil protested. "I’m more concerned about my feet. I fear I shall be crippled for life ere too long."

"Which is why I had hoped to travel by way of the river," Laurendil said as he examined the Mortal’s battered feet. He kept his expression neutral but inside he was worried. The fever was not too high, yet, but the blood-encrusted feet might contribute to it. He shook his head. There was naught they could do about it, but take it slowly and walk where it would cause the least amount of pain.

He rose and without another word set out with the others following in a straggling line. Eärnur again took the rearguard while Vandiel and Ercassë tried to mother Fiondil, much to the young Man’s dismay. "More like trying to smother him," Valandil whispered to Eärnur with a grin when the Elf made a comment about it. Eärnur grinned back.

Food was a problem at first, but the further south they went the milder the climate became and it was hard to imagine that winter was only a month away. Both Laurendil and Eärnur were adept at finding edible roots and plants, and while these did not assuage anyone’s hunger, they were better than naught. Their progress was slow, painfully so, for Fiondil and Eärnur could not move quickly through the brush with bare feet and often enough they were both found walking in the river itself where the streambed was generally soft mud. Further sapping their strength was the fact that their sleep was fitful and full of evil dreams, for they were in constant fear of being found. Yet, they encountered no others in the land. Far to the west were the rolling hills marking the Emerië, the sheepfold of the island. As they moved further southward they could see vast vineyards replacing the grasslands beloved of sheep, the land neatly terraced as it fell towards the sea. Yet looking eastward they saw great stands of woods that looked to the practiced eyes of the Elves too regular and orderly. When they pointed this out to the others, Valandil nodded.

"Since the time of Tar-Aldarion, the Hyarrostar has been home to great plantations of trees which were created to provide all the timber necessary for ship-building," he told them.

The Elves looked somewhat sad at that, but made no comments. Laurendil was remembering how Círdan and his people harvested the timber for their grey ships from various groves that were left otherwise to their own devices. There was no husbanding of the forests gracing the slopes of the Ered Luin and the Elves of Mithlond took only those trees willing to give themselves into the hands of the Shipwright for his purposes.

Fiondil finally succumbed to his fever on the morning of the fifth day of travel and Laurendil decided they could afford to spend the night there. "I think we are far enough south that Sauron’s men won’t be able to find us. Perhaps with adequate rest Fiondil will begin to recover."

"And food," opined Ercassë, casting a troubled look upon her brother who lay between Valandil and Eärnur, his face flushed with fever, his eyes closed in fitful sleep. "We’re all wasting away from lack of adequate food."

"Nindamos is not too far away and the further south we go the better our chances of finding edible plants and roots," Eärnur stated. "I think I might even be able to spear us some fish. I’ve noticed that there are trout in this river."

"How will you do that?" Vandiel asked with a frown. "We have nothing to catch fish with."

Eärnur smiled. "You forget, my dear, I spent four hundred years amongst the fisherfolk who taught me much. I’m quite adept at making spears from tree branches. I just need to borrow someone’s knife."

Valandil pulled out a small knife from his belt and silently handed it to the Teler who smiled his thanks.

Laurendil nodded. "If you can get us some fish that would be well. Vandiel, why don’t you look about for some roots and tubers to go with the fish while I see if I can’t find some athelas or other fever-reducing plants. Valandil, you and Ercassë stay here and keep an eye on Fiondil."

So it was that Eärnur returned from the river with a cache of trout while Laurendil returned with some athelas, though it was somewhat straggly and withered looking. "It will do," he told them and induced Fiondil to chew on the plants. They cooked the fish on wooden skewers and with the addition of a few tubers and cress, thought they were having a veritable feast.

"I think one more day of traveling will see us at the northern border of the marshes and meres that mark the watermeads leading into the sea," Eärnur said. "I will make my way to Nindamos and gather what news I may as well as necessary equipment."

"Will the fisherfolk not try to keep you with them again?" Vandiel asked.

Eärnur shook his head. "I do not think so. While they would not allow me in their boats, they no longer chained me or guarded me. I only hope that they suffered no harm by the King’s Men who found me."

"I will accompany you if I may," Valandil said. "When they see you in the company of one who is kin to the Lords of Andúnië, they may think twice about attempting to prevent you from leaving."

"They do not recognize any authority but their own," Eärnur replied with a smile, "so I doubt they will be too impressed by your lineage. Still, I would welcome your presence."

So it was decided. They spent the rest of that day and night encamped. Fiondil slept most of the time and that proved to be what he needed, for by the following morning he was feeling much better. Eärnur caught more fish and they ate their fill. Fiondil was not the only one to benefit from the additional rest and when they resumed their trek, they were all in a better frame of mind, feeling more hopeful. At this point they decided it was safe enough for them to travel by day rather than night and they made better time.

True to Eärnur’s prediction, they reached the edge of the watermeads late in the afternoon. The setting sun cast a golden glow upon the marshes and reedy flats. White sandbars covered with pale green sedge and cattails dotted the landscape and Eärnur took the lead then, cautioning them all to step only where he walked. He led them along a path that only he seemed to see until they came upon an island of grey shingle where they could hide among the sedges and reeds. They built a small fire, carefully shielded.

"Tomorrow Valandil and I will make our way to Nindamos which lies just to the east of here," Eärnur informed them, pointing vaguely to the southeast. "We are not far from where I was taken by the Arandili so this part of the marshes is familiar to me."

Laurendil nodded. "We will wait here for your return, but if you are not back within a reasonable amount of time I will come after you."

Eärnur smiled. "Of that, meldonya, I have no doubt."

That night, while the Mortals slept, the two Elves sat close together and spoke of many things as they watched the stars wheel across the heavens in all their splendour, making plans that did not include the four children huddled together near the fire.

Dawn crept slowly across the Hyarrostar, setting the marshes aglow with soft light as mist enshrouded them. The meres came alive with birds: loons and pheasants as well as gulls wheeling above were evident and they even saw a blue-feathered halatir diving for its morning meal. Valandil and Eärnur prepared themselves to leave.

"Walk softly," Laurendil warned them. "We do not know what has happened in the land."

They both nodded. "We will return by sunset," Eärnur promised.

"See that you do, or I will come after you and you will not like it when I do," Laurendil stated gravely and there was no levity in his expression.

Eärnur raised an eyebrow. "I will not like it? What about the fisherfolk?"

"If I have to come after you, meldonya, the fisherfolk will be the least of your worries."

"Come, Valandil," Eärnur said, choosing to ignore Laurendil’s implied threat. "It is at least a league to the village and the route will be treacherous. Stay close to me."

The others watched the two make their way southeastward across the marshes until the tall grasses obscured their view and then they resumed their seats around the fire and waited. They spent the morning idling, sometimes napping, but as the sun rose towards noon the Mortals became restless.

"I’m getting tired of fish and watercress," Ercassë said to no one in particular as they sat around the fire eating the fish that Laurendil and Fiondil had caught earlier.

"I would like a hot bath and clean clothes, myself," Vandiel rejoined.

Laurendil cast an amused glance at Fiondil who merely rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You mean, you do not enjoy running and hiding for your lives and eating only the fruits of the land?" he asked them with a wicked grin. "The daughters of Men are weaker than I thought."

Fiondil snorted at that and started coughing to hide his laughter. Both maidens glared at him and then at Laurendil who evinced an innocent air. Ercassë turned to Vandiel and spoke to her in a loud stage whisper. "Do we kill the Elf now or wait until dark?"

Laurendil raised an imperious eyebrow at that but before he could speak Fiondil piped up, sounding for all the world like a whining elfling to Laurendil’s ears. "But I want to watch, so it’s better to do it while it’s still light out."

Laurendil couldn’t help it; he started laughing. "You are all very wicked children. Gwanno! No iBelain le awarthar!"

"Now, now. There is no need for you to quarrel, my children. Adar arrives with gifts."

The three Mortals jumped in surprise, startled by Eärnur’s sudden approach. Laurendil laughed again as he rose to greet his fellow Elf. Of Valandil there was no sign. Eärnur, on the other hand, was laden with a pile of clothes and a basket filled with foodstuffs.

"You are back earlier than I thought you would be," Laurendil said, his eyes full of unspoken questions.

The Teler shrugged as he dropped the basket before the fire and handed Fiondil the clothes, which the young Man took gratefully. Eärnur, Laurendil now noticed, was also more appropriately clothed with the typical breeches and shirt worn by the islanders. Rude sandals made of hemp graced his feet.

"Where’s Valandil?" Vandiel asked, looking fearful.

Eärnur turned to her with a comforting smile. "He is unharmed. He’s remaining in the village because I think it would be wiser for us to stay there tonight."

"Why? What’s happened?" Fiondil demanded from behind a stand of bulrushes where he was donning clothes similar to those worn by Eärnur.

For a moment the Elf did not speak and only Laurendil saw the doubt and worry in his otherwise expressionless (to the Mortals) face. "What is it, meldonya? What has happened?"

Eärnur sighed. "Even before we reached Nindamos I felt there was something wrong, so I cautioned Valandil to stay low and wait until I had scouted the area. There was nothing there save for the village."

Fiondil came out from behind the rushes pulling the shirt over his head. "That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" he asked as he joined them by the fire.

Eärnur shook his head. "You misunderstand me, mellon nîn," the ellon said. "I mean exactly what I said. There was nothing but the village there. Just that. No people, no animals, no boats. The village of Nindamos is deserted and from the looks of it, it’s been so for quite some time."

They stared at him in disbelief. Laurendil saw the deep sadness in his friend’s eyes and realized that in spite of everything, Eärnur had grown to love these rude folk who had kept him from his own people for four hundred years. He wondered then if he could have been so magnanimous in forgiving those who had enslaved him and his respect and love for the Teler grew even as he pondered the mystery Eärnur had presented them.

****

Valar valuvar: (Quenya) ‘The will of the Valar will be done’; an attested phrase.

Halatir: (Quenya) Kingfisher, literally ‘fish-watcher’.

Gwanno! No iBelain le awarthar!: (Sindarin) ‘Be gone! May the Valar forsake you!’