Disclaimer: No profit will be made from these stories. All quotes from the works of J.R.R.Tolkien are reproduced here without the permission of The Tolkien Estate or New Line Cinema. No copyright infringement is intended.

To Cairistiona and Estelcontar: my most grateful thanks for their ongoing encouragement and support.

And thanks to Cairistiona for the beta.

A/N  My apologies for the length of this chapter, the longest in the whole story, but it was a very long journey!

Chapter 23: The Journey to Mirkwood

 And my search would have been in vain, but for the help that I had from a friend: Aragorn, the greatest huntsman and traveler in this age of the world.

The Shadow of the Past                                                             The Fellowship of the Ring

   Aragorn was beginning to think this was the most miserable journey he had ever undertaken. If there had ever been times in his past when he was more cold, hungry or weary, he could not recall them. His ribs were still sore from his treatment by the orcs and he was so desperate for a proper meal he could happily have devoured an entire Oliphant. But it was at least some consolation that, for the most part, his injuries had healed and he was finally on his way home, though it brought him little cheer that he was returning to the North empty handed. He purposefully steered his thoughts from dwelling on the wasted years he had devoted to this fruitless chase. The hunt for Gollum was finally over. If he had ever been in these parts, there was no sign of him now.

   His progress on his return journey had been painfully slow at first, but once he reached Ithilien, he had at last found enough food to take the edge off his hunger. There were berries and wild tubers still growing where once there had been the homesteads of men. Although the roots were not particularly palatable, they were sufficient to sustain him even if they did not bring satisfaction to a sorely deprived stomach. He was inordinately grateful that he had brought the orc knife with him. With it, he had managed to fashion short lengths of rope from the coarser stems of vines and so had created simple snares. The occasional rabbit had supplemented his meagre diet most agreeably. And even more fortuitously, he had stumbled upon a few athelas plants. The healing power of the leaves had finally driven the lingering shadow of the Nazgul from his heart. And, as the diminishing outline of the Ephel Dúath receded into the distance, his evil memories of his time there began to fade from his waking mind, even if they still frequently returned to haunt his dreams.

   But now he had left Ithilien behind and for some days had been skirting the Dead Marshes on their north-eastern border. It was the first day of February and the mist over the desolate land hung cold and dank. There was little breeze, but nevertheless the chill from that bleak, dreary place was seeping into the very marrow of his bones. Aragorn had managed to find scant food there, and hunger gnawed at him constantly. He was walking slowly and with great care for the marshes were treacherous for the unwary. One badly judged step could see him fall into one of the many deep meres that threatened to swallow him at every turn. But Aragorn had long ago perfected the skill of watching where he placed his feet while never taking an eye off his surroundings. 

   Suddenly, quite without warning, his eye alighted upon small footprints beside a muddy pool. They were certainly not big enough to be those of a man. He stooped to examine them more closely, reaching out his hand to lightly trace their outline with his finger. They were unmistakably hobbit-like spoors and his mind raced as he realised they might even belong to the very creature he sought. He could feel his heart beating faster with excitement at this unexpected find.  Scarcely able to believe this sudden change in his fortune, he followed the trail with the utmost care, desperate not to lose it now. All that afternoon under the pale winter sky, Aragorn carefully and stealthily pursued his quarry, skilfully picking his way though the boggy marshes. At last, as evening fell, he saw a small figure lurking by a stagnant mere, peering motionless into the murky water. At first he thought it was an animal of some sort, starving and down on its luck, but as he risked stepping nearer, with a sudden revulsion, he realised that the vile looking creature fitted perfectly the description Bilbo had given him.

   This must be Gollum. 

   Silently Aragorn crept towards him. The creature appeared heedless, intent upon its own business. Aragorn waited, assessing his best strategy for capturing him. When at last he made his move, he took the creature completely unawares. He pounced and caught his prey deftly, but Gollum was covered in green slime and as slippery as a fish. He thrashed and twisted and almost wriggled free from the man’s grasp. His writhings were accompanied by the most screeching, piercing cries, but Aragorn hung on desperately as he struggled to improve his grasp. The creature was unaccountably strong. There was nothing to him, but he still put up a spirited fight. Aragorn, however, had endured far too much on his behalf to lose him now and quickly had a noose around his neck. But he nearly dropped the rope when he felt searing pain shoot up his arm.

   Gollum had bitten him savagely on the hand. That was too much for the normally patient Ranger. His right fist connected mercilessly with Gollum’s face and the creature felt the full force of the man’s wrath. He quickly tightened the crudely made noose and knelt heavily on the creature’s body in an attemp to pin it to the ground. The screams intensified and Aragorn felt small fists pummelling him as he fumbled to secure them with his pieces of rope.

   “Be still you miserable little wretch!” cried the exasperated Ranger as he at last, grabbed hold of Gollum’s hands and lashed them together securely as fast as he could.

   Finally, bound, gagged and on a halter, Gollum was at last restrained, though far from subdued. He hissed curses through his teeth, which Aragorn ignored completely while he tended his injured hand. There were three or four deep punctures which were bleeding profusely. With nothing else available, he wrapped his hand in his cloak and nursed it until the bleeding slowed. He still had some athelas leaves with him, and these he strapped over the wounds using a strip of cloth torn from his shirt. The injury really needed cleaning, but he would leave bathing it properly until he reached the Anduin. He did not trust the marsh waters and he most certainly could do without an infected wound with such a long trek ahead of him.  Satisfied he had tended it as well as he could, he sat back for a moment to study his strange captive and consider what he was going to do with him. He felt incredibly pleased with himself and aglow with the delicious elation that accompanies hard won success. He was also not a little relieved to have finally got the potentially troublesome Gollum safely out of harm’s way.

   It was an extraordinary creature he had caught. Even though Bilbo had described his quarry vividly, he was still shocked by the sight of Gollum in the flesh. He looked haggard and ancient and totally emaciated; Aragorn could easily have counted all his ribs. He was scarcely clad in any sort of clothing at all and was filthy with slime and mud. And he stank. It took a great leap of imagination to think of him as anything other than a beast. His only resemblance to a hobbit was his diminutive size and Aragorn could discern nothing within him to suggest the presence of any humanity. Also there was an evil look in his eye that the Ranger did not care for in the slightest. He had no doubt his prisoner could prove troublesome if he put his mind to it.

   Gollum’s frenzied shrieks and screams had finally subsided to a miserable whimper now that he was well and truly beaten. He sat hunched up, all the while glowering darkly at his captor. The Ranger tried to reassure him that he meant him no harm, but Gollum had retreated into a sulk and was clearly not listening. Aragorn could scarcely blame him. He had been less than gentle in his treatment of him and was not at all surprised to see the creature glaring at him with evident hatred in his huge, pale eyes.

~oo0oo~

   Glancing across at the low winter sun now settling on the hills, Aragorn realized he was not going to get very far with his journey that evening. Instead, he decided to lead Gollum to a sheltered spot away from the marshes and settle down for the night. Gollum however proved extremely difficult to move. He lurched in all directions trying to free himself; cursing and hissing through the gag as he did so. He lashed out every time Aragorn came anywhere close to him. Aragorn began to realize travelling with the creature was not going to be as straightforward as he had hoped. In desperation, he picked up the longest piece of rope he had and threatened to beat him with it. Only then did Gollum belligerently comply. 

   They were not far from the foothills of the Emyn Muir and here among the rocks, Aragorn found a suitable place to rest. Having searched for so long for the creature, he was impatient to begin questioning Gollum about his movements, so, he cautiously attempted to remove the gag. But Gollum immediately shrank away from him and began whimpering once more.

   “There is no need to be afraid, I will not hurt you,” said Aragorn, trying his best to sound kind and trustworthy though he guessed he had forfeited any chance of ever gaining the creature’s trust. Gollum continued to squirm and cringe so, in the end, Aragorn had no option but to simply reach out and grab him. Unfortunately the only way he could keep Gollum still was to grasp him by the throat which only served to frighten and anger the creature even more. Immediately the gag was removed, Aragorn sat back on his heels and raised his hands in the air.

   “See? There is nothing to fear.”

   Gollum’s eyes flashed with a mixture of terror and fury. “Nothing to fear, it says, precious. Oh no, nothing at all, only beatings and lashings; nasty, hateful manses. We hates, him, precious; yes, we hates him.” Gollum continued to ramble on in a similar vein for several minutes. Aragorn had been forewarned by Bilbo about the nature of Gollum’s chatter. Had it not been that he really needed to know if Gollum had ever been to Mordor, he would not have bothered to talk to him at all. He was not particularly hopeful of getting any sense out of him.

   “What were you doing down here in the Dead Marshes, Gollum? Have you been to see Him?” Aragorn decided to come straight to the point as he did not relish attempting a long interrogation.

   “What’s it mean, precious; ‘him’? Speak plainly it must. Gollum doesn’t like riddles. Nasty hobbit tricks us with them, it does.”

   Aragorn sighed. This was clearly going to be hard work. “You know of whom I speak,” he said, sternly. If picking the creature up and giving it a good shaking would have helped, he would have done so. His only reply was to receive more nonsensical ramblings.

   He tried again.

   “Have you seen the Dark Lord, Gollum? Have you ever been to Mordor?”

  Instantly a look of terror came into Gollum’s pale yellow eyes at the mere mention of that land. He screamed and buried his head in his arms, and absolutely refused to even look at Aragorn.

   Aragorn persisted for a time, but eventually he had to give up. Gollum clearly had no intention of answering any of his questions. But his main concern for the present was simply to prevent the creature from escaping and getting up to more mischief than he most likely had already. He could wait for answers, though somehow he had to stop that dreadful screaming. He gagged Gollum again, though he was very wary of his teeth. This at least reduced his protests to less audible hisses. It was dark now, and Aragorn would gladly have found some rest, but he did not allow himself any sleep at all that night; he never once took his eyes off his captive.

   In the morning, he was up and on his way before the dawn, driving the reluctant Gollum before him.

~oo0oo~

      Aragorn was heading north; his destination, by arrangement, was the hall of Thranduil in the north of Mirkwood. It was a journey of some nine hundred miles; no mean feat with a prisoner in tow, especially one that had possibly escaped from Barad-dûr and might yet bring Sauron’s hoards down upon his head. Realising he was potentially in great danger, he went to great pains to keep out of sight and avoid detection by Sauron’s spies. To this end, he intended to travel as westerly as he could, keeping close to the cover of the Misty Mountains.

   First, however, he had to cross the northern slopes of the Emyn Muir. The maze of razor sharp rocks would be difficult enough to negotiate even without the uncooperative Gollum at his heels. Days he laboured, seeking a way through the hills. It seemed as if every turn he took brought him to either a dead end or an impassable ravine.

   But at last he succeeded and he emerged from the Emyn Muir at a point to the north of the rapids at Sarn Gebir. Here, the Anduin flowed fast towards the dangerous waters above Nen Hithoel. Encumbered by Gollum, Aragorn could not hope to get across without aid of some sort. Fortunately on the east bank of the river driftwood tended to accumulate. Mostly it was just twigs and leaves, but there were a few larger branches among them. Wading out into the water with Gollum still tethered to his wrist, Aragorn sorted through the debris washed up there until he found a branch of suitable size for his purpose. He floated it back to the bank and, dragging Gollum towards him, he strapped him securely onto it. He then pushed the branch back out into the river and, swimming beside it, he guided it to the opposite shore.

   It was hard work for the river was wide and flowing fast, being engorged with the water from the heavy winter rains. He was breathless by the time he reached the other side and his sore chest ached, but he could not rest until he was out of sight of the river. Untying Gollum, he immediately drove him some distance from the west bank into a thicket of trees that lay beyond.

   There, hidden from prying eyes, he rested for a while. He very much wanted to light a fire, but decided against it. He suspected Sauron’s spies watched at least as far west as the Anduin and probably much further than that. There were pockets of sunlight breaking through the canopy above and under these he laid some of his sodden clothing in an attempt to dry them while he sat hunched up and shivering. Gollum, though, seemed completely unperturbed by his trip over the water, but he remained totally uncooperative and would not respond to even the simplest commands from his captor.

   That day, Aragorn did not feed Gollum as he was becoming rather tried of his troublesome antics. He had little enough food to spare as it was, so he decided to keep his prisoner on short rations to see if that would subdue him. Water he also restricted, being only too aware of how he himself had been weakened by the combined effect of these deprivations while he was held captive by the orcs. Hopefully, he could tame Gollum by similar means, though he doubted anything would stem the flow of mutterings and curses that issued incessantly from his mouth, in spite of the gag.

   As the shadows lengthened in the late afternoon, Aragorn gathered up his few belongings and prepared to continue on his way. He was heading north-west across the open plains of Rohan towards Fangorn forest. He wanted to complete this part of his journey as quickly as possible as he felt very vulnerable in the open with only a knife as a weapon.

   His attempts at haste, though, were thwarted by Gollum’s stubborn refusal to walk under sunlight. Although he offered no explanation, Gollum made such a fuss and commotion that Aragorn had no choice but to hide up under whatever shelter was available when the sun shone brightly in the middle of the day. He wanted to avoid travelling with Gollum in the dark for fear Sauron’s servants might attempt to rescue him, but it meant they could only proceed with their journey for a few hours at dawn and dusk each day. This made their progress frustratingly slow and, for the long striding Ranger, the constant halting and stalling of Gollum’s erratic gait was an added trial.

   Fortunately the Eastemnet appeared to be deserted. Aragorn met no one and saw no signs of habitation at all in the ten days it took him to reach the skirts of Fangorn.

   Here, he gladly walked under the cover of the trees, although he did not venture far into the forest itself. He had never, in all his long travels, walked among the ancient trees and he felt it would be unwise to do so now with the troublesome Gollum in tow. If, as he had heard tell in Gondor, the forest held some strange secret, he was of no mind to discover it at this time. Instead, he turned towards the north, keeping the forest to the west of him, where its towering presence afforded him some protection from prying eyes.

   Squirrels and rabbits abounded in the skirts of the forest and, thanks to his supply of snares, Aragorn kept himself and Gollum from starving, though his yearning for a decent meal grew with each day that passed. But hunting took time and Gollum had to be left unattended while he was away. As it was, Aragorn was setting as fast a pace as he possibly could with the unwilling creature hampering him with every stride.

~oo0oo~

  A few days later, he reached the River Limlight which, fortunately, was shallow enough for him to wade through. He needed to carry Gollum, though, so he bound his arms and legs securely and strode across with him on his back. As he waded through the clear water, he noticed it was teeming with many brightly coloured trout which swam heedlessly around his feet. Upon reaching the other side, Aragorn tethered Gollum to a tree and returned to the river to catch their supper. Tickling trout was a skill he had learned from his brothers as a child and, standing quietly in the shallows, he soon had half a dozen fish lined up on the river bank. That evening, he risked a fire to dry his soaked clothing and cook their supper. Even Gollum’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fish, though as Aragorn tossed a couple in his direction, he heard grumblings about how they were spoiled and ruined. But he could not help but smile to himself when he noticed that Gollum had nonetheless eaten the lot.

   Soon they were in open country again, heading towards the western eaves of Lothlórien. Aragorn’s heart soared with joy as he came under the golden canopy of the Mallorn-trees. Having come this far, he was ever more hopeful of reaching his destination, and, as he walked beneath the trees, treasured memories of his own most special time in that land filled his mind. He was once again a young man, walking through dappled summer sunlight on flower strewn emerald lawns, hand in hand with his beloved.

    He was approaching the stream of Nimrodel, when a commanding voice filtered through the trees ahead, pulling him abruptly from his daydreams.

   “Daro!”

   Gollum immediately started whimpering and pulled on his leash fearfully, but Aragorn stood still, waiting patiently. He could hear soft laughter up ahead and soon two Elves came into view.

   “We thought it was you, Estel,” said one, addressing him in Sindarin. “But we were unsure what to make of your companion. We wondered if you had taken to keeping a pet, though we had heard tell that it is customary for men to only keep curs on leashes.”

   Aragorn laughed aloud with joy at seeing familiar faces again after so long on his own. He could happily have rushed forward and embraced both of them.

   “Rúmil, Orophin! Mae govannen,” he said, grinning wildly. “I was hoping I would soon be discovered by the wardens.”

   “We are most surprised to see you here, Estel,” said Rumil.  “As you know, you are welcome to return to Lothlórien at anytime, but we can not allow you to bring this creature any further into the Golden Wood.”

   “That is only as I expected,” said Aragorn. “I seek only rest and food for a day. I have had little of either in a long time and am beyond weary.”

   Orophin, looking the gaunt Ranger up and down with sympathetic eyes, said: “This we can plainly see for ourselves. Here you can find both rest and sustenance. My brother and I shall willingly guard this strange beast while you sleep.” He looked questioningly at Gollum who hid his face from the intense stare of the Elf. “I feel sure there must be quite a story behind your bringing such a strange creature here. We would gladly hear as much of your tale as you are able to tell us.”

   “I fear I can tell you very little,” said Aragorn, “only that it is imperative I reach Thranduil’s halls in Mirkwood as soon as I possibly can.”

   The Elves both nodded, though they understood only the need for secrecy. They asked no further questions.

   That night, under the protection of the wardens, Aragorn enjoyed his first proper meal since he could not remember when, and then he slept long in safety, high above the ground on a talon in the trees. Gollum was tethered below and guarded by the Elves, though he cowered from them and refused to eat their food. Aragorn rested there in that corner of the Enchanted Realm for a whole day before continuing on northwards. Rúmil and Orophin helped him cross the Silverlode and, before he left, they presented him with a parcel of food to take with him.

   “I can not thank you enough,” said Aragorn as he gratefully took his leave of the brothers and bade them farewell. “But be sure to tell Mithrandir, should he pass this way, that you have seen me and that I am not alone.”

   “We shall, Estel,” said Rúmil. “And you be sure to bring greetings from us to our kin in the Greenwood.”

   “And don’t forget to give our regards to our beloved Evenstar, when next you see her,” added Orophin.

   Aragorn smiled a little wistfully. “That day can not come soon enough, Orophin, but I shall gladly remember you both to her when I at last return to Imladris.”

   Aragorn waved goodbye to the Elves as they stood watching him leave. He felt greatly refreshed by his brief stay in the wood, but he was eager to be on his way again. The sooner he could be rid of his companion and on his way back to Eriador, the happier he would be.

~oo0oo~

   He was now travelling through the rugged terrain of the foothills of the Misty Mountains, but as he drew near the Dimrill Gate, he gave it a wide berth. The Elves had warned him there might be orcs in the region of Moria and he wanted to avoid these at all cost. Rúmil had given him a longer blade, so he no longer felt quite so defenceless, but he knew he could not tackle many of these creatures on his own.

   On he strode through the vales of the Anduin, ever heading north, though he stayed as westerly and as close to the feet of the mountains as he could. It was now noticeably colder. The icy wind blowing down from the Northern Waste cut him to the core and keeping warm became his main preoccupation. He might be the hardiest of men, but even he struggled when the weather was this raw. It did not help that his cloak was ripped and torn from his rough handling by the orcs and no longer provided the protection it should.

      He was still too close to Moria to risk a fire so his meals were miserable affairs. The supplies the Elves gave him were soon eaten, as were the strips of meat he had dried and saved from hunting further south. Where the ground was not frozen, he could dig up roots to gnaw on and stave off his hunger, but this was hard work for slim reward. He still managed to catch the occasional squirrel, but without a fire, he was soon faced with no choice but to eat raw flesh. Gollum, remarkably, seemed to survive on very little. Aragorn became increasingly concerned for him as the atrocious weather continued and yet, although he shivered, he appeared remarkably unaffected by the cold, something at which Aragorn marvelled.

   On he trudged on his seemingly never ending journey until he reached the River Gladden. Even near its source close to the mountains, the river still presented a considerable crossing and Aragorn dreaded submerging himself in the icy water. But there was no other way, so, with Gollum once again strapped to his back, he waded into the river. The cold hit him like a physical blow, and every step was a momentous effort as even breathing became a trial. He floundered often, yet eventually he made it across to the north bank.  But, as he emerged from his freezing dip, he felt light-headed from the cold and he knew that, no matter what the dangers, he would have to light a fire; and quickly. His teeth would not stop chattering and his whole body shook as he sat huddled beside the slow, reluctant flames, as he desperately tried to thaw out. After a time, his clothing dried and he stopped shaking, though he was anything but warm. Ruefully, he remembered he still had to face crossing back over the Anduin when he reached the Carrock.

   But before he reached that river, he had another long, gruelling march north; a trek which was made all the more difficult by the fact it had started to snow heavily. If the weather had been raw before, it had at least been crisp and dry, and the weak winter sun had, if only for a few hours each day, provided some relief from the bitter cold. But, as the first snowfalls descended, the temperature dropped dramatically. The soft flakes, so seemingly harmless and innocuous, found their way into every slash and tear in Aragorn’s clothing and, as they melted, they sucked the last vestiges of warmth from his body.

   As he felt his fingers beginning to go numb, he quickly secured Gollum’s leash to his wrist. He was not going to lose his prisoner now. And then he determinedly plodded on with his journey. But the snow rapidly grew deeper and deeper until the blizzard finally made any progress impossible. Snowdrifts blocked his path and his eyes struggled to make sense of the formless white landscape that now completely surrounded him. His feet and hands felt as if they had turned to lumps of ice, and, as the wind picked up and the storm intensified, he could scarcely see anything at all through the blinding flakes that stung his eyes and clung to his beard. He stopped for a moment and attempted to look about him, but even his own footprints had already disappeared under the densely falling snow. He was quickly becoming disorientated and, as darkness threatened to fall, in real danger of losing his way.

   He glanced at Gollum. He stood hunched up, his legs hidden in the snow, whimpering pathetically on his leash. He too was shivering and looked utterly wretched. Aragorn tried to speak words of encouragement to him, but they were immediately ripped from his mouth by the blistering wind. There was no prospect of making a fire and, with no food, he wondered how much more either of them could endure.

 Somehow he must find shelter before the storm claimed them both.

~oo0oo~

  But where could he possibly hope to find any when he could barely see further than a few feet in front of him? Aragorn was so cold, he was beginning to have difficulty thinking clearly. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to focus; this was not the first time he had been trapped in a blizzard. His seemingly desperate situation still provided him with a choice and he had a decision to make, though neither option was particularly hopeful. He could either stay where he was and dig into the snow until the blizzard passed or keep moving and seek shelter. Settling down for the night in deep snow out in the bitter wind did not appeal greatly so he decided to press on the best he could.

   While Aragorn was no longer entirely sure of their exact location, he knew they were somewhere in the foothills of the mountains. Here, abundant clusters of fir trees grew on the shallow slopes. Surely if he ploughed on in a straight line in any direction, he would stumble into a copse sooner or later. This simple logic cheered him. He glanced down at Gollum, who looked a vision of abject misery. In order to speak to him, Aragorn slowly bent his frozen limbs so that his words might reach his captive’s ear before the wind blew them into the wastes.

   “What say you and I find somewhere to rest away from this accursed weather, hey Gollum?” He had almost given up expecting any sort of reply from the creature, but he occasionally persevered with his attempts at communication. For once, the accusing stare had left Gollum’s eye, but, even in the straits in which he found himself, he stubbornly refused to answer. Aragorn sighed and simply tugged on the leash. Gollum was forced to follow as Aragorn pushed himself to keep moving, his shoulders hunched and bent against the howling wind as he trudged onwards. How many laboured and impossible strides he managed to complete, he could not remember, yet he continued to battle his way through the steadily rising drifts.

   He was beginning to feel giddy from cold and hunger, his soaked clothes now offering him little protection from the fearsome elements. He was fast reaching the end of his endurance when, suddenly, he was aware of there being something very large standing in front of him, blocking his path. It was a tree, a huge, towering fir tree that stood tall and proud against the buffeting winds and driving snow. Aragorn sank to his knees with relief and, on his hands and knees, crawled through the snow piled high in front of it before sliding under the branches onto a thick layer of fallen needles. Sheltered beneath the tree’s dense boughs, the needles had remained dry and now provided a welcome bed for the frozen Ranger and his companion. Snuggled against the trunk, Aragorn was at last cocooned from the worst of the weather by the comforting branches of the tree, which reached almost to the ground like a tent all about him.

   He pulled Gollum into his den and there they sat, side by side, protected from the storm while they waited for the blizzard to blow itself out. Aragorn desperately wanted to sleep. Exhaustion was almost as big a problem for him as hunger and cold. Throughout his long journey, he had never risked taking his eyes off Gollum for long, and the constant threat of attack meant he could scarcely find any rest. He almost smiled at the irony of his situation. Gollum was going nowhere in this weather and none of his enemies would be abroad either, and yet he still could not sleep because the cold would claim him if he did. He sat with his knees drawn up in front of him and his arms wrapped around his chest. He shivered incessantly but he knew that to be a good sign. He thought no further than surviving this one night. There was no sense in dwelling on the long leagues he still had to travel if he was ever to reach Mirkwood. He had no illusions about just how difficult a journey still lay ahead of him, but at this moment, none of that mattered. His only concern was to still be alive in the morning.

   All night, while the wind blew and the snow fell, he sat hunched up, his head periodically dropping to his chin as sleep threatened to overcome him. But always he jerked himself back to wakefulness in time. Whenever his eyes closed, he thought of Arwen. Now that she had returned to Rivendell, she filled his thoughts even more vividly than when she was but a receding memory. He tried to conjure up her face as she had appeared to him the last time he had seen her. He remembered her eyes had shone as she smiled at him and her hair had been caught by the wind as she stood watching him slowly disappear from her sight. For a moment, that image of her was all the sustenance he needed. He was able to forget the cold and his tortured stomach as the memory of her standing there waving to him filled his heart. But when he opened his eyes again he saw only Gollum, sitting looking at him with a scowl on his face.

     At last dawn broke far away in the east and Aragorn’s thoughts turned to the day ahead. The wind had dropped and the sky was bright and clear. Much as he dreaded leaving his little sanctuary, he knew he had to keep moving as he must eat that day. Gollum sat apart from him now. With his hands secured in front of him, he was able to root around in the dank bed of needles. Every now and then, he raised his hands to his mouth and swallowed something. Aragorn tried not to look too closely at what he was eating. Whatever nourishment Gollum was finding, he was not yet so desperate as to join him in his morning snack. Instead, he pushed his way through the snow that had piled against the outer branches of the tree and ventured forth once more into the white wilderness.

   The landscape had changed completely during the night. Drifts, taller than he, fenced the land about him. Finding his route once more looked to be an impossible task. Gazing about him, he realized he had spent the night on the edge of what appeared to be a sizable woodland. Dragging a reluctant Gollum from their hideout, he set off into the woods and soon found himself wandering under beech and oak as well as pines and furs. There was less snow under the trees so the going was much easier. He knew if he was to find any food at all, it would have to be here among the trees.

   He had not gone far when his hunter’s eye spotted a small hole in a low branch of a tree which was chewed and gnawed all around the opening. A little further along, he noticed a similar hole. He was far too hungry to feel any regret over what he was about to do. He placed a corner of his cloak over the one opening and poked the end of the orc blade into the other. The small, furry occupant of the hollow branch was soon dislodged from its nest and trapped in the cloak as it tried to make its escape. Aragorn grabbed it, and, with a skilful twist of the frantically wriggling body, he broke the squirrel’s neck in one well practised movement. At last he had caught his breakfast and, as the sun was beginning to shed its warming rays upon the frozen land, he decided to build a fire and roast it. The damp leaves were slow to catch and his numb fingers fumbled clumsily with his flint, but eventually a few sparks found a hold on the kindling and Aragorn had his fire. As he prepared and roasted his meal, he tethered Gollum to a tree where he was able to continue rooting for whatever it was that so fascinated him in the leaf litter.

   Finally, thawed only a little, but fed, Aragorn and his captive, set off once more on their long journey. As he emerged from the shade of the trees, the brightness of the snow, glistening like silver under the rising sun, hurt his eyes. He squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked about him, trying to gather his bearings. He set his path northwards by the sun and continued on his way. The drifts were deep and their progress laboured but on Aragorn strode, always driving the reluctant Gollum before him.

~oo0oo~

   Eventually, after many days of toil in freezing conditions, he found his way to the Old Forest Road. There he remained hidden, watching, for a long while before he dared to come forth and cross over it. This was just the sort of place he expected there to be spies. He saw none, but by now he was fairly sure his passage north would have been marked. There was nothing though he could do about it, but, as he continued on northwards, he became even more watchful and cautious.

   Good fortune was with him, though, when two days later he reached the Anduin at the Carrock and there, to his overwhelming relief, he was met by the Beornings. Gandalf had once introduced him to these people many years ago and, remembering him, Grimbeorn and his kin gladly aided him now.

   Immediately, as Grimbeorn walked towards the shivering Ranger, he removed his own cloak and wrapped it around Aragorn’s shoulders. “You look half starved, as well as freezing to death, man,” he said as he drew Aragorn into a warming hug. Aragorn was grateful for the comfort, but he was also embarrassed at how relieved he was when Grimbeorn released him again. He had never forgotten Bilbo’s tale of Beorn’s ability to transform into a bear and somehow he half expected this descendent of his to suddenly sprout fur and claws in front of his very eyes. 

 “Come eat, Aragorn. Honeycakes and fresh baked bread with lashings of cream is what you need by the look of you. That should put some fat on your bones.” Grimbeorn slapped him on the back and threw back his head, roaring with laughter. Aragorn was far too tired to fully participate in any joviality, but he gladly joined Grimbeorn and his men for their supper.

   The Beornings, though, were understandably curious about his companion.

   “Is it a dwarf?” asked Grimbeorn, stroking his beard, thoughtfully. “Or is it one of those little people; oh what where they called now? Beorn met one, once upon a time.”

   “I believe the name you are searching for is ‘hobbit’,” said Aragorn, smiling at the bemused looks on the faces around him.

   “Well, hobbit, then,” said Grimbeorn rather doubtfully. “He doesn’t look at all as I imagined that folk would. What does he eat? He’s welcome to join us, but he doesn’t appear very friendly.”

   “He eats very little,” said Aragorn, “though he likes fish best of all when I can catch it, but I have been unable to provide much of that. I would leave him to his own company. He’ll not willingly join us or appreciate your efforts at friendship.”

   So Gollum remained tethered while the men ate. He scowled at them with evident dislike and they soon lost interest in him. He was nonetheless provided with a generous meal of honeycakes, which he scarcely touched.

   Aragorn, however, gratefully ate his fill and the honeycakes he found particularly agreeable. Their syrupy sweetness was especially welcome after a diet of nothing but roots and meat. Also, they recalled to him happy memories of distant days in the nursery when his mother would bake them for him. The mead was excellent and no sooner had he downed one jar than his cup was filled again. Eventually, he began to feel warm again for the first time since he left Lothlórien.

   Aragorn spent a couple of very pleasant days with the Beornings where he was able to indulge in the rest he so desperately needed. The cheerful company of these good men raised his spirits enormously as he prepared to set off on the potentially most dangerous part of his journey.  When he was at last fit to leave, Grimbeorn and his men helped him ford the Great River before sending him on his way with an ample supply of food.

~oo0oo~

   North of the Carrock, Aragorn came to the Forest Gate and, leaving the sunlit vales of Anduin behind, he entered into the dark and dangerous forest of Mirkwood. He was taking the Elf-path that would eventually bring him to the Elven realm in the east of the forest, but little did he like the prospect of dragging Gollum all that way through the oppressive gloom of that menacing place. He had rarely travelled this way before and then he usually had Gandalf for company.

   It was dark even in the day in that forest, but the nights he found to be far worse as the dark was so intense, he could see absolutely nothing, not even his hand in front of his face. He strapped up Gollum more tightly than ever, afraid of losing him now so close to his destination. He had been warned by Gandalf against the dangers of straying from the path but, as the Beornings had given him sufficient food and water to see them both through this last stage of their journey, he was hopeful that he would not need to.

   He anticipated his first real problem would come at the Enchanted Stream which he would have to cross without touching the water. Hopefully, the boat would be there, but if it was not, he had not really considered what he would do. However, luck, if that is what it could be called, was with him once again and when he reached the bank he found a small boat tethered as if waiting for him. He bundled Gollum into it without mishap and swiftly rowed across the stream before continuing on his way. But the further he went into the forest, the more depressing and menacing it seemed to become. It was impossible to shake off the feeling of being watched.

   That night Aragorn struggled to stay awake. He had not slept for four nights and was intending not to sleep at all until he was safely within the underground halls of Thranduil’s palace. But he was now very weary and sleep kept catching up with him, if only for a few moments at a time.

   Suddenly, he awoke with a start as a scream pierced his consciousness. It was Gollum. Aragorn froze. In the pitch black of night, he strained all his senses to try and deduce what was happening before he sprang into action. Gollum was tied to his waist and was tugging on the leash with all his might. Aragorn could hear movement all about him; the sound of twigs and leaves being trampled as something approached. Whatever it was that was out there seemed very large and was nearly upon them.

   Then something brushed against his leg and tried to grab him. He jumped in shock, but instantly the blade that was always in his hand, even as he rested, slashed at the darkness and at once struck flesh. There was a cry, a deep cold cry, and whatever it was retreated. But only a pace or two; Aragorn sensed it had not gone far and he knew it was not alone. Using the rope tied between them, he guided himself to Gollum, who for once did not pull away, but remained close beside him. The noises around them intensified and Aragorn prepared to attack, though he had little doubt that their situation was perilous. All at once the creatures charged. Aragorn flailed his weapons desperately in every direction, fighting completely blind and lashing out randomly as many long legs assaulted him.

   The noise was deafening, but above the screams of Gollum and the screeching and hissing of the huge beasts, Aragorn suddenly heard a hunting horn somewhere up ahead of them on the road. Then dimly, there came the lights of torches and he could hear the sound of voices coming towards him. He allowed himself to breathe again as he realized the Elves were heading his way. As the lights approached, they illuminated his attackers and Aragorn’s blades were at last able to find their mark. He was surrounded by three giant spiders, which lunged at him in a final attempt to snatch their easy meal before the Elves arrived. Gollum squealed even louder at the sight of the enormous arachnids and cowered behind Aragorn who battled with renewed vigour now that hope had returned. He determinedly maintained his defence until help finally arrived.

   Now it was the spiders that were beset. As arrows started to fly past his head, Aragorn dropped to the ground, pulling Gollum down with him. Soon the hideous beasts were fleeing and the Elves were in their midst. There were a dozen or more green clad Wood Elves in the group, each with an arrow in his bow, now walking towards Aragorn and Gollum. Aragorn got to his feet and slowly raised his hands as they approached, but then a grin spread across his face.

   “Mae govannen, Legolas!” he said. “That was a most timely arrival!”

   “Aragorn of the Dúnedain?” said the lead Elf in amazement. “What brings you to these parts? We have not seen you for many a year. But tell me first, what is that?” He pointed incredulously at Gollum who was crouched behind Aragorn and peeping out from behind his leg. Much as he loathed this hateful man, Gollum hated the Elves even more.

   “That, mellon nîn, is a long story,” said Aragorn, laughing with relief now that the trials of his journey were finally over. “I will tell you my tale when we have reached your father’s halls, for that is where we are heading.” 

   “This is not the creature that Mithrandir told us of, is it?” asked Legolas. “He does not look very dangerous.”

   “Do not be deceived by his small size, Legolas," Aragorn said as he held up his still bandaged hand for the Elf to see. "But I will speak no more of him until we are safely away from prying eyes and ears.” 

   Legolas nodded his agreement. “You look weary. It may yet take us another two days and nights to reach the Causeway. Rest a while, if you can. It is still a few hours before the dawn.”

   Aragorn smiled his gratitude. Sleep could not come a moment to soon. Even the fervour of battle which so often kept him from resting once the fight was over, could not keep him from sleep now. He gladly sank to the ground where he stood and curled up on the path, pulling what remained of his cloak around him. Gollum stayed close beside him, cringing from the Elves. But Aragorn paid him little heed as he slid into the welcoming arms of sleep. The last thing he remembered was someone laying a cloak over him. And as he slept, the Elves maintained a silent vigil.

   In the morning, Legolas offered to relieve Aragorn of his prisoner. “Others can lead him for you now, if you wish,” he said. But Aragorn hesitated, even though he would be only too delighted never to lay eyes on the miserable creature ever again.

   “Thank you, Legolas,” he said, dipping his head, respectfully. “But I shall not ask that of you. I have driven him many, many miles; I will see him to the very end of my journey.”

   “As you wish,” said Legolas who seemed relieved not to have to take responsibility for the strange looking creature just yet.

   Soon the Company of Elven warriors was ready to depart and Aragorn set off with his escort.   He was relieved beyond measure to have their assistance on the last stage of his journey. Suddenly Mirkwood was not remotely as dark or oppressive as it had been and Aragorn found his tired limbs walked with more purpose now that he was no longer alone though the last miles still took a determined effort to complete. Without the hindrance of Gollum, the Elves moved more swiftly than he, but after a couple of days, they at last reached the halls of the Elvenking. They passed over the great Causeway and through the magic doors that secured the entrance to the underground chambers where many of this ancient people lived, safe from the evil within the forest.

    The Silvan Elves had dwelt in the Greenwood since before the First Age, while others, like their leader Thranduil and his father Oropher before him, had joined them following the destruction of Beleriand. But when Sauron made his abode in the south of the forest on Amon Lanc, the Elves had retreated north. Although Sauron had, in recent years, been driven back to Mordor, many of his servants still dwelt within the forest and life for the Elves was never easy.

   They were suspicious of most strangers, but Aragorn had first come there as a young man with Gandalf many years ago and was accepted for who he was. He found having an Elven upbringing was sometimes extremely useful, although he inevitably did not feel as at home around these Elves as he did those of Imladris. However, Thranduil and his son had always been welcoming enough on his rare visits to the Woodland Realm

   It was with enormous relief that Aragorn was at last able to rid himself of the presence of Gollum. He held out his hand so one of the Elves could cut the rope from his wrist and, as it fell away, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Gollum was taken to the dungeons, squealing in protest, while Legolas showed Aragorn to a pleasant room where he was able to bathe before being taken to meet Thranduil. The Silvan Elves had none of the wealth of the Noldor and their quarters were sparse in comparison to the sumptuousness of Rivendell, but after fifty-five days in the company of Gollum and travelling some nine hundred miles with him across difficult terrain, the Elvenking’s halls felt as grand as any palace Aragorn could ever hope to dwell in.

   Legolas was a thoughtful host and had food and wine brought up to his guest as he languished in a warm bath. Slowly, he soaked the knots and cramps from his muscles, though the warm, soapy water stung his chapped fingers and toes which still sported many open sores from the relentless cold. He had trodden more paths in his long life than he really cared to remember at that moment, but few of his journeys had been as arduous as this latest one. But for all his weariness, he did feel a certain grim satisfaction at having accomplished his mission. Gollum was securely locked away; even Sauron could not reach him here and that was a most welcome and comforting thought. He stretched out his long legs and lay back as far as his bath would allow and relaxed.

   These unburden moments were as treasured jewels in his increasingly uncertain life. He had not made any plans beyond arriving in Thranduil’s realm. Now that he was here, he ought to consider his next movements. He needed to find Gandalf; then they could take counsel together. If Gandalf could solve the riddle of this ring of Bilbo’s, then he might perhaps be able to map out his plans for the coming months. As it was, his immediate future was a blank page and he was far from certain of where the path of his life might lead him in the next year or so.

~oo0oo~

    At length, bathed and fed, though still attired in his ragged travelling clothes, Aragorn was escorted to Thranduil in his great hall. He always thought the Elvenking a very regal lord and he found him now, sitting on his wooden throne, his autumn crown of leaves and berries upon his head, scrutinising the ranger as he was bought before him. Not for the first time in his life, Aragorn felt acutely aware of his still very dishevelled, appearance. It would take more than one bath to turn him into a King of Men, he thought, smiling ruefully to himself. He must ask Legolas for a change of clothes. A fine robe or too would have boosted his confidence hugely.

   He halted in front of the king and bowed.

   “So, Aragorn, Lord of the Dúnedain, you have finally brought this creature here,” said Thranduil. “It is many years since Mithrandir asked me if I could accommodate him within my halls. Has he proved so very difficult to find?”

   “He has indeed, my lord king,” said Aragorn. “Mithrandir and I have spent many years searching for him. He was far down in the south, near Mordor, when I at last came across him.”

   “You have had a very long journey then. But Mithrandir is not with you now?” asked Thranduil.

   “He had another errand, my lord, and had to abandon the hunt.”

   “Well, he has told me all about this Gollum and why he believes he should be constrained. Let’s hope you were not too late in achieving your task, and the damage has not already been done.”

   “Yes, my lord,” said Aragorn, not really appreciating this blunt appraisal of his long and painful efforts. 

   “I will send scouts out in the morning to leave messages for Mithrandir beyond the Forest. No doubt it would please him to know the creature has been found at last.”

   “Thank you, I’m sure he would greatly appreciate being told of this,” said Aragorn

   “And perhaps, now that you are here, you might bring me news of Imladris,” said Thranduil, gesturing to Aragorn to be seated. “How is Elrond Halfelven these days?”

   Aragorn obediently sat in front of the king and when he had told him all the news he could, Thranduil at last sent him to his rest.

~oo0oo~

   Aragorn slept for nearly a whole day and night, such was his weariness. He awoke feeling ravenous and was grateful to the Elves for their generous hospitality. Thranduil, for all his brusqueness, appreciated what the mortal had been through to achieve his feat and ensured he was more than adequately cared for.  A plentiful supply of the finest foods was constantly brought to his room and Aragorn had no compunction about eating his fill. Bread and pastries he consumed by the plateful, though he was less keen on the squirrel, no matter how beautifully prepared and presented.

   As he happily tucked into yet another helping of apple pie, he grinned at his own gluttony. ‘I’ve spent too long guarding the Shire,’ he thought, ‘I’m turning into a hobbit.’

   When Aragorn had finally sated himself on food and sleep, he sought Legolas to inquire about Gollum. He still felt the creature was his responsibility and, although he was sure the Elves would care for him well, he wanted to satisfy himself that Gollum was reasonably comfortable.

   “He is locked up,” said Legolas, “but, I assure you, we are doing all we can for him.”  At Aragorn’s insistence, he led the way through the long passages that were lit only with the red light of many torches until they came to the dungeons. Aragorn found Gollum housed in an agreeable enough cell. It was small and sparse but he was receiving regular meals and the guards were obviously treating him kindly. Yet he was squatting on the floor and seemed very on edge. He jumped as Aragorn approached the bars. Aragorn could only imagine that he was anticipating being tortured.

   “Hello, Gollum, there is nothing to fear,” he said with a friendliness he certainly did not feel. “It is I, Strider.”

Gollum raised his head and glared at Aragorn with evident hatred before continuing to mumble to himself.  “Poor, Gollum, what’s to become of us, now, precious? We can’t find it again locked in here, can we, oh no. Nasty manses keeps us from it, he does. We hates him, precious, we hates him.”

   Aragorn listened to him for a while, but then, with mounting revulsion at the smell he had tolerated for so long, he found he had no desire to endure Gollum’s presence a moment longer.

   “I’ve seen enough,” he said to Legolas and, turning on his heel, he strode from the dungeons.

~oo0oo~

   The next day, to Aragorn’s great joy, Gandalf arrived, having ridden with great haste through the forest.

   “My dear Aragorn, how are you?” said Gandalf, embracing his friend before stepping back to cast a concerned eye over him. “What a time you have had! I am so relieved to see you still in one piece. You must tell me the whole story. I know you have been to Lórien for I received messages from there telling me you had passed that way. I chased after you at once, fearing what deadly perils you had endured on your own. Come sit with me and tell me of your adventures.”

   Aragorn recounted his tale from the time he parted from Gandalf far to the south in the Morgul Vale. Gandalf was most concerned to learn of Aragorn’s capture by the orcs and he was particularly disturbed to hear that the Lord of the Nazgûl was wandering in that land. He greatly feared the meaning of it. However, he could not dwell on this problem now, and bringing his thoughts back to Gollum, he asked: “Has he said anything to you that may be helpful to us; has he given any sort of account of himself at all?”

   “He has said nothing,” said Aragorn, shaking his head. “He has completely refused to answer any of my questions. I’m afraid I did not start in friendship with him and he has not let me forget that. I do know that he is very fearful of the name of Mordor and I suspect he has been there. I sense great malice within him. I can only hope you have more success with him than I did.”

   “Well, I will try, but I can promise nothing. If he was indeed in possession of the One Ring for a great many years, then his heart, I suspect, is black from that time. But we shall see. Perhaps you could take me to him now,” said Gandalf as he got to his feet. 

   “Of course,” said Aragorn, “but will you not tell me first if your visit to Minas Tirith bore fruit? Did you find anything that might be of use to us in the vaults?”

   “Yes, I believe I did,” said Gandalf, sitting back down again. “Denethor was very reluctant to allow me access to the archives, but he agreed in the end. Did you know, Aragorn, there are scrolls there that have been unread for centuries?”

   “No, I did not,” said Aragorn, “but it would not surprise me; the archives were much neglected in Ecthelion’s day.”

   “Well, it took me a while, but I eventually found Isildur’s own account of the finding of the Ring. It made very interesting reading. I learned of a test I can try to see if this is the One Ring, but I will not be able to do that until I return to the Shire. But let me see what Gollum can tell us first before we jump to too many conclusions.”

   Aragorn nodded his agreement and then led the way to the dungeons.

~oo0oo~

   Gandalf patiently sat with the creature for days, slowly coaxing his tale out of him. At length, he felt he had learned all he could and so reported back to Aragorn.

   “Well, I hope I never have to sit and listen to such a lot of nonsense ever again,” said Gandalf. “He really is enough to try the temper of the most patient man.”

   Aragorn laughed: “And you, my dear friend, could hardly be called that.”

   Gandalf scowled at him good-humouredly.

   “First, I had to get past all the self-pity and the interminable curses, most of which were directed at you, I have to say,” said Gandalf, raising an eyebrow at Aragorn. “Eventually, he started to open up a little. I still had to discount most of what he said, but a few things were quite telling and some very important. For instance, I learned that he found the Ring near the Gladden, not far from where Isildur most likely lost it. Also it would appear that he found it a very long time ago and that possession of the Ring has therefore considerably lengthened his life. His story of how he himself came to lose it also tied in with what Bilbo told me; the later version that is. However most disturbingly, it would seem Gollum was, as we guessed, taken captive in Mordor. There, under torment, he revealed both the names of ‘Baggins’ and ‘the Shire’ to the servants of the Dark Lord.”

  “Oh no, this is the most evil of tidings!”

   “I know, my friend, it could not be worse,” said Gandalf. “Gollum believes he escaped, but I suspect he was released which is far more disturbing. It is all most grievous news. I doubt Sauron had ever heard of the Shire before, though I do not expect it will take him long to find it now. I must return there at once and warn Frodo.”

   “This is all just as I feared,” said Aragorn frowning. “I will travel west with you. The Dúnedain should be told at least something of the possible dangers and the guard on the Shire increased accordingly.”

   “Yes, yes, that would be as well. There will be much to do.” Gandalf nodded his agreement. But then he looked hard at the Ranger sitting beside him and he became quiet and thoughtful. He pulled out his pipeweed and offered some to the Man.

   “It’s the finest in the Southfarthing,” he said with a smile.  Aragorn accepted the weed with thanks, but he knew Gandalf well enough to immediately understand that his friend probably had something of importance he wished to say to him.

   When they had both lit their pipes and taken a drag or two, Gandalf continued.

   “Aragorn, I am as certain as I can be, for now, that Gollum’s ring is the One Ring of the Dark Lord, found again after being lost for over three thousand years. You do know what this means don’t you?”

   “If you mean, do I know the peril we will all be in should Sauron find it again, then, yes, I know,” said Aragorn, thinking this was surely obvious.

   Gandalf smiled at him, fondly.

   “No, my dear fellow, I meant for you personally. It has long been Elrond’s belief, has it not, that when the Ring of the Enemy is found then the Sword of Elendil will be reforged. And with that sword you may well be called upon to accomplish the great deeds that Elrond once predicted you might achieve. I foresee a terrible final battle looming before us. If we are successful, you may at last gain all you desire, but if we fail, then those who survive will be condemned to endure life without hope under the rule of Sauron. Your hour is coming Aragorn. Your long labour will soon be over, but much will be asked of you before the end. You must be ready.”

   Aragorn said nothing for a while. He knew events were moving rapidly towards that confrontation and that his final trial would soon be upon him. He knew also it would be a test he must not fail, and hearing Gandalf speak of it brought the day that much nearer in his mind. Long had he waited and prepared for this and he did not doubt he would need all his courage and skill to see this through, though there were no sureties that they would be enough. He was very aware that the price of failure would have far reaching implications for all of Middle-earth, as well as being the end of his own hopes and dreams. But in that moment whatever fears and doubts lay within him, by the strength of his will he banished them from his heart and determinedly replaced them with grim resolve.

   “I am ready,” he said at last. 

                                                                                                          ~o00o~

  …He will never love me I fear; for he bit me, and I was not gentle. Nothing more did I ever get from his mouth than the marks of his teeth. I deemed it the worst part of my journey, the road back, watching him night and day, making him walk before me with a halter on his neck, gagged, until he was tamed by lack of food and drink, driving him ever towards Mirkwood….

 “The Council of Elrond”                                                      “The Fellowship of the Ring”