Chapter 4. I follow my nose

~ S.R. 1419, 14 January (From the Tale of Years for this date: [The Company passes the night] in Hall Twenty-one.) ~

I think about retracing my steps to the small, foul stream, but perhaps I might find a different way home? Behind me is the place where the wolves attacked our Company. And so I begin my journey by trying to follow the path onward from where the Doors once stood (and may still stand, closed, that is, behind the jumble of boulders and uprooted trees).

The path grows ever narrower, however, with the edge of the lake pressing closer to the cliffs. Or perhaps it is the cliffs pressing closer to the dark waters. In any event, that way is closed to me, for I have no desire to set foot in the water or swim across even the smallest stretch of murky water.

With some difficulty, I walk backwards until the strip of land is wide enough for me to turn around without touching the water. I skirt the pile of boulders and sad detritus, all that remains of our Company, and make my way along the path to the stream.

The small amount of water I drank a little while ago has given me strength enough to jump over the stream once more. The lack of burdens on my back is a great help – my jump lands me on the opposite side of the stream with room to spare. To my consternation, I land with a thump, and freeze, watching the lake with white-rimmed eyes and swivelling my ears to listen with all my might.

The monsters must sleep in the daytime...? At least, that would be my hope. I see no ripples; I hear no soft sounds resembling plops or swishes.

I am feeling almost cheerful as I continue on my way. When I reach the top of the winding path that will lead me away from the lake at last, I snort a sigh of relief.

Was that a plop? No matter. I canter down the path to the first turn and then stop. I am beyond the monsters' reach now, I deem. There is no water to hide them here.

There is no water for a thirsty pony here.

Feeling a subtle prodding sensation, I walk onward, down the winding path to the bottom of the slope and then, eventually, along the winding, broken road past the steep stairway where my Sam said all will be well.

When, I wonder? When will all be well?

Not too long after, my nostrils flare at the hint of water I can smell in the air. Perhaps...?

And then I recognise the place. Here, the not-very-Merry hobbit told Youngest to sit himself down and take a few sips of water from his flask. Here, Master put his arm around my Sam's shoulders and pointed to what he called a "wide cleft" that he said had been carved out by a waterfall, strong and swift and full.

Sadly, the only water here seems to be the tantalising smell in the air, offering only a hint of the life-sustaining moisture I am craving, or perhaps rather less than a hint. Thus, I can only conclude that "all" being "well" still lies somewhere in the future.

For want of any better idea, I continue to follow the broken roadway alongside the empty streambed. The land around me is barren and desolate. I remember how the Company stumbled along, trying to find this very stream. And now I wonder, if this deep cleft beside the roadway, though lacking any flow of tumbling water at the present time, holds such value for Tall Hat, ought I to stay with the stream?

A stream, after all, usually holds the promise of water. Might I find water further along? Most of my memories of streams also carry the thought of grass... Might I find grass at some point?

I cannot remember my last meal, and the memory of my last drink is beginning to dim as thirst grows stronger again. Can this empty stream lead me to water? 

Even as I continue to follow its course for want of any better idea, I know very well that this stream will not lead me homewards. Wherever home may prove to be. My home ought to be with my Sam, but where he has gone, I cannot follow. (Do the Voices know where my Sam may be?)

If I knew whence we came before we found the empty streambed, I might turn away and continue past the Cruel mountain, wandering through pathless lands until I might once more find that Valley where no evil things come. (Can the Voices find our way through pathless lands?) I think of the wolves we encountered, and shudder.

Even if the wolves have moved on, or I somehow find my way past their hunting grounds, I might blunder into one of the bogs I seem to remember, as I seek the Valley... Can the Voices keep me on solid ground? 

But even if I resolve to seek that marvellous Valley where the old pet waits and Merrylegs still grazes, how will I know where to leave this road that now winds its way under my feet?

The Voices have been silent for some time; perhaps they have no more idea than I do.

I have been walking a long time, for the Sun has passed her highest point and now hangs in the sky before me, beckoning me onward.

Soon, She will seek her bed... but where shall I find rest?

*** 

Author's note: 

Some thoughts here are derived from 'A Journey in the Dark' and 'Homeward Bound' in The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

***