Chapter 13: The Tie Goes South

[the_mogget]

Well, now that Midterms, Round One is over, and I'm back from my adventures in meeting cool people at school, I can get to posting this. And it's only ten minutes after the day! Anyway, here she is;


The Lord of the Reports:
The Fellowship of the Tie
Book II, Chapter 13:
The Tie Goes South

The Sword of Allendur was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced a device of seven suns and seven moons with four of them shining the most brightly, and about them was written many runes; for Jonagorn son of -- well, let's not go there -- the point is, Jonagorn was going to war upon the marches of Crawford, and elves can never pass up an opportunity like this to make things dramatic.

Very bright was the sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was sharp and keen. And Jonagorn gave it a new name and called it Aurcrist, the Daily Sword.

Jonagorn and Lewis walked together or sat speaking of their road and the perils they would meet; and they pondered the maps and books of lore that were at the libraries of RSU. Stepholas was frequently a companion of Jonagorn, though he was as often as not engaged in a shouting match with Stevli, and refused to enter the libraries with the insistence that their keepers were hiding something. Kilbornomir conversed in tones of great cheer with all and sundry, but confided in none.

Sometimes Jason joined Jonagorn and Lewis in the libraries, but all the languages and legends and lore made his head spin, so he was content for the most part to let them handle it and spend his time with Mo.

In those last days the hobbits often sat together in the Horseshoe watching elvish sports, or in The Oval simply enjoying the company, and there among many other tales they heard in full the splendiferous zeppelin escapades of William H. Meren and Felúthien Huffman. But during the day when Rob, Ed, and Sam would be out causing trouble, Jason would often be found with Mo in his own small room. There Mo would read bits of his book, or take notes about Jason's adventures.

On the morning of the last day Jason was alone with Mo, and the old hobbit pulled out from under his bed a wooden box. He lifted the lid and fumbled inside.

"My old sword, Snark!" said he, handing Jason the shabby leather scabbard. "Take it!"

Jason drew the little sword, and its polished and well-tended blade glittered. "The blade glows blue, you remember, when orcs are close," said Mo. "Also, this!" He brought out a small shirt of mail, close-woven of many rings, as supple almost as linen, cold as ice, and harder than steel.

"It's a pretty thing, isn't it?" said Mo, moving it in the light. "It's dwarf-mail -- mirthril. Laughter is the best defense against many things, and it won't weigh you down in the least. Let me see you put it on!"

"I don't think it's my style," replied Jason. In truth, he thought it looked a little gay, but he didn't want to say that to its owner.

"That's what I said," agreed Mo. "But never mind about looks. You can wear it under your clothes. Come on! You don't need to tell anybody else, but I'd feel more secure if I knew you were wearing it. I have a fancy it would turn even the blades of the Red Riders," he ended in a low voice.

"All right, then," said Jason, and began to unbutton his shirt. The golden fabric of the Tie, looped loosely around his neck, appeared and glinted beneath the folds; Mo gave a little jump.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "My old tie! Is it true, that it changed shape?"

Jason nodded. "It's not a bow-tie any more, just an average necktie."

"Really? How fascinating. I -- I'd like to see it, just one last time..."

Jason started to draw out the Tie, feeling a strange reluctance. Mo put out his hand. But to Jason's distress and amazement he found that he was no longer looking at Mo; a shadow seemed to have fallen between them, and through it he found himself staring at a little wrinkled creature with a hungry face and bony groping hands. He felt a desire to strike him. He jerked the Tie back.

And then Mo was himself again. He let his hand fall and went to sit on a little bench by the window. Jason hid the Tie and redid his buttons.

"I'm sorry," said Mo at last. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with this mess . . . I'm sorry for everything."

Jason put a hand on Mo's shoulder, and for some time afterward they remained like that, silent, together.

The Company took little gear of war, for their hope was in secrecy not in battle. Jonagorn had Aurcrist but no other weapon. Kilbornomir had a long sword, in fashion like Aurcrist but of less lineage, and he bore also a shield and his war-horn. As they were setting forth, he put the horn to his lips and blew a blast, and the echoes leapt from rock to rock, and all that heard that voice at RSU sprang to their feet.

"Careful with that thing, dear!" exclaimed Oprohnd. "I think you'd better not bring it out again until there's an actual emergency."

"Maybe," said Kilbornomir. "But even though we may be sneaking around a lot, I'm going to announce my presence at least at the beginning."

Stevli alone wore openly a short shirt of steel-rings, for dwarves make light of burdens; and in his belt was a broad-bladed axe. Stepholas had a bow and a quiver, and at his belt a long white knife. The hobbits had all been given small Elvish swords, but Jason took only Snark; and his mail-coat, as Mo wished, remained hidden. Lewis the Black bore his staff, but he brought a sword of his own.

All were well furnished by Oprohnd with thick warm clothes, while spare food and clothes and blankets and other needs were laden on a pony, none other than the poor beast Smoochy that they had brought from Toronto. The stay at RSU had done wonders for the poor beast; and Sam had declared that he would pine if he did not come.

Many of the inhabitants of RSU, both residents and guests, gathered at the gate to see the Company off. In the first row stood Georwen, who met the gaze of Jonagorn and held it while Oprohnd addressed them all.

"This is the last thing I'll be able to say to you," said she. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of the Doom Ranch. On him alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Tie, nor indeed to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy, but to take it to its destruction. On you who travel with him, no oath or bond is laid to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road."

"Faithless is he that says farewell just because the road looks dark," muttered Stevli.

"Maybe, Stevli," said Stepholas, "but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall."

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart," said Stevli.

"Or break it," said Stepholas.

"Well, Stepholas, unlike some people I could mention, I am not a big fan of people deserting!"

"If you two are going to be like this all quest," snapped Lewis, "we'll leave you here right now."

The elf and the dwarf bit back their retorts, and settled for glaring at each other in silence.

"Farewell," said Oprohnd. "May the blessings of Elves and Men and all Free Folk go with you!"

"Good luck!" added Mo brightly.

There was a brief pause. Just as it was about to become awkward, Lewis said solemnly, "The Fellowship awaits the Tie-bearer," and Jason realized that this meant him. He started uncertainly down the path.

"Crawford, Lewis," he murmured after a few meters, "is it left or right?"

From directly behind him, the wizard replied, "Far right."

At the Olentangy Ford they left the Road and turning southwards went on by narrow paths among the bleak and rocky hills. For the first part of their journey the weather was cold and the wind biting, and even when walking none of the company felt really warm; but when they had been a fortnight on the road the wind changed and the clouds lifted, and all felt lighter to see the sun come out.

They came to a flat place atop one of the hills, crowned with jutting rocks that might have been the foundations of some ancient monastery; and here they made a camp. Kilbornomir offered the hobbits a chance to practice with their swords, which Rob and Ed took him up on, with great enthusiasm which was not matched by their accuracy.

A little way off, Jonagorn stood in the shadow of a tree, looking out southwards and westwards, with his head posed as if he were listening. Stepholas, walking with elvish lightness of foot, joined him. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything."

"Well, I don't see anything."

"Neither do I."

"You know," remarked Stepholas, "elves have far better sight than men -- even the men of Jeúmenor."

"I know."

"So, if I don't see anything, there's not much point in you watching too, is there? I'm just saying. If I don't see anything, then we're pretty much okay."

"No, Stepholas, we're not," replied Jonagorn, his brow furrowed. "This country is uninhabited, but there should be creatures living here, especially birds. And we can't see any. I can't hear any, either. The place is deserted."

The elf looked confused. "No creatures means no bears. That's a good thing, right?"

"I don't know," said the Stranger. "I hope so. All the same, I wish I knew what made them leave."

Jason sat on the edge of a shelf of rock and watched Kilbornomir singlehandedly block every blow struck by Ed and Rob, while Sam, beside him, dug through her pack.

"Rope!" Sam exclaimed at last. "I knew I forgot something. The night before we left, I said to myself, Sam, what about a bit of rope? You'll want it, if you haven't got it."

"What would you do with rope around here?" inquired Jason.

Sam leaned in and leered. "Oh, I can think of a few things."

Jason raised his eyebrows suggestively in response. "Can you, now."

Just above them, Stevli joined Stepholas and Jonagorn, and all three now saw a dark patch that had appeared in the sky away in the South. "What is that?" asked the dwarf.

"Just a wisp of cloud," the elf replied.

"It's not!"

"It is!"

"It's nooooo--"

"It's moving against the wind," barked Lewis over the pair. "Hide!"

There was a great scramble, all of the company snatching their bags, dousing the fire, and leaping for the shelter of whichever rocks and bushes were nearest.

No sooner had the last of them reached safety than a flock of birds, wheeling and circling at great speed, passed overhead. Sam thought they were a kind of hawk. As they flew, in so dense a throng that their shadow followed them darkly over the ground below, one sharp cry was heard.

Not until they had dwindled into the distance, north and west, and the sky was again clear, would Lewis rise.

"Great. Just great!" he snapped, flailing in the general direction towards which the flock had departed. "Absolutely fucking fantastic. Sau'reilly has his Eru-damned birds watching the southern paths, so we're going to have to hike across the damn Blue Ridge pass -- snowy, windy, icy, rocky, narrow, steep, and generally fucking cold! Shit."

"You know, we don't have to go over the pass," said Stevli when the tirade at last wound down. "We could always go the other way--"

"No!" snapped the wizard, so quickly that it was plain they were continuing some debate that had begun long before. "Not happening. We're going over."

The Company set out again, with good speed at first; but soon their way became steep and difficult. The night grew deadly dark, and a bitter wind swirled among the rocks. As the path narrowed, the flanks of the mountain rose up at their left while a sheer gulf fell away to the right, and soft snow began to fall.

"Mo used to talk about crazy snow piles," remarked Jason, trying to put a bright spin on the situation, though it was so dark that he could barely see the dim figures of Lewis and Jonagorn in front of him. "He loved them. We got snow in the Shire, of course, but not like on the mountains."

"We shouldn't be getting snow at this point, either," said Jonagorn. "We're not high up enough."

As if determined to prove the Stranger wrong, the flakes fell more thickly: settling on their sleeves, tangling in their hair, and piling about their feet. The drifts began to drag at their boots, the wind whistling furiously in their ears. Soon the hobbits were fighting for every step. Jason's feet felt like lead. Ed was dragging behind. Even Stevli, as stout as any dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged ("We wouldn't have to put up with this if we went the other way...").

The storm grew only more intense as they pressed on. The snow became a blinding blizzard, and the wind shrieked and howled. Every now and again they heard a dull rumble as a great boulder rolled down from hidden heights above.

"Is it just me," cried Rob through chattering teeth, "or does this mountain have a serious 'rocks fall, everybody dies' thing going on?"

"It's not just you," answered Kilbornomir. "Some might call it the wind, but there's a nasty voice on the air."

"I do call it the wind," said Jonagorn, "but that doesn't mean it's not out to get us. We could turn back..."

"What? Jonagorn!" cried Stepholas, horrified. "If we turn around just because of a little snow, Blue Ridge wins!"

"You're right," said the Stranger. "You're right! We can't give in to that--"

His next word was overshadowed as a massive shower of snow and boulders rolled down from above. The company threw itself against the mountainside and cringed beneath the onslaught.

"We can't keep going in this!" shouted Kilbornomir over the wind when the cascade had died down. "It'll be the death of the hobbits!" He had one arm around Ed and the other around Sam; their faces were red where the wind and snow had stung them, but otherwise very pale.

"Backwards won't be any easier than forwards!" barked Lewis in reply.

"There's no place on the way up that offered more shelter than this cliff wall right here," added Jonagorn.

"Shelter!" muttered Sam. "If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house."

The company huddled together with their backs to the wall. Smoochy the pony stood patiently but dejectedly in front of the hobbits, and screened them a little; but if they had had no larger companions they would soon have been entirely buried.

They tried to start a fire, but it passed the skill of Elf or even Dwarf to strike a flame that would hold in that wind or catch amid the wet fuel. At last reluctantly Lewis himself took a hand. Picking up a bundle of firewood he held it aloft for a moment and shouted at it, jabbing it with his staff, until it was too embarrassed not to burst into flames.

"There," he said gruffly, tossing the sputtering wood onto the pile. "If there's anybody watching, I just wrote Lewis the Black is here in neon signs from RSU to Orleansengard. You idiots had better appreciate it."

Jason stared into the light of the fire until sleep crept over him. When he awoke, the fire had died, but the snow had stopped and a dim grey light was growing. One by one his companions stirred and flexed their stiff and tired limbs; all but Jonagorn, who, as far as Jason could tell, had not slept at all.

"Blue Ridge isn't out of snow yet," said Stevli presently. "If we try to go on, the storm will start up again. We've got to go the other--"

"We can't turn back now!" cried Stepholas. "Stay the course!"

"Go back!" snapped Stevli.

"Go on!" rejoined Stepholas.

"Go baaaaack!" roared Stevli.

"Enough!" shouted Lewis, brandishing his staff between the two. When they settled into grumbling silence, the wizard added, more calmly, "Let the Tie-bearer decide."

All eyes turned to Jason.

It was not a hard decision. "Let's get the hell off this mountain."

The retreat was more easily announced than carried out. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

"If Lewis would go first with one of those flames of his, he could melt a path for the rest of you," suggested Stepholas.

"And if Elves could fly over mountains, they might bring the Sun to save us," snapped the wizard. "I need something to work on, you dolt. I can't burn snow."

"Then we'll just have to brute-force it," said Kilbornomir. "Besides, the snow didn't really pick up until we got around that shoulder of rock -- see it? The road might get clearer beyond that point. It's not that far off."

"Looks like about a furlong," agreed Jonagorn. "All right. Let's clear a path down there, you and me."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here? Not to be rude, but the drifts look like they get over your head in places."

The hobbits and Stepholas bristled at this, but Jonagorn remained calm. "I'll manage," said he.

The two began to dig their way through the snow. It reached chest-height on Kilbornomir in places, and did indeed go over Jonagorn's head; but they plowed forward, half walking, half burrowing. Stepholas watched them for a while with an impatient frown on his lips, and then he turned to the others. "Brute force is all well and good," he said, "but if you want swimming done, choose a leatherback turtle, and for running lightly over snow -- an Elf."

With that he sprang forth nimbly and landed atop the snow, where his feet in their soft designer shoes made little imprint. "See you later," he said brightly to Lewis. "I'm off to find the Sun!" Then swiftly he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance.

It was perhaps an hour later when they saw Stepholas coming back; and at the same time Kilbornomir and Jonagorn reappeared round the bend far behind and came laboring up the slope.

"Okay, let me issue a rare correction," said Stepholas as he ran up. "I did not, in fact, find the Sun. But I do have good news! There is the greatest wind-drift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong, Rugged, Muscular, Virile, Manly Men..."

He checked himself. "Sorry, where was I?"

"A wind-drift," prompted Stevli.

"Ah yes! There our Strong Men were almost buried. And they were kinda freaking out about it, too, until I came back and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, until there's barely any."

"I was right," growled Stevli. "It was no ordinary storm. Blue Ridge doesn't like us."

"Good thing your Blue Ridge didn't realize that you have Men with you," said Kilbornomir, who came up at that moment. "And we've cleared a lane for those of us who can't run as light as Elves."

So taking Rob on his back he started back down the passage, and Jonagorn with Ed came behind. The hobbits were set down on the far side of the great drift, and there they waited with Stepholas for the rest of the Fellowship to arrive. After a while Kilbornomir returned carrying Sam; behind came Lewis, leading Smoochy with Stevli perched among the baggage, and last came Jonagorn carrying Jason.

Hardly had Jason's feet touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

"Enough already!" shouted Stevli. "We're going!"

They began the trudge downwards. As Stepholas had reported, the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could stumble along. At last far below they could see the grassy dell from which they had started to climb the pass.

Jason's legs ached; he was tired, hungry, chilled, and dizzy. Black specks swam before his eyes. He rubbed them, but the black specks remained, circling in the air.

"The hawks again!" said Jonagorn, pointing down.

"Can't be helped now," said Lewis. "We sure can't stay here another night."

"So, Stevli," said Jason. "What's this 'other way' you keep talking about?"