The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Walk To Rivendell" aka "The Eowyn Challenge"

Alatáriël Lossëhelin · 06-08-2004, 07:33 PM

We have journeyed north from the Tower for several days, following alongside the orc-road. Our food supplies now consist of lembas only, and a few wafers are all that remain. Water has been most difficult, as there are very few streams in these hills. I fear we may soon have to journey along the roadway, as scrambling among these hills is rapidly consuming the Ringbearer's dwindling strength.

The day after our escape, the wind changed to the West and the smokes of Mt. Doom began to roll back. How we long for word of our friends...it is plain that not all things are going the Enemy's way. Yesterday, we overheard orcs speaking of the destruction of the Witch-king. If true, this is good news beyond all hope. However, for the three of us here in Mordor, all we can do is try to elude capture for as long as possible, and continue our journey towards the Mountain.

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When Sam thought of water even his hopeful spirit quailed. Beyond the Morgai there was the dreadful plain of Gorgoroth to cross.

"Now you go to sleep first, Mr. Frodo," he said. "It's getting dark again. I reckon this day is nearly over."

Frodo sighed and was asleep almost before the words were spoken. Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo's hand; and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself awake, he crawled from the hiding-place and looked out. The land seemed full of creaking and cracking and sly noises, but there was no sound of voice or of foot. Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master's, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo's side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.

06-08-2004, 07:33 PM	#1353
Alatáriël Lossëhelin Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: Feb 2003 Location: Road to Rivendell: 2491 miles from Hobbiton, with Frodo and Sam, homeward bound Posts: 365	The Land of Shadow We have journeyed north from the Tower for several days, following alongside the orc-road. Our food supplies now consist of lembas only, and a few wafers are all that remain. Water has been most difficult, as there are very few streams in these hills. I fear we may soon have to journey along the roadway, as scrambling among these hills is rapidly consuming the Ringbearer's dwindling strength. The day after our escape, the wind changed to the West and the smokes of Mt. Doom began to roll back. How we long for word of our friends...it is plain that not all things are going the Enemy's way. Yesterday, we overheard orcs speaking of the destruction of the Witch-king. If true, this is good news beyond all hope. However, for the three of us here in Mordor, all we can do is try to elude capture for as long as possible, and continue our journey towards the Mountain. -------------------- When Sam thought of water even his hopeful spirit quailed. Beyond the Morgai there was the dreadful plain of Gorgoroth to cross. "Now you go to sleep first, Mr. Frodo," he said. "It's getting dark again. I reckon this day is nearly over." Frodo sighed and was asleep almost before the words were spoken. Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo's hand; and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself awake, he crawled from the hiding-place and looked out. The land seemed full of creaking and cracking and sly noises, but there was no sound of voice or of foot. Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master's, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo's side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep. __________________ "It's impossible to have Frodo without Sam, or Sam without Frodo. They're like two halves of one heart..." "If your hurts grieve you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West..."