Walk To Rivendell" aka "The Eowyn Challenge"

[The Barrow-Wight]

The Barrow-Downs Walk to Rivendell has been extended to Parth Galen.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Wonderful, BW!! Now I finally know where I am again - approaching the Emyn Muil. Thanks!

*chants "Praise him with great praise!"*

[Saraphim]

Today, for the first time, I will log how far I have traveled. It has been a long two-hundred and fifty-eight miles, but I have reached Weathertop.

The heat has been oddly hot, seeing as how far to the north I am, but a mere tripe digit temperature does not hinder me, especially not with a good supply of water.

[Alatáriël Lossëhelin]

Nothing I have ever read—nothing I have ever heard—nothing I have ever imagined in my darkest hours—nothing—prepared me for the evil of this place…or this journey. The very air we breathe is bitter, and the growing malevolence of our Enemy as we approach his stronghold casts an ever-darkening shadow upon my heart. My spirit falters as my body stumbles… Did Lúthien feel this blackness of despair as she approached the presence of Morgoth? I have no Húan or Beren to aid me, but as I follow my companions on this cruel trek, I would not exchange these precious halflings for Húrin, or Finrod or even for Oromë himself. I do not know how they find the strength to endure, but each day we draw nearer to the Mountain.

We traveled much of the way on the orc road from Cirith Ungol towards Barad-Dûr, trying to conserve Frodo’s strength. The road also had a few cisterns which contain the only water available in this wasteland. Several nights ago we were almost captured when a troop of orcs came suddenly upon us. In the darkness, wearing our orc disguises, we were not revealed to them, but we were forced to travel with them for several miles. The pace was hard enough for me…but for the hobbits, it was torture. When we were finally able to slip away, Frodo was so exhausted that I feared for his life.

We must soon turn from this road and head towards the Mountain. Our supply of lembas runs low and our water is all but gone. I watch Sam watching Frodo and see that he now realizes what I have known for many days. We must reach the Mountain and destroy the Ring, but there will be no return to the living lands for us. His face is determined as he raises his eyes to meet mine…without a word being spoken a covenant is forged between us. We will do what we have to do to ensure that Frodo reaches Mt. Doom and the One Ring is cast into the Fire, no matter what the cost…the Quest must not fail!

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…as he worked things out, slowly a new dark thought grew in his mind. Never for long had hope died in his staunch heart, and always until now he had taken some thought for their return. But the bitter truth came home to him at last: at best their provision would take them to their goal; and when the task was done, there they would come to an end, alone, houseless, foodless in the midst of a terrible desert. There could be no return.

“So that was the job I felt I had to do when I started,” thought Sam: “to help Mr. Frodo to the last step and then die with him? Well, if that is the job then I must do it...”

But even as hope died in Sam, or seemed to die, it was turned to a new strength. Sam’s plain hobbit-face grew stern, almost grim, as the will hardened in him, and he felt through all his limbs a thrill, as if he was turning into some creature of stone and steel that neither despair nor weariness nor endless barren miles could subdue.

…“Well, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam, “I’ve been having a look round and thinking a bit. There’s nothing on the roads, and we’d best be getting away while there’s a chance. Can you manage it?”

“I can manage it,” said Frodo. “I must.”

[Alatáriël Lossëhelin]

“...The Ring is mine!” As I stumble into the doorway of the Sammath Naur, these words come echoing through the darkness and pierce my heart. We have come to the heart of the Enemy’s realm, and the end of our dark journey.

***************

The path across Gorgoroth Plain was a long and wearisome undertaking, with hunger and thirst our constant companions. I came to Mordor with Frodo and Sam, believing that I could help to lighten their burdens and keep them from harm…but now I can do nothing to diminish the suffering of my companions, and can only watch, helpless, as their strength wanes. Each day the Ring gains a greater hold over Frodo’s mind and will and like Sam, I am powerless to do anything to ease his torment.

It seemed that Frodo had spent the last of his stamina to reach the foot of the Mountain yesterday, and Sam and I had to carry him much of the way up today. Gollum attacked when we reached the roadway that wound around the Mountain, and Frodo went on ahead while Sam and I stayed to deal with the creature that had caused so much evil. This time, it was the pity of Sam that spared the wretch’s life, and we left him and hurried away to rejoin Frodo.

In the end, neither Sam nor I nor Frodo were able to destroy the Ring. It was Gollum who bit the Ring off of Frodo’s hand—finger and all—and fell with It into the fires and was destroyed. It was the pity and mercy of these two halflings towards Gollum that managed to counter the evil of the Ring and cause Its destruction.

We stand on a small hill of ash here at the foot of Mt. Doom and await the end. I am proud to have been a part of this adventure, and even prouder that these two valiant heroes name me as their friend. In death, their spirits will leave the confines of this world and go to a place known only to Ilúvatar, while I will dwell for a time in the Halls of Mandos. But—if it were permitted—I would choose to make the final journey with them; for I love them well and truly, and even in death I do not wish to be parted from them. We clasp hands, and their touch fills my heart with peace. The last thing my eyes see in this world are the two faces most dear to me—and I am content.

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“I am glad that you are here with me,” said Frodo. “Here at the end of all things, Sam.”

“Yes, I am with you, Master,” said Sam, laying Frodo’s wounded hand gently to his breast. “And you’re with me. And the journey’s finished. But after coming all that way I don’t want to give up yet. It’s not like me, somehow, if you understand.”

“Maybe not, Sam,” said Frodo; “but it’s like things are in the world. Hopes fail. An end comes. We have only a little time to wait now. We are lost in ruin and downfall, and there is no escape.”

…Frodo and Sam could go no further. Their last strength of mind and body was swiftly ebbing. They had reached a low ashen hill piled at the Mountain’s foot; but from it there was no more escape. It was an island now, not long to endure, amid the torment of Orodruin. All about it the earth gaped, and from deep rifts and pits smoke and fumes leaped up. Behind them the Mountain was convulsed. Great rents opened in its side. Slow rivers of fire came down the long slopes towards them. Soon they would be engulfed. A rain of hot ash was falling.

…And so it was that Gwaihir saw them with his keen far-seeing eyes, as down the wild wind he came, and daring the great peril of the skies he circled in the air: two [edit: three] small dark figures, forlorn, hand in hand upon a little hill, while the world shook under them, and gasped, and rivers of fire drew near. And even as he espied them and came swooping down, he saw them fall, worn out, or choked with fumes and heat, or stricken down by despair at last, hiding their eyes from death.

Side by side they lay; and down swept Gwaihir, and down came Landroval and Meneldor the swift; and in a dream, not knowing what fate had befallen them, the wanderers were lifted up and borne far away out of the darkness and the fire.