Chapter 15. Pursuit

 ‘He’s gone!’ Beech shouted in Thorn’s ear yet again. Thorn clung to the lifeline with one hand, his other reaching out into the whiteout, grasping at nothing, his face a mask of grief. Keeping a tight hold on the lifeline, Beech grabbed Thorn’s free hand. ‘We must seek shelter!’

Another blast of wind shook them, throwing icy pellets directly into their faces hard as a slap. Thorn shook his head and Beech tugged at his brother-in-love. ‘Come!’ he shouted. Thorn looked to him. Beech placed Thorn’s hand on the lifeline, closing the fingers of both their hands firmly around it. Putting their heads down to avoid the buffeting of the wind, they pulled themselves along the lifeline step by careful step through blinding whiteness.

As they ducked beneath the overhang, the wind was cut off so abruptly that the exhausted hobbits staggered. Hands pulled them to safety, peeled their ice-encrusted cloaks away, wrapped them in furs and eased them down. Warm bodies pressed close. Thorn found himself shivering, his teeth chattering.

 ‘Pick! Where’s Pick?’ Blackthorn said. Straightening up, he added, ‘I’m going back out.’

 ‘N-n-n-no,’ Beech chattered. He clamped his jaw and tried to gain control of the involuntary shudders. When he could speak, he gasped out the account of the disaster. There were exclamations of shock and grief from the surrounding hobbits, and Mistress Thorn hugged her husband more tightly, mingling their tears.

The hobbits waited out the storm. For three days it blew and the air beyond the overhang was a curtain of swirling white in the daytime. Complete and unvarying darkness ruled the night, and the hobbits dared not stir for fear of stepping off into thin air, keeping their backs tight against the wall of the cliff. They blessed the Lady for the shelter of the overhang. Had She not spoken to Thorn once more...

One morning they awakened to silence, no more shriek or moan of wind, and looked out upon a world of dazzling white. Two hunters followed the lifeline to the axe that anchored it and fetched the second rope, then coiled the near rope as they made their way back to the overhang. Silently the travellers tied the carry-sacks again and shouldered their burdens.

They proceeded as before, anchoring an axe in the ice-crusted snow and tying a lifeline to it, sending out a scout to anchor the other end of the rope and then having the People work their way along the rope one by one. The slope fell away steeply and within a surprisingly short span of time they were out of the snow and walking along a rocky path once more. In one place a rockslide had swept away the trail. It took the better part of a day to get all safely across, and Beech eyed the slopes above the path nervously as they continued.

The path began to rise again, not as steeply, and when they reached the top of the ascent there were only patches of snow, no treacherous snow field to cross. Thorn stopped at the top of the lesser pass, staring back over the way they had come. Even after the last of the travellers had passed him, beginning the descent, he stood as if turned to stone.

 ‘Father?’ Blackthorn said, pausing by his side, but Thorn made no answer. Black called again, touching Thorn on the shoulder, but Thorn never moved, his gaze fixed on the higher pass. Alarmed, Black jogged ahead to find his Uncle Beech, marching near the fore after scouting ahead and bringing back a promising report. The way ahead was clear and not too difficult, the path, wide enough for three to walk abreast, gently descending and rising again to a last low pass, apparently free of rockslides. It seemed that the worst was over, and they would pass between the peaks and into the new land without any more serious difficulties.

 ‘He doesn’t move or answer,’ Black told Beech as they walked swiftly up the slope to the lesser pass, nodding reassuringly to the hobbits they passed. When they reached the leader of the Fallohides, Thorn had not moved.

 ‘What is it, brother? Is it the Lady?’ Beech said. When Thorn did not respond, Beech said to Blackthorn, ‘Take him from the other side; we’ll carry him down.’

As they picked him up, Thorn stirred. ‘Wait,’ he said in a faraway tone. ‘Wait, I’m trying to hear...’ They put him down again and waited as he stood and resumed his abstracted expression.

 ‘Now I understand,’ Thorn said at last, seeming to waken. He looked from Beech to Blackthorn. ‘We are pursued,’ he said.

 ‘Pursued?’ Beech said. ‘Wolves?’

 ‘Gobble-uns,’ Thorn replied matter-of-factly. ‘I do not know how or why, but they have followed our path and will soon reach the snow field.’

 ‘What do we do? There’s no hiding here...’ Beech said.

 ‘And nothing to stop them, once they cross the treacherous place and the rockslide, yes, I know. They will catch us quickly,’ Thorn said. ‘I have little doubt as to their plans.’

 ‘Rockslide,’ Beech said, thinking furiously. ‘Yes, that’s it! We’ll set off a rockslide, not to block the path, for we found our way over and that means it will present no barrier to our pursuers.’

 ‘What then?’ Thorn snapped.

 ‘We wait above, set off a slide atop them, sweep them from the mountainside,’ Beech said.

 ‘Dangerous,’ Thorn said. ‘Do you think it can be done?’

 ‘I was afraid we’d set off a slide without meaning to do so,’ Beech answered. ‘I’m sure it’ll be easy enough. Give me ten hobbits. We’ll stop them halfway between the other slide and this crest.’

 ‘And if you don’t stop them?’ Thorn said.

 ‘Have your arrows ready,’ Beech said. ‘Hurry the people along, see if you can find a sheltered spot.’

Thorn and Black ran along the path; Thorn sent the rearguard back to Beech at a run. Then father and son jogged quickly through the body of travellers, warning of danger and urging all possible speed. Reaching the front, Thorn split the hunters there, sending half to the rear to replace those who’d gone with Beech.

When they reached the last low summit, the People passed over and then rested on the far side while the hunters checked their arrows and lads and lasses gathered likely stones for throwing. Thorn placed guards to watch the back trail, then he and his sons jogged back to the next crest, secreting themselves behind a large boulder to watch and wait.

They saw the creatures before they heard anything: black forms crossing the icy pass, their horny feet making them sure-footed, claws digging into the snow. The hobbits were silent, having discovered how sound carried in those parts, but the gobble-uns were eerily silent as well, intent on the chase.

The creatures began the descent and broke into a run. Black’s eyes widened. There was no way the People could outdistance their pursuers if it came down to a race. The gobble-uns had to be stopped.

The watching hobbits saw the gobble-uns pause at the rockslide, and then the creatures began to pick their way across. Not being burdened with children to carry and old folk to help over the dangerous stretch, they made better time than the Fallohides had. All too soon the first had crossed and were starting along the trail.

Black saw Thorn’s hands clench and knew what his father was thinking. Keep them together! The rockslide must wipe out the gobble-uns, for if only a part were swept away the lack of trail would present little barrier.

Happily to the hobbits’ minds, the stragglers put on a burst of speed after crossing the slide and soon the gobble-uns were running in a bunch. There were four-score or more, Black counted, and while the Fallohides outnumbered them by several hundreds, most were women and children. Even the full-grown, armed hobbits were hardly a match for creatures twice their size or more. If it came to a fight, every shot must count.

A rock bounced from above the trail, followed by another, then two or three. The gobble-uns did not notice these harbingers of danger, but as the hillside above them started to move, one shouted a hoarse warning and suddenly the creatures were scattering, some putting on speed to try to outrun the slide, some stopping, turning back. In a great rumbling and explosion of dust half the hillside came down upon the trail, sweeping gobble-uns over the side of the cliff, their screams drowned by the roar of sliding rock.

The few that had outrun the rockslide paused in confusion at the edge, looking back to their fellows on the other side. These immediately tried to find safe passage across, but the freshly fallen rock and gravel was unstable yet and would need some time to settle before they might attempt the crossing.

 ‘Will it hold them?’ Black whispered in his father’s ear.

 ‘I don’t know,’ Thorn said. ‘Where are the hunters? Did they fall with the slide they set off?’

 ‘I saw no hobbits falling,’ Black answered. He craned to look at the slope above the trail but saw no sign.

About an hour later, one of the hunters came from behind them. ‘We travelled just over the crest of the ridge until we were out of the creatures’ sight,’ he said, ‘but Beech — he fell.’

 ‘Fell?’ Thorn whispered sharply.

The hunter nodded. ‘Nearly started another slide, he did, stepped upon a loose rock and it threw him down.’

 ‘Was he hurt?’

 ‘Broken arm and bloody head,’ the hunter said. ‘We’ll have to carry him along; he’s not steady enough to carry himself.’

Thorn nodded, then stiffened. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said, staring back along the trail. ‘That ground is unstable as anything, being a fresh fall and all.’

The gobble-uns had sent scouts ahead to find a way across the slide. Of the three that went out, one went sliding and shrieking into the abyss, but the others continued to pick their way slowly and carefully, and one-by-one the remaining gobble-uns followed their cautious lead.

 ‘Come on,’ Thorn hissed. ‘At the rate they’re going they’ll be across the slide in a few hours.’ The hobbits raced down the gently descending trail and up the other side to where the People waited, covering the miles more quickly than any had run before, for deadly peril would soon be on their trail once more.