Chapter 43. Slipping Away

Somehow they’d done it! Brant stared in silent amazement at the searchers’ retreating torches. It had been just as the Pilgrim said: slip into the alley just ahead of the searchers, up onto a tall stone wall and then the low rooftop of a shed, hidden by the overhanging branches of a nearby tree, lie flat as the search passed through the house and garden, and then...

Without a sound the ruffian crept back the way they’d come, to the last hidey-hole. He laid the bag down gently and freed the hobbit from its folds. ‘What do we do now?’ he whispered.

 ‘We wait,’ the Pilgrim said. ‘This time when she starts to waken, we don’t need to send her off back to sleep.’

***

Goldi was more determined than the wind. She’d flung off her cloak and hung it on the brambles behind her, forcing it onto the thorns, making a wall of sorts for the wind to whistle around. Though her hands and arms were scratched and bleeding, she bent with a will to her fire makings. ‘Please,’ she said, thinking of the Lady who’d sent water and light to her father in a parched dark land, ‘Please.’ Her hands were trembling as she lit the match. It was the last, and then she’d be reduced to the flint and steel that Farry always carried, though his cousins teased him that he was hopelessly old-fashioned in that way.

The fire would not burn! ‘Please,’ she said again to the Lady. With a sudden thought, she took the cushion Farry had brought from the coach for her comfort and tore a hole in it with the knife that Farry had supplied her, should the wolves break through. She pulled out the stuffing, blessing for the moment the bitter temperatures that insured it was dry despite the snow that was sifting down. She spread a piece of stuffing with her cold-stiffened fingers, to provide air and encourage burning, and laid the stuffing at the base of the kindling. Now she picked up the flint and began to strike it on her knife, directing the sparks onto the stuffing. ‘Please,’ she said once more.

The sparks landed on the soft, flammable stuff and smouldered as if deciding whether to burst into flame or die. ‘Please,’ Goldi whispered.

***

 ‘There,’ Pilgrim said. ‘Fire’s laid.’ He looked at the still figure tied to the long stick. ‘Now if she’ll only waken, we can begin.’

 ‘What if they come back?’ Brant said.

 ‘They won’t,’ Pilgrim replied confidently. ‘It’s a big City, and they’ve hardly scratched the surface, as it were.’

 ‘But if they find no signs we’ve gone before them...’ Brant said reasonably.

 ‘They’re not that clever,’ Pilgrim said. ‘We have the rest of the night before us, and in the dawn we’ll become the rider of Rohan once more and slip away. They’re still looking for a guardsman. We’ll set the roof of the house on fire to draw them back, and once they discover the body, the Gate will be opened again and we’ll make our way to freedom.’

 ‘It sounds as if it might work,’ Brant said.

 ‘If only she’d waken,’ the Pilgrim said, frustration in his tone.

 ‘With all the stuff she’s had, it might be another hour or two,’ Brant said. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll watch.’

The Pilgrim hesitated, and then nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But waken me the moment she stirs.’

Nell lay limp, watching the old ruffian from under her lowered eyelids. First he’d talk in the chilling voice, the voice of the Pilgrim that had been seared into her memory in the herdsmen’s shelter in Rohan. Then he’d speak in another voice, the voice of the guardsman in the alley. How could he be two at once?

She thought then of the stories her brother had told, of Smeagol and Gollum. Frodo had been able to reason with Smeagol, she thought. Hope was fading, but she resolutely turned her mind from the knowledge of the manner of her death, should the Pilgrim be correct that the searchers had passed them by.

For an eternity Nell watched the Man dozing by the makings of the fire, dreading his wakening. She cautiously tried her bonds once more, but they’d been securely tied.

A rat slipped into the room, stopping to raise itself on its hind legs, sniffing the air suspiciously. Nell couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath as it suddenly changed direction, scampering directly over her to make its escape.

The rufffian’s eyes opened. He rose, catlike, and moved to the hobbit. ‘You’re awake,’ he said softly. His finger traced her cheek and jaw.

Nell kept her eyes shut, her breathing even, and felt him settle to the ground beside her.

 ‘Go ahead,’ he said in the voice of the guardsman. ‘Pretend sleep. It might fool him a little longer, but he always has his way in the end.’

He stretched and leaned against the wall. ‘How I wish I could get away,’ he said. ‘You don’t know how many times I’ve tried to escape him, but he always finds me again.’ He looked to the silent, limp figure and shook his head.

 ‘You’d never believe it, but he saved my life.’ The hobbit seemed to be listening, and Pilgrim was still asleep, so Brant went on. ‘I was but a youth, in the army of the West, marching hopelessly towards death and darkness, to the Black Gate, to be destroyed. We all knew that death awaited, and horror. With every mile we marched the fear grew upon us. Finally I could bear it no longer.’

He gave a sigh. ‘Chilly in here,’ he said. ‘But Pilgrim will give me a tongue-lashing if I light the fire when he’s not ready. He likes to do things just so.’ He unslung the rich green cloak of Rohan and spread it over Pimpernel. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Now you ought to feel warmer.’ She made no acknowledgment, of course, but he smiled and bowed ironically anyhow. Pilgrim slept on.

 ‘Where was I?’ he said. ‘O yes, the death march. I slipped away from the body of Men that night. My older brother, a cousin and two friends were with me.’ He laughed suddenly, and stopped as suddenly, afraid he might waken the Pilgrim. After a cautious moment of silence, he began again. ‘If we’d only waited a day. Do you know that the King released those who were unmanned by fear and sent them back? If we’d only waited a day...’ He huddled in his cloak and brooded.

 ‘We blundered into Easterlings who were shadowing the march,’ he said bleakly. ‘We were no match for them. They took us, and bound us, and having orders to watch the army of the West only and not attack, they were bored and decided we’d make a fine diversion.’

His voice dropped. ‘One by one, they burned us,’ he said. ‘One by one, so that the rest of us could hear the screams and anticipate our own fate. And then, most horrible of all, when death came they gave the body to the orcs who were with them, and they ate...’ His face twisted with revulsion. ‘They made us watch the burning and the feasting. One orc thought it would be sport to share the feast, and forced the flesh into our mouths. “Chew, swallow,” it urged with devilish glee. “The first to eat will be the last one burned.” O Heimdal forgive me! Forgive me!’ he cried softly, in an agony of remembering.

Pilgrim stirred within him but did not waken completely. He’d heard this story before. Brant waited as the other slipped back to sleep.

 ‘They grew weary of their sport,’ he whispered at last. ‘They told me I could wait through the night, that my “bravery” had won me the honour of being the orcs’ breakfast in the morning. And so they lay down to sleep, all but one guard at the edge of their camp. It was then Pilgrim came to me...’ he said in wonder.

 ‘He showed me how to ease my hands under my feet until they were before me. O so softly we moved, Pilgrim and I. He bit at my bonds until I was untied, and then he led me from that dreadful camp. We went deep into the hills,’ he said, ‘and lived together for a time. We became close as brothers.’

He shuddered. ‘Little did I know the Man I’d joined my fortunes to,’ he said. ‘Little did I know.’

He bent forward. ‘You are awake,’ he said. ‘Do you think you could walk?’

Nell shut her eyes completely as she felt his breath on her face, his fingers fumbling behind her neck. Then the gag was pulled away, and he opened her mouth to remove the muffling cloth. Next she felt the bonds holding her to the long stick loosen, and she was free. She lay unmoving, unbelieving.

The ruffian gave her a little push. ‘Go,’ he breathed. ‘Quick, before he wakens! He’s still asleep, but I don’t know how long he’ll remain so.’

Nell lay limp a moment longer, then gathered her wits and her stiffened muscles and rolled away from him, as far as she could and as quickly as she could manage, ending crouched a little ways from the ruffian.

 ‘That’s it,’ he said, his eyes intent on hers, and though his face remained in that crazed half-smile because of the scar that marked it, somehow she knew it was not the Pilgrim talking. ‘Go quickly! I feel him stirring. He’ll waken soon, and then you are lost.’ He pointed. ‘That way.’

 ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed, and scampered in the direction indicated. It could be a trick, a cruel game, the ruffian playing with her as a cat played with a mouse, but there had been something in his eyes, in his voice...

At the top of the stairs she found a door ajar leading into a garden. Behind her she heard a roar of outrage.

Pimpernel ran across the garden as fast as she could to a tree leaning against the high stone wall. She knew how to climb trees! Hadn’t she climbed up to rescue young Pip when he’d gone too high and was afraid to come down?

Though her muscles were still stiff, fear lent her strength. She reached the top of the wall as the ruffian burst from the cellar door. Seeing torches some ways down the street, she began to shriek at the top of her voice. ‘Help me! Help!’

The ruffian reached the base of the tree as she gathered her courage to jump down from the high wall. She landed, stumbling, but the torches were rapidly approaching. She heard the Pilgrim curse, and then guardsmen surrounded her, exclaiming. She looked up, past them, and the Pilgrim was gone from the wall.

 ‘There!’ she gasped, pointing. ‘He’s in there, in the garden!’

The old sergeant took her meaning at once, dispatching half his Men to the locked gate. They swarmed over swiftly and spread out to search the house and grounds. Nell was sure the Pilgrim would be long gone, however. He was too wily to wait for capture.

She was shaking with reaction, but she didn’t stiffen as the grizzled guardsman bent to address her. ‘Are you well, ma’am?’ he said. ‘Did he hurt you?’

 ‘I am well,’ she whispered.

 ‘May I take you to safety?’ he asked, extending his hands slowly towards her. He didn’t want to frighten the hobbit. Only mercy knew what she’d been through, the past day and a half.

Nell took a steadying breath and stepped forward, into the sheltering arms. The sergeant lifted her gently, snapped a few orders to the lingering Men, and he and two others began to jog, bearing the news and the recovered hobbit to the Houses of Healing, where the King waited... and the rest of the hobbits.

The Sun smiled as she threw off her coverlet. It was promising to be a glorious day.