10. Through Fire

Scouting ahead earlier that day, Diamond had been with Berilac Brandybuck when they finally came upon the missing hobbits.  The wizard, vile as he was, had been true to his word, and enough hobbits labored dumbly amid the ruins of a northland battlement to account for them all.  Almost too angry to notice anything else, it had taken the Bucklander’s hard hand on her shoulder to force Diamond's calm, but she had soon seen the incredible landscape laid out before them.  Tumbled walls and ancient pathways littered a large flat that also supported a lush riot of vegetation.  The ancient structures had been set inside a huge encircling wall, the furthest reaches of which, Diamond could barely see on the horizon.  This had been the seat of some great lord's kingdom in days long before hobbits inhabited the Shire and its ancient courtyard had once been vast and magnificent.  The enslaved hobbits toiled to move the broken stone, carrying it out of the courtyard towards a point on the ancient ramparts where others seemed to be slowly rebuilding the crumbling defenses. 

Where stones had been removed, damp earth was opened to the sun and the youngest among them, mere tots, sowed the empty spaces, their gestures mechanical and free of joy.  One black-haired child suddenly dropped her heavy basket and began to wail at the top of her small voice.  The bespelled Ranger, whom Diamond had not noticed, so perfectly still had been his stance, swept the little one up almost immediately and several of the hobbits started to turn distractedly in her direction.  Striding quickly to the heart of the site, the Man dropped the child before a shabby wooden shack from which the wizard had emerged.  Cruel fingers dug into the girl’s chubby cheeks and he leaned forward.  His words were hidden from the unseen watchers, but their effect was clear.  Without another whimper, the child walked back to her task and Diamond felt her companion’s grip tighten on her shoulder once more.  The one-eyed hobbit drew her back and they silently returned to the others.  There had been no sign of Pippin or her brother.

***   ***  ***

Creeping slowly back towards the fantastical gardens in the dark, Diamond found herself mentally testing the odd little sense at the back of her mind that assured her of her brother’s continued survival.  Like the low thrum of a taught bowstring against her cheek, the lifeline hummed inside her, and she hoped that Pippin had managed to stay close by Dan.  Finding the one and not the other was no longer an option she was willing to consider.

***   ***   ***

Merry knelt near the outermost tumbled wall of the overgrown ruins and scanned the pitiful encampment.  Diamond had not mentioned Pippin’s whereabouts and he had not dared to ask, fearful doubt being preferable to certain grief.  Now, they would all find out, one way or another, who among the lost could be recovered.  They had split into three groups to approach from the west, east and south, and though their limited numbers made it impossible to spare folk to cause a diversion, they had decided that should one group be discovered, the rest would use the distraction to make a more direct attempt upon their enemy.  Creeping through the scarce underbrush since sunset, they were now, at the middle hour of the night, as close as they were likely to come before discovery.

The abandoned ruins were shadowed by the night, but wide swathes of barren ground, where the captives had removed the tumbled stone, could be distinguished as darker patches among the softer shapes of the grassy clearing.  A large wooden structure, like a low-ceilinged barn, had been raised at the north end of the largest cleared area, with a smaller shack standing alone closer to the center, where a large and ancient oak ruled, its branches arching high and broad to blot out the light of star and moon.  A wide slab of grey stone was set between two massive roots, like some massive trap door.  Merry would have wagered a dozen strong hobbits could not have wrested it from its place.

Shooting a quick glance back at his three companions, he saw their faces reflecting the same uncertainty and resolve that he felt.  Even the normally inscrutable Ranger betrayed his anxiety by unconsciously fingering the short staff he held.  Swords and bows secured in favor of staves and short cudgels they hoped not to need at all, the rescuers waited in the darkness for the birdcalls that would signal everyone else’s readiness.

***   ***   ***

Dirt spilled down upon Dan’s upturned face as the young hobbit dislodged a large chunk of stone from the earth above his head.  Feeling his way along with his eyes closed in the lightless gloom, he had long since resigned to ignore the gritty taste that had invaded his mouth, but he had discovered that if he moved only his arms, keeping his legs as still as possible, the sensitive creepers that surrounded them ignored him in favor of his struggling companions.

Dan vaguely wondered what words had alienated his companions from each other, for the tense silence between Bounder and Ranger was painfully obvious.  Pippin, his tone terse and troubled, had quickly explained their predicament as they knew it, and they had continued to work wordlessly in the darkness of the underground chamber.  Though they had struggled to lift the stone that barred the entrance to their cell, its massive heft and the proximity of the vine-like roots had forced them to make their own way out as far away from the tree as they could get, though even then they remained within its awful reach.  It was hungry, thirst work, barely allayed by the little bit of food and water they had to share among them, and the hours dragged on, uncountable without sun or moon to mark the passage of time.  They had dug upwards, turn by turn, ever upwards towards the surface, resting each time the prehensile roots, alerted by their movements, held them motionless and awkward.

Dan suddenly felt cool air on his hands and struggled to contain his excitement.

“Got it!” he whispered over his shoulder.  He brushed the dirt from his face and saw a few stars against the black backdrop of the night sky, even as one darkling tendril snagged his ankle and dragged him to the ground.

A long hour of painful stillness later, the three of them crouched beneath the small pit, where the light of the Moon now lit their dirty faces.

***   ***   ***

Everything had gone wrong, or so it seemed.  They had approached quietly enough, but the high-pitched screech of a child had roused the entire crowd within the shelter, and chaos had ensued.  Though Merry could never thereafter recall how the first torch had hit the hay, blinding smoke had quickly filled the wooden building, impeding both the captives and their would-be rescuers in their efforts to escape the flames.  Merry snatched up a pair of youngsters from the corner where they hid, but they flailed about in his grasp, small hands and feet leaving bruises and scratches everywhere they could reach, and it was all he could do to maintain his hold without leaving similar marks upon them.  Once outside and safe from the blaze, a burly hobbit with black suspenders grabbed him tightly, though Merry's fighting skills proved more than a match for one bespelled hobbit.  He wrested himself free and turned to face his attackers just as a second soot covered hobbit swung a fist at his head.  Merry ducked and tried to subdue his kin gently but they fought him with far more force than any hobbit ever used against another.  It would be a bitter epitaph, Merry thought grimly, to be bludgeoned to death by these poor people, but better that than to bloody sword and bow with their innocent lives.

***   ***   ***

Boosted out of their prison by the sullen Ranger, Pippin and Dan stared about at the darkened wilderness, immediately focusing on the sounds of struggle coming from their right.  Flames flared suddenly from that direction, and all three of them started towards the confusion.  Two steps from the pit, Pippin froze, catching a glimpse of the wizard’s cold smile as he lifted his staff towards the wildly running hobbits across the garden.  Snatching a stone from the ground, he launched the small missile at the menacing figure, striking the thin cheek with stinging effect.

“Still looking for a few willing hands?” he shouted, as the furious wizard turned towards him.

Icy green light whipped across the dark air and Pippin took a lurching step back as the gravelly voice snaked about, seeking admittance to his very soul.

***   ***   ***

The short flicker of light on the blade was the only warning they had, and Dan went rolling under the wide sweep of the sword.  Scrambling to his feet, he watched River hurl himself at the bespelled Ranger that confronted them.  Though the embittered Man’s burly frame guaranteed greater strength, River fought only to disarm his opponent, whose willowy strength was unchecked by such care and Dan wasn’t sure if he would succeed.  The young hobbit circled the two struggling Rangers, looking for a way to aid his companion, whose angry words and pleas were becoming more strained and desperate by the minute.  Already two shallow cuts bled freely, shining against the dark fabric of his shirt.

“Kerwyn, damn it all!  Wake up, you addle-brained excuse for a ranger!  I’ll drag you by your ears to your mother’s house, I swear I will!”

Though his words seemed to have no effect on the young man he fought, River continued to harangue him, but blood-loss was taking its toll, and the blade weaved ever more erratically as they danced about the trampled ground.  Suddenly, both combatants slipped and River's sword fell onto the dark grass.  Fiercely pummeling the older Ranger, River’s opponent, the younger and more agile Kerwyn, gained the upper hand, and for a moment, freed from River's restraining hands, he drew a long dagger from his boot.  Dan dove heedlessly at the attacking arm to try and hold back his strike, but the Ranger flung him off easily and returned to drive the blade into River’s throat.  The sharpened steel hovered between them as they struggled, strength to strength, and the double-edged weapon moved steadily downward.  Seizing a fallen branch, Dan returned to River’s aid, but as he stepped up between the two combatants and the light, the struggle ceased.  Dan could not follow the movements in that darkling night, but the younger ranger seemed to sag, distracted and defeated, and fell to lay limply, bleeding out his life atop his fellow.  The shocked silence was broken by River's bellow of angry denial.  Flinging away the bloody blade, he cradled the young man, harsh sobs punctuated by words Dan could not make out.  The hobbit backed away, not knowing what to say to such awful grief.

***   ***   ***

Step by step, the source of that awful will drew nearer, as the mad wizard flung poisoned words to tangle about Pippin’s stubborn denial

“…  You were made to crawl.  To live and die in darkness like a worm beneath the world.  Little fool grown too tall, too busy filling yourself beyond satisfaction to see the theft your very existence inflicts upon the Garden that was made…”

It went on and on, and Pippin felt himself shrink, clinging to a waning sense of self and the single hope that could come of this torture: with every step, his enemy was coming closer to a trap of his own making.  Forced to his knees in the dirt with the hoary oak arched menacingly above him, Pippin strained against the wizard's unflagging malice, but his mind resolutely refused to bend to him.   The wizened figure ignored the cries and calls that shredded the peace of the wood and the hungry flames that would soon devour the garden he had labored to recreate, completely lost in incredulous rage that this insignificant creature countered him so blithely.

“Give up,” the wizard hissed.  “Lay down and let the world make better use of your bones than your feeble will can conjure.”

Another step and Pippin felt the power of his resolve slowly ebb.  A strangled sob forced its way free, but deeper yet, fine lines cracked the shell of a long buried terror.

“I have you!” the wizard cackled and his mad laughter blended with the remembered sound of unadulterated evil, unlocking, at last, the dreadful encounter from the barred vaults of Pippin’s memory.  In a flash, his world was fire and darkness and pain once more and his vision was blotted by the Great Eye.  Helplessly trapped within recollection barely dimmed by the years and without the saving grace of outside intervention, Pippin felt himself drowning beneath the promise of slow agony and the dissolution of everything he had ever been.  Yet a last spark of naked terrified defiance flared up and he opened streaming eyes to watch the wizard stumble and slide into the shadowed pit that yawned at his feet.  His undignified squawk dispelled the fog of blind horror and Pippin lunged forward with a last effort, wrapping aching hands about the carved staff.  The wizard still clung to it, scrambling to pull himself out when more than his frail weight suddenly dragged him back.  The tree, roused and enraged by the threat of flames nearby, had found a new victim.

“Help me, you blasted fool!” the wizard snarled as his hands slipped helplessly from the polished length of wood.

Pippin gave the staff a final twist, lips shaping one last murmured denial.  “No.”

With one last powerful wrench from below, the wizard disappeared from sight.  The world tilted dizzily and Pippin felt soft dirt against his cheek and the knobby staff under his shoulder where he had fallen upon it.  He listened dully as the screams and curses beneath the earth died with a sudden cracking crunch.

‘Not taking any chances this time, eh?’ he thought at the creaking giant, whose leafless branches now bent, claw-like, towards him.   Terror and hope both spent, darkness closed over him.