Chapter 125. We cross a stagnant stream

As we finally reach the top of the slope by way of the looping path, overgrown yet still visible, I can see a large, shallow lake spread out before us, and enormous cliffs that form a daunting wall beyond the far shore. 'I see what you meant by a lake,' the Youngest hobbit says to Master, his voice low and awed.

'I see what you mean by a wall of cliffs,' the not-very Merry hobbit echoes from Master's other side. 'But I don't see any sign of an opening... What are we supposed to be looking for?'

But Master does not seem to know.

'I don't like this gloomy water,' my Sam whispers to me. 'It has an unwholesome look.' His hand tightens on my rope.

And though I thirst, the light breeze blowing over the waters of the lake before us brings a faint reek that is not enticing. I have no desire to pull away from my Sam's hold, to move close enough to the shoreline to lower my head and quench my thirst. Not here. 

If I were desperate, perhaps? But after widening my nostrils, the better to sample the breeze, I decide that I would not want to be that desperate. I shake my mane at the thought.

'...about a mile or two to go before we reach that point,' Tall Hat is saying to the others. So deep in my thoughts about thirsting and water and not-this-water, no matter how close at hand it may be, I've missed what went on before. What point? Our resting place before going on? Or might it be our destination? For there is a finality to his tone of voice, and his gaze, meeting my questioning look, is strangely sober. 'But it is late, and we must make as much haste as we can. The stars are already glimmering in the sky above the sunset!'

'A pleasant sight it would be back home,' Master murmurs to not-very-Merry. 'Had we the leisure to enjoy it.'

'And how I wish I were back there,' Youngest breathes in my ear. But when I shake my head and neck to settle my mane, he deliberately straightens and shakes himself as if in answer to his own thought. Yes, it must be, for he whispers fiercely to himself, None of your nonsense, now, Pip-lad!

Immediately afterwards, he says aloud to the others, 'Well then! What are we waiting for?' And shoulders set, he strides ahead at his best pace, following the rim of ground between the stony ridges enclosing the valley and the water's edge, as if he's been assigned to the vanguard of the Company, a task typically taken by the Fair One or one of our Big Men.

Our Other Big Man (the one with the shield) breaks into a jog and quickly catches up to Most-Determined hobbit and then falls into a walk beside the now-trotting youngster. Tall Hat is close behind them, the Dwarf by his side, then Master and not-very-Merry, walking arm in arm, my Sam and I at their heels. Our Big Man and the Fair One take up the rearguard position.

My Companions seem to share my distrust of the dark water. None of them appears to be inclined to replenish his water bottle here despite the plentiful supply of water at hand. Indeed, they all seem to make an effort to walk as close to the stony ridge at the far side of the "path" (if you could call it such) and as far away from the lake as possible. We all make an effort to put as much ground between the water and ourselves as possible, that is, for I am in full agreement.

As we are making haste (weary as we might be), it is not long before we reach the northernmost reaches of the dark lake. Here we find a narrow creek that bars our way, though the Dwarf strides forward undeterred by the slimy, loathsome appearance of the stagnant water. I shudder to see his splashing footfalls, even though they disclose that the water is no more than ankle-deep at the edges.

I lay my ears back, for this water is somehow worse than that water in the dark, ominous lake the creek runs into.

I think most of my companions, saving the Dwarf, must feel the same as I do. For when they reached the water's edge, Youngest and the Other Big Man (the one with the shield) stopped as if by common consent, as did the rest of us.

'Well? What're we waiting for?' the Dwarf demands from the opposite bank, an echo of Youngest's earlier words. My companions begin to file across, taking some care as they thread their way. Youngest slips and might have fallen, had the Other Big Man, walking at his heels, not reached forward to catch him and set him on his feet again, stopping to steady the young hobbit until Youngest nods, blows a breath of relief, and says, 'I'm fine.'

'The stones under these weedy pools are slimy,' the Other Big Man warns, 'and slip too easily underfoot. The footing is treacherous, I deem.'

'You don't have to tell me that!' Youngest retorts, but the next step he takes is careful; leaving one foot planted in the relatively stable spot he's managed to find, he feels ahead of him with the toes of the other foot, sets the foot down, grimaces as a rock turns under the slight weight he has rested there, then feels further and tests another rock or two before selecting a temporary resting place for his questing foot.

Master blanches as he steps into the water, more in disgust than discomfort or pain, I think, from the smell of him that comes to my nostrils, mingling on the breeze with the noisome hints from both lake and streamlet.

Last of all, my Sam steps into the water, but I baulk. 'Come along, Bill!' he snaps, his tone revealing his disquiet at the touch of the dark unclean water on his feet. He jerks at my rope, but slips and nearly oversets. The Other Big Man, watching us cross, steps back into the water, hands outstretched. Between his grip on my rope and the Big Man's steadying grab, my Sam comes to the other side without harm.

Harm. A curious thought for such a shallow, narrow stream, but the look and smell of the waters are so unsettling, I cannot help shaking my head and snorting a soft protest.

My Sam stands on the other side of the crossing now, the Other Big Man at his side, holding the extreme end of my rope, which stretches across the untrustworthy stream. 'Come along Bill!' he says again, more gently this time now that he is on the dry ground.

'Watch out!' the Other Big Man says, seeing me gather myself for the effort.

Despite the weight of my burdens, I do my best to jump across the narrow gap without touching the water, and I succeed, landing with a thump upon the opposite bank, even as my Sam scrambles out of my way.

Because my ears are still laid back, I hear clearly a soft swish and then a plop, but it comes from the gloomy lake beside us and not from the stream we have just finished crossing.

My companions hear the sounds also; as one, we turn our heads towards the lake and see, far out across the murky water, ripples spreading outwards in great rings, black-edged with shadow in the waning light.

'What is that bubbling noise?' Youngest whispers, but no one answers him.

In the silence that follows, Tall Hat stirs himself and says, 'Come! Though the clouds are now veiling her efforts, the Sun is throwing her last gleams of sunset into the sky! Dusk is deepening, and we must make haste!'

I hear irrepressible Youngest hiss, Make haste! at the same time the Wizard forms the words, and I shake my head at his cheek.

He may yet end this day in the form of a toad, or so it seems likely to me.

***  

Author's notes:

Some thoughts here are derived from “A Journey in the Dark” in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. Bill's approach to crossing the narrow stream reflects my memory of one of the horses I knew, not a jumper by trade or training, who'd rather jump over a stream or puddle than step into it.

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