In addition to the hugs at the beginning of Chapter 1 for a group of friends who gifted me with insights for this story, I want to give a special “thank you” at this time to Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End) and Gentle Hobbit, whose generous and thoughtful suggestions are contributing enormously to the shaping of key elements of the story.

THE THREE TOWERS

Chapter 5 – The Watchers

In time the City was made more fair than it had ever been, even in the days of its first glory; and it was filled with trees and with fountains, and its gates were wrought of mithril and steel, and its streets were paved with white marble; and the Folk of the Mountain laboured in it.”
‘The Steward and the King’, The Return of the King

**

May 30

“Someone approaches,” Legolas said suddenly, peering eastward down the road.  Several of the Men drew their swords, and Sam automatically checked to see if Sting was glowing -- although none could yet see (or hear) what had drawn the Elf’s attention.

Aragorn came to Legolas’ side, but did not appear alarmed.  He knew that there were scouts patrolling at intervals along the road.  If anything dangerous was approaching, he and the company would have been warned.

“It’s Gimli!” Merry cried.  And indeed it was.  As soon as the sun rose, Gimli had ridden back to meet them -- sitting his horse as awkwardly as he had two days before.

“Help me down, gentlemen!” Gimli pleaded to the amused Men.  He sighed with relief when his feet touched the ground, and everyone grouped around him to hear his report.

“We were just about to start out,” Aragorn said to the Dwarf.  “What can you report?”

“All goes well,” Gimli said.  “Sam did not exaggerate the number of Orc bodies left rotting.  I have never seen such...” He stopped, aware that the young hobbits were listening.  Gimli’s clothes smelled of smoke, and he went on to say simply that the pyre was a mighty one, and that the Men were performing their duties well and without complaint.  He caught Legolas’ eye, and the Elf could see that his friend’s demeanor was grim... but satisfied.  It was obvious that Gimli, as well, had seen to a certain duty.

“What’s this?” Pippin asked, swatting at Gimli’s tunic.  A great cloud erupted from it.

“A fine dust covers the road ahead,” Gimli replied.

“The ash,” Frodo whispered.  He took a drink from his water bottle.

“Aye,” Gimli agreed.  “The Mountain – what is left of it – can be seen from the upper levels of the tower.  Ash and debris were apparently blown for many miles.  The road near the tower is also littered with small rocks.”  He glanced down at the hobbits’ feet.  “Many of the stones are sharp – some of them almost glass-like.  You must step carefully.”

“Rocks from the Mountain were thrown this far?” Frodo asked in amazement.

“Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, “you’ll not be walkin’ about on sharp rocks or bits o’ glass.  Not with your feet still healin’ and all.  I’ll not have it.”

“Nor will I,” Aragorn said firmly.

“I should have come alone,” Frodo said, his friends’ concern bringing a smile to his lips.

“Not this time,” Pippin and Merry said with one voice.

“Gimli,” Frodo asked quietly, “what is it like... at the tower?”

“It stands,” Gimli said.  “As Sam reported, part of the wall surrounding what must have been the front entrance to the courtyard is in ruins -- but we cleared a way in.  Massive statues of evil appearance were also found broken and cast down.”

“I thought of ’em as ‘the Watchers’,” Sam said.  “They were alive, somehow.”

“Yes,” Gandalf agreed.  “In a sense, they were.  Apparently, there was nothing that Sauron could not corrupt and twist to his will – even living rock.”

“Aye,” Gimli glowered.

“Continue, Gimli,” Aragorn urged.  “I wish to know what awaits us.”

“Once the bodies were gathered, and the pyre well begun, we kindled small fires in the main corridors within the tower, using the aromatic leaves you gave us.  The foul air has been cleared, and the Men take their meals, and sleep, in an empty chamber on the first level.  We explored the tower thoroughly – save for the turret,” Gimli said, looking at Frodo for a moment.

“Is there water?” Alcaren asked.  “The horses will have need of it.”

“Not fresh, but it is drinkable.  We also located large stores of dried meats and grains in a locked storage room; the grains are being fed to the horses.”

Sam sighed.  “Wish we’d had time to look for those things, Mr. Frodo.”

“So do I, Sam,” Frodo said, “but we didn’t.  We escaped only just in time.”

“We also found barrels of a brown liquor of some type,” Gimli said.  “I tasted it, and it burned as fire.  The most potent ale is mild in comparison.”

“A burning drink?” Frodo said with a grimace.  “I remember that.”

“So do we,” Merry said, and Pippin nodded.  “The Orcs that captured Pip and me forced us to drink some.”

“One more thing, Aragorn,” Gimli said, his eyes smouldering suddenly, “I believe that the problem of finding suitable materials to use in rebuilding the gates of Minas Tirith has been solved.”

“What did you find?” Merry asked curiously.

“Mithril,” Gimli replied.  He clenched his fists in anger.  “Great stores of raw ore fill several rooms -- plunder from Moria.  It had been reported among my folk for many years that Sauron coveted mithril and ordered it brought to him; however, this hoard had apparently not yet been shipped across the Plain to Barad Dûr.”

“You do not wish such a treasure returned to your people?” Aragorn asked.  “That is most generous, Gimli.”

“My folk will craft you a gate of which any King can be proud,” Gimli said with a bow.  “When the time comes, we will bring the mithril back to the City.  But now...”  He looked over at the horse he had ridden, which was being tended to by one of the Men.  “Legolas, when we move on, I ask leave to share Arod with you once again.  Two such harrowing rides on that unforgiving beast over there are more than enough for any Dwarf!”  He walked off a bit unsteadily, which brought a smile to many lips; all knew that Gimli had been given the gentlest horse to ride, with the smoothest and most sure gait.

“Were Mr. Frodo and me... all covered in that ash, Gandalf?” Sam asked.

“You were, indeed,” Gandalf said, exchanging a look with Aragorn.  “We could scarcely tell you from Frodo when you were found.”

“That is untrue, Gandalf,” Aragorn said teasingly.  “It was quite simple to tell them apart; Sam was better dressed!”

“We’re not back on the subject of Frodo’s clothes again, are we?” Merry asked.

“What am I going to do with all of you?” Frodo shook his head in mock exasperation.

“Put up with us,” Pippin declared.  “That’s what families do, after all.”

*~*~*~*~*

Gimli and Legolas rode at the head of the company on Arod, with Gimli pointing out the clearest path on the increasingly rock-strewn road.  As he had warned them, the debris from the shattered mountain was plentiful – and sharp.  The Men were mindful of the horses’ hooves as they rode slowly toward the tower.

It didn’t take long for the dusting of ash that covering the road to be disturbed enough to start Frodo coughing.  He heard Pippin murmur something to Gandalf, and then Shadowfax came abreast of Brego.  Pippin hastily untied his scarf and handed it to Frodo.

“Good idea, Pippin,” Aragorn said.  “Frodo, your lungs are still recovering from the searing ash and poisonous fumes from the Mountain.”

“I feel as fragile as a basket of eggs,” Frodo sighed.

“You grow stronger,” Aragorn assured him.  “Every day brings further healing.”

After another long drink, Frodo tied the scarf around his mouth and nose, and soon his coughing subsided.

“You look like Captain Faramir did, when we met him,” Sam said.  “Remember, sir?  He was all masked and hooded.”

“No one could mistake me for a Ranger, Sam,” Frodo said, his voice muffled by the scarf.  He wiggled his feet.  “No boots.  No scruffy beard.”

“That scarf is a bit beard-like,” Merry offered, “especially having being through so much--”

“I smell smoke,” Pippin whispered suddenly.

A high stone wall suddenly rose to their left.  And then, looming above the wall where it hugged the cliff-face, all could see the tower.  Frodo looked up and shuddered.  The last time he had seen this place, from the road down in the valley, a Nazgûl had been perched upon the wall.  It had been so close... they had been so close to being seen, recaptured, taken...

“Frodo,” Aragorn asked softly, “how are you doing?”

“It’s a bit... overwhelming,” Frodo replied, trying to calm his pounding heart.  “May we stop outside the gate, before going in?”

“We are here to assist in whatever ways you need,” Aragorn said.  “No one will rush you.”

“Are we in Mordor?” Pippin asked.  “Did we get here with Frodo... at last?”

“Yes, Pippin,” Gandalf replied.  “We have crossed to the eastern side of the Ephel Dúath – the Mountains of Shadow.”

“Mordor,” Alcaren murmured.  “Few of this Age have come here of their own free will... and even fewer would have chosen to make the journey twice.  I am honored to be in this company, Frodo.”

“I never imagined choosing to return,” Frodo admitted.  “I wonder what Bilbo would say about all this?”

“He’d be wondering about lunch,” Merry said with a grin.

“You’re right.” Frodo found himself smiling.  Good old Merry.

While everyone else rode ahead into the courtyard, Aragorn, Gandalf, Merry, and Alcaren halted their mounts at the tumbled heap of stones which had once been the front gateway of the wall protecting the tower.  A path through the rubble had been cleared, and the pyre could be seen – still smouldering -- at one end of the courtyard.

“I think I heard ’em,” Sam murmured.  He reached out from where he sat in front of Alcaren and touched a massive piece of broken statuary.  “There were sirens, and then some awful sounds when the wraith got here.  These here Watchers must have been startin’ to fall.”

“I felt a wavering of Sauron’s defenses when you and Frodo escaped, and these guardians tried to resist you... and failed,” Gandalf said gravely.  “Calling upon Elbereth magnified Eärendil’s light and the intensity of the phial.  Such an assault, wielded by two beings of Power, was enough to break the sentinals’ strength.”

“I wasn’t any ‘being of Power’,” Sam said, shaking his head.  “Why, you sound like Mr. Frodo; he once joked that I’d end up by becoming a wizard – or a warrior.  I never wanted to be neither.”

“You never wanted to be, Sam, but you were,” Frodo said, handing Pippin's scarf back to him.  “You should be proud of yourself.  Middle-earth owes you a debt it can never repay.”

“It’s you who should feel proud, Mr. Frodo,” Sam demurred.

“He most certainly should,” Gandalf said softly, “Frodo, bringing the Ring to the Fire so that it could be destroyed was not your only accomplishment in strength of will – far, far from it.  You held the Ring in your keeping for 17 years, and never used it; you resisted a deadly wound for longer than any of us dared hope; you chose to leave your friends behind – even Sam – in order not to bring them further into danger.   And Frodo...” the wizard smiled at the wide-eyed hobbit.  “I meant what I said.  Two beings of Power passed through this gate, and brought it down.  Because of you and Sam, the dark magic binding these ‘Watchers’ to Sauron’s will was unmade.”

“That’s right,” Merry said firmly.  “You and Sam keep trying to give the other credit for something you did together.  It’s time to get it into your thick skulls that you both did something astounding.”

Frodo and Sam glanced at one another, and Frodo gave Sam’s leg a gentle kick.

“I’ll try to get it through my thick skull if you will, Sam.”

Sam just blushed and looked down at his toes.  He knew the truth of it – that he had only done what he had to, to rescue Mr. Frodo.  That was that.

“I wish to speak with the Men who have served their duty here,” Aragorn said, dismounting.  Sharp stones crunched under his boots.  “Frodo, there is no hurry; come to the tower whenever you are ready.  But you are not to walk; I know you do not wish it, but someone must either lead you on Brego, or carry you.”

“I know,” Frodo nodded.

Aragorn strode into the courtyard and approached the Men who had been tending the pyre.

“Will you be ready soon, Frodo?” Pippin asked.  “Merry would have to mention lunch.”

Frodo looked toward the courtyard and took a deep breath. “There’s just one thing.  Gandalf...”

“Yes?” the wizard asked gently.

“I have a favor to ask.  A rather large favor.”

** TBC **

**

Amy:  Pippin is quite clever, isn’t he?  I love finding ways for him to cheer up his cousins.  And the angst is definitely underway; but there will always be comfort readily at hand!

Andrea:  I suspect that Pippin and Merry know very well that they’re helping, in the best way they can.  There’s nothing like hobbits to bring a bit of light into the darkest of places.

aprilkat:  I’m glad the characters seem ‘in character’!

Armariel:  I’m definitely trying to balance light and dark.  And I hope you had a truly wonderful birthday.

Cornix:  Yes, this is a rather ‘gritty’ story for me, isn’t it?  Sometimes (as in “Mind to Mind” or “Spellbound”) there’s an angsty plotline that just won’t leave me alone until I tackle it.  It doesn’t happen very often, though!

Cuthalion:  And the ‘noble, dwarvish warrior’ returns... satisfied with a job well done.  Yes, the angst has begun!  I think I’ll go hide until it’s over.  :D

demeter d:  I enjoy Larner’s stories very much; she has a lovely and well-thought-out vision of what Frodo, Aragorn, and Sam “might have been” to one another.  And I thought both the book- and movie-Shelob were frightening, each in their own way – but I have to close my eyes when movie-Shelob stings Frodo!

Dreamflower:  Actually, it is all Gandalf’s fault.  But what else could he do?  Luckily he had resilient, courageous, and tenacious hobbits to help “get the job done”.

Endaewen:  Thank you for such a wonderful compliment.  This is a very challenging story for me to write.

Frodo Baggins:  Thank you for the enthusiasm!  :D

Gandalfs apprentice:  I’m very happy you’re enjoying this.  It’s a challenge to get everything blended, and make sure each character is given a chance to contribute.

Garnet Took:  Yes, Frodo is on a very emotional journey.  I think that his companions – especially his cousins – are very much aware of what they can contribute toward Frodo’s emotional support, and don’t hesitate to do so.

harrowcat:  Cirith Ungol (book or film) is definitely a creeeeeepy place.  It’s too bad PJ had to abbreviate so much of the story, but he certainly made wondrous films for all of us.

lbilover:  I’ve given a lot of thought to Frodo’s companions realizing – as best they can – what Frodo and Sam actually went through.  Merry and Pippin may also find themselves thinking about what they might have gone through, had they had a chance to accompany their cousin the first time.  (And my apology for the typo in my response to your review of Chapter 4 – which has been fixed!)

Indigo Bunting:  It’s a challenge coming up with new Fellowship stories, and giving the characters a ‘voice’ that rings true.  Thank you very much for your kind words.

Larner:  Ohhh, I love your contributions to the guessing game from Chapter 4.

Lily:  Merry and Pippin are truly doing their best for Frodo!

Linda Hoyland:  Frodo went through such an emotional, mental, and physical trial at Minas Morgul, seeing Sauron’s army massing, and wondering if anything he was doing would matter.

lotrgirl1415:  You know that Frodo will be all right (eventually) if you’re reading one of my stories!  And it was such fun thinking up all the things Frodo and Aragorn have in common.  Leave it to Pippin to make a diverting game out of it.

Niphrandl:  Hobbits are very resilient and “tough as tree roots”, so I’m positive Frodo and Sam will come out of this intact!  They’re lucky to have such good and supportive friends.

Pearl Took:  I like what Gimli was off doing, too.  The Dwarves’ hatred of Orcs would compel him, I think.

Periantari:  Pippin just had to find a way to cheer everyone up after seeing Minas Morgul, which would have been a depressing experience for the entire company.

puppypersonLOTR:  We never do hear anything about Mordor post-Quest, so it’s fun (and challenging) to write a story like this.

rabidsamfan:  You can hear someone’s story, or look at a place on a map, but there’s nothing like going there and seeing for yourself, to truly understand... as much as you can, anyway.

Siorah:  Wow, thank you!

SlightlyTookish:  I’m afraid the “angsty quotient” will be somewhat high now for awhile, but never too much so, I hope.  Anywhere I can squeeze in a bit of “hobbityness”, I certainly will.

SurgicalSteel:  I definitely agree that Frodo suffered from PTSD, or its Middle-earth equivalent.  Our inner battles can be as devastating as our outer ones.  (Pippin squeezes you back.)