Chapter 9 - The Cave

By the time they reach Minas Tirith, all tensions have been resolved and put behind them. Sam is no longer weary of Sauron and now when Rick tells them stories of Sauron’s good-doings Sam listens with rapt attention. Frodo forgives Sauron as he sees that Sam does not suffer any lingering effects from his ordeal, and he realizes that Sauron had been right in his actions. Their lessons progress every night and Frodo’s skills continue to develop to staggering new heights, though he is not yet able to achieve the level of power he demonstrated the other night. He is still apprehensive about his gifts but as he learns to control them he grows more confident and willing to push himself to the next level.

The foothills of the White Mountains are before them and on the morning of their last day of travel, the hobbits spy a long curving line cutting through a distant field: the great wall of the Pelennor. The westernmost curve of Minas Tirith will be in view shortly but before they reach the crest of the plateau upon which they travel, Sauron tells the hobbits to descend from the trap. They each shoulder their packs and strap their weapons to their belts, then Sauron speaks quietly to Brego. The horse appears to nod before he pulls forward, taking the empty trap down the hillside to the plain below. Before the hobbits can ask what he is doing, Sauron steers them south to the foothills and the woods that grow there. 

The forest is dense and Sam remembers Merry’s stories about the Ghân-buri-Ghân. He wonders if they will be meeting with the tribesmen and sneaking into Minas Tirith from the south, as the Rohirrim did. This thought diminishes quickly. They only walk about a half-mile into the forest when Sauron takes them southeast. Another mile in, all sign of the plateau is hidden by the cover of the woods and all that can be seen around them are trees and brush. At length, they come to a vast steep mountain wall that towers over their heads and seems to climb up to the very sky itself. From their position, they cannot see the wall’s sharp end at the peak of Mt. Mindolluin, nor can they guess that they now stand directly behind Minas Tirith, separated only by the massive girth of the mountain. 

The mountain wall here is covered with brush and vines that hang down from the trees nearby. They follow the base of the hill for a couple of clicks until they come to a rock that protrudes out of the mountainside; beside the rock is a fallen tree rotted by many years of rains and pests. There Sauron pushes aside the brush and vines and disappears into the mountain. The hobbits gasp but Rick follows without concern and they have no choice but to do the same. 

The hobbits find themselves in a small cave. They have one brief glimpse of the cave before the curtain of vines and brush fall into place behind them, cutting off all but the slimmest rays of light. They stand still, waiting for their eyes to adjust. In the darkness they can only hear Sauron and Rick moving about and it sounds to them as though they are sliding their hands against the cave wall, using that to tell them where to go. 

Frodo and Sam stay huddled together near the entrance. Frodo’s eyes adjust to the darkness more quickly than Sam’s, and he follows the dark forms of his companions against the deeper dark of the cave wall. Sam clutches to Frodo and wonders if there are any giant spiders living in this cave. Only Frodo’s easy calm reassures him and keeps panic at bay. Before too long, they hear Sauron grunt with satisfaction.

“Here they are,” the Maia says. “Rick, a spark.”

The hobbits hear a striker, then from the corner of Sam’s eyes he sees a small spark followed by another. Flame catches on cloth and soon a torch is blazing. Sauron pulls another torch from a cache at the back of the cave and lights it. He hands this one to Rick. The hobbits move towards them, looking around them as they go. The cave has a low ceiling and is no more than ten yards across at its widest, but it is deep and at the back where the cache is located there are many tunnels leading into the hillside.

“These tunnels lead into the mountain at the back of the city,” Rick explains, “but there are only a handful of paths that will lead you anywhere. All others lead to a dead end. If you don’t know where you’re going, you could be lost in these tunnels for months.”

“So look out for piles of bones,” Sauron says dryly. 

Rick snorts. “That’s his idea of a joke,” he explains to the hobbits.

“I thought it was funny,” Sauron says.

“You would,” Rick responds.

“So the tunnels lead to the City,” Frodo says. “Where in the city?”

“To places unexpected,” Sauron answers evasively. 

“What about Brego?” Sam asks worriedly. 

“He’ll go to a friend of mine that lives near the Pelennor,” Sauron answers. “He’ll be put to work in the fields and will be taken care of there.”

“Who else knows about these tunnels?” Frodo asks.

“Only the most trusted of Elessar’s advisors,” Sauron replies, “and of Denethor’s before him. Don’t worry. The other sides are well protected.”

Sauron leads them to the nearest tunnel and on through the labyrinth with familiar ease. Their torches chase away the dark and keep the shadows ever at bay. Sam tries to count the number of channels they pass, hoping to map the route in his mind in case something should happen. He doesn’t want to be lost in these tunnels indefinitely! Six turns and several passages later, he loses track of the route, and he can only take comfort in the fact that Sauron leads without hesitation. 

The air is dank and musty, but they can breathe easily and there is no overwhelming stink to knock them to their knees as there had been in Cirith Ungol. The only spiders they see are small and harmless, and scuttle away from the bright torchlight into hairline cracks in the cave wall. Sam keeps close to Frodo. It is only after he grows used to his surroundings that he notices his hand clinging to Frodo’s, or perhaps it is Frodo who clings to him. He squeezes Frodo’s hand and Frodo returns the gesture.

About a league into the hillside, they turn down yet another passage and the floor begins to slope upward, the angle slight but noticeable. The walls begin to come together, pinching them into a single line with Sauron at the head, followed by Frodo and then Sam with Rick behind. As the floor rises, the ceiling lowers and soon the taller travelers must stoop to continue forward. 

Frodo looks around Sauron and sees a wall ahead where the tunnel ends. Before he can ask if they came the wrong way, Sauron veers to the right to a passage that is hidden behind a sudden bulge in the wall. The hobbits make it through the narrow slit without trouble for the bulge is above their heads, but Sauron and Rick must both remove their packs and twist sideways to squeeze through the crevice. 

They enter the new passage, which widens slightly past the crevice so that Rick’s and Sauron’s shoulders just brush against either wall. To pass comfortably, they must turn sideways, and their progress slows as they shuffle along the passage. There are a couple of places where they must flatten themselves against one wall to squeeze through and the torches threaten to go out from the lack of air and the rain of dust and rock that their passing loosens from the wall. Rick especially coughs from the dust. Sam hands him an extra handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose, and Rick takes it gratefully. 

This continues for many yards when suddenly the wall before them falls away and they pop out from the crevice to a wider if still narrow tunnel. Sauron brushes the dirt from his clothes and hair as he waits for the others. When Rick gets through a few moments later, the young man sighs with relief and shudders violently.

“I hate that part,” he says, clearly shaken.

“We’re out of it now,” Sauron soothes with a pat to Rick’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. It’s just… tight spaces,” Rick explains, his voice tight but relieved.

“Well that’s the last of it. It’ll be easy going from here,” Sauron assures.

“Can’t someone widen that part?” Sam asks.

“Perhaps, but who could be entrusted to do so? Besides, should someone manage to make it into the tunnels this far, that narrow opening will make them think twice about proceeding any further,” Sauron says.

He allows Rick and the hobbits to brush themselves off before setting out again.

The going is easier, as the tunnels remain wide enough so that they walk two abreast, Sauron and Frodo in front with Sam and Rick behind. Every now and then the ceiling dips down and Rick and Sauron have to stoop, and always the floor steeps upward climbing ever higher into the mountainside. Several more turns follow and in some passages there are stairs where the passage is too steep to climb without slipping and falling backwards. The stairs are of simple make, small slabs of limestone placed on top of dirt cut into shallow steps barely wide enough to support an entire foot. Sam again becomes disoriented, wondering who could possibly remember such a path. He wonders who even made these tunnels and how long ago they were dug and why.

They pause when the hobbits tire. They sit on the floor against the tunnel walls and snack on berries and cheese. They drink from their bottles but say little unless it is in whispers, for any sound louder than that is like a roar to their ears. The hobbits take comfort in the torchlight and ignore the enveloping darkness as best they can. They reach the top of the stairs shortly after their break and at the end of the passage is another cache. Sauron replaces their nearly spent torches with new ones, stamping out the old ones in the dirt and leaving them there next to the cache before they continue on. Sam wonders who has the job of keeping the caches full. He cannot imagine the King’s advisors taking time from their busy days to do such a thing and he suspects that it is Aragorn himself who restocks them; it would serve as a nice adventure for the former Ranger when he becomes restless with the structured life at Court.

Beyond the second cache is a steady, steep climb up many stone steps. Here the hobbits are now the ones to slow them for these steps are high even for their tall companions and the hobbits must use their hands to help push themselves up to the next step. The climbing is tiresome and they rest again on the stairs and eat some more, and even though Sauron tells them there is no need to ration the water, out of habit and memory the hobbits drink only enough to dull their thirst. When the hobbits are ready, they push on and upward, the thin musty air becoming filled with their panting and scuttling and the soft pinging of loosened pebbles cascading down the steps to the passage floor far below. 

At long last, they reach a straight way and they pause again to catch their breaths. “It’s not too much further,” Sauron promises.

They reach the end of the passage after another mile or so only to find nothing but a round wall. There is no sign of an outlet or door, or even another tunnel.

“It’s a dead end,” Frodo says in dismay.

“Like I said, this end of the passage is well protected,” Sauron reminds them with confidence. “Anyone who doesn’t know any better will think they just found another dead end but see there.” He points to the floor where some rocks are piled up against a thin inward wedge in the wall. “That is called a cairn. The rocks are piled in a specific pattern and they give directions to those who know how to read them.”

“Those have been on the floor all the way up here,” Frodo says, understanding. “That’s how you knew where to turn. Not all the cairns were the same though.”

“No. Those lead to the other passages, or to nowhere,” Sauron says.

He hands his torch to Frodo then presses along the wall just above the cairn. A section of the wall slides away and next thing the hobbits know the entire wall appears to be collapsing. They soon realize that the wall is merely opening to reveal a narrow crevice. They squeeze through it to a small chamber of stone and once they are all through, Sauron pushes against one of the stones and the door slides closed. No sign of the door can be seen in the stone, nor of any other door. They appear to be standing in a small square chamber with no visible exit. 

Sauron takes back his torch and stamps it out. Rick does the same to his and they lean their torches against the wall. The torchlight had been bright in the absolute darkness of the tunnels and now they are plunged into that blackness completely. The hobbits hear Sauron moving his hand along the walls of the chamber and soon they hear the clunk of a stone being pushed out of place, followed by a deafening rumble of stone scraping against stone. A burst of fresh cool air rushes in to greet them and everyone breathes it with relish. 

A dim light filters into the chamber, just enough for shadows to form. Sauron cautions them to be careful and keep quiet, then he steps out of the chamber, which faces a corner of white marble. They turn the corner towards the source of the light, and it is everything the hobbits can do not to shout for joy at their release from the mountain. Thankfully, this urge is immediately squashed by the sight that greets them. 

They are surprised to find that they are in the House of Kings. The grand marble tombs beset with cameos of kings’ past stretch about before them. They are even more surprised to realize that the light is from the setting sun. After the long blackness of the tunnels even the sunset at first appears bright as the fully-risen sun to them. Sam is suddenly struck with new understanding of Gollum’s loathing for light of any kind, and he feels a pity for the creature he had not been capable of before. 

“Where is the King?” Frodo asks.

“We still have one more passage to go,” Sauron says and leads them halfway down the main passage to a crevice behind the statue of Tar-Palantir. 

He opens another passage here, lights a pair of torches and once more casts them into darkness. There are no alternate passages, and they follow the tunnel down a straight passage for several minutes until they come to a stair. At the top of the stair, Sauron again puts out the torches, searches out the catch and opens the hidden door. This time when they step outside, they find themselves in the Citadel. The passage let them out of the ivy-covered wall that surrounds the King’s private garden. The sun is now fully set and stars are blinking in the sky overhead.

“That’s why that wall is there?” Sam asks.

“One of the reasons,” comes the answer from the porch leading to the King’s House. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon for you. I should have known you would take your time.” King Elessar stands there waiting, dressed in garb of elegant cloth but simple design, as far removed from the ranger they had met as he can be. He looks nearly Elvish to their eyes.

“Strider!” the hobbits rejoice and run towards their friend. They embrace fiercely and long.

“My friends,” Elessar says and sits back on his haunches to look at them. He searches their eyes, lingering especially over Frodo’s. Finally he stands and turns to Sauron and Rick. He and Sauron clasp hands, and Rick he embraces briefly. “Thank you for bringing them here safely. Come inside. There is food and warm baths waiting, and your rooms are prepared. Take what comfort and rest you need. We will speak in the morning.”

They happily oblige. After filling their stomachs, they go to their baths and finally to their beds. Sauron and Rick each have separate guest rooms on the third floor where important guests stay, but Elessar shows the hobbits to the bedchamber adjacent to the King and Queen’s chamber on the fourth floor. A closed, unlocked door adjoins the two rooms.

“Rest easy, my friends,” Elessar says. “We have much to discuss in the morning.”

Sam and Frodo climb into the bed, which is surprisingly not too large or high for them. “Just like old times,” Sam murmurs groggily as his head hits the pillow. He is fast asleep a moment later. Frodo only manages to stay awake a few seconds longer before falling into slumber himself.

The hobbits wake to a bright cool morning. The sun slants in through high windows; the rays cut across the room in wide soft beams. 

They wake at the same time and blink around the room. They had been too tired the previous night to give it much thought but they see now that it is stately and impressive though there is little in the way of decoration. They see also that this is not a guest room. The door that adjoins this room to the King and Queen’s room tells them that much. They peer down at the slim but long bed they are lying in, and Frodo suddenly chuckles. He points to the corner nearest the adjoining door, and Sam sees a bassinet standing there.

“This is a nursery,” Frodo says.

“Strider and Queen Arwen don’t have any bairns yet,” Sam says.

“No, but it never hurts to be prepared, or to hope,” Frodo says with a smile.

They rise then and discover their clothes washed and mended on the foot of the bed. They dress quickly and find Elessar waiting in the corridor outside their room. The king smiles down at them and motions for them to walk beside him. 

The hobbits look about the once-familiar apartment, appreciating anew the stately simplicity of it. There is none of the glossy marble or hard stone that makes up the library or council chambers on the first floor, nor any of the alabaster sculptures and busts or bejeweled and polished antiques that decorate the hallway alcoves throughout the rest of the house. Here are only wooden floors polished to a gentle shine, softly painted walls and tall curtained windows along the east and west walls. The doors to the east-facing rooms are thrown open and the thick cream-white curtains are pulled back by wide sashes to let in the full blaze of the rising sun. 

Between the rooms hang paintings: landscapes of Rivendell, Lothlórien and the Northern Realm. Beneath a few of the paintings sit cushioned benches, and under the rest are small tables displaying marvelous bouquets, Elven sculptures or pottery. In the center of the King’s personal apartment is the parlor. Thick wooden pillars built to support the ceiling create arched entryways into the rooms. No one occupies this room at the moment and the king talks freely with his guests while they await the others.

“Did you sleep well?” Elessar asks. 

“Very well,” Frodo answers.

“It was like sleeping on a cloud,” Sam says, “or leastways what I imagine it might feel like if such a thing were possible.”

Elessar laughs. “I am glad for your rest. You look much improved after your hike yesterday. I spoke with Sauron last night and he tells me that you have gained much ability with your skills. He is fully confident in your abilities, as am I, but what about yourself? Do you feel you are ready for what is ahead? I will not have you walk into danger unprepared.”

“Sauron tests me harder each day,” Frodo says. “Sometimes it frightens me, the things I can do, but I know how important it is. If I’m not ready now, I never will be.”

“You show much wisdom, Frodo, though I expect no less of you,” Elessar says. “There is always fear when you begin down a new path. You are not accustomed to this new aspect of yourself, and you don’t yet fully know what to expect. It will take some getting used to.”

“It will at that,” Frodo agrees. “I only hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“You never could,” Elessar says with pride. “You prove again your strength by your willingness to do this. You have already made me proud.”

“Thank you Strider,” Frodo says gratefully. 

Rick and Sauron enter then, coming up the stairs from the floor below. They bow to the king and greet everyone good morning. Pleasantries behind them, Elessar stands.

They go then to the dining room. A sidebar sits in the corner nearest the kitchen. On it are a tea and coffee service; a jug of a tart and tasty juice made from fruit called oranges; tin pans with hot piles of sausage and bacon, eggs, crumpets, toast; plates, silverware and linen napkins; platters of sliced fruit; and three types of jams, plus butter, honey, salt and pepper. The hobbits gravitate towards the food but Elessar bids them to wait until Queen Arwen arrives. A few minutes later, Arwen enters from the kitchen, carrying a small tray with glasses and mugs for them all. She sets this next to the tea and coffee and greets her guests.

“All is now ready for serving,” she says with a knowing glance at the hobbits. 

“Thank you, my Lady Arwen,” Frodo says, remembering the proper address for the queen despite the loud rumblings of his eager stomach. They have been so long on the road he can hardly remember the last time he had a proper meal. Then he recalls with chagrin that he had not eaten much even before leaving the Shire despite Sam’s many efforts to see him well-fed. He wonders now that he is so hungry. Is it only their short rations while traveling or is it because he is healing at last? He certainly does feel stronger and more alert now than he had in the Shire, and he knows that his lessons with Sauron have much to do with that; he has not dreamt badly for many days now.

All these thoughts pass in a mere second. He keeps his eyes on the queen and at her beckoning he serves himself. Sam follows him, then Rick and Sauron, and lastly the king and queen themselves. Frodo is not surprised at the lack of servants; if their being here is truly a secret as Sauron has said, then any servants would have to be dismissed for the duration of their stay. The hobbits serve their food with the knowledge that the Queen herself has prepared their meal, and must also have been the one to wash and mend their clothing; they try their best not to show their embarrassment. 

Once everyone is settled, they begin eating and the hobbits are delighted at the food. They make many happy comments over the flavors and quality of the meal, and they question the queen on her preparation of it, asking what herbs she used and how long she cooked the crumpets. This line of conversation continues through the first serving. Once the hobbits and Rick have served themselves seconds, and the queen pours herself and Elessar another cup of coffee, the conversation turns to more important matters.

“A boat has been arranged to carry you from Pelennor to Pelargir,” Elessar begins. “You will board the ship tonight and sail in the morning. You should reach Pelargir in two days. There will be an escort waiting for you, to take you over Harondor to Near Harad and onward to Khand. Once you reach Khand you will be on your own.”

“That’s fine,” Sauron says. “I already know where the Blue Wizards’ lair lies. It shouldn’t be hard to reach.”

“And what about getting into the lair, or near enough the wizards to carry out your task?” Elessar asks.

“The Blue Wizards’ servants and guardsmen are all slaves, chosen from the men who survived the War and kept in service by threats to their families. They desire the wizards’ downfall just as much as you do, more so even. I know one of their servants who was called upon to serve as an example to those who would attempt to flee, even though he made no such attempt. The wizards caused the deaths of his family and he only remains there because he has nowhere else to go. He will let us in,” Sauron says.

“That gets you into their lair. It doesn’t get you to the wizards,” Elessar notes.

“Frodo and I are working on that. Don’t worry. Everything will be in place by the time we arrive,” Sauron says with confidence.

“I’m confused,” Sam says. “I thought no one knew we were here, but we’re getting an escort?”

Elessar nods. “No one knows about this mission. The captain of the boat has been told that you are a family, a father, his son and his son’s two small children. You will travel as a family in mourning. The captain has been told that you seek to return the body of Sauron’s wife to her homeland in the south. The captain will believe that the box you carry contains the coffin and body of your wife, but in it will be your supplies for the journey. The hobbits will travel in the traditional mourning garments, so that a veil will cover their faces. They will also wear boots to cover their feet. They will remain in that garb until you reach Near Harad. At Pelargir, you will leave the boat and wait for your escort in the designated tent beyond the docks; it will have a symbol of a falcon on the front flap. There you can get your supplies together and rest for your journey. Your escort will arrive at dusk.”

“What has the escort been told?” Rick asks.

“The same, only that you seek to find the body of your fallen kin in Khand. When you reach Near Harad, you will all change from Gondorian garments to the ceremonial mourning robes of the Haradrim. This should prevent anyone from hindering you, since they do not approach those who travel in mourning. Your escort is one of their ilk and this will keep suspicion at bay,” Elessar explains.

“Is it safe to trust a Haradrim?” Frodo asks.

“Gondor has had spies in Harad long before the downfall of Mordor, especially among the Gondorian slaves and those who befriended them,” Elessar says. “They are loyal and steadfast. You can trust them but there is much sabotage. Therefore, you will know your escort by the way she greets you. Her name is Semira and she will be dressed as a servant. She will kneel before you and call you the Grievous Ones, and she will refer to me as the Dark King to the North. She will say that I am evil and a coward for making my people retrieve their fallen comrades on their own. She will be wearing a broach of beads and sandstone, and it will be shaped like a jasmine.”

“A woman?” Sam says in surprise. “Mightn’t she get hurt if there’s sabotage and whatnot?”

“Women are less suspicious,” Elessar says. “She will lead you through Near Harad and leave you on the borders of Khand, where she will wait for your return.”

“From there it will be another week to the lair of the Blue Wizards,” Sauron says, taking over the discussion. “We will have to travel at night to avoid the heat of day; though we are approaching spring, you will find the deserts to be already as warm as summer to you. It will also be easier to avoid detection at night. There are many bands of nomads in Near Harad and they will not be happy to see me.”

“Why is that?” Frodo asks. “I thought the Swertings were all your servants.”

“They were all my slaves, held in my command by the Blue Wizards and other tyrants I trained for my own purposes,” Sauron corrects. “I promised them everything and gave them nothing. If they’re angry, then the tyrants who lead them are angrier still and not just because of the civil wars that erupted shortly after the destruction of the Ring. Those who don’t believe me to be dead will not be happy to see me. They will die rather than let us cross unhindered.”

“But if we travel as mourners, they will leave us alone?” Rick asks.

“Yes. They will recognize the funeral garb and leave us a wide berth if we should come across them, for they believe that the dead one’s spirit lingers over those who mourn them and there is no worse luck than to disrupt those in mourning from putting their lost ones to rest,” Sauron says. “Still, to be safe, no one should call me by my name.”

“Can we call you Bob Apples again?” Rick asks with a grin.

“Only if you want to wake up tomorrow with apple sauce in your hair,” Sauron says but it is obvious to everyone that he is merely jesting.

“You have plenty of time to decide your aliases,” Elessar says.

“In the meantime, rest from your toil,” Arwen says. “The apartment and the garden are open to you to enjoy as you wish.”

“You are most gracious, my queen,” Sauron says.

“Do you have any maps of Near Harad and Khand?” Rick asks.

“In the library,” Elessar says, “which I am sure Frodo is eager to see as well. I will show you where the maps are. Frodo and Sam, I would like for you to join me for tea this afternoon.”

“Of course,” the hobbits agree.

They stand and follow the king to the library.

To be continued…

GF 12/12/06