The plan was simplicity itself.
“Which means we’re overlooking something,” Glorfindel said sourly as he and Finrod sat on the porch with Amroth and the ap Hywel brothers.
“I think we’ve covered it rather thoroughly,” Amroth said. “Each of you will go into the Gorge at separate times during the afternoon, but I don’t think anyone should go in at the last minute. The people running the place are bound to remember you and wonder why they didn’t see you leave. Let’s have the last person go in around three or so. With the number of people who are bound to come to the Gorge after that, the employees are not likely to remember any of you.”
“I still don’t think it’s necessary for both Gareth and me to go,” Gwyn said. “Either one of us can open the door.”
“That is what you say, but you were both there when you created the door; you may both need to be there when we attempt this,” Finrod said. “I am assuming you both Sang the door into existence?”
The two brothers nodded. “But we Sang it in such a way that either one of us could open it without the other being present,” Gwyn said. “We did it that way because we both knew that there were no guarantees that we would be together in the future.”
“Still, I think it would be wise to have you both present, just to be on the safe side,” Finrod said.
Both brothers shrugged. “If you say so,” Gwyn said.
“So, we go in at separate times, hang about and meet in front of the door, when?” Glorfindel asked.
“The employees start their rounds to shoo everyone out at about five-thirty,” Amroth said, “at least according to Alex.” He grimaced, his eyes full of sorrow, then he pulled himself together and continued. “So, you need to be together around the same time. It’ll take a few minutes for them to reach you.”
“We can Sing for as long as we need to,” Finrod said. “We only have to remain quiet when we see anyone coming. The sound of the water through the gorge will help mask our voices anyway.”
Glorfindel nodded. “Well, tomorrow we’ll know for sure how successful we are.” He turned his gaze upon Gwyn and Gareth. “I hope this talisman, whatever it is, is worth the lives of our friends.”
Both brothers paled at the implied admonishment.
“It’s not as if we planned the accidents to happen, Loren,” Gareth said softly.
“No, I suppose not,” Glorfindel allowed somewhat reluctantly. He had a nagging feeling that something was missing. Something or someone, but he couldn’t seem to focus, his mind slipping between realities so that one minute he was sitting on the porch with the others and the next he was in a car being driven by Amroth. Without knowing how he knew, he knew that he was the last person to go in. Finrod, Gwyn and Gareth had all been dropped off by Amroth earlier at different times and now it was his turn.
Amroth pulled into the High Falls Gorge parking lot and stopped, turning off the engine. They sat there in silence for a time. Glorfindel idly glanced at the dashboard clock, which read 2:48.
“You’d best be going,” Amroth said quietly.
Glorfindel nodded but did not move. Suddenly, he had an overwhelming wish to be on a ship heading for the Straight Road and Valinor, to leave the Mortal Lands behind. It was a foolish wish. There was no ship for him, never had been. He was doomed to remain on these shores for better or for worse and there was precious little he could do about it. He hid his face in his hands, trying to pull himself together.
“In you, Lord, is our hope. We will never hope in vain.”
He jerked upright, staring at Amroth who was actually looking out the window, apparently not paying him any mind. “Wh-what?”
Amroth gave him a puzzled look. “I said you’d best be going. I’ll wait for your call in the morning and come pick you all up in your van. I have your keys.”
For a moment longer, Glorfindel just sat there, staring at the former king of Laurinand.
“Loren?” Amroth asked, his expression becoming one of concern.
Glorfindel shook his head. “We’ll see you in the morning,” he said, then undid his seatbelt as he opened the door and climbed out of the car, grabbing a small daypack sitting on the floor. He shut the door and watched as Amroth drove away, the ellon waving as he went. Glorfindel raised his hand but did not wave back. When Amroth’s car was no longer in sight he slung the pack over a shoulder and headed inside the visitor’s center, purchasing his ticket and then making his way out the door that led across the bridge and onto the trail.
He had several hours to kill. He followed the trail as before, ignoring the scenery. There were a few people ahead of him on the trail and a young couple behind him. He did not rush but walked purposefully until he came to a bench that looked upon the river. It wasn’t occupied, so he settled in to wait, pulling out a paperback mystery and an apple from his daypack.
Motion out of the corner of his eye alerted him that someone was passing him and he glanced up idly to see who it was, but all he saw was the Man’s back. There was a sense of familiarity to the person walking away from him but he couldn’t quite place it and so he dismissed him from his mind and returned to his book. As he finished his apple and the chapter he was reading, he glanced at his watch and was unsurprised to see it read 5:25. He simply nodded to himself. It was time. Stowing the book in the pack, he threw the apple core into the gorge and set off to the bridge that would take him across to the other side where he found Finrod, Gwyn and Gareth waiting for him at the head of the steps leading down to the viewing platform that overlooked the whirlpool.
“Where should we stand?” Finrod asked.
“Why don’t we move up into the trees,” Gwyn suggested, pointing up the hill.
Glorfindel nodded and looked around. “Okay, the coast is clear. Climb. I’ll keep watch,” he ordered and the three ellyn climbed the hill until they were in the midst of the trees. Finrod turned to look down at him.
“There is no one coming,” he said. “Hurry.”
For a moment Glorfindel wanted to refuse, to simply walk away.
“Someone’s crossing the bridge,” Gareth said as he kept a lookout.
“Hurry, gwador,” Finrod said and Glorfindel joined them. The four ellyn stood shoulder to shoulder with the ap Hywel brothers in the middle. “Ready?” Finrod asked Glorfindel and at his nod, the former king of Nargothrond began to Sing. Glorfindel joined him after a few notes.
They Sang as quietly as they could, having gauged just how loud they needed to Sing and still be effective. “It shouldn’t really matter how softly we Sing,” Finrod had said once, “but apparently it does.” It had taken them a couple of days to determine the absolute limit of loudness that would allow them to work the spell effectively.
“Of course, the problem is, we will not be able to tell if we’ve succeeded until someone comes along and passes us by without taking any note of us,” Glorfindel had pointed out at some point during their practice runs.
“There’s nothing we can do about that,” Finrod had said philosophically. “We must simply trust that it will work.”
Movement below as someone stepped off the bridge alerted them and the two fell silent, none of them daring even to blink. The Man never looked up as he walked beneath them with a walkie-talkie in his hand. “All clear here,” they heard him say as he headed down the trail. “I’ll meet you at the river.”
Only when the Mortal was definitely out of earshot did anyone stir. “Well, it seemed to have worked,” Gareth whispered.
The others nodded, but did not otherwise comment. Gwyn stepped away from the others, positioning himself so he could see the trail, keeping an eye out for other Mortals coming along, for there was no way for them to know who else was in the Gorge and they might make their way up from the river rather than turning back the way they had come. Thus, he saw a small group of people heading their way several minutes after the employee had passed by and alerted the others, returning to stand with them. Finrod and Glorfindel began to Sing again and then stopped as they saw the Mortals. One of them actually looked their way as they passed, his expression one of puzzlement and the Elves held their breaths, but the group passed on and the Man went with them.
The Elves remained where they were, not daring to move until the Mortals were all on the other side of the gorge.
“Do you think he sensed us?” Gareth whispered.
Glorfindel shrugged. “Some Mortals are more sensitive than others, but he didn’t see us so it hardly matters.”
“There should be one more person who comes this way,” Finrod said and when they all looked at him, he nodded. “The other employee who went by way of the stairs. I’m sure he or she will come this way while the one who passed us will continue up the stairs. That way they will have covered all the ground.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Glorfindel said. “Well, if this was the last group of visitors the employee should be along shortly. We might as well start Singing now instead of waiting for the last moment.”
Everyone agreed to that and Glorfindel and Finrod began Singing. About five minutes later, a lone Mortal came up the trail from the river and made her way along, never looking in their direction as she passed them, obviously intent on getting back to the visitor center. As she crossed the bridge, the ellyn breathed sighs of relief as they waited until she disappeared from their sight. Only then did they move, stepping back onto the trail.
Glorfindel glanced at his watch. “Well, we have a good twelve hours to kill,” he said. “I don’t know how you plan to spend the time waiting but I’m going down to sit by the stairs and read while it’s still light out.”
The other three chuckled. “I am sure we will all find ways to amuse ourselves while we wait for dawn, but let us agree to meet at the stairs before it gets dark. I do not like the idea of any of us being alone once night falls.”
“I agree,” Glorfindel said and with a wave he set off down the trail until he reached the stairs that would lead down to the final bridge. Here the gorge widened and the waters did not rush in a torrent but it was still running swiftly. Next to the stairs was a viewing platform where there was a bench on which he settled down, pulling out his book and picking up where he’d left off, idly reaching into the pack and snagging a granola bar to munch on. He also had some sandwiches and chips and bottled water stashed away but he would save those for later.
Later came sooner than he was expecting.
He was a page or two into the chapter he was reading when he felt rather than saw someone approach and, looking up, saw Finrod standing before him.
“The sun has set,” the ellon said. “Come join us.”
Glorfindel looked around in confusion, but Finrod’s words proved correct. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains and it was already getting hard to see in the twilight, yet, it shouldn’t have been that late. He stared at the granola bar in his hand, only half eaten. He resisted a sigh, threw his book and the half-eaten granola bar into his pack and stood with a nod, following Finrod down the stairs and across the bridge where Gwyn and Gareth were waiting for them.
“Too bad we can’t make a fire,” Gwyn said by way of greeting. “A fire would be welcomed.”
“Too dangerous,” Finrod said categorically. “You have rehearsed what you must do to open the door, yes?”
Both brothers nodded. “At least it looks to be a fair night,” Gareth commented. “Let’s hope it stays that way. Last thing we need is cloud cover.”
And it was almost as if his words conjured up the clouds that suddenly seemed to be in the sky, obscuring the stars that were beginning to peek out now that true night was upon them. They all groaned at this. Gareth even suggested that they just leave.
“It’s pointless to stay here,” he groused.
“We don’t know that,” his brother admonished him. “The clouds could pass over. We have the entire night to wait and see.”
“Why don’t we just get comfortable?” Glorfindel suggested and he settled himself on the ground with his back to the wall. Finrod settled down beside him while the two brothers took turns climbing onto the hump of the tree trunk to try it out before they settled down on the other side of the tree from Glorfindel and Finrod with Gwyn wrapping an arm around Gareth’s shoulders as the two quietly conversed.
“I think Gareth should have kept his mouth shut,” Finrod said lightly as he glanced up at the clouded sky.
Glorfindel nodded but did not otherwise comment, content to wait for the dawn, which he suspected would come soon. He was, in fact, waiting for one of his companions to simply announce the dawn and it would be upon them no matter that they would have sat there for only a few minutes of subjective time. He was not sure what was really going on but things were not adding up and he had his suspicions, yet for the moment he could do little about them so he was content to play the game.
And game it was, of that he was convinced. Whose game, he still needed to determine, but he was definitely caught up in someone else’s game rather than his own and he had the feeling he had to see it through to the end. He glanced up at the sky and was unsurprised to see that the clouds had dissipated and the stars glittered like jewels above him. He idly watched the constellations move with stately slowness across the heavens, though deep in the Gorge as they were, only a portion of the night sky was visible to them. The moon had risen earlier in the evening and its light shown down upon them, illuminating the Gorge with its silver glow, casting shadows.
Glorfindel was thinking of pulling out his sandwich to eat when he heard Gwyn say, “Sun’s rising.” And looking about, Glorfindel saw that the stars had faded into the blue and the eastern sky was awash with pink and yellow, yet where they were was still deep in shadow. They all stood, stretching cramped muscles. Gareth eyed the sky, gauging the time as he and Gwyn moved to face the wall of stone. Glorfindel and Finrod stood back to give them room. Gareth checked his watch and then looked up at the sky again.
“Any moment,” he said.
Glorfindel looked eastward and saw that the sun was just making an appearance through the trees, while to the west the moon was fast slipping behind the Gorge but then a beam of sunlight seemed to slice through the shadows and the wall before them was illuminated even as it seemed that a beam of moonlight fell upon them at the same moment.
“Now!” Gareth called out and then he and Gwyn began to Sing.
Glorfindel lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s not Sindarin,” he said to Finrod. “They’re Singing in Welsh.”
Finrod merely shrugged, apparently not impressed or simply too busy concentrating on what was happening before them, for as the Song continued the mingled light of sun and moon that shone upon the stone seemed to shift and slowly a shape as of a door began to show itself. Even as the moon slipped fully behind the mountains to be lost to view, the door shape solidified into a small opening and the Song stopped. For a moment, no one moved, each contemplating the hole that had been revealed to them.
It was not really a cave as he had half-expected, Glorfindel saw, but rather a deep niche that was Elf-high but perhaps no more than two feet deep and about a yard wide. There was something in the niche, a metal box, somewhat rusted looking, standing upright against the back of the niche. It was perhaps eighteen inches tall and narrow. Gwyn stepped forward and reached for it, bringing it out for their inspection. The other three gathered around in silence. Glorfindel watched with bated breath as Gwyn fumbled with the latches and then the box was opened.
There was a collective gasp as they looked at the box’s contents, the jewel embedded in the hilt glittering with iridescence in the early morning sunlight.
“Is that what I think it is?” Glorfindel whispered.
“Yes,” Finrod said shortly, but before he could make any other comment a voice sounded behind them.
“I’ll take that, if you please.”
They turned to see a Man standing there with a gun pointed at them.
“Farrell!” Glorfindel shouted in shock. “Where did you come from? You should be dead.”
Farrell merely smirked. “Hand it over,” he said, gesturing toward the box still in Gwyn’s hands.
“And what makes you think we would do anything that stupid,” Glorfindel snarled.
Without warning, Farrell aimed his gun at Finrod and calmly shot him through the heart. Finrod gave a gurgled gasp of surprise as he crumpled to the ground.
“Finrod!” Glorfindel shouted, rushing to catch his gwador, but Finrod’s eyes were already glazed over in death even as Glorfindel laid him on the ground. He stared at his dead friend, unable to comprehend what was happening. Gunshots rang and looking up, Glorfindel watched in horror as first, Gwyn, then Gareth fell to the ground. Gareth, it appeared, had grabbed the box from Gwyn as his brother fell and had attempted to flee across the bridge with the talisman. Farrell had simply shot him in the back.
Anger and something more than anger welled up inside Glorfindel at the sight of Farrell calmly bending over Gareth’s body to retrieve the talisman and with a wordless snarl he launched himself at the Man, who turned at the last minute and shot him. Glorfindel felt pain blossoming in his chest but he ignored it, intent on reaching Farrell, but the Man turned and continued across the bridge and up the steps, taking them two at a time.
“Farrell, you murdering swine!” Glorfindel screamed as he ran after the Mortal and seeing the Man from behind he was suddenly reminded of the person who had passed him earlier when he’d been sitting at the picnic table and realized it had to have been Farrell all along. Yet, how the Man had managed not to be seen by the employees was a mystery that would never be solved.
Farrell was already on the other side of the Gorge by the time Glorfindel reached the middle of the bridge, blood oozing out of his bullet wound, slowing him down. He stopped to catch his breath, panting heavily, forcing away the darkness that threatened to take him. He took a deep breath and started again but then stopped when he heard a strange roar. He glanced about, trying to see what had made the noise and then to his horror he saw long sinuous tentacles appear on the lip of the bridge, pale-green and luminous and wet. Before Glorfindel’s mind could register what he was seeing, one of the tentacles reached out and wrapped itself around his waist, pulling him forward. He struggled, futilely trying to escape, but blood loss had weakened him and he felt himself being inexorably drawn to the edge of the bridge and then he was over and plunging into the rushing waters where something that was kin to the Watcher in the pool awaited him.
It should have been impossible.
The river was not deep enough, and yet, as Glorfindel fell into the water, he felt himself being drawn downward, further and further from the surface, darkness and cold surrounding him. He continued to struggle, the water turning red with his blood, his lungs burning with the need for air, but it was no use. He could not escape. They had failed. He had failed and the talisman, the Silmaril, was in the hands of the Enemy. His only consolation as he felt more than heard the Call of Mandos was that the Enemy would not be able to use it against them, but that was little comfort as darkness of a different nature claimed him….