abnormal tragedy

Chapter 18: departure

The eight remaining members of the fellowship gathered at the docks, Aragorn having departed several hours earlier on Bill, their trusted mount. He had left with little ceremony, only a few solemn goodbyes and a hearty hug from Rowan. "Stay safe.." She whispered into his neck as they hugged. "Sister, you worry too much.."

There was silence for a little bit. "I just don't want to loose you too.. with mum and dad.." Aragorn gave Rowan a reassuring smile. "Don't die, mate." Gimli had said as he patted Aragorn's back. Aragorn and Boromir just looked at each other with a small smile.

A small party of elves had gathered to wish them well on their journey and it suddenly struck Rowan that it had been so long since a similar elven party had offered their goodbyes at the gates of Rivendell.

Boromir and Annamir arranged their equipment between the two boats that had been gifted them while they waited for Legolas to say his farewells to his elven friends. He must have sensed their growing impatience because with one final hug to Haldir, he turned and rejoined his human and hobbit companions.

With all their supplies accounted for, they pushed away from the riverbanks and the little dove-grey boats glided effortlessly across the glassy waters. Legolas, Gimli and Rowan sat in one boat while Boromir and the hobbits sat in another.

And yet while she didn't particularly like Galadriel, Rowan was rather chuffed with the gifts the elf had bestowed upon her. The forest green cloak was soft and surprisingly warm, and the dagger engraved with elvish runes would certainly come in handy. She had been somewhat jealous of the elegant dagger that Galadriel had given Frodo (it apparently glowed blue when orcs approached, certainly a handy feature).

The pair of small, grey boats travelled east along the Celebrant until it joined the Great River. From there they travelled south, past the lush Field of Celebrant to the west, and curling around the North and South Undeeps.

The riverbanks were lined with great, towering trees, many baring Autumnal shades of bronze and copper but many still a startling emerald. Beyond the distant mists, the silver mountaintops of the Emyn Muil could be seen poking their heads over the horizon. The Valley of Gold was indeed as beautiful as she had read in books but the vibrant colours of the Anduin Valley were, to Rowan's eyes, far more worthy of adoration.  

The river was relatively calm which made the rowing steady and easygoing. Under normal circumstances, Rowan would have sung a hearty pirate song, but she had felt uneasy since parting from Lorien. As they rowed along the river, there was an eerie silence from the riverbanks; no songs of birds or barks of wolves could be heard. It felt unnatural and put Rowan on edge. Her elven companion must have felt the same because he was unusually silent as well. At night they pulled up to the river's edge and made camp. They made no campfire, not wishing to draw attention to themselves, and spoke in hushed tones as they ate their elven waybread.

Standing on the bank, the water lapping at the edge of her boots, Rowan stared across the waters, black and clear. She strained to hear the hooting of owls or the larking of nightingales, any sound to give her comfort. But instead all she heard was a slow silence until a log lazily slunk its way down the river's surface with a soft swish. At first Rowan paid it no mind, logs were hardly a novel occurrence on the Great River. But then she noticed it moving, against the current, towards the western shore of the river. She readied her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Legolas appeared at the water's edge, placing his hand over her own. "Gollum," he explained, "he has tracked us since the Gladden Pass. I had hoped we would lose him on the river, but he's too clever a waterman."

"If he leads the enemy to our whereabouts, it will make our journey even more dangerous," responded Rowan. Frodo sat, miserable and distant, against a nearby rock. Listening to the human and elf talk, he looked increasingly nervous. Rowan was beginning to worry; the elf had barely eaten since they had left Lorien and while he had always had a pale complexion, he was beginning to take on a sickly pallor. "He'll be fine.." Legolas whispered looking towards Frodo, "He just needs our support." Rowan nodded.