The Shadow Walker

58. The Edge of a Knife

Legolas took charge of unloading supplies from our boat, muttering something about Dwarves and half-Dwarves being clumsy enough to overturn even these boats. I didn't let myself take it too personally, since it was the truth. Instead, I stood on the beach and gazed into the woods, watching for threats.

Aragorn walked past me, carrying an armload of supplies. "Perhaps you could make yourself useful and gather some firewood." His tone was calm. Too calm, as though he were infinitely mature and longsuffering, and the rest of us were his cross to bear.

Scowling, I began walking around, looking for wood. But I only searched with half a mind. My primary focus was on my surroundings.

There were too many large sticks lying around. I glanced up at the trees; they were tall and covered in moss. And while that in and of itself could be beautiful, there was something very wrong about the situation. And I couldn't put my finger on it.

I returned to the beach, where the others were setting up camp. Since Samwise was far better at starting fires than I was, I handed the wood off to him, then moved to the edge of the woods before Aragorn could delegate another task to me. Resting my hand on the bark of one tree, I closed my eyes and listened. What I heard was a song—shared by all the trees, filling the woods with an inaudible melody.

Inaudible to all but me.

"Darkness, darkness, darkness moves;

In the deep...in the woods.

Oft it comes and rarely leaves;

Here to stay within the trees."

I snatched my hand away, and shuddering, I hurried back to the rest of the Fellowship. As I approached, Aragorn announced, "We cross the Anduin at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We'll approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh yes?" Gimli challenged.

Aragorn glanced at him, his irritation well-hidden to all that did not truly know him.

Gimli made a bad decision then. He opened his mouth again. "Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil," he said sarcastically, pointing at Aragorn with one of the sticks I'd collected. "An impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rocks. And then, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshland, as far as the eye can see."

Aragorn took a deep breath and let it out. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

Gimli sputtered. "Recover my—!"

Just then, Legolas brought up the last of the supplies—mine—and as he set them next to his, I went to him and touched his arm. "We cannot stop here."

He looked up, his expression showing alarm. "What happened?"

"Don't you feel it?" I shuddered. "This is a horrible place. Even if we aren't overcome with sudden evil, I'll get no sleep here."

Legolas placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I will speak with Aragorn."

I nodded.

He trotted over to Aragorn, and they began exchanging hushed whispers. Meanwhile, Merry carried an armload of wood to the fire and began adding wood. When he finished, he sat up and looked around. "Where's Frodo?"

The entire Fellowship straightened and began looking around for the Ringbearer. Then Legolas's urgent eyes caught mine. He glanced pointedly at a pile of supplies on the other side of the camp—at the top of which sat Boromir's shield. Boromir himself was nowhere to be seen.