Fayn (A LOTR novella)

Chapter 14: Pure

So we began to walk. And walk. We never grew tired or hungry, nor did the sun set, but I knew we had been moving for many days.  My mind began to grow tired from the strain of being awake for so long.

Frodo fares little better, for continuous travel across a repetitive landscape is enough to drive anyone mad.  Our conversation must have dropped off to nothing days ago. Neither of us speak a word as we make our way through the strangely vibrant forest of this land.

No matter what world I am in, I have never made sound when I walk, but I find it strange that a hobbit could be just as quiet as I.  Frodo's feet make no sound, despite landing in piles of leaves with almost every step he takes.  It unnerves me, not because of the strangeness, but because someone or something could be following just behind the two of us, and we would be unaware until it was nearly upon us.  I must rely on sight alone.

This entire time I have been in this land, something has felt wrong.  I know it's somehow connected with the outward perfectness of the terrain, but that is not the only reason I feel on edge.  

There don't appear to be any 'flaws' in any aspect of this place; everything is uniform.  Every single tree is the same height and shoots branches off at the same level, and the leaves form geometric patterns when they fall to the earth. The sun also stubbornly remains in the sky, and I have the increasing suspicion we are being followed by something.

Frodo does not seem to be aware of it, but he notices my increasing agitation as we continue on.

I almost stop moving when I realize why I have become so on-edge.  I know what it is that we are walking towards.  Everything in this world seems to be in its most pure, perfect form; we are moving towards pure darkness.  In order to retrieve Sam from wherever he has found himself, we are going to not doubt have to walk through the worst of it.

Evil like this does not fight with force, it creeps up behind you and stabs you in the back.

I stop walking and turn to Frodo, my voice urgent.

"The place where we are headed will make you see things, and they aren't going to be pleasant." I say, having trouble explaining. "There is a great darkness ahead, and it will seek to corrupt your mind, or maybe even turn us against each other.  We must remember why it is we have come here if we have any chance of rescuing Sam.  Do you understand?"

Frodo nods, his bright eyes showing nothing but resolve. "Are we close?" he asks.

"I believe so," I respond, a nervousness swelling inside of me that I push down.

"I'm not sure if that frightens me, or makes me glad at being that much closer to rescuing Sam."

"Me neither, Frodo." I respond.

The darkness appears out of nowhere, surrounding us all at once. It looks more like a thick, undulating mist, tinted black.  In truth, there is nothing intimidating about it at all.  But then the voices start.

It's a low murmur at first, but it raises to a shout, making me cover both of my sensitive ears with my hands at the volume.  Their words are dark and powerful, a language so old that time itself has forgotten it.  I collapse to my knees, clawing at the sides of my head.  It feels like my head is about to split apart.

But then suddenly, it stops.  The voices disappear, and I gasp for breath, my panting now the only sound to be heard.  I cautiously raise my head to look about, and begin to wish the screaming would come back.  

Frodo has disappeared, along with the dark fog.  I am once again alone in this strange land.