ANOTHER JOURNEY TO THE CROSSROADS
Morning of October 2, 3019
Frodo portrayed by Hobbitness
Narrator and Vartang portrayed by Wraith
Narrator: *Another early frost
chilled the Morgul Vale the morning of October 2nd, and it was
not until the travelers had traveled the nine miles to the Crossroads
that the cloud lifted and the sun burnt off the last traces of
the hoary hand of an early winter.*
Narrator: *Mautgoth Vartang had halted the column at
the Crossroads to allow the horses to rest after their gallop.*
Narrator: *All the horses were winded after their long
gallop and the animals stood with their necks covered with foaming
sweat and their sides heaving.*
Narrator: *Frodo recognizes the Crossroads from the first
time he had seen them with Sam.*
Narrator: *The fallen head of the statue of a king of
Gondor, which looks as though it had been tossed carelessly aside
by the hand of a giant, rests near the base, its staring eyes
looking outward blankly at nothing.*
Narrator: *Drawings fashioned by orcs all over the statue
proclaimed to all who saw that there was no Numenorean king in
Ilithien.*
Narrator: *Pointing to the statue, Vartang calls Frodo's
attention to the great stone head.*
Vartang: Shakh, this is the fate of all kings who oppose
Sauron the Great. Gondor has gone long without a king, but now
a new king sits upon the throne.
Vartang: *He looks down at Frodo and smiles a grinning
leer of pure malice and hate. Vartang laughs, and his troops join
in until it seems to Frodo as though their laughter echoes off
the very mountains behind them.*
Frodo: *Frodo stares at the fallen head of the statue.
It seems that time becomes nonexistent as the tragedy of the
dead king and the now conquered city of Gondor work their magic*
Frodo: *He almost feels that if he turns his head,
Sam will be standing beside him, and all that has happened since
that moment they stood here fades away*
Frodo: *But Vartang and the soldiers laugh. To Frodo
it is the laugh of Sauron, gloating over His regained Ring, gloating
over Frodo and the fall of Gondor*
Frodo: *and the impending fall of the West*
Frodo: *This was the spot where he said, "They
cannot conquer forever!" at the sight of the crown of flowers
on the king's head, Frodo remembers*
Frodo: *Now Frodo wonders if he was right or wrong
to say so. Soldiers of Mordor are all around him. Gondor has
fallen. Sam is gone. The Ring is reclaimed.*
Frodo: *But the crown of small flowers still rests
on the king's head.*
Vartang: Shakh, perhaps you would like to add your own
inscription to the head of the fallen king? *he laughs, showing
his gleaming white teeth*
Frodo: No *Frodo shakes his head solemnly*
Frodo: I will not profane his memory
Vartang: Shakh! I made provisions before hand to honor
you
Vartang: My men have brought colors to write the inscription
Frodo: *Red and black, I am sure of it, Frodo thinks*
Vartang: *He commands one of the men* Sergeant, bring
the paint!
Vartang: *a man gets quickly off his horse. When he goes
by Vartang and Frodo, he bows to both of them*
Frodo: *He remembers the nobility of Faramir and Boromir--before
his fall--and is Frodo to mock the glory of their people? Never;
he is determined not to do it*
Vartang: *He carries a container of paint and a small
brush, puts the container on the ground and dips the brush into
it*
Frodo: Stop, Vartang
Vartang: *he looks down at Frodo* Shakh, the sergeant
will write the inscription
Vartang: You do not need to trouble your hand in the
task
Frodo: I do not want to leave any inscription
Vartang: It should be done for you
Vartang: *He looks down at Frodo* The inscription will
be left and there is no denying it!
Frodo: the sergeant need not trouble himself either
Narrator: *The sergeant starts to paint on a clear spot
on the base of the statue*
Frodo: I am sure the inscription will mention me. And
I will not suffer falsehoods about me to be left here for the
Gondorians to see!
Narrator: *Frodo can see the runes begin to form at the
base of the statue.... "October 2nd of the year 3019 of the
Third Age under the Sun. The Great Shakh Frodo Baggins of the
Shire, Friend of Sauron, was here. Glory always to Mordor!"*
Frodo: I will not suffer them to read how willingly
I "brought back" the Ring, how "loyal" I am
to the Dark Lord!
Frodo: Erase it!
Frodo: Paint over it
Vartang: *Vartang looks at him* Shakh! I can see your
humility is ever the first thought in your mind
Frodo: *He kneels reverently by the statue, shaking
his head, and says softly* Faramir!
Vartang: *The sergeant finishes his runes and then around
the inscription, he draws the outline of the Great Eye*
Frodo: *Frodo seethes*
Vartang: *Then he looks back and surveys his work, pleased
with himself*
Vartang: *The sergeant then gets up, bows to Frodo and
Vartang as he passes and mounts his horse*
Vartang: Shakh, we can never do enough for you
Vartang: Though we labored and toiled to the unmaking
of the world, no amount of effort upon our parts could express
the true gratitude in our hearts
Frodo: *He feels almost as though he were on his Quest
again, when there was still hope, on that day with Faramir and
Sam...and Gollum was the darkest companion he had.*
Frodo: *These new travellers from Mordor and Nurn,
whom he has known for months, seem foreign, like figures painted
into a scene, out of place*
Vartang: Shakh, a new day has dawned in Middle Earth,
and you have helped bring it!
Frodo: *He rises slowly, turns a bitter knowing look
on Vartang, then walks slowly toward his pony*
Vartang: *he looks back at the group* Cheer him, men!
Let his praises ring!
Vartang: *The men all cheer and shout and raise their
fists into the air*
Vartang: All hail to the Great Friend of Sauron! *they
begin to chant*
Frodo: *standing by his pony, he strokes its neck and
grits his teeth, closing his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the
shouts..there is nothing he can do but endure it.*
***
THE OUTLAWS
By Wraith
Far above them, peering over the brow of one of the surrounding
hills, three men look down and observe, their voices hushed. One
of them says, "Tis indeed a strange sight we see this morning.
A party of travelers from Mordor and women amongst them!"
One of his companions points down the slope. "And see! A
dwarf is with them."
"I think not, my friend," says the man who seems to
be the leader. "If my eyes do not fail me, I believe that
is our old friend, none other than Shakh Baggins."
The third man says sarcastically, "Perhaps they go to pay
a call upon the new king."
The leader says, "Perhaps.... perhaps.... but we shall find
out soon enough. We will cross the river again tonight and meet
at the usual place. Our purse has become too light as of late,
and we must needs fill it with such as we might perloin from the
gentle folk of the city."
"Aye, captain," the second one says, "and mayhaps
have a look at the beauties at the Blushing Maiden Inn."
The one referred to as "the captain" replies, his voice
full of mirth, "There is more than one wench there for which
I have a fancy!"
The other two stifle their laughter. "Since when was there
a wench for which you did not have a fancy?"
A look in the captain's eyes cautions his companions to keep their
silence to avoid detection, he says, "Mayhaps, mayhaps."
The three continue observing until they see the group below preparing
to leave.
"Captain," the second man says as they watch the company
below disappear down the road, "looks like we have another
old friend down there - Vartang. I wonder now how much he offers
for our heads?"
The captain laughs. "It is only a question now of who has
a higher price on my head - Mordor, or the uncrowned king of Gondor.
Whoever it might be, I am not eager for him to be impelled to
pay it! I would rather my head remain upon my shoulders, for over
the years, I have grown fond of it."
The three men turn away from the crest of the hill and move towards
their camp in the woods. A small campfire burns in the clearing
and by the pungent smell of herbs in the air it is apparent that
a stew cooks in a small pot hanging from the tripod over the fire.
The captain and one of the men sit upon a fallen log, pull out
their pipes and tobacco pouches, fill and light them while the
third man tends to the fire.
"Captain," the second man says, "What you were
saying back there about the bounty.... maybe, considering what
we did," the man turns his head away and looks westward.
"Perhaps if we sued for pardon, it would be granted?"
"Perhaps... perhaps..." says the captain, "for
the two of you, but not even a million gold coins could buy pardon
for me!"
His companion is thoughtful as he sits looking at the fire and
drawing upon his pipe.
"Captain, if ever a set of fools walked the face of the earth,
it must be us.
"Here we sit on a log in the woods and freeze on a cold frosty
morning. We are outcasts from two sides, when once we had a veritable
treasure - one million pieces in gold. We could have been among
the richest in Middle earth and what did you do with the vast
wealth? Sent it north!
"Yes, I know, we all agreed, and it seemed a fine thing at
the time, but still... what are we now but condemned outlaws,
hiding in the woods?"
At that, the captain throws his head back in a robust laugh. "I
like to think of us as practitioners of the gentlemanly calling
of robbery."
"Highwaymen... that is all we are," the other says,
and all three laugh.