“WITH THEIR HEARTS trembling inside them,” Gandalf continued his tale, “Ailendil and his wife gathered the bound-up fruit of Telperion to flee through a concealed hatch in the floor. The knock of a heavy staff sounded against their door again.
“Ailendil took Ilúnuel by the shoulders. ‘Go, take the bundle and flee to Valinor. Take counsel there with the Valar as we should have already done. I will stay and buy the time you need to escape. Go now. There is no time to protest!’
“Ilúnuel’s eyes filled with tears as she dropped through the hatch. Her husband closed the door over her head and, in sorrow, she fled through the dark tunnel. She forced herself not to think about the danger he faced, keeping her thoughts instead on the swaddled bundle in her arms.
“At last, well north of the village, she found the disguised gap that opened into a small glade. Ilúnuel listened with all her might over the hammering of her heart. She scarcely dared breathe lest the dark one overhear. She nudged the hatch open and peeked out, expecting a dark form, terrible in majesty and evil, waiting for her. But she spied only the gloomy shapes of bending trees gathered above the hidden opening.
“Ilúnuel closed the hatch again to do what she had resolved in her heart, not telling even her husband her plan. She brought forth a silver locket of simple design. Unwrapping the fruit, she carefully removed the shining jewel from its center, placed it inside the locket, and snapped it closed. She bundled the luminous fruit back up again and, with a prayer of blessing, hid the locket in her bosom.
“After many shallow breaths, Ilúnuel slid out of the tunnel to begin her flight across the darkened land alone. She closed the hatch behind her and crouched in the glade to listen. She longed to turn back, to go to her husband, to fight beside him, to save him from the dark one. But she knew in her heart that it would be in vain. Guarding this fruit of the noble tree and its precious light overrode all other concerns.
“She rose and crept not more than a dozen silent steps when a wizened voice spoke. ‘I wonder, why would an elf woman walk alone in the dark of this blighted forest? Danger walks here, too much danger for her to be alone.’ Every sinew of Ilúnuel’s body turned into ice. She could not tell whence the voice came. Her thoughts told her to run while her heart compelled her to stand fast and face her unexpected pursuer. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, ‘and what concern is a woman’s business to a stranger in these darkened woods? Show yourself or leave me to my own affairs!’
“‘Peace,’ the voice answered her, ‘we mean you no harm. We are sent to help you and your husband. You carry a secret burden that will bring naught but death to you if it is not protected. And you will need our help.’ Ilúnuel strained her elven eyes, but only the outlines of the trees darkened the sky above.
“‘A friend does not hide themselves like a thief in the night!’ she said. ‘It would be easier for me to believe you if I could see you. Leave me to my business!’ She clasped the bundle closer, trusting to her swift feet to carry her to safety. But as she gathered herself, a small glowing point of light wandered like a firefly into the glade. ‘Yes, Ilúnuel, you speak truly, for a friend should not hide themselves from a friend.’ Her eyes followed the drifting point of light as she clutched the bundle yet closer. The light grew brighter until even her elven eyes had to squint. When the light became unbearable, she descried a group of five amid the brightness. They stood clothed in long flowing robes with staves in their hands. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, knowing that even if she wanted to, she could not escape these beings now. One of the five stepped forward. She could make out a male form, with a long white beard and majestic features. ‘My Lady, we are the Istari, sent from the halls of Manwë, Lord of the Valar, whom we serve,’ the figure said in a rich voice, ringing with wisdom in Ilúnuel’s ears. ‘And His will is that the light of the fallen trees should not be lost. And that the ember you carry in your arms should be kindled to light the world once more, so that darkness should not prevail and the hearts of all who live may have hope.’
“‘It is said,’ she spoke, ‘that the Dark One can assume any form he wishes. That he can even clothe himself in light as you have done. How can I know I am not deceived? Prove to me you are here in obedience to the High One!’ The beings in front of her parted, three on one side, two on the other, neither angry nor impatient. ‘My Lady, you are prudent to be wary, but we do not seek to hinder you. We cannot force you to accept our aid. Go, if you wish, but be aware that the danger is real. The Dark Lord remains strong and cunning. He seeks what you carry, and his hunger for destruction can never die. We are your servants.’ They all bowed their heads and leaned on their staves, waiting for her decision.
“Ilúnuel gazed past them into the darkness beyond and shuddered. She brought the swaddled fruit out from under her cloak and bowed her head. ‘Agents of the Evil One would not have asked for my leave. You would have simply taken what you wanted, for how can one woman resist five messengers alone? I am at your mercy.’ The five nodded assent and surrounded her at once with protection as a high wall surrounds a city. ‘You are wise, Ilúnuel daughter of Inomiel,’ said the one that appeared to be their leader. ‘Now you must follow us and trust to hope.’
“They hurried on through the gloomy land. And though no one dared attack, a constant presence stalked just outside their circle, a presence that would have reminded you of a pack of wolves, though of course no wolves roamed that hallowed land. Ilúnuel gave herself to calling on the name of Eru as she cradled the bundle in her robe, trusting that a way would open.
“When they came to the peaks of Taniquetil in Valinar, they brought Ilúnuel trembling before the throne of Manwë, Lord of the immortal Valar. Ilúnuel yielded up the fruit in the eyes of all. A great hush came over the hall as she placed it into the hands of Yavanna, the Lady of the Earth. And when she opened the bundle and found the silvery fruit within, the court of the Valar rejoiced. All eyes drank the light of lost Telperion radiating from the shining skin of the fruit. But Ilúnuel did not tell them about the locket she wore or its secret jewel within. Her mother’s heart was loath to part with it.
“Soon the fruit of Telperion was placed in the sky along with the last flower of Laurelin. Today we know them as the Moon and the Sun. Their light blessed the land again. Life flowed on as it had, though now somewhat dimmer than in the past age.
“But, whether dark or light, the eyes of Lord Manwë see all. As the celebration carried on, he called Ilúnuel aside. ‘You have dealt falsely with us, daughter of Inomiel. I ask you now, why?’ The blood of Ilúnuel froze within her and her hand found the locket, wherein she had concealed the jewel.
“‘My Lord,’ she said, shaking, ‘I sought not to deceive, for who can conceal anything from your eyes? But I have a strong attachment to this jewel and I cannot willingly let it out of my reach.’ The eyes of Manwë were blue flames piercing into the depths of Ilúnuel’s thoughts. ‘You are not wrong to feel bound to the jewel,’ he said, ‘for it is the fruit of your own body, your only son, Inolduay, sent back to you by Telperion in its death throes. Your motherhood kept you from revealing the truth to us. But you forsook your mother’s bond when you left your babe at the foot of the tree. Now, having received him back into your embrace, you must release him again. His destiny will take him far from you and these lands.’ The words of Manwë tore through her heart and the tears spilled down her fair cheeks. She consented and brought forth the locket from her bosom.
“The Lord of the Valar plucked the shining jewel from the locket. Joy soared in Ilúnuel’s soul as the jewel changed into the sleeping form of her own son, cradled in the vast hands of Manwë. Inolduay opened his eyes and, for the first time, beheld a place other than his abode in the lost tree. ‘Welcome, son of silver light,’ Manwë spoke. ‘In Valinor have your eyes opened. You awake among friends’
“Inolduay blinked in wonder, not understanding what had happened while he slumbered. Yet he knew no fear, for the eyes of Manwë burned with kindness. ‘My Lord,’ answered Inolduay, ‘I thank you for your kind greeting, but—forgive me—why am I here in your hallowed halls? I lately fell asleep in the branches of my home, Telperion Silver-crowned, and now I awaken to find myself far away. I do not understand.’
“As he spoke, the five Istari came into the hall, and one of them, one who wore a grey robe, stepped forward and bowed to Manwë. ‘My Lord, if I may?’ The King of the Valar nodded his assent as he set Inolduay down to stand on the floor. The countenance of the boy fell as the grey wizard explained to him the treachery of Morgoth and how the destruction of the trees had issued from his malice. Ilúnuel’s heart broke for her son, seeing the despair overtaking him. She yearned to rush to him and comfort him, but she dared not, for Manwë’s gaze forbade her.
“As the wizard’s sad tale ended, the boy wept and cried out for the loss of his beloved home. He turned to the grey wizard with anger flashing in his eyes. ‘Tell me, wise one, whither has the treacherous one gone? Who has given chase that he be made to pay for his evil?’ The wizard took his shoulder. ‘The Dark Lord has fled to the East, to his stronghold in evil Angbad across the great sea. He lies there far out of our reach, there to gloat with his prizes, the precious Silmarils. But fear not: the justice of Eru will not tarry forever. Morgoth’s evil will bring much suffering to this world. But be comforted: he will not escape punishment.’ The boy stared at him in astonishment. ‘I will not be comforted, my lord, nor can I be, until the fiend pays for the destruction he has caused. He destroyed everything, my mother, Telperion, who nurtured me and cradled me all my life! And you counsel me to take comfort in a justice that my eyes may never see?’
“The wizard tried in vain to calm him with words of pity and wisdom. ‘You must live a new life now, young one. Here stands your own mother Ilúnuel. Go with her and dwell in peace, peace such as you can find. No hope of vengeance remains for you now.’ But Inolduay refused all consolation save revenge. He made a terrible vow before the face of Manwë, with his mother weeping at his knees: he would not rest until the Dark Lord, who had destroyed the trees, would receive his just punishment.
“‘Then go, young one,’ said the Lord of the Valar, ‘for your cause is righteous, but it will bring you no peace. You have stepped on a path of great sorrow and by suffering alone will your vengeance find its rest.’
“Ilúnuel’s heart broke at those words and she could bear it no more. She ran to him and embraced him and called him her son. Bewildered, Inolduay pulled himself from her arms. She begged her son on her knees to forbear his vow and to return home with her. Inolduay lifted her up and spoke to her these words: ‘Woman, you say you are my mother, and that I am the son of your body, but I know you not. The bosom of Telperion, who raised me in her boughs, is all the mother I have ever had. I am saddened by your sorrow, my lady, but Manwë himself has declared my cause to be just. I forsake nothing by leaving you and your hearth for that is a life I have never known. Now leave me be, and no more consider that you have a son. The only mother I have ever known is lost to me. Farewell.’ And with that, the five wizards accompanying him, he left Ilúnuel in the hall with naught but her tears to comfort her.
“Inolduay the pure journeyed east with them to hunt Morgoth. He fought in the long war against the evil one from the lost Northern realms. At last, after many woes and much sorrow, Morgoth lay defeated and in chains. Inolduay did rest then, falling into eternal slumber until the Dark One might dare to return to our world through the Door of Everlasting Night.”
Here Gandalf stopped to re-light his pipe while all at the table took in his tale. The form of the sleeping boy dissipated above them in a luminous cloud that returned to the locket as the single jewel again. The silver locket snapped shut and rested on the table.
As a stunned silence settled, a soft snoring rumbled from the corner of the table where Aragunk sat, arms folded, his chin resting on his chest. Shaking her head and sighing, Beonna reached out and jabbed him hard in the ribs. “Ow!” he yelped, his arms flailing out and knocking a flagon of mead across the table. “What’s happening? Are we under attack?”
“The only thing under attack is our ears from your snoring,” she said. “Have you been paying attention at all?”
“Paying attention to what?” he yawned.
“To Gandalf’s story, you melon-head!”
Aragunk waved her insult away. “I was listening! It was…nice. I especially liked the part about the trees, or something.” Lumpolas let loose an exasperated sigh and covered his face. “Look,” said Aragunk, “I don’t need to know all the details. Just tell me who we’re fighting and where to find them. It’s simpler that way, easier to remember.”
Gandalf chuckled through a haze of smoke. “Young man of Gondor, you are a simple soul, bless you, and also easy to remember. Here, I will tell you what you need to know. We sail south to fight the profane legions of Morgoth, the Dark Lord. He seeks to return to our world using one of the lost Silmarils. We must defeat his purpose now or the entire world will plunge into eternal darkness. Is that simple enough for you?”
Aragunk nodded. “Seems like we could have saved a lot of time if you’d just told us that in the first place, Master Wizard. Now, is it time for dinner yet? I’m starving!”
Beonna slammed a palm down on the table. “We just ate a half an hour ago! Nobody could get hungry again that fast!”
Aragunk shrugged. “Saving the world is hungry work.”
Captain Yorlov broke in. “So only ‘south’ is it, Master Wizard? No better bearing than that? Or how far? There’ll be nothing but wide-open ocean from here to the end of the world southwards. How will we know where to look?”
“The enemy has one advantage over us, Captain. He has dark creatures of the deep at his command. They have been searching the bottom of the ocean for an age, seeking the one thing that Morgoth can use to return. But we have one advantage over him.” Gandalf pointed at the shining locket on the table. “The same light that inhabits the Silmarils blessed Inolduay as well. He can sense their whereabouts as a compass can sense the North. That is why the Dagorim pursue us. He will be our guide.”
Yorlov scoffed. “A sleeping boy that no one can see is going to navigate us across the sea? How will it work? Will he wake up every time we need to change course and shout out, ‘ten points to larboard!’”
Gandalf chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, Captain, that is exactly what he will do. But not in so crude a manner.” He pointed to Beonna with the stem of his pipe. “Captain Yorlov, may I present to you your new ship’s navigator?” All eyes turned to her.
“Me, sir?” she said with eyes wide.
“Yes, young lady, Inolduay has chosen you to be his arms and his legs and his voice. Your job will be to stand by the helm and tell the good captain where we are to go. I trust this will not be too inconvenient?”
Beonna’s face blanched. “But I’ve never even been on a sailing ship. And all these people, all these sailors, will be looking to me. What if we can’t find it? What if we get lost at sea? What will they do to me? What will they say?”
Yorlov thumped a hard fist on the table. “They’ll do their bloody jobs and they’ll keep their mouths shut! I’m in command here. There won’t be anything to worry about from that rabble, all right Missee?” Beonna gave a hesitant nod. The Captain allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “It’s settled then: you’re hired, Navigator Beonna. And may the four winds bless us with safe and swift passage wherever we sail. One thing though, Master Gandalf: say we do get there alive, what will we find? If we’re fighting the devil himself, then I’d like to know just how we’re going to stop him.”
“Leave that to us,” Gandalf said, pointing to the locket with grim resolve. “Not to worry, Captain, we have been blessed with unexpected reinforcements.” He swept his arm over the three young adventurers. “I expect they will play a part that few could foresee in the overthrow of the Dagor’s dark designs.”
With that, the ring of smoke encircling the table dissipated and the sounds of the ship faded back into the room. The slapping of feet running on the deck above. The slow creak of the hull. A loud knock sounded on the stateroom’s oaken door. “Come!” Yorlov barked while Beonna snatched up the locket from the table and hung it about her neck again.
Boatswain Boritt entered with his thick eyebrows furrowed. “Captain, those black boats aft have sent out some kind of flock of black-winged creatures. They’ve taken up a position above—directly above us! There must be thousands of the wretched monsters. Almost blocking out the sun, they are!”
Everyone at the table rose and hurried outside.
“What in the name of Boromir’s blooming blue britches are those?” Aragunk asked. A smear of billowing darkness undulated above, following the course of the Freedom Hawk like a cloud of shadow.
“They ain’t a flock of friendly butterflies, that’s for certain,” said Yorlov. “That’s an ill omen if I’ve ever seen one.”
Lumpolas squinted his keen eyes to gaze at the cloud. “They look like bats, except they’re covered in some kind of shiny black shell like an insect wears. Oh, I hope they don’t come down here!”
Captain Yorlov called up to the crow’s nest. “Millen lad! Look aft! What are those cursed galleys doing?”
The young blond-haired boy turned and peered back at the pursuing ships. “They’re rowing steady, sir,” Millen called back down. “If anything, they’ve slackened their pace while sending that cloud after us.”
“These villains won’t fight us like warriors,” Aragunk said with a sneer. “They have to send these base creatures to do their work for them. Cowards!” He shook his fist towards the distant black boats pursuing.
Gandalf stood, regarding the cloud for a moment. “They’re not coming any closer, but they grow more numerous. The cloud thickens, and the sun loses its cheer. I fear we may be stuck with them for now. Courage everyone! Courage!”
The Freedom Hawk flew through the foamy waves undaunted. But all around, the sailors eyed the spreading blackness. Anyone could see that a grim weight had settled on every heart at the sight. The wind stayed fresh in their sails for the rest of the dimming day. But as the night crept on, gloom spread all over the ship.
Beonna stayed on the quarterdeck listening to Inolduay’s gentle instructions, telling the helmsman, Breech, where to steer. “Aye, Missee,” the kind old sailor said as the darkness rose. “A pity you won’t be seeing the sea-stars tonight. You haven’t lived till you’ve seen ’em a’twinkling up there above the main, guiding and guarding your way.”
“I’m sure they must be beautiful,” she said, as an enormous yawn overcame her. Breech laughed. “You should get below, young lady. We haven’t changed course in half-a-watch now. I’ll keep her straight and steady. You go get some rest. Don’t worry, I’ll call you if I get lost.” Beonna wanted to protest—not wanting to look weak in front of all these experienced sailors—but another yawn forced its way out of her. She nodded and staggered off to her quarters with her eyelids drooping.
But as she touched the door to the stateroom, a scream sounded from high above. Her heart froze and her eyes shot up to the crow’s nest. The boy Millen fought something unseen up there, flapping his arms and howling in pain. “Get it off! Get it off!” Before anyone could get to him, he jumped straight out of the crow’s nest and fell with an unearthly shriek to the deck below. Beonna’s stomach twisted at the sick sound of the boy hitting the wooden planks. She flew to him first.
One of the black creatures was gripping his throat in its teeth, gnawing and thrashing its wings. The boy was unconscious but still breathing. But his arm was surely broken and blood ran out from beneath his blond curls. Beonna tried to snatch the vile creature from his throat, but it held on with teeth sunk deep and wouldn’t let go.
“Stand aside,” said Gandalf, rushing up from behind. Beonna obeyed as the wizard knelt down to examine the boy. He reached out a long bony finger and probed the creature. The thing hissed and clicked at his touch. “I see. A nasty little beast, aren’t you? No matter, your feast ends now.” A tiny spark shot out from the tip of Gandalf’s finger. Instantly, the winged little monster stiffened and fell limp to the deck, leaving a deep darkening wound in the boy’s neck. “Bring that vile thing with us!” Gandalf said to Beonna, picking the boy up in his arms. A chill ran through her as she picked the motionless creature up by one of its webbed wings. She held it with the tips of her fingers as far away from herself as she could.
Yorlov came bursting out of his stateroom door. The sight of the unconscious boy lying in Gandalf’s arms pulled a cry of pain from him. “Millen! What happened to my poor nephew? Is he…”
“He’s still alive, thank the blessed ones,” said Gandalf. “This bog-bat attacked him and he fell to the deck from the crow’s nest. But we must get him below where we can mend his wounds.”
Yorlov slammed his thick fist against the bulkhead. “Blast it and blast them all! Do what you can for him, Gandalf. I’ll send Culum down to set his arm.”
Gandalf nodded and started to leave with the boy and Beonna, but turned back to the captain. “And may I suggest we keep as few men as possible on deck? Especially keep them out of the rigging.”
The Captain looked none too pleased. “Aye, but that will slow us down if the wind changes, and those black galleys will have a chance to catch up to us. Blast it!”
“That would appear to be their plan precisely, Captain. Courage! And fear not for your nephew!” Gandalf swooped the boy below decks with Beonna behind, dangling the little monster with her.
The wizard deposited the boy in his hammock. After binding up his bleeding head in a torn sheet, he spent a minute murmuring over the boy as his hands moved over his broken arm.
Lumpolas rushed into the crew quarters. “They said the captain’s nephew was attacked!”
“Lumpolas, quickly,” said Gandalf. “Come look at this bite!”
Lumpolas hurried over and examined the wound in the boy’s throat. It was deep and the edges of it had burnt black and dry, like charred paper. “The venom is spreading, eating him from the inside out. Is it from that little beastie?” he asked, pointing at the thing in Beonna’s fingers.
Beonna nodded. “Is he going to be alright?”
Gandalf fixed Lumpolas with his eyes. “That may depend on you, young elf. Do you have any herbs in your bag to draw the poison out?”
Lumpolas scratched his head as he studied the boy’s wound. “Here, let me have a look at that, Beonna.” He took the creature from her and examined it, studying its fangs and claws. “What kind of little monster are you? You don’t have any venom sacs, so where did the poison come from?”
A low moan rose from the boy and his breathing quickened. “He’s coming around,” said Beonna. The boy’s head rocked back and forth, like someone in the grip of a nightmare trying to wake up. Gandalf put a hand on Millen’s sweating forehead. “He’s burning up. Quickly, Beonna, a cool cloth, soaked in water.” She turned to comply, but the boy let out a shriek that froze her in her place. His eyes snapped open. But they weren’t like any eyes she had ever seen. They smoldered bright red, with yellow pupils that stretched from side to side like a goat’s. The boy gnashed at Gandalf’s hand with his teeth, trying to bite him, but the wizard snatched it away in time. “Hold him!” cried Gandalf. But before anyone could stop him, the frenzied boy dropped from his hammock to the planks. He scurried on all fours like a rat to the corner of the room, despite his broken arm. He crouched with eyes wide and darting about for a place to escape or a way to attack.
“Millen!” Beonna said, holding her hands out to the snarling boy. “Millen, we’re here to help you.” The boy bared his teeth as if he meant to leap upon her.
“Careful,” warned Gandalf, pulling her behind him. “He can’t hear you, I’m afraid. Something has taken hold of him. Grab him before he hurts himself!”
“Or us,” Lumpolas chirped from behind a table.
The door crashed open and Aragunk came stumbling in with a yawn. “What’s going on? Something woke me from a dream about a fair maiden with a roast duck in her hands—”
Gandalf cut him off. “Aragunk, go! Get a rope from the upper deck. We must restrain the boy!”
“Look out!” shouted Beonna as Millen leaped at Aragunk with an inhuman shriek. She swung around and booted Aragunk into the bulkhead, kicking him out of the way before the crazed boy could fall on him. Millen darted through the open door with an animal howl and down into the lower decks of the ship.
“After him! Quickly!” commanded Gandalf as he flew through the portal in pursuit.
Aragunk grabbed Beonna by the arm as she made to follow. “You didn’t need to do that! I would have stopped him!”
“That’s a funny way to say thank you for saving your life!” she said as she twisted out of his grip and darted out of the room.
Aragunk turned to Lumpolas with a huge grin on his face. “Did you see that, Lump? I think she likes me.”
Lumpolas smacked his forehead in disbelief. “Come on!” he yelled, shoving Aragunk through the door.
They found the door to the cargo hold and climbed down the hatch into the blackness. The boy’s inhuman screams rose from somewhere below. “This way! This way!” they heard Gandalf shouting. A scream erupted from Beonna and a flash of blue light burst through the hold.
“Beonna!” cried Lumpolas. Aragunk charged through the darkened hold towards the screams. Lumpolas followed with his heart quivering.
“Don’t let him get past you!” said Gandalf. Something sprang from the shadows and knocked Aragunk to the ground.
Lumpolas cried out as a dark blur leapt up and came hurtling down the corridor towards him. It all happened too quickly, even for his elven eyes. The boy/creature flew upon him faster than he could raise his hands, knocking him to the deck in a fury of teeth and claws. Lumpolas kicked and rolled away, trying to avoid the boy’s teeth as panic overtook him. Another flash of blinding blue light erupted. The boy howled in pain and fled, scampering back up the hatch to the decks above.
Beonna flew to Lumpolas’s aid before he could pick himself up. “Are you okay, Lump? Are you hurt?”
“More to the point,” said Gandalf, hurrying over, “did he bite you?”
“No,” Lumpolas said. “No, I don’t think so.” Gandalf swooshed away without answering, chasing after the boy.
Aragunk came running up. “You had him, Lump! Why’d you let him go? You had him!”
“I didn’t have him! He had me!” he shot back.
“I’ll bet if he’d been a leg of mutton or a fat ham, you wouldn’t have let him get away so easily!” said Aragunk, waving his hands at him in disgust and following after Gandalf.
“He is so rude!” said Beonna, pulling Lumpolas up off the deck. “Has he always been like that?”
“No, he used to be even worse.” He gave a weak attempt at a smile, even though his stomach churned with embarrassment. “I’m finally starting to have a good influence on him.”
Beonna put her hands on his shoulders. “You’re really okay, Lump? He didn’t hurt you?”
Lumpolas patted his belly and arms. “Nope. I think I’m ship shape!”
She smiled and gave him a quick warm hug before bolting for the door to join the chase. Lumpolas stood stunned for a dazzled moment. “Did you see that?” he said to himself with a grin. “I think she likes me!”
By that time, Millen had fought his way out onto the main deck. He hurtled through the rigging despite his broken arm, evading every attempt of the sailors to snatch him down. His shrieks and howls froze their blood and everyone on board wished they could shut out the inhuman noise of them.
“Is that what’s going to happen to us, Cap’n?” Culum asked. “Are we all going to turn into a bunch of monster-monkeys, swinging through the lines?”
Yorlov looked to Gandalf with the same question etched on his face. “Tell me you can do something for him, Gandalf!”
“Courage!” said the wizard. He turned to a group of sailors standing idly by. “You four, grab a net—one of those cargo nets there. Take it to the prow and stand ready!”
“Ready for what?” one of them asked. “To get bitten by that little rat?”
Yorlov sprang over and cuffed the sailor in the ear. “That’s my nephew you’re talking about, Nils! Do as he says or you’ll be spending the next week chasing rats out of the bilges!” The four sailors scurried to the prow with the net and spread it out between them.
Gandalf stood on the poop deck with his staff following Millen’s frantic course through the ropes. “Chase him forwards!” he said to the men in the rigging. “Forwards!”
“Chase him?” one of them asked back down. “I think he’s chasing us!” Gandalf paid him no heed, but closed one eye and kept the other locked onto the boy.
Aragunk, Beonna, and Lumpolas emerged from belowdecks. Yorlov paced the quarterdeck ferociously, following the sailor’s pursuit. “Stay with him, lads! By Ulmo, stay beneath him!”
“Please don’t hurt him!” said Beonna to the wizard as the sailors tracked the boy with the net from below.
Gandalf, though, didn’t waver in his concentration. A flash of light erupted from the wizard’s staff as Millen leaped from the mainmast to the rigging beyond. A howl went up, and he fell unconscious, straight into the waiting net held by the sailors below.
“Millen!” cried Yorlov.
Gandalf slammed his staff onto the deck. “Tie him to the mast!” he said. “Make him secure and be quick! He won’t be out for long!” They carried the boy to the mainmast. In a moment, the sailors had him bound to it with strong ropes as Yorlov and Gandalf came rushing over with the rest.
“What do we do with him now?” asked Beonna, her hands cradling Millen’s lolling head. “We can’t leave him tied up here for the rest of the journey!”
Captain Yorlov spit to the side. “Aye, and what will we do if more of those cursed creatures attack, Master Wizard? I can’t sail with my entire crew bound!”
Gandalf stooped near the face of the panting boy. “No, Captain, I don’t intend to let them have any more of your men. Send them all below, at once.”
Yorlov gazed at him with eyes wide. “I will remind you that three enemy ships are pursuing us. How can we stay ahead of them without a crew to man the sails?”
“Captain,” Gandalf said, “there won’t be a crew to man anything if those creatures above us attack in a swarm. Send them down. But I want you, Beonna, Lumpolas, and Aragunk to stay up here.”
The purple scar on Yorlov’s cheek twisted as he barked at the crew. “Get below, the lot of you!”
As soon as the crew had departed, Gandalf turned to Beonna. “I know of only one way to repel this darkness from poor Millen. You have the key there around your neck.”
Her fingers reached for the locket. “I understand.”
The boy shrieked and bolted awake. He began thrashing against his bonds, inhuman and dangerous as a wild animal again. They all stepped back, stunned by the ferocity of his screams and struggles.
As if answering a call from the raving boy, winged creatures came zipping down out of the night. They darted through the rigging, swarming all around them with teeth clicking. “They’re attacking!” cried Yorlov, lashing at the air with a knotted rope end. Aragunk’s sword rang as he drew it. He swung wildly through the air, trying in vain to strike any of the darting, flitting creatures. Lumpolas flailed with his rucksack until a dozen of the creatures had affixed themselves to his bag by the teeth. “Ahh! My spices! Get off, you little buggers!”
“Beonna! The locket!” thundered Gandalf through the swarm. Her fingers found the silver chain. The locket clicked open and at once a growing sphere of silvery light swelled from the shining jewel. Peace blew over her like a summer breeze, even as the gnashing darkness swirled all around. They could feel the light as much as they could see it, pushing the flying black creatures away as if it burned them. “It’s working!” said Aragunk as the monsters fled from the light. A glittering dome of transparent silver grew all around them. And still the creatures hurled themselves against it, mad with devouring rage. But as they all began to hope in deliverance, a heart-splitting howl shot forth from Millen.
“It’s the light!” said Lumpolas. “It’s hurting him!” If he had been thrashing against his bonds before, now Millen convulsed against them with terrifying abandon.
“Smaug’s smoking snout!” said Aragunk. “I’d swear that if he could chew his own arms and legs off to get free, he would!” The sound of the creatures throwing themselves against the light-dome grew deafening as a gale-wind.
“Beonna, you must bring it closer to him!” said Gandalf.
The agony of the poor boy sent a shudder through her. “But it might kill him!”
Gandalf nodded encouragement and Beonna brought the jewel near. The boy fought his bonds harder and harder so that all stood amazed that the rope held him at all. Lumpolas wanted to hide his eyes from the terrible sight, but the silvery light lent him strength and hope.
Captain Yorlov’s face mirrored Millen’s, twisting and fighting. “Millen! Hold on, lad!” His nephew’s screams pierced down to the lowest decks. The boy’s fight to escape the burning light reached a shrieking pitch like a great teakettle howling at full boil. Aragunk plugged his ears as Beonna came right up to Millen. His bulging eyes swelled scarlet. His gnashing mouth foamed with wrath and pain. Every vein in his forehead stood out so that they all thought he would surely burst from the inside out.
Then, with a scream that threatened to split the hull of the ship in twain, a plume of foul black smoke, a living darkness, erupted from his mouth and fled away beyond the dome of light. Millen fell limp with his head lolling on the ropes binding his chest to the mast. The swarm of bog-bats retreated to the skies again. A peaceful quiet settled in where madness had fled away.
“Thank the undying ones!” said Yorlov, with tears flowing over his scarred cheek. “Is it truly gone?”
“Untie him. Quickly!” said Gandalf. The captain went to work on the knots after Gandalf’s nod told him not to fear the fury of the boy any longer.
“What was that evil thing that came out of him?” asked Lumpolas.
“A Black Boggart,” said Gandalf. “Vile shades summoned with dark sorcery long ago by the Evil One himself. They can only be expelled by a bright source of hallowed light.” He squeezed Beonna’s shoulder and smiled. “You did well, my dear. Very well indeed.”
Yorlov took the ragged form of Millen up in his arms as his bonds came loose. Aragunk stepped close. “Would you look at him? He looks like he’s just sleeping off a hard night. You’d hardly know he just tried to kill all of us.”
“Is he alright?” asked Beonna, touching Millen’s forehead.
Gandalf nodded. “He will need rest and copious amounts of food when he wakes. But, thanks be to the One Light, he should be fine.”
Lumpolas came over and patted the boy on the shoulder. “Poor lad. What he needs is a bowl of my famous marsh-dumpling soup to bring his spirits back.”
Aragunk’s nose twisted. “Marsh-dumplings? Yechh! Cookie was right about your swamp food. That sounds like the last thing a sick boy needs!”
“Watch it,” Lumpolas growled. “I’ll have you know that my dumplings are renowned throughout the realm of—”
“Will you two stop fighting for even a moment?” Beonna said. “Are you really going to argue over a soup recipe after what we just went through?”
Lumpolas lowered his eyes. “You’re right, that was really scary.”
“You’re right,” Aragunk mocked in a high-pitched voice, “that was really scary. Please forgive me, Beonna. You’re so pretty and I just want you to like me. Can I bake you a cake?”
Lumpolas’s face turned red as a tomato. “That’s not what I said!”
“That’s not what I said!” Aragunk whined back with a smirk.
“Enough!” said the captain. He pushed Millen into Aragunk’s arms and pointed to the stateroom hatch. “Take the lad to my quarters! Get Culum to set his broken arm before he wakes up. Now go!”
Aragunk started carrying Millen away, but turned back to wink at Beonna and Lumpolas. “I’ll just leave the two of you alone.” He laughed and carried Millen below.
If he could have, Lumpolas would have melted away between the deck boards and disappeared. Beonna loosed a sigh and whirled around to Gandalf. “Master Gandalf, should I close the locket now? We still have to keep it secret, don’t we?”
“That light has been seen for miles now. Leave it open, Beonna. It should protect us from the bog-bats and we gain nothing in trying to hide the jewel from our enemies anymore. Our opponents must redouble their attacks now that they know for sure what we carry with us. They forced our hand and we cannot avoid the consequences.”
“Aye,” said Yorlov, whose eyes scanned the undulating skies above. “That’s what scares me.”
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