“THIS IS THE worst hour of my life!” cried Aragunk.
Nobody answered him as he stalked back and forth, back and forth across the floor of the bubble with sword drawn. He was a caged animal, with frustration and fear crawling over his skin. “If I could just see what’s happening out there,” he moaned, “just get a glimpse of the battle, I could die happy. But I’m bottled up in here with nothing to look at but you lot!”
Lumpolas kept right on grinding a quince-root concoction for Millen and the captain, ignoring Aragunk with all his strength. Gandalf alone appeared oblivious to the impatient young man as he stood at the edge of the bubble, gazing out. Aragunk stopped his pacing and glared at Gandalf’s back. “And what do you see that’s so fascinating, Master Wizard? You’ve been staring out there for the last hour. The jellyfish? Are they trying to tell you something? Do you speak jellyfish too?” he asked, waving his sword around his head.
This finally caught Gandalf’s attention, who spun and snatched his sword arm. “If you pierce the bubble with that, young fool, your story, and ours, will come to a quick and watery end! Sheathe your weapon and get a hold of yourself! You aspire to be like your brother Aragorn. I can say with absolute certainty that I wish that too—now more than ever! Now calm yourself. We can do nothing right now but wait.”
Lumpolas had to restrain a snicker at Aragunk’s expression—something in between an angry wet cat and a shamefaced dog caught chewing his master’s favorite slippers.
“I meant to ask… I mean, I’d really like to know is what do you see out there?” Aragunk asked. “If you please, sir.” But Gandalf turned back to the bubble without answering. “Can you at least tell us if they’re fighting?”
“Oh leave off it, will you, Gunk?” snapped Lumpolas. “If he wants to tell you, he’ll tell you then, won’t he?”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve got something to do with your precious nursing and babying for these two. What am I supposed to do? Stare at the jellyfish too?”
“I think I speak for everyone when I say that we wish you would,” said Lumpolas. “They are rather lovely, aren’t they? As far as jellyfish go.”
Aragunk sneered, about to fire something nasty back, when surprise sprang across his face and he whipped his gaze outside. “What was that?” he said, cupping a hand behind his ear.
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear it?”
Lumpolas stopped his root-mashing to cock an ear. “What? I don’t hear anything.”
Aragunk put a finger to his lips. “Shhh! I could make it out if you’d be quiet!”
Lumpolas peered around outside the bubble. “Are they coming back? The Oarni?”
Aragunk shook his head, his face locked in concentration. “No. No, it’s a voice.”
Fear gripped Lumpolas’s spine. “A voice? Whose voice? The queen’s? Are they coming back?” Aragunk didn’t answer, but kept listening with amazement. “Who is it, Aragunk?”
Aragunk’s eyes turned to his friend. He could have been listening to a ghost whispering from far away. “Can’t you hear it with those elven ears? It sounds like… it sounds… no, it can’t be!”
“Like what?” Lumpolas whispered back.
“The jellyfish!” Aragunk snorted. “They say you should stop fussing over these two and see if you have a turkey leg in that sack for me! I guess they want me to have a tasty last meal at least.”
Now Lumpolas resembled an angry wet cat while Aragunk slapped his knees in laughter. Lumpolas snarled and went back to mashing his quince-root. “If I had a sackful of roasted turkeys and smoked spareribs, I wouldn’t give a single one to you! I’d sit here and eat them all right in front of you, even if this was the last hour of your foolish life!”
“Ho ho ho!” Aragunk bellowed. “I had you going there, didn’t I? Who’s the fool now?”
“Oh shut up,” sighed Lumpolas.
“Oh, that was brilliant!” Aragunk carried on, turning to Gandalf. “Did you see that, Gandalf? Ha ha!”
Then Gandalf turned back to them with astonishment dancing on his own face. Aragunk burst out laughing even harder. “See, Lump! The jellyfish are talking to Master Gandalf too! Ha ha! What are they telling you? To get a good fried pork chop with all the trimmings from our master chef? Or wait, I know!” Aragunk pointed to the huge lobster that still had its pincers poking through their bubble. “You could cook up that big crusty creature for us, Lump! Ha ha! Oh, you’re going to be busy getting our last meals together.”
But Gandalf wasn’t laughing with him. Lumpolas stood and gazed into the wizard’s eyes. “I don’t think he’s joining in your pathetic joke, Gunk. What did you see, Master Gandalf?”
“Oh come off it, Lump,” said Aragunk. “Gandalf is smart enough to know a proper joke when he sees one. He’s just trying to fool us both now to get the last laugh. Can’t blame him for trying, though—it’s normal to ride the coattails of your betters in the humorous arts.”
Gandalf stepped into the center of the bubble. The astonishment on his face gave way to the beginnings of a smile.
“What is it?” asked Lumpolas again. “You look as though you’ve received some good news, sir.”
Gandalf loosed a little chuckle. “Yes, my young friend. Yes, I believe that I have heard some very good news indeed, at last. Our Beonna is alive and I know where she is.”
“She’s alive?” said Lumpolas. “But how do you know? Who told you?”
Aragunk snorted. “Lumpolas, you are without a doubt the most gullible elf I have ever met. Can you really be fool enough to be the butt of two jokes in a row?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s about to tell you that the jellyfish told him Beonna is alive and well. And you’ll say, ‘really, she is?’ in your annoying high-pitched voice. Then he’ll laugh in your face. It’s the oldest trick in the joke book, Lump.”
“Annoying high-pitched voice?” screeched Lumpolas. But before he could mount a counterattack, Gandalf pointed outside the bubble. “They’re coming back!” A troop of armed Oarni guards came swimming into the hall. With them swam the massive flat-faced fish that had brought them from the Freedom Hawk down to Oune. At their head swam a very spiteful Chancellor Loam.
“What are they doing?” asked Aragunk, whose hand gripped the hilt of his sword. “Do they mean to execute us now?”
Gandalf shook his head. “No, at least not at once. They brought the fish, which means they purpose to take us somewhere.”
As the soldiers drew near, even Aragunk’s weak eyes could see they looked less friendly than before. “The battle must not have gone well, judging by those faces.” An unmistakable air of genuine hatred dwelled in the Oarni’s eyes.
Chancellor Loam’s metallic voice sounded through the lobster’s claws again. “Malefactors! Your treachery has been proven beyond all doubt. You will be brought before her majesty the Empress where you will receive your just punishment for your evil deeds.” Before any of them could respond, one of the Oarni yanked the lobster away from the bubble by its tail, rendering it impossible to communicate further.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Lumpolas as the fish swam up to their bubble with its vast mouth gaping wide. The big fish pressed its giant lips up against the bubble again and a slurping, sucking sound sloshed in their ears as it reattached to the fish’s mouth. It tugged the bubble off the floor and, flanked by the hostile Oarni, ferried them out of the dome behind Chancellor Loam.
As they began rising above the sprawling city, Captain Yorlov bolted up like a man jolting awake from a nightmare. “Where are we? What’s going on?” His eyes bulged open and his breath hung heavy.
Lumpolas dropped to his side in a flash. “Captain Yorlov! It’s me, Lumpolas. Do you remember anything?”
“Where’s my ship? My crew?” His wild eyes spun around and rested on Gandalf’s concerned face. “I know you. I remember you,” he said, groggy and weary. “Is it you, Gandalf? Is it truly you?”
Gandalf placed a hand on Yorlov’s shoulder. “Yes, Alain, I am here. You are among friends now.”
“And enemies,” Aragunk chimed in.
Gandalf’s eyes flashed in irritation. “We are prisoners, Captain, of the sea-dwelling Oarni tribe.”
Yorlov cast his gaze around again, trying to comprehend what he saw. “The Oarni? That’s an old sailor’s tale they tell to scare the greenhorns when they come aboard.” Just then, one guard came swimming close by, glaring into the bubble. Yorlov closed his eyes again. “I’m dreaming. I must still be dreaming.”
“I’m afraid we have a lot to catch you up on, Captain Yorlov,” said Lumpolas. “Here, drink this quince-root infusion first. It’ll give you strength.”
Millen at last stirred and woke. “Oh bilge-water! I thought this was all a dream. But it’s real, isn’t it? We’re really at the bottom of the sea, aren’t we?”
As the captain sipped Lumpolas’s quince-root concoction—and not without a sour face at its bitterness—they recounted everything to him and Millen that they had missed. Yorlov pinched himself several times to make sure he wasn’t still in the grip of the skor’s nightmare.
“The worst feeling I’ve ever had,” he said when they finished. “I was floating in a black place, but I could still see myself, doing things and saying words that weren’t mine. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. But none of it seemed real! Even now when you tell me what happened, I can scarcely believe it.”
“Oh, it was real alright,” said Aragunk, lifting his foot to present the sole of his boot to the captain. “Look, there’s the evil little bugger right there on the bottom of my boot!” Yorlov turned green at the sight.
“Thank you, Aragunk,” sighed Gandalf, nudging the boot away from the captain’s face. “That will be enough, please.”
“My pleasure.”
“Master Gandalf?” asked Millen, tugging on the wizard’s sleeve. “What keeps happening to me? Every time anything of those Dagors comes near, I just fall apart.”
Gandalf’s eyebrows drew close together. “That is a question I don’t know the answer to yet, my boy. I’m sorry. The bog-bat bite must have left something in you we haven’t yet removed.”
“Will I ever be better?”
“We will do whatever we can to make sure of that, Millen, don’t you worry,” he said with a grandfatherly air.
“I hate to be the one to bear bad news, but it looks like we’ve arrived,” said Aragunk. “If you thought this lot looked unfriendly, get a load of the rest of them.” Before them, the whole host of Oarni gathered around a magnificent dome with towering spires. And indeed the faces of the defeated warriors expressed nothing but malice at the companions as they wound through their midst.
Lumpolas cinched his rucksack and cast a worried gaze outside. “It doesn’t look like the battle went well, does it? I hope they don’t blame us.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like they’re planning to give us a medal, now does it?” said Aragunk. “Congratulations, Captain. You woke up just in time to be executed.”
On through the ranks they passed, and every face displayed the same accusation, the same hate and grief. “There stands the Temple of Ulmo,” said Gandalf, pointing down. “The door has been smashed. The Oarni must indeed have been plundered of the Silmaril.”
“What? How?” asked Lumpolas. “How could the Dagors get all the way down here?”
Gandalf stroked his beard as they passed over it. “I expect we will find out soon enough. If they give us an opportunity to speak, that is.”
Ahead of them, they beheld the mer-empress mounted upon an enormous blue whale. Her green eyes flashed in the deep waters. Around her swam a group of guards different from the other Oarni. These were larger, more muscular, with much longer tails. In their hands shone huge spears and tridents that made the weapons of their escort look like tableware.
“I don’t fancy the looks of them one bit,” said Yorlov.
Lumpolas fought to keep his teeth from chattering. “Will they even give us the chance to speak before they… they… you know?”
“Before they kill us?” said Aragunk. “If they have any honor, they will.”
Led by a triumphant Chancellor Loam, the fish steered their bubble through these larger warriors and brought them before the mer-empress. Loam bowed and presented the captives to her with obvious glee at their impending doom. The large Oarni guards took up positions around the bubble with their massive weapons glinting in the pale green light of Una’s eyes. Loam turned and shot the companions a grin of pure malice while, behind him, the mer-empress raised her staff. The guards readied their weapons.
“So much for getting a chance to speak,” Aragunk said through gritted teeth.
“This is it, boys,” said Yorlov. “Been an honor and a pleasure knowing you.” Millen took hold of his uncle’s hand while Lumpolas and Aragunk looked at each other with disbelief in their eyes.
“I’m sorry I dragged you on this ridiculous quest, Lump,” said Aragunk, setting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry that I made fun of your cooking. And your big belly. You’re truly the best friend I’ve ever had and the best cook I ever knew.”
Tears welled up in Lumpolas’s eyes. “Yes, well, I’m sorry too, my old friend—though I can’t for the life of me think of what for right now,” he said, patting Aragunk’s hand. “But it’s been fun, hasn’t it? There’s no one else I’d rather be condemned, drowned, and crushed at the bottom of a dark ocean with.” They embraced and then they looked to the queen, ready as they could ever be to meet their doom.
Her face arched cold, impassive, unforgiving as she held her scepter high above her flowing locks. But then, instead of lowering it to command their deaths, she turned and pointed the scepter upwards and away from the city. In an instant, Chancellor Loam’s face wrenched from malicious delight to uncomprehending shock. The queen’s mount began rolling upwards with their bubble and her elite guards falling into formation behind her.
“What’s happening?” asked Millen. “Are they taking us somewhere else to die?” A bewildered Chancellor Loam darted up next to the mer-empress and gestured furiously at them with his webbed hands, demanding an explanation. With a glance from her, one of her huge guards thrust his ornate spear between her and the chancellor, signaling in no uncertain terms that his audience with Empress Una had ended.
“Maybe they’re not going to execute us after all!” said Lumpolas. They began to hope in their deliverance. Loam fell away as their bubble sped by him and the bitter outrage on his face filled them all with laughter. “Ha ha! See you later, fish-breath!” Aragunk waved goodbye to the fuming chancellor. “Hooray!” Millen shouted, hugging Yorlov while Gandalf crouched down, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
As they celebrated their reprieve, Gandalf cautioned them. “I remind you we are still prisoners of the Oarni. And we are no closer to knowing our fate or what has happened to the Silmaril.”
“But we do know that Beonna is still alive, don’t we?” asked Lumpolas.
Aragunk nodded. “That’s right, you said so yourself, Master Gandalf! And you said you knew where we could find her.”
Gandalf turned and cast his eyes to the queen ahead of them on her whale. “Yes, Beonna is alive, but she, too, is a prisoner. We will find her on a floating fortress of the Dagorim. But everything hangs now on the will of the empress.”
Captain Yorlov shook his head. “I never in a hundred years would have believed my life would depend on a fish-tailed girl riding on a whale.”
After they had traveled far out of sight of the Oarni capital, the mer-empress turned and beckoned to the bubble. Straightaway, the great flat-faced fish sped them close to her seat on the immense whale. She reached out her pearlescent scepter, touched it to the bubble’s surface, and at once her voice came ringing through. “We are out of the hearing of the armies of Oune now. We may speak freely.”
Gandalf knelt down. “My liege lady, I would thank you for your mercy in sparing us, but I cannot guess what wisdom has stayed your majesty’s hand.”
“Do not imagine that I have stayed my hand at all, Whitebeard. My people are plundered of their most cherished treasure. Our temple lays violated and our armies humiliated. They would have me promptly kill you all for base treachery.”
Lumpolas gulped at those words while Yorlov pulled Millen nearer. Gandalf bowed his head. “Then may I ask, O Queen, to what task have you called us if we are not to be directly destroyed?”
The glow in her green eyes grew brighter. “I have seen another of your company, Whitebeard. One who is closely bound to you, though she is not among you in body.”
“Beonna!” said Lumpolas. “She’s talking about Beonna!”
“She is alive!” cried Aragunk. “See, Lump? I told you Gandalf wasn’t crazy.” Lumpolas had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to keep himself from bickering with Aragunk.
“Yes, she whom you call your friend lives,” Una continued, but her face was not the face of one relating glad tidings to friends. “It was she who stole the Silmaril for our enemies. Her own hands carried away our treasure when the Dagorim fled our wrath.”
“What?” Aragunk protested. “Beonna stole the Silmaril? Impossible! She would never help those Dagor wretches!” At once, one of the queen’s guards spun at Aragunk’s rash words and leveled a gleaming trident at him.
“Have a care, young ranger,” murmured Gandalf. “It is never wise to question the word of a noble monarch.”
Aragunk dropped to a knee. “Forgive me, my lady! I only meant to say that the Beonna we know would never willingly help those Dagor dogs so much as take out the trash, much less steal a Silmaril for them.”
Lumpolas flung himself beside Aragunk. “He’s right, your majesty. My friend is an idiot most of the time, but he is right about Beonna. She must have been unwell or deceived because she could never do anything evil, even if her life depended on it!”
Aragunk jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “‘An idiot most of the time’?” he growled under his breath. “Just you wait.”
“I didn’t say you were an idiot all the time, did I?”
Empress Una almost smiled. “I have seen your friend and what you say is true. A high destiny swirls about her and I would see her fulfill it. But great peril surrounds her as well and her allies are few where she lies imprisoned.” The mer-empress related to them the tale of Angor’s daring assault on the Temple of Ulmo, how he had brought his fortress down to her city and how Beonna had been used against her will to steal the Silmaril for them. “My generals and my nobles would have me execute you and sink the black fortress to retrieve what was stolen from us. Yet, as long as their evil commander holds sway over our animals, we are powerless to destroy the fortress. That alone was your salvation.”
“Ahh, I begin to see your wisdom, your Highness,” said Gandalf.
Aragunk glanced back and forth between them. “I don’t. What’s happening?”
She gazed at him. “We draw near to the enemy’s stronghold, young man of Gondor. Once there, you will go aboard and retrieve what is ours.”
His eyes lit up. “And save Beonna? We accept!” But his face fell under Gandalf’s withering glare. “Right? We accept, right?”
Gandalf sighed. “Yes, of course we accept. But it will be no simple task getting aboard or even staying alive if we do. Beonna and the Silmaril will be heavily guarded. Lord Angor will not give up his prize without a deadly struggle, I’m afraid.”
Aragunk couldn’t contain his excitement. “A deadly struggle? Did you hear, Lump? At last, a deadly struggle!”
Lumpolas gulped again. “Deadly… struggle?”
An Oarni scout clad in light armor swam close by the mer-empress, delivered new tidings, and zipped away again in a cloud of bubbles. She considered what she had heard and then spoke to the companions. “The fortress of the Dagorim retreats easterly to an island in a sea seldom visited by my people, where the currents are cold and the waters bitter.”
“Agoth Arn,” said Gandalf. “The Dagorim have maintained their profane altar to Morgoth on that cursed rock since they were driven from Middle-earth an age ago. That is where Angor plans to make his attempt to free his master. But I fear we have very little time.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” said Aragunk, stepping forward. “Your Highness, just get us onto that villain’s fortress and we’ll take care of the rest. They’ll be no match for my sword and Lumpolas’s cooking!” Even the grim-faced Captain Yorlov had to stifle a laugh at the outrage on the elf’s plump face.
As they laid their plans with Empress Una to infiltrate the Dagor’s floating stronghold, several more Oarni scouts dashed in and out with intelligence they had gathered. They had found what they took to be a garbage chute at the base of the fortress, just above the waterline. The Oarni would take the companions from the bubble and ferry them there, for they were unwilling to bring the big fish close enough where Angor might control it. Once there, Gandalf and his party would climb through the chute, find the captive crew of the Freedom Hawk, and with their help, recapture the Silmaril.
“If my crew is aboard that junk heap, then that’s where I belong too,” said Captain Yorlov after Lumpolas suggested he might not have recovered enough to take part in the raid. “But Millen, lad, your mother would have had my hide if I let you go aboard with us.”
“I’m not afraid!” cried Millen. “I’m going with you to save Miss Beonna if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
Gandalf knelt down and clasped Millen’s shoulder. “Indeed, my young friend, we know your courage is worthy of renown. But the problem remains that when you come near to Lord Angor and his power, you fall unconscious. I’m afraid that bog-bat bite will keep you from being any help to us or Beonna on the fortress.”
Millen’s eyes filled with tears. “But I want to help. I know I can help you!”
Everyone agreed that his affliction should keep him from going aboard. Over his tearful protests, they decided that the young lad be taken back to the drifting Freedom Hawk by the Oarni, who would then tow the ship to a port in Gondor.
“I’d be happy to go aboard the Freedom Hawk too,” offered Lumpolas. “To watch over the lad and make sure he’s well fed.” But his heart fell when his suggestion met with stony silence.
Soon all lay in readiness. Their bubble surfaced in the pre-dawn twilight within sight of the distant smoke-billowing fortress. As the hour came to launch their assault, the mer-empress came before them. “What you do is fraught with danger. Thus you are showing the virtue that we of the tribe of Ulmo value most dearly: courage.” Lumpolas looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch Aragunk puff up with pride at those words. “Yet courage alone will not be enough to complete your task.” Empress Una motioned to one of her massive guards. He bore a trunk-sized oyster shell to her and opened it. “The Dagorim worship the darkness and fear the light, as do all who fear having their evil deeds exposed. I offer these gifts to you who enter their darkness willingly.” She reached into the shell and brought forth five silver chains. From each of these depended a single radiant pearl, large as a plump grape, fitly set in woven gold. Each pearl glowed with a mysterious pale-green light that one couldn’t help noticing matched the glowing eyes of the mer-empress. “Behold the eyes of Ulmo. Know that whosoever wears these goes not alone, though he should descend into deepest shadow.”
To each, she reached through the bubble and placed a chain around their neck. And from each, she received a heartfelt bow of gratitude in return. But none bowed lower than Aragunk, who, with tears on his ruddy cheeks, answered, “We thank you, your majesty, for your kind gifts and for your wise council.” Then, he rose with hands crossed on his heart. “For my part, I am humbled beyond measure. I give thanks to the powers and fates above who grant me to dwell in your gracious presence for this well-favored but all-too-brief time.” The eyes of his companions turned in disbelief to him as if a complete stranger had appeared in their midst.
A flicker of a smile danced at the corners of the queen’s lips. “Go then, with courage and hope, for these are what the enemy fears most to find in the hearts of those who oppose him.”
One of the strong guards reached into the bubble and took Gandalf first. He pulled him through and, holding him above the water, sped away across the waves with him. Yorlov went next. And then Lumpolas’s and Aragunk’s turn arrived.
“Well, Millen, be good and be brave,” said Lumpolas.
Millen fought his tears as Aragunk gave him a pat on the head. “We’ll see you back at port before you even know we’re gone, Mill.”
The huge webbed hands of the guards reached through and took Lumpolas and Aragunk. Soon they flew through the waves borne on the arms of the Oarni towards the black fortress.
They drew near to the floating stronghold, spluttering and coughing from the waves and the sea spray. Gandalf and Yorlov, clinging to a narrow lip underneath the garbage hatch, reached down to help them up.
“That’s one step towards our goal,” said Captain Yorlov as the Oarni disappeared below the surface.
“I swear, if I survive this,” said Aragunk, “I’m never going to go anywhere near the water again. I’ll never swim. I’ll never take a bath. I’m going to spend the rest of my life being as dry as I can be!” Just as he said this, the hatch above them dropped opened with a loud clang and a putrid load of garbage slid out into the sea with a tremendous splash.
“Gross!” Lumpolas pinched his nose.
“Grab it!” cried Gandalf. “Don’t let it shut!” But the metal hatch slammed back upwards before anyone could make a move for it.
“Blast!” spat Yorlov. “That would have been the perfect timing.”
“Let’s hope these Dagors are good about keeping their fortress of evil tidy,” said Lumpolas.
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Aragunk. “Everyone knows evil men are filthy animals.”
“Is that so?” said Lumpolas. “Is that why your bedchambers smell like a horse-stable? Because you’re so noble and pure?”
“That’s different! I’m too busy training to worry about washing and—” But before he could finish, another rumble echoed from the hatch.
“Get ready!” said Gandalf. Again, the hatch crashed open as another load of garbage came sliding out into the sea. This time, Yorlov was ready. He leaped at the hatch and clamped his brawny sailor’s fingers on the edge while Gandalf used his staff to jam it open.
It was Lumpolas’s job to go up first with a rope tied around his waist, being the lightest of foot and the surest climber. “Up you go!” Aragunk boosted him up into the greasy chute. Right away, Lumpolas scrabbled and struggled not to slip right back down. But he managed to spread his arms and legs out to each side of the shaft and inch his way up into the darkness. “Oh, I hope they don’t have any more trash to get rid of right now!” His voice echoed strangely in the chute.
“Just be quick, Lump,” said Aragunk back up to him. “If you see someone, kill them before they can raise the alarm.”
“K-k-kill them?” The thought had not occurred to Lumpolas what he would do if they discovered him. The shaft stretched twenty feet, slippery and difficult to climb, so that it took several minutes for him to get near the hatch on the other end. “I’m there!” he called back down to his companions.
“Hurry, Lumpolas! Someone’s sure to see us out here!”
Lumpolas reached to push open the hatch. But as he laid a finger to it, a voice whinnied from the other side: “Alright, alright, governor! I don’t see how sticking me with that spear is going to help me get this trash in this chute any faster! You could lend me a hand, you could!” Lumpolas’s heart froze inside him. He pulled out his largest and sharpest cooking knife from his belt and put it in his teeth, readying himself for the worst. Then, the hatch flew open and there, staring down at him, gaped the bruised and swollen face of Cookie. They stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise. “Swampy! You came back!”
“What’s that?” asked the guard behind him.
“I… I said, swimmin’ peonies, my back!” He snuck a wink at Lumpolas and spun back to his captor. “I did something to my back, I did! Heaving that last load of rubbish!”
“You’ll have worse problems than your back if you don’t get that trash loaded into that chute, you pasty marsh-maggot!” shouted the Dagor guard. “Now get to it!”
“Alright, governor, I’m trying. You see me trying! It’s just been a hard night, that’s all, what with being captured and invading an underwater city with a bloody battering ram and now taking the trash out on top of it. You know I’m not the only able-bodied bloke on the boat, don’tcha governor?”
“One more word out of you, and the next slave is going to be heaving your dead body down that hatch!”
Cookie took up a large metal scoop used to shovel the garbage. Lumpolas, still frozen with fear, tried to decide what to do. Slide back down and try again later? Or stay and make a fight of it? But then Cookie cried out. “Oh, me back, it’s broken! I really broke it this time, I tell you!”
“That’s it, I warned you!” said the guard, who came stomping towards Cookie. Then, in an instant, Cookie dropped the scoop, yanked Lumpolas free of the chute, and flung the bewildered elf through the air right at the advancing guard. To Lumpolas, everything happened in a terrifying blur as he crashed into him and they went tumbling together in a heap. Lumpolas ended up underneath the stunned guard. He curled up with a whimper as the Dagor’s swarthy face filled with fury. But the next second a dull CLANG! rang through the hold. The guard’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped on top of Lumpolas, out cold.
“That’s what you get, you boot-lickin’ bilge-rat!” Cookie spat, slamming down the garbage scoop. “Call me ‘pasty’, will you?” Lumpolas, dazed, could scarcely believe he was still alive. “Well, well, well, look who it is,” laughed Cookie as he dragged the guard’s limp body off. “About time you showed up, Swampy. I never thought I’d be so happy to see the likes of you!”
“You could have warned me you were going to do that!” said Lumpolas, regaining his wits a little.
“Nah, it worked better this way. The terror on your face while you were flying through the air slowed him down enough for me to deliver the coup de grâce, as they say. But what are you doing here? And what’s that rope tied around your waist?”
That was when Captain Yorlov’s voice came rumbling up the garbage chute. “Cookie! Is that you?”
He leaped to the chute. “Captain? Bless me, Captain Yorlov, is that really you?”
“Aye it is, you lazy scallawag! Now get that rope secured so we can climb up there and join the party!”
“Aye aye, sir! Aye aye!” Soon, Captain Yorlov came climbing through the hatch with Gandalf and Aragunk behind. “Captain Yorlov, I knew you’d come rescue us! I was telling Culum you’d be close behind us, but would he listen? No! I said to him—”
“Shut up, Cookie, and listen to me,” interrupted the captain. “We have a lot to do and we don’t have time for pleasantries. Now help me throw this Dagor scum down the garbage chute where he belongs.”
“May I suggest stripping the guard of his garb first?” said Gandalf.
“Aye,” Yorlov said, “I see what you’re getting at.” In a moment, he was squeezing his stout frame into the guard’s armor and took up his pike. “I’d rather have a cutlass, but this’ll have to do. Now, Cookie, where’s my crew?”
He nodded and gave him a wink. “Aye sir, I savvy. The Freedom Hawk is just outside, then? All we have to do is get off this floating pile of garbage and we’ll be off to safety then, sir?”
“No, we don’t have the ship. We’re going to have to fight our way out of this one, Cookie. But right now, we need all the help we can get. Take us to the crew. We’re going to need them to fight.”
Cookie’s face fell with his hopes of getting off the fortress right away. “Aye, sir,” he said. “I’ll take you to the Pit, but you’ll wish I hadn’t when we get there.”
“The Pit?”
“Aye, that’s what they call it, sir: thePit. It’s where they work us all to death to keep this stinkin’ heap of junk moving.”
Cookie kept up his nervous jabbering while he and Yorlov hauled the unconscious Dagor guard over to the chute and tossed him through. Off to the side, Aragunk nudged Lumpolas with his elbow. “Would you look at that, Lump?” he whispered.
“What?”
“Gandalf.”
“What about him?”
“He hasn’t got a spot on him. He gets dragged through the ocean and climbs through a foul Dagor garbage chute and his robes are still as gleaming white as the day we saw him on the docks in Osgiliath.”
“Well, I suppose that’s one of the perks of being the white wizard: you get to stay all-white all the time.”
“Saves money on his laundry bill too, I’ll bet.”
“Makes it tough to sneak around a dark fortress without being seen, though. I mean, he’s brighter than fresh snow in sunshine.” They both fell silent when Gandalf turned his gaze to them. Then, before their eyes, as if in answer, Gandalf dimmed from his usual brilliance, like a candle flame nearing the last bit of wick. Now, though his robes still appeared white, they didn’t catch the eye anymore. He seemed to shrink a bit too. Gandalf gave them a wink, and then they were on their way.
With Cookie leading, and the rest pretending to be Yorlov’s prisoners, they stepped out into the dark corridors of the Dagor fortress. Wails of despair and cries of pain greeted their ears. The air burned their nostrils with the stench of burning coal.
“Lovely little spot, ain’t it?” said Cookie to Lumpolas, who kept his nose pinched tight. “You think this smells bad, Swampy? You should get a whiff of the stuff that passes for food around here.”
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
“Beonna is here somewhere in this foul place,” said Aragunk.
“Quiet, you slaves!” shouted Yorlov, acting the part.
They descended through the twisting corridors to the lowest parts of the ship. “They’re in there, what’s left of us anyhow,” said Cookie as they came to a set of bars with a gate. On the other side, a squat Dagor guard dozed up against a wooden wall.
“Oy!” shouted Yorlov, banging his pike on the bars. “Wake up there and unlock this door, you lazy dog! We’ve got fresh slaves for the Pit.”
The guard sprang awake and took a step towards the bars, looking them over one by one. “New slaves? Where’d you find ‘em way out here?”
“Caught ‘em trying to sneak aboard,” said Yorlov. “Climbing up the aft garbage chute. Now open this bleeding door so I can introduce ‘em to their new lives!”
The guard rubbed his chin. “How come I ain’t been notified about ‘em coming down here? It’s improper it is. Improper!”
“I’m notifying you, ain’t I?” Yorlov growled. “Where else would I bring prisoners but down to the Pit? Now you’d better unlock this door or I’ll get you busted down to latrine duty, dog! Would that be proper enough for you?”
The guard grumbled as he brought out his heavy iron keys. “Alright, alright!” He slammed the key into the lock. “Don’t have to go getting nasty about it.”
“Smart dog,” said Yorlov, ushering his prisoners through. “But still not smart enough.” With one quick swipe of his pike, Yorlov knocked the guard’s helmet off. Then with a sharp step, clubbed the surprised man with a massive right fist, sending him to the ground in a clattering heap. “Get his armor!”
Aragunk grabbed the unconscious man’s arm. “Lump, you’re the only one that’s going to fit into this armor.”
Lumpolas screwed up his face. “I can’t wear that. You can smell him from here!”
“Put it on!” said the captain. “Be quick about it!” Lumpolas winced and, with Aragunk’s grinning help, strapped on the guard’s grimy armor.
“It’s not so bad as long as you don’t breathe, I suppose.”
“Let’s go. Lock this gate behind us and bring his keys.” With Yorlov and Lumpolas in front, they made their way along a short corridor to another barred gate. The wails of pain coming from within the Pit grew much louder here. The sound of cracking whips punctuated the groans and pleas for mercy swirling around the large room beyond.
“What are they doing to them in there?” asked Lumpolas, who was spending all his effort to keep his knees from knocking together.
“Whatever it is, they won’t be doing it much longer,” growled Aragunk.
Captain Yorlov turned to face them. “Listen to me. This is where the real danger starts. That’s your shipmates in there—my crew—and we’re going to do whatever it takes to get them and anyone else we can find free of their chains. Lumpolas, you’re the nimblest of us and you’ve got the keys. You’re going to slip down there and unlock every chain and lock your elven eyes can find, while Gandalf, Aragunk, Cookie, and I deal with the guards. The faster you free my crew, the more help we’ll have fighting off those Dagor guards and the quicker we can get to Beonna. Understand?” Lumpolas gulped and nodded. “Good lad. You can do it. Just don’t stop once we get in there. Now, Aragunk.”
“Yes, sir?”
“This is your big chance to be the big hero. Fight well and free my crew and I’ll personally write a song about your brave deeds and sing it at the top of my lungs in every port tavern I wash up in.”
“Yes, sir!”
“That’s the spirit. Cookie, when we get in there, I want you to lead us right up to the biggest, strongest Dagor dog in the room. We’ll start with him. We’ll get his weapons and work our way down the pack.”
Now it was Cookie’s turn to gulp. He saluted weakly. “Aye, sir. I know just the one you’re askin’ for, sir. A big nasty named Gort.”
“Good man. Master Gandalf, I know I needn’t ask, but whatever you’ve got left in your bag of surprises would be greatly useful to us now.”
Gandalf chuckled grimly. “Fear not, Captain Yorlov. I can promise our foes will have no idea what is happening until it is far too late.”
Yorlov nodded. “Alright then, we’re set. Ready? For Beonna.”
“For Beonna,” they answered together.
“Let’s go. Lump, get this door unlocked.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Boots and the clattering of weapons thundered from back in the corridor. “Intruders! They’re in here! Intruders!” The sound of another key unlocking the first gate rattled in their ears. “They’re in here! In here!”
Yorlov spun back to Lumpolas. “Lump, the lock, quickly!”
“Yes! I mean, aye, sir,” he stuttered back. But his shaking hands fumbled and dropped the heavy iron keys on the wood planks with a loud clatter, catching the notice of the guards inside the Pit. “Blast it! Sorry!” The Dagorim within pointed and rushed to the gate as Lumpolas struggled to find the right key again.
“So much for the element of surprise,” said Aragunk as the gate behind them burst open and the first helmeted head popped through.
“There they are!”
“I think we’re in trouble,” said Cookie, cowering behind Captain Yorlov. “Deep, deep trouble!”
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