Into the Spider's Lair
Irritated by our insensitivity, Frodo set off half-cocked for the Morgul Vale along the great Southward Road, with restful Ithilien on one side of him and the Mountains of Shadow on the other.
We hurried after him, regret in our hearts.
"I'm so sorry, Frodo!" Mariole said. "I never meant to make light of the terrible burden you carried for all of us, or the bitter sacrifices that you so selflessly made on everyone's behalf."
"I feel dreadful," said Maggie, "for seeming to care more about a hot bath with a frisky hobbit than attending to the lingering unrest in your soul."
"Here." Merry brought forth his peace offering. "This is Pippin's special recipe. I hope it will help to ease your distress, if only a little."
Frodo took the cake thoughtfully. "Well, it does look tasty." He took a tentative nibble. "Actually, it's quite good." He tucked in.
"Do forgive us, dear Frodo," begged Mariole, as the former Ringbearer made short work of the cake. "From now on, we will remain totally focused on our task. Healing for you, in mind and spirit."
"No more silliness!" vowed Maggie.
"That's right," said Merry, with firm resolve. "Let us leave all foolishness behind. Come, my excellent cousin. Lick the last of the icing from your fingers, and prepare for the next stage. To the Crossroads!"
"To the Crossroads!" cried the party.
Briskly, we set forth. Frodo followed along in a greatly improved state of mind, humming contentedly despite the solemn ridges of the Ephel Dúath looming in the East.
"Here we are!" Merry announced cheerfully. "The Crossroads."
Frodo hesitated. "The place seems to have changed."
"Nonsense," said Merry. "Here are the Riders of the Rohirrim, crossing on their noble mounts. And see how the traffic from Osgiliath has increased. I even hear the great beasts of the Haradrim use this crossing, engaged in peaceful trade."
"And there is the statue of the old king," said Maggie, "with its stone head restored, just as you last saw it!"
Frodo looked at the statue suspiciously. "Are you sure we've left all silliness behind us?"
"Absolutely," said Merry. "Now, buck up. We're heading into the Morgul Vale."
Doggedly we turned east, into the ravaged valley. Despite the years since the War, a lingering gloom hung over the land.
"Does it bother anyone else," Frodo asked, "that this stream looks and smells like urine?"
"I reckon the clean-up efforts are still underway," said Merry. "Look, there are some chaps busy at it now."
Mariole said dubiously, "Does it bother anyone else that these guys look like Stormtroopers?"
"Well, you can't get just anyone to work in the Morgul Vale," said Merry sensibly. "After all, it's a pretty nasty place. Look, here are some more of those bubbling mud pits."
"And the slopes look like something transplanted from Mars."
"Isn't that where Minas Morgul stood?" Mariole asked.
"Yes, but King Elessar razed the place," said Merry. "There's nothing left now but a curio shop featuring a few trinkets-- postcards, coasters, the skeleton of a Fell Beast..."
"How do you know that?" Frodo cried with astonishment.
"I looked it up on the Internet before we left home," Merry said. "Shall we go in?"
"No, I'd rather carry just carry on. These vapors seem to catch at my throat."
"Then I recommend a good, stiff climb. How lucky for us; we've reached the foot of the Straight Stair. Up you go!"
"Ooh," Frodo groaned. "I forgot how much I hated this."
The stairway went on and on, narrow and treacherous. The party struggled upward, gripping with cramped fingers and forcing their aching legs to carry them yet higher up the sheer, deadly cliff.
"Will this never end?" Maggie sank to the ground, exhausted. "That's it. I will never use my Stairmaster again."
"But you can't stop now," said Mariole. "You've brought most of the power lembas."
"I don't care!" Maggie cried. "This stairway is just too much. I'm going home."
"You can't go home," said Merry. "That would be out of character. Besides, the stairway ends just up ahead."
The party staggered on. Finally, we rested in a saddle at the top of the stair.
"Whatever you do," said Merry, "don't look down."
"Ugh!" cried Frodo. "You made me look!"
"All right," Mariole encouraged. "Catch your breath, everyone, and then we'll try the Winding Stair."
Fortunately, this second stair was easier. Before too long, Frodo was able to announce, somewhat nervously, "Here we are, Shelob's Lair."
"Oh, yuck!" Merry held his nose. "Did it smell this bad the first time?"
"Worse," said Frodo.
"You don't suppose she's still in there," said Maggie worriedly. "After all, Sam didn't actually kill her."
Frodo hesitated. "I... hadn't considered that."
Merry forced a smile. "Well, there's nothing to do about it now, unless you want to climb the stairs again. The only way out is through. Come along, everyone!"
Clustering together for safety, the party entered the stifling tunnel. Soon the light dropped off to nearly nothing.
The party groped along in the dark.
"Ouch, that's my foot!"
"Sorry, Frodo."
*grope, grope, feel*
"Ouch, that's not my foot!"
"Heh-heh, sorry, Merry," said Maggie.
*grope, stumble, feel, grope*
After what seemed like hours of feeling about in the dark, we staggered out the opposite end of the tunnel.
"That was really disgusting," said Frodo.
"Yes," said Merry, "and Shelob's Lair was no picnic, either."
Somewhere, a drummer hit a rim shot.
"But look where we are now," said Frodo. "If I'm not mistaken, we have reached... the Tower of Cirith Ungol!"
Awed, the party stared in silence, there on the edge of the Gorgoroth Plains.
Click here for a complete list of our NZ adventures.
We hurried after him, regret in our hearts.
"I'm so sorry, Frodo!" Mariole said. "I never meant to make light of the terrible burden you carried for all of us, or the bitter sacrifices that you so selflessly made on everyone's behalf."
"I feel dreadful," said Maggie, "for seeming to care more about a hot bath with a frisky hobbit than attending to the lingering unrest in your soul."
"Here." Merry brought forth his peace offering. "This is Pippin's special recipe. I hope it will help to ease your distress, if only a little."
Frodo took the cake thoughtfully. "Well, it does look tasty." He took a tentative nibble. "Actually, it's quite good." He tucked in.
"Do forgive us, dear Frodo," begged Mariole, as the former Ringbearer made short work of the cake. "From now on, we will remain totally focused on our task. Healing for you, in mind and spirit."
"No more silliness!" vowed Maggie.
"That's right," said Merry, with firm resolve. "Let us leave all foolishness behind. Come, my excellent cousin. Lick the last of the icing from your fingers, and prepare for the next stage. To the Crossroads!"
"To the Crossroads!" cried the party.
Briskly, we set forth. Frodo followed along in a greatly improved state of mind, humming contentedly despite the solemn ridges of the Ephel Dúath looming in the East.
"Here we are!" Merry announced cheerfully. "The Crossroads."
Frodo hesitated. "The place seems to have changed."
"Nonsense," said Merry. "Here are the Riders of the Rohirrim, crossing on their noble mounts. And see how the traffic from Osgiliath has increased. I even hear the great beasts of the Haradrim use this crossing, engaged in peaceful trade."
"And there is the statue of the old king," said Maggie, "with its stone head restored, just as you last saw it!"
Frodo looked at the statue suspiciously. "Are you sure we've left all silliness behind us?"
"Absolutely," said Merry. "Now, buck up. We're heading into the Morgul Vale."
Doggedly we turned east, into the ravaged valley. Despite the years since the War, a lingering gloom hung over the land.
"Does it bother anyone else," Frodo asked, "that this stream looks and smells like urine?"
"I reckon the clean-up efforts are still underway," said Merry. "Look, there are some chaps busy at it now."
Mariole said dubiously, "Does it bother anyone else that these guys look like Stormtroopers?"
"Well, you can't get just anyone to work in the Morgul Vale," said Merry sensibly. "After all, it's a pretty nasty place. Look, here are some more of those bubbling mud pits."
"And the slopes look like something transplanted from Mars."
"Isn't that where Minas Morgul stood?" Mariole asked.
"Yes, but King Elessar razed the place," said Merry. "There's nothing left now but a curio shop featuring a few trinkets-- postcards, coasters, the skeleton of a Fell Beast..."
"How do you know that?" Frodo cried with astonishment.
"I looked it up on the Internet before we left home," Merry said. "Shall we go in?"
"No, I'd rather carry just carry on. These vapors seem to catch at my throat."
"Then I recommend a good, stiff climb. How lucky for us; we've reached the foot of the Straight Stair. Up you go!"
"Ooh," Frodo groaned. "I forgot how much I hated this."
The stairway went on and on, narrow and treacherous. The party struggled upward, gripping with cramped fingers and forcing their aching legs to carry them yet higher up the sheer, deadly cliff.
"Will this never end?" Maggie sank to the ground, exhausted. "That's it. I will never use my Stairmaster again."
"But you can't stop now," said Mariole. "You've brought most of the power lembas."
"I don't care!" Maggie cried. "This stairway is just too much. I'm going home."
"You can't go home," said Merry. "That would be out of character. Besides, the stairway ends just up ahead."
The party staggered on. Finally, we rested in a saddle at the top of the stair.
"Whatever you do," said Merry, "don't look down."
"Ugh!" cried Frodo. "You made me look!"
"All right," Mariole encouraged. "Catch your breath, everyone, and then we'll try the Winding Stair."
Fortunately, this second stair was easier. Before too long, Frodo was able to announce, somewhat nervously, "Here we are, Shelob's Lair."
"Oh, yuck!" Merry held his nose. "Did it smell this bad the first time?"
"Worse," said Frodo.
"You don't suppose she's still in there," said Maggie worriedly. "After all, Sam didn't actually kill her."
Frodo hesitated. "I... hadn't considered that."
Merry forced a smile. "Well, there's nothing to do about it now, unless you want to climb the stairs again. The only way out is through. Come along, everyone!"
Clustering together for safety, the party entered the stifling tunnel. Soon the light dropped off to nearly nothing.
The party groped along in the dark.
"Ouch, that's my foot!"
"Sorry, Frodo."
*grope, grope, feel*
"Ouch, that's not my foot!"
"Heh-heh, sorry, Merry," said Maggie.
*grope, stumble, feel, grope*
After what seemed like hours of feeling about in the dark, we staggered out the opposite end of the tunnel.
"That was really disgusting," said Frodo.
"Yes," said Merry, "and Shelob's Lair was no picnic, either."
Somewhere, a drummer hit a rim shot.
"But look where we are now," said Frodo. "If I'm not mistaken, we have reached... the Tower of Cirith Ungol!"
Awed, the party stared in silence, there on the edge of the Gorgoroth Plains.
Click here for a complete list of our NZ adventures.