What is courage now?
Is it just to go until we’re done?
Men may call us heroes when
They can say we’ve won
But if we should fail, what then?
What is courage now?
 
--Leslie Fish, Fellowship Going South, © Leslie Fish, 1975
 
“Welly-welly-welly-well, we are in the soup and no mistake---up to our ears we’re in the soup,” drawled Draco Malfoy.  Sitting on the edge of a cliff, he wrapped his arms around his knees and stared off to the south and east. 
 
“Must you mention food?” snapped Ron.  He hadn’t eaten all day---none of them had.  Peering off in the direction Malfoy was looking, he could see a dark line on the horizon, with an occasional flash of red light from beneath it.  “How are we found for food, anyway, Hermione?”
 
Hermione looked up from the map she had pulled out.  “We took a lion’s share of the food the Fellowship had, including most of the lembas.  I feel bad about that, but Aragorn’s an expert on wilderness survival, and the others aren’t far behind.  None of us are, so we need every edge we can get.”  She looked abstracted for a minute or two, as she considered the question.  “We’ve got enough food to see us right for about a month or so, and that should be enough to finish this trip---barring the unforeseen.”
 
“But the unforeseen’s a given here,” put in Harry.  “Just for starters, I didn’t plan on leaving when and how we did, although I thought the time would come when we’d split up.  Also, those maps don’t show how difficult these bloody hills are to get through.”  Absently, he took off his glasses and polished them with a scrap of cloth, replacing them firmly on his nose.
 
It was the third day since the Hogwarts students had fled the Fellowship.  After abandoning the boat, they had headed into the hills of the Emyn Muil, hoping to find a way across and to Mordor.  They had beat their way eastwards, as best they could, although they had had to retrace their steps again and again because the ways they could find were not always easy to follow; they had found themselves faced with unclimbable cliffs more than once.  Now they were at the eastern edge of the Emyn Muil, and could find no way down.  Below them, they could see---and smell---marshes. 
 
Ron looked carefully at his old friend.  Harry seemed little the worse, but he had changed, somehow.  He had developed a habit of clutching at the front of his shirt, at about the point where the Ring hung on its chain.  Other than that, there were no changes that Ron could quite put his finger on, but he sensed that Harry’s donning of the Ring had been a turning point for him, in ways that he didn’t quite understand.
 
“Mordor,” murmured Draco, his eyes fixed on the southeast.  “If we’ve got to go there, I’d just as soon get it over with quickly.  Damn this place for not letting us ride brooms!  What I’d give for my broom, right now!”  He got up, giving the cliffs they were sitting on an appraising look.  “Even I’m not keen on trying to climb this lot.  Night’s falling, too, and that’ll make things more dangerous still.”
 
“We should camp for the evening,” said Hermione.  “Tomorrow we might be able to find a way down and to Mordor.” She brushed a lock of hair back from her face; Ron thought that she looked tired and drawn, as they all did.  “I wish we had taken the other way, leaving the others behind long before we did.  According to this map, we could have avoided getting tangled up in these hills, and gone over what is marked as “the Battle Plain” and into the passes to Mordor.  It’s too late to retrace our steps, though; the orcs are out and about, looking for us.”  She drew her Japanese short sword, contemplating the blade absently.  “Even with wands and weapons, we’re no match for a whole company of orcs, I fear.” 
 
They spent the night in a stony hollow, sleeping as best they could.  The weather was cold and raw, and they took turns keeping a watch.  None of them really slept well, and Ron, for one, was almost glad to see morning come, if only so that he could move about and get the stiffness out of his arms and legs. 
 
“If they could see us in Lorien, now, how they’d laugh,” murmured Hermione, as they sat around eating some of their dried meat and fruit.  At her companions’ questioning looks, she explained: “The elven women there would never let me forget this.  Here I am, after all, the only female among three males, and none of you have made so much as a move toward me.”  She grinned her old grin; it flashed across her face in a second, lighting her whole face up like the sun coming from behind a dark cloud.  “I guess real travel, particularly under these conditions, kind of puts a kibosh on romance.  I doubt I could get much interested in that right now.”
 
“Even if Gilderoy Lockhart showed up and wanted a quick snog?” asked Draco, his eyes dancing with mischief.  Hermione threw a fruit rind at him and made a face.
 
“Don’t remind me about that---I was only twelve years old, for the gods’ sake!  If you’re still annoyed about me teasing you about that silly magazine, I’m sorry.  It’s just that we women find those magazines incredibly amusing.” 
 
“You know, in a way, I guess Lockhart was lucky he lost his memories,” mused Harry.  Ron gave his friend a curious look, and Harry explained.  “Think about it, Ron.  What do you think would have happened to him, if he’d been just fine, when your Mum found out that he had been willing to let your baby sis die in the Chamber of Secrets, and had tried to destroy your memories?”  Harry gave Ron an evil grin.  “I think that before your Mum was done with him, Lockhart would have thought that Azkaban sounded like a nice, safe place to be; she couldn’t get at him there, after all.” 
 
Ron thought about what his mother would have done to Lockhart, and gave a theatrical shudder.  “She’d skin him alive and roll him in itching powder, and then my dad and all my brothers would take turns.”  Memories of Hogwarts were comforting, in a way, although it also hurt to think about the place.  If they had been at Hogwarts, they’d have just been waking up in their dormitories, with nothing more challenging than a difficult test ahead. 
 
Changing the subject, Ron asked Harry: “Do you think Gollum’s still on our trail?” 
 
Harry considered carefully.  “I haven’t seen or heard anything for some time.  I’d bet that even he would have a hard time tracking us.  I hope to the gods we’ve seen the last of him.”   He looked off to the south and east.  “Come on, we’re burning daylight.  I  feel exposed here.  There’s got to be a way down, if we can just find it.” 
 
For the rest of that day, they explored along the cliff’s edge, but they couldn’t find a way down, no matter where they looked.  They sometimes heard what sounded like bare feet padding along after them, or a stone falling, but when they stopped to listen, all they could hear was the wind.  Ron didn’t like that sound, either---it was too much like the sound of breath hissing between sharp teeth.  He remembered the glimpses he had had of Gollum vividly, and hoped fervently that he had seen the last of the creature. 
 
Finally, as the day was coming to an end, they found a ravine cutting the cliff in two.  Draco looked at it, appraisingly.  “This looks like the best way down, at least that we’ve found so far.”  The cliffs were lower, and the gully led downward toward the marshlands below.  “At worst and least, if we do have to climb at the end of this, it won’t be nearly as bad as trying to clamber down those cliffs all the way.”
 
The others deferred to his opinion; since leaving the Fellowship, Draco had become their oracle on matters of outdoorsmanship.  Harry and Hermione had been children of the suburbs, and Ron had never had much chance to gain outdoor skills.  When asked how he had learned so much about outdoor skills, Draco had drawled: “Given the choice between Malfoy Manor or the moors and fells, the moors and fells don’t look so bad.” 
 
The scramble down the gully was tougher than it had seemed at first; midway down, they found some trees, mostly dead ones.  Finally, they came to the edge of the gully, and Draco peered over.  “We’re down a good way from where we were,” he reported.  “From here down, I think we can climb; the cliff face isn’t nearly as steep as it was back where we were.” 
 
Ron looked up uneasily.  The sky was clouding up rapidly.  “Right now, I vote we get down there fast.  That’s a thunderstorm coming, or I’ve never seen one.”  A distant mutter of thunder confirmed his prediction.  “Where is that rope?”
 
Draco and Hermione opened their packs.  “Looks like we need about a hundred feet, or a little more,” said Draco, pulling out a coil of the light, strong rope the elves had given them.  He took one end of the coil and began measuring it, paying it out between his arms.  “Let me see, I’m just short of six feet tall, so we can call each of these five-and-a-bit.  Five, ten, fifteen…” 
 
Hermione looked up doubtfully at the sky.  “Hurry up, Malfoy!  That storm’s coming fast!”  The wind had picked up, moaning among the rocks.  “Here’s a stump we can tie the ropes to, but we’d better get moving!”
 
Ron came over and looked at the stump, with Harry behind him.  It looked strong enough to take their weight.  Draco called:  “There---a hundred and twenty feet!” 
 
At that moment, the storm broke.  The wind howled down on the four wanderers, driving a pelting, cold rain with it, as the lightning flashed and thunder rolled.  Ron howled with dismay, pulling his cloak tighter around him, as a close lightning strike dazzled him.
 
“Get back!  Get away from the edge!” screamed Hermione.  Suiting action to words, she scrambled away, pulling Harry; the lightning had apparently blinded him for a moment.  When the four were back together, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a Water-Repelling Charm.
 
“This kept Harry’s glasses from crippling him, in that Quidditch game in the rain, back at Hogwarts,” she explained.  “I don’t want to get soaked through.  Getting dry will be the devil, and we could get hypothermia really, really easily.  Hypothermia can kill you as dead as any orc’s arrow or Killing Curse.”
 
“I didn’t know you knew that, Granger,” said Draco.  He looked at Hermione with what looked to Ron like unwilling, but genuine, respect.  “How did you find out about that?”
 
Hermione gave Draco a smug smile.  “I read it in a book, Draco.”  Ron shouted with laughter.
 
“If it’s in a book---anywhere---you can bet Hermione’s read it, Draco.”  The rain continued to sluice down, but protected by the Water-Repelling Charm, Ron was able to take a purely academic interest. 
 
*          *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *
 
Some time later, the storm blew itself out, heading West over the hills.  Hermione watched as the clouds rolled away and the stars peeked through.  “Looks like Gondor’s going to catch that one, boys,” she commented.  “Hard luck for them, but they’ve got houses to shelter in.  Right now, we’ve got one cliff to get down.”
 
Under Draco’s supervision, the rope was tied around the tree-stump that Hermione had found.  Then, the question arose about what to do with their packs.  “I’m not keen on taking chances with mine,” said Draco.  “Among other things, I’ve got some potions and the like in there that I don’t want to see damaged.”
 
“There’s nobody around for a long way, as far as we can tell,” said Harry.  “How about if one of us goes down, then we tie the packs to the rope and lower them, one at a time, while the one at the foot of the cliff stands guard?”
 
“Sounds like a plan, Harry,” said Draco.  Before anybody could do anything, he grabbed the rope, stepped to the side of the cliff, and lowered himself over the side.  His voice floated up: “With this rope, the climbing’s fairly easy.  Just remember to wrap it once around your waist, and take your time!”
 
Once Draco was on the ground, Harry, Ron and Hermione tied the packs to the end of the rope, which they hauled back up to the top of the cliff, two at a time, and lowered them slowly until Draco told them that they were safely on the ground.  Then, it was time to climb down.  Ron noticed that Hermione was looking pale. 
 
:”Something wrong, Hermione?” he asked.  Hermione nodded her head rapidly.  “What’s the matter?”

“I---hate heights.”  She wouldn’t look at Ron, but cast her eyes down at the ground.  Ron slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she suddenly leaned into him, letting him put both arms around her.  Harry looked at them curiously, then came over.
 
“Does this bother you, Hermione?” he asked.  His voice was very gentle.  Hermione suddenly started sobbing, clutching Ron desperately.  Ron gave Harry a slightly panicked look, but didn’t let go of her.
 
:”I hate heights!  I don’t even like flying---why do you think I don’t care for Quidditch!  I want to go home!  I want to go back to Hogwarts!”  Harry patted her awkwardly. 
 
“It’s okay, Hermione.  Nobody’s going to think any the worse of you.  We’ve all got something we’re scared of; for me it’s dementors, for Ron, it’s spiders.  If heights bother you, we’ll just have to work out something to do about it.”
 
“What’s going on up there?” Draco’s voice drifted up from below.  “What are you lot waiting for?” 
 
“Hermione’s scared of heights,” Harry called down.  “We’re trying to deal with it.”  Hermione sobbed into Ron’s chest even harder. 
 
“Hermione?” Draco’s voice went a bit louder, and Hermione stopped crying to listen.  “Hermione, there’s a way to deal with it.  All you have to do is not look down, and concentrate on your footing.  One step at a time, you can do it.  I know you can do it!” 
 
“If you’re afraid of falling, Hermione, I’ll go first.  With me and Malfoy on the ground, we can hold you up with Levitating Charms if you lose your grip.”  With that for a farewell, Harry turned, gripped the rope, looped it around his waist as Draco had, and began to make his way down the cliff.  After a few minutes, he called up “I’m down safe and sound!”
 
Hermione went over and took the rope in her turn, her expression fit for someone going to the gallows.  Ron watched, admiration filling him, as she looped the rope around her middle and backed carefully up until she stood on the edge of the cliff.  When the rope went taut in her hands, she stepped backwards, and began to climb down.  From below, Draco and Harry called encouragement to her.
 
After what seemed to Ron like hours, but had to be just a few minutes, shouts of gladness from the foot of the cliff told him that she had made it safely.  Feeling as though a thousand-pound weight had been taken off his heart, he looped the rope around himself and began to go down in his turn.  The climb was actually fairly easy, with plenty of footholds, and he was standing at the foot of the cliff in jig-time.  Hermione, Harry and Draco were waiting for him; Hermione had an expression on her face that reminded Ron of nothing so much as the first time he’d seen her cast a successful spell. 
 
“I did it!  I did it!  I did it!”  she gasped, tears of happiness running down her face.  She grabbed Ron and kissed him, and before he could get over his surprise, she did the same to Harry, and then to Draco.  “I was scared, but I did it!”
 
“You did it, Hermione.”  Draco’s face and voice showed nothing but profound respect.  “I’ve been climbing all my life, but for you to do it took more courage than I’ve ever seen.  I’d take off my hat to you, but I’m not wearing one.  Let me say, instead, that it’s an honor to know you.”
 
“For once, Draco, you’ve said just what I wanted to say,” said Ron.  Patting the radiant Hermione on the back, he went over and picked up his pack.  “Come on---let’s get going.  I’d love to see old Gollum get down that cliff!”  Then, as realization struck him, he slapped his forehead.  “Oh, gods above and below, the rope!  Gollum’ll be able to climb right down it!”
 
“Oh, will he?” asked Hermione.  Taking out her wand, she pointed it at the rope.  “Accio funis!”  The rope came tumbling down to lie in a heap at their feet.  She smiled triumphantly.  “There.  Let’s see him get down the cliff without a rope!” 
 
They moved a little distance away from the cliff, toward the edge of the marshes.  Full night had fallen, and they were tired.  Nibbling on their trail rations, they finally found a bit of shelter in the lee of a rock.  The night was cold, but despite that, Ron found himself drifting off to sleep. Beside him, Hermione slept the sleep of exhaustion, and Harry murmured in his dreams.  Ron spared a second’s concern for his friend; his dreams never, ever seemed to be pleasant.  At least he wasn’t crying out in fear in his sleep this time.
 
Suddenly, he felt Draco shaking his shoulder.  In his ear, Draco murmured:  “Look!  Look back at the cliff we climbed!”  Ron peered through the gloom, and caught his breath.  Something was climbing down, like a spider.  For a second, he fought unreasoning panic, before he saw that it had only four legs.  A frisson of horror went down his spine as he focussed more carefully---whatever it was, it was climbing down head first, like some giant insect. 
 
“Gollum?” he whispered.  Draco nodded, his expression grim in the pale moonlight.  “I thought he’d be balked by that cliff!”
 
“We all did---we were all wrong.  I’ll alert the others.”  Gently, Draco shook Harry awake, and then Hermione, putting his hand over their mouths to stop them crying out in alarm.  “We’ve got company, it looks like.” 
 
Rubbing his glasses with a scrap of cloth, Harry put them on and peered out at the cliff.  “How is he tracking us?  By smell?”
 
“Your guess is as good as mine, Potter,” muttered Draco.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting sick of him shadowing us all the time.  I want to catch him!”  Wrapping himself in his elven-cloak, Draco moved off toward the foot of the cliff. 
 
“Wait a second, Draco!”  Harry rummaged in his pack and pulled out the silvery Invisibility Cloak.  “He probably can’t see you, but he might be able to hear you.  He’s very, very dangerous!”  Pulling on the Invisibility Cloak, Harry disappeared.  His voice drifted back to Ron’s ears:  “Come on, Ron, Hermione!”
 
As they drew closer to the cliff’s foot, they began to be able to hear the creature.  Its breath hissed, and sometimes it spoke to itself.  “Ach, sss, my preciouss!  More haste less speed!  We mustn’t lose the scent, no, precious, we mustn’t, gollum!”  For a second, as it raised its face, Ron could see the light of the moon reflected in its eyes.  “Ach, sss, the White Face!  We hates it, hates it, yes we does, my precious!  Slowly, slowly, we climbs down this nassty cliff!”
 
Draco’s voice rang out suddenly: “Wingardium Leviosa!”  Gollum squealed in fear as he found himself torn from the side of the cliff, floating in midair, unsupported.  He began to struggle madly, squealing and hissing. 
 
“Petrificus Totalus!”  Hermione cast a spell in her turn, and Gollum’s struggles stopped as he froze in a grotesque position in midair.  Only his eyes still moved, and they flickered around madly as Draco brought him gently to earth.  When he was safely on the ground, Hermione called “Finite Incantatem!” and, suddenly freed, Gollum sprinted for cover---right straight at Ron.  Before Ron could raise his wand or draw his sword, Gollum was on him, his strong fingers reaching for his throat. 
 
“None of that, now!” came a sharp command, just as Gollum gripped Ron’s throat.  Gollum gasped in surprise and fear as something tore him from Ron and held him in mid-air.  Coughing and feeling his throat, Ron recognized the voice as Harry Potter.  A resounding slap sent Gollum’s head snapping back.  “Hold still and don’t try anything stupid, or I’ll kill you!  Do we understand each other?”  Another hard slap.  “I said, do we understand each other?”  Ron had never heard such anger in Harry’s voice in all their acquaintance. 
 
“Don’t hurt us!  Don’t hurt us!  We wasn’t doing anything, no we wasn’t, gollum!”  Going limp in Harry’s grip, Gollum began to whimper pitifully.  “We were losst, yess, losst and looking for our preciouss.  Who are you, and what are you going to do with us?”  He began to sob and weep.  “Are you going to kill us?” 
 
“Let loose, Harry,” said Hermione.  As Harry released Gollum, Hermione conjured up ropes, binding the gangrel creature before it could flee. Rubbing his throat, Ron stared at Gollum.  This was the first time he had ever had a good clear look at their tracker.  He was anything but prepossessing, being incredibly thin, and smaller than Ron had thought at first.  Gollum was about the size of a seven-year-old child.  His skin was fishbelly white, and his face was dominated by two huge eyes.  His expression was a mask of malice as he hissed at them, his mouth showing only a few snaggle teeth. 
 
“Welly-welly-welly-well, if it isn’t our little chum Gollum,” drawled Draco.  “And what do you think you were doing, my dear little fellow, following us, your betters, around through this nasty dangerous wilderness?”  He nudged Gollum in the ribs with the toe of his boot, not very gently.  “Planning a bit of robbery and murder, were you?”  Ron glanced at Draco.  Draco had an expression on his face that reminded Ron of Professor Snape confronted with one of his brothers’ pranks, and an unwilling stab of pity for Gollum went through his mind. 
 
“We were losst, preciouss, losst and looking for our preciouss,” whined Gollum.  :”We were trying to find our way, when we got jumped on, yess, jumped on like cats with poor little mices.  Such nice peoples you are, jumping on poor preciouss.” 
 
“Let’s have a quick talk, people,” said Harry, coming out from under the cloak.  “He’s not going anywhere.”  To make sure, Harry cast a Stunning Charm on Gollum, and the creature relaxed as far as he could in his bindings, snoring a whistling snore as his huge lamp-like eyes shut. 
 
“What do we do with him?”   Harry gave Gollum a speculative look as he sat down on a nearby rock.  “I don’t fancy just turning him loose.  He’d be right after us again, and we might not be able to catch him again.”  He took off his glasses and rubbed them with his handkerchief.   “Somehow, though, I can’t really bring myself to the point of killing him.”
 
“Neither can I,” said Hermione, looking troubled  “If we had only not crossed his path in Moria, or lost him in Lorien!  I had pictured something a lot bigger and scarier, not this poor little wretch.  I’d feel a proper brute if we killed him---and you’d have to go through me to do it.”  She stuck her chin out, looking very determined. 
 
“Easy enough for you to say, Hermione,” growled Ron.  Gollum’s fingers on his throat were a recent memory, and he knew that without his friends there to help him, he’d have been in a very bad way.  “If there’s anything he wouldn’t do, it’d be a shock to me.” 
 
Draco shrugged his shoulders.  “Me, I’m neutral.  Part of me---the old, bad part, the part that’s my father’s son---says to kill him.  The rest of me says that he may prove to be useful.  Didn’t Aragorn say something about how he thought Gollum had been in Mordor before?  He might know a way in that isn’t guarded.”
 
“Then it’s decided.  As long as we can keep him under some sort of control, we don’t kill him.”  Ron stared at Harry in awe, and a little fear.  Harry was taking command of the company, and doing so as though he had been doing it all his life.  Harry looked different, somehow; older and grimmer, and very sure of himself.  Comparing this Harry Potter with the bewildered child he had met on the Hogwarts Express, Ron could hardly believe the change. 
 
Going back over to where Gollum lay, Harry took out his wand and snapped: “Ennervate!”  As the Stunning Spell came off him, Gollum awoke, looking around wildly.  For a second, he struggled with his bonds, then appeared to accept them.  “Smeagol!  We won’t hurt you, but you have to come with us.  We’re going to Mordor, and you’ve been there before, so you’re going to show us the way.”
 
“Mordor?”  A look of fear twisted Gollum’s unlovely face.  “Ach, sss, he doesn’t want to go there, does he, preciouss?  Assh, dusst, thirsst!  Pits, pitses everywhere, and Orcs!  Thousands of Orcses, Orcses and more Orcses!  Nice people doesn’t go to such places!” 
 
“But you do, don’t you, Smeagol?”  Harry’s voice was soft and insistent.  Behind him, Draco and Hermione stood, wands at the ready in case Gollum got free.  Harry squatted down, looking directly into Gollum’s face.  “You’ve been there before, and we want you to show us a safe way in.”
 
“No!  Yes!  Once, once only, and that was yearses ago!”  Gollum began to writhe in his bonds, weeping and whimpering.  “I don’t know!  O my poor hands!  Leave me alone!  We can’t find it!  They’re always awake, gollum, gollum, dwarves, men, and elveses, terrible elveses with bright eyes!  Go away!  Don’t look at us any more!  Go to sleep!”  He turned his head toward the southeast.  “We won’t!  Not for you!” 
 
Ron and Draco glanced at each other, and Ron was startled at the look of pity on Draco’s face. There’d been a time when he would as soon have expected to see Hermione kiss Professor Snape.  “I hate to say it, but I think something…happened to him in Mordor.  Something really, really bad,” murmured Draco.  Ron nodded, and turned his attention back to Harry and his colloquy with Gollum. 
 
“Show us the way in, Smeagol, and we’ll let you go where you will.  That’s all we’re asking.”  Harry stood over Gollum, wrapped in dignity and power.  Ron was filled with admiration for how much his friend had grown. 
 
“No!  No, we won’t!  Never show you the way!” snarled Gollum.  Hermione got up and squatted down beside the imprisoned wretch, an ominous smile on her face. 
 
“Oh, yes you will, Gollum.  You’ll tell us anything we want to know.  You want to know how I know this?”  Staring at her, his huge eyes wide, Gollum nodded fearfully.  “Because, if you don’t---I’ll tickle you till you tell!  Tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle!”  As she began tickling Gollum, the creature screamed and laughed involuntarily, writhing frantically in a futile effort to escape.  Finally, he gasped out his acquiescence. 
 
“Yess, yess, we will!  We will show you the road to the Black Land, preciouss, gollum!  As long as we don’t go in there, precious will show you the way!”  Gollum began to rock back and forth in his bonds.  “Now loose us, loose us, preciouss wants to be loosed!  Can’t show you roadses if we’re tied up!” 
 
At Harry’s nod, Hermione made the ropes vanish.  Gollum sprang up, capering with delight to be free.  “We musstn’t go, not yet, gollum!  The White Face is out.  It hurts our eyes, and shows enemieses where we are, doesn’t it, my preciouss?”  He squatted down, limber as an Indian fakir, and looked up at the four, his eyes seeming to glow.  “Resst, yess, resst a while before we goes!”
 
Harry nodded, and the companions sat down nearby.  Ron began to feign sleepiness, and he noticed that the others were doing the same thing.  Slowly, slowly, he let his eyelids slide almost shut, until he was watching Gollum through the narrowest of slits.  Harry slumped to one side, and began to snore, and Ron stifled a chuckle; it didn’t sound a bit like Harry’s real snore---but it was an uncannily faithful imitation of Neville Longbottom!