Part 20

“Surely it cannot—can it be—the bladder?” Eldacar clicked his fingers. “Yes, that must be it! Here, my Lady, take the helm.”

“Oh, sir, I do not...”

But the scholar was hurrying forward, staring up at the huge silken bag and, after two swift turns around the deck, he shouted, “My Lord, Master Haldir, help me—we must lighten the ship!” He seized a small barrel and, struggling to lift it up to the gunwale, pushed it over the side.

Perplexed, Legolas looked across at Eowyn. “We are sinking, Lassui,” she shouted. “Master Eldacar thinks that the silk is damaged.” She wiped her hand on the skirts of her jerkin, and grasped the wheel again.

Eldacar, meanwhile, was rolling a second barrel. “We cannot land here,” he explained, “because we need water to attenuate the impact. We must keep her aloft for as long as we can.”

“Can we not repair the silk?” asked Haldir, taking the barrel from him and throwing it over the side.

“I do have the materials...” Eldacar had started dragging the weapons chest. “But I have not yet perfected a means of finding the leak.”

“Arrows,” said Legolas, as Haldir lifted the chest. “The Orcs were shooting arrows at us.” He looked up at the bladder. “One of them must have hit... And they ran out long before we passed over them, so it must be at the very front!” He turned to Eldacar—who had already begun moving the next chest—and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Where are these repair materials, sir?”

The scholar abandoned his task reluctantly. “Here...” he said, opening a locker and bringing out a leather satchel. He showed Legolas its contents. “These are patches of reinforced silk, and this,”—he partially drew out a bottle of yellow fluid—“is a gum of my own devising.” He pressed the satchel into Legolas’ hands with a few hurried instructions. Then, “Excuse me, my Lord,” he said, and rushed to take over the supervision of the burner so that Arador—who was pointing out that he was the stronger of the two of them—could help Haldir clear the deck.

Legolas unbuckled his quiver, laid it beside his bow, and strapped the satchel around his waist. Then, as an afterthought, he quickly detached one of his white knives, and hung it from his belt.

“Lassui?”

“I am going aloft, melmenya,” he shouted. “Just hold her steady.”

...

Legolas jumped up onto the bowsprit, seized hold of the rigging, and climbed swiftly upwards, hand over hand. At the top of the jib he paused, scanning the curved surface of the bladder, directly above him.

Nothing...

He looked down.

Sweet Eru, I do not have much time!

Up he went, hanging beneath the silk. It is really no different from scaling a Mûmak, he thought—for the bladder hissed and shuddered like a living thing—though he dared not use his feet for fear that his boots might do further damage.

By the time he reached the edge of the great rope net, he had spotted the tear—quite small and, fortunately, reasonably accessible. He climbed to it quickly, wondering what had become of the arrow that made it. Did it fall to the ground? Or did it pass right through the bladder, leaving another hole on the opposite side? He hooked one arm through the mesh, and examined the ragged edges, seeing immediately that the escaping air was forcing the threads apart, threatening to rip the fabric along its grain. It would take at least two patches to ensure that all the weakened silk was reinforced.

I must work fast!

Hanging by the crook of his elbow, Legolas reached into Master Eldacar’s satchel, found a patch, and put it between his teeth. Then he took out the bottle of gum, transferred it to his other hand, drew out the stopper (which had a small brush attached) and, with some careful juggling, managed to smear a thin layer of the noxious stuff onto the bladder, stow the bottle back in the pouch, and press the patch home.

He counted to sixty, as Eldacar had instructed.

Please, he prayed to the Valar, for Eowyn's sake, let it hold.

He lifted his hand.