Quite a bit of research went into this story, but it is not perfectly accurate. Please sit back and enjoy the story as it is. It is not meant to be 100% accurate, just to be a fun, enjoyable story, so please don't take it too seriously.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Middle Earth or Narnia.
Chapter 1 - Héorim
We only left Minas Tirith three days ago, but it feels like it's been a lifetime. I've never been on an expedition before, and so far I don't like it much. I've ridden horses almost every day of my life in Rohan, but never for this long, and my backside is unimaginably sore.
Ember rides just ahead of me, sitting perfectly straight in her saddle. Of course. She's a nice enough girl, I suppose, but Bree-Landers get on my nerves. I don't understand how she ended up on this expedition. She's so young: only sixteen years old. Mind you, I'm only eighteen. Her golden hair hops a little with each step her mount takes, and it shimmers like dragon's treasure in the midday sun.
Lûthriel and Berenion take the lead, conversing amiably as they ride. They have always seemed to get along well, the Mirkwood elf and the young Gondorian lord. I feel quite lonely as I ride my plodding horse, Arodreth, at the back. I named him for the elven phrase 'noble endurance', but he doesn't seem to be living up to that name today.
The scenery around here is exactly the same, day after day: just plains. This is one of the reasons I wasn't upset when I was asked to come. I wanted to see new places, new sights, but this is exactly what I saw every day at home in Edoras. If only it would change! I can see the mountains on the horizon, but they never seem to get any closer. I wish we could hurry and get to them. No, I wish we could skip the journey and get right to the destination: the land beyond the western borders of Middle Earth.
No one's ever been there before, and the four of us have been assigned the honor of being the first. We're traveling northeast at the moment, heading for the Ash Mountains along the northern border of what was once Mordor, many years past. We'll follow the mountains east through Rhûn and keep going until we reach the Mountains of the East. Then we will cross those into whatever land lies on the other side. But until we reach it, we have this insufferable journey through the plains.
I wish I had someone to talk to, but the only person who isn't already talking to somebody is Ember, and there is no way I'm talking to her. So I sit out the rest of the day in brooding silence, swaying back and forth upon Arodreth's back, restlessly fingering the sword cinched at my waist. I wonder if I'll get to use it.
In the evening, as we set up camp and start a fire, Berenion stands and announces, "If we keep going at this pace, we should reach the Ash Mountains in five days."
"Couldn't we speed up a little?" Ember suggests, her young voice jingling through the chilling air. This is the first time I've agreed with her.
"We could, if everyone is in agreement."
"Won't it tire the horses faster?" Lûthriel asks.
"Héorim?" Berenion turns to me. "What do you think?"
"Horses are strong; a little extra speed won't hurt them," I assure him.
Berenion nods. "Then if everyone agrees?"
I nod eagerly, as does Ember. Lûthriel calculates for a moment, then joins our assent quietly.
"Done, then!" Berenion cries. "Tomorrow we'll speed up our progress. It should save us a day, at least."
Ember stretches out on her cloak while Lûthriel tends the fire, softly singing an elven song. Berenion sets up for first watch at the edge of the camp. Groaning with exhaustion, I lie stiffly on the lumpy ground and let the soft lilt of Lûthriel's melody lull me into uncomfortable sleep.