Chapter 1: The Great East Road

On top of a lonely hill, the grasses swayed about her and her horse. She was tracking, though she would admit that she was not the best tracker. That had never been her job when she was with a scouting team. She was always back-up, being more skilled in healing or defense instead of the actual tracking.

She could not see very far off in the distance, her mortal eyes being nothing compared to those of an elf. As darkness fell, she only wished that no one had been following her, as she did not cover her tracks well. With a horse, a dog and her own feet, she found it impossible to cover them while still keeping up with her target.

It had been two days since she had passed through Bree with the knowledge that the Black Riders had left the town. But it was not them who she tracked. No, it was the man they were hunting. Aragorn, or Estel to her. It was with a heavy heart that she sought him. As Chieftain of the Dúnedain, he had to receive knowledge of certain activities, which what had happened fell under.

She dared not light a fire on the open plain, or even in the woods, for she knew better than to draw attention to herself. No, she sat her horse down and shivered in the cold as she awaited word from her hound who was currently finding his way back to their camp.

Munching carefully on some stale bread, she watched the pale moon rise cautiously in the sky. Did it know the evil that lurked on the plain? She knew the horror of the Black Riders. She had seen them: tall, black-cloaked men astride deranged horses that were darker than night. But it wasn't their appearances that frightened those who had seen them. It was their atmosphere and what could only be described as soul-piercing shrieks.

She heard a rustling in the grasses just below her camp and drew her sword, peering over the back of her horse, ready to pounce. "Be still, Coran. It is I, Goldor." The sapient hound loped up the hill and found his place in front of her.

Coran sheathed her sword and sat against her horse again. Running a hand through her hair, she exhaled held breath and murmured, "You gave me a fright." He only cocked his head to the side, letting her continue. "What news?"

"They make to travel over the marshes. To wash away the scent." Goldor put his muzzle on her outstretched leg and moaned in weariness. "The Nine follow. We are only about half a day behind both of them."

Scratching his ear, she asked, "So, should we traverse the distance this night or wait till morn?"

"Even if we do come upon them, how are we to evade the Nine? There is no probable way for us to reach Estel without coming in contact with the enemy."

She thought for a while, watching the clouds cover the stars and moon. How many options did she have? She could face the enemy in open combat, or follow at a safe distance behind them. If she chose to engage them in battle, she would surely be killed. The Nine would be against her and Goldor, neither who were skilled enough to take them on. If they stayed back, the possibility of Aragorn being killed increased.

What would he do? It was really the only option. What was he thinking about doing after getting through the midges and the marshes? Then it hit her just like the light from the moon shone upon the plains. Weathertop.

Standing along with Suldal, she loaded her pack back on the horse before telling Goldor about her plan. "We must fly swiftly over these plains if we are to make it to Weathertop, where he is surely heading, by sundown two or three days from now."

"Are you sure, Coran?" Goldor asked as she swung up into the saddle of Suldal. "What makes you think he is heading to Weathertop?"

"Instinct." And they were off, racing to the Weathered Hills.

They took the Great East Road, following the gentle slopping upwards of the land. They passed nary the tree, but saw more of shrubs or thorny bushes. The wooden land to the left and the right of the road stretched for miles without any vegetation that was not stripped bare of its leaves and there was no water either.

It was mid-day the next day when she slowed them to a stop, to let her companions rest. She regretted doing it earlier when Goldor had asked for a break, but she knew better than to stop so close to the Marshes. As they had turned South, away from the Marshes, she then relented and called to stop. With a little irritation, she would add. Goldor was famous for his complaints.

"Coran! Why did we not stop earlier? I am tired and thirsty. There is no water or shade here!"

Subtly, she told him her dilemma with stopping to close to the Marshes and told him that he should be grateful that they stopped at all. Pulling out her water skin and a bowl, she poured the water into the bowl so he could drink. When he had his fill, she tossed him some dried meat and took the bowl away, giving it Suldal for her to drink from. "Little Brother!" she called to him. "Rest here. Do not sleep, though. I'm going scouting. I shall be back. Watch Suldal and the road. You know what to do if there are enemies about."

"Aye, Coran." The dog slumped down next to the hooves of Suldal.

She came and whispered to the horse in Sindarin, the language that the horse knew the best. "Daro an îdh sí. Avo visto. No i Melain na le." 'Stop here for rest. Do not stray. May the Valar be with you.' Suldal neighed in understanding and allowed her to take one of her daggers from her saddle bag. "I will be back before the sun sets. Little Brother!" she called again to him. "Get off the road."

With that, she turned from their camp and headed up the hill on her left, moving north towards the marshlands. Reaching the top of the hill, she looked back down on her companions, who had quickly found a ditch in which to hide. Turning her attention back to the lands that lay before her, she surveyed the land and skies for enemies abroad.

They were not that far from the Marshes, maybe three or four leagues. They were far closer than she would have liked to be, but she knew that Aragorn would have chosen a path that cut through the marshes, leading them through the thinnest parts. But that was not what worried her. Did the Nazgûl take to the Marshes or to the road? The road was the more probable option. Turning east, she could see the road wind its way towards the weathered hills. Looking for a cloud of dust or even the figures in black themselves, she stared hard and long at the path. Finding nothing, she did a quick glance to their campsite, hoping that her companions were not at the mercy of the Black Riders.

To her relief, they were not. As she wound her way down the north side of the hill, towards the marshes and the small tributaries near them, she pondered whether the enemy would continue to stick to the road, if they indeed did take the road, or if they would cut cross-country. Deep in her gut she felt that they would stay on the road. Making the decision that would cost her miles and hours, she decided that they needed to cut across the land between the marshes and Weathertop to saving them from the inevitability of confronting the Nazgûl.

She reached a small pocket of water that collected water from a stream that came off of the hills. It had rained within the past week and mercifully it was clean, which she had decided after tasting it. She filled her water skin and climbed the next taller hill to get a better look at the road and the marshes. Nothing. Giving a quick glance at the sun, she slid down the hill and climbed up the one she originally came from. She noticed a dust cloud coming from the West and dropped down, crawling up the side of the hill with her dagger drawn. Why hadn't she brought her bow and arrows with her?

As she reached the top the dust cloud turned into a lone rider who slowed as he reached the hill. She had been seen! Or was it Goldor and Suldal? The rider stopped and she could definitely tell that the person astride the horse was not one of the Black Riders. Having the high ground she felt confident in her battle prowess and stood, calling down in Westron to the rider who was investigating the ditch where Suldal and Goldor were. "Hail, rider! What business do you have on the road?"

There was a slight, golden laugh given and he answered, "Same to you, my lady! What business is my business to you? Come down here so I do not feel as threatened! I will toss my weapons aside so I do not threaten you!"

She ran down the hill, calling out to Goldor in Sindarin, "With me, Little Brother." The hound ran up behind her. Studying the rider as he dismounted, she found that he looked familiar.

Neither spoke as he came closer, drawing his easily six-foot frame straight as he tried to gain some dominance over her. She thrust her dagger back into its sheath and asked again, "What business do you have on the Great East Road?"

He smiled and moved some hair behind one ear. His appearance, fair and tall, did not give any real clues to his race, though his ears did. They were the pointed ears of an elf. "I carry a message from the Grey Havens to Lord Elrond in Imladris. Now that I have told you my mission, tell me the reason that a woman such as yourself is travelling alone on the Great East Road."

"I am a messenger as well, though my secrets are to be kept better hidden. I –" she was cut off by Goldor, who expertly spoke Westron instead of his natural Sindarin.

"Besides, she is not alone. Goldor Orcsbane travels with her," the proud wolfhound growled defensively. His fur stood slightly up and his ears lay flat.

"A sapient dog." The elf mused. "It is a pleasure, Lord Goldor Orcsbane."

In quick Sindarin, she reprimanded the dog. "You are not to speak in the presence of others, Little Brother." He backed off but remained fairly close to her.

"Do you mind if I travel with you for a while or at least make camp with you?" His dark hair danced wildly for a second as the wind blew powerfully from the South.

"Suldal!" she called. The horse came up from out of the ditch and joined her and Goldor. She instructed the horse to judge him. She trusted the instincts of her horse. As the elf gave his hand, he whispered soothingly to the horse, but she paid him no heed as she watched the reactions of Suldal. The horse was calm and nuzzled the elf. He could be trusted, for now. "I will be travelling North East, off the road."

The elf, with that smile forever gracing his face, made the decision quickly to come with her. "My horse is fine cross country. He is Thalion the Surefoot." He mounted his horse. "Now, we know each other's companions, but we still do not know each other. Tell me your name, fair lady, and I shall tell you mine."

Following suit, she swung herself up into the saddle of Suldal. Placing her hand on her chest and bowing slightly, she greeted him politely in the Elf manner. "I am Coran of the Dúnedain, from the village of the rightful king."

"I am Erestor of Imladris." He nudged Thalion forward and waited for her. "I must ask why we are avoiding the road, my lady."

"A deep evil traverses upon it. They are the Nazgûl, the Black Riders out of Minas Morgul." They walked their horses slowly around the hill on which she had climbed. "Little Brother," she called out in Sindarin, "go ahead and scout. I do not wish to be ambushed in this land." The wolfhound sped off.

The elf took to speaking in Sindarin. "I know of who you speak of. They follow secret agents who travel to Rivendell. You choose not to take the road in fear of this enemy? What is your purpose for travelling?"

Sighing, she wished not to tell him, though she knew she could trust him. Erestor of Imladris was High Counselor to Lord Elrond. They were allies. "I bring dire news from the Shire to my Chieftain who walks with those agents you spoke of. I ride to Weathertop in search of him." She turned her gaze towards the Marshes. "They make their way through the marshes as of right now."

His constant smile faded. In deep despair, he murmured, "I can see you to Weathertop, though I cannot stay. I have pressing news as well, which needs to be delivered as quickly as possible. I am sorry to have to leave you in danger, but if your Chieftain meets with you as you believe, you should be safe then."

"I understand," she nodded. They travelled without conversation until nightfall where they stopped just East of the Marshes.

Dinner was the same as the night before: stale bread with dried meat. Erestor had nothing to offer in the way of food, but did have some more water. As she grew tired, she lay curled up next to Goldor, who had tracked them wearily and had joined them just after nightfall. They were sung to sleep by the haunting melodies of the Elvish songs that Erestor sung as he kept watch.

As the sun rose so did she. Stretching, she looked around for Thalion and Erestor who were missing. Bolting up, she drew her dagger and looked to Goldor and Suldal for answers. The wolfhound narrowed his eyes. "He drew the enemy away, taking the Great East Road. He kept you safe."

She thanked him under her breath and mounted Suldal after giving Goldor some dried meat. "We still make for Weathertop. Our minds cannot be swayed to help him, for our mission is too dire. He brought his fate upon himself and we thank him, but we cannot help him. Let us depart."

Additional info:

Goldor means 'Wolf-Howl' brother in Sindarin. Goldor looks like an Irish Wolfhound.

Suldal means 'Wind Foot' in Sindarin.

Thalion means "Steady One" in Sindarin.

A/N:

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