AN - Can you guess it? Another writing assignment! I'm sensing a pattern... Parents for prompt again, I think. Any mistakes are mine, and I always appreciate reviews. Don't own LOTR. Don't want to. If I did own it, would not be as good as it is.
I rode hard after these orcs, and to see them now, dead and burning, gives me feelings of both satisfaction and anger. Satisfaction because the orcs that had run rampant across Rohan were dead. Anger because they had taken so many of my men with them. 15 men and 12 horses. The men, loyal and brave. The horses, well trained and strong. Their lives far to short. They will be long mourned, just as every soul who has died in this seemingly endless war. Why must so many die in this conflict? Why must there be a conflict? It all seems pointless to me.
And then theres the problem I have about going back to Edoras... I left without my uncle's permission to ride after these orcs. He is the king, and he will be rather upset upon my return, I believe. I do not care. The orders did not actually come from my uncle. They came from Saruman.
Saruman. That filthy traitor should not be aloud to live! It is he who sends these uruks across our lands. It is he to means to kill us and our families. It is he who has poisoned the king's mind, leaving so little of my uncle that I can scarce see the man who raised me. My uncle is little more than a shell. A weak puppet with a strong person holding the strings. It was Saruman who gave the orders against my leaving when orcs ran unchallenged across the plains.
It is hard to see my uncle thus. It was he who raised me after the deaths of my parents. My sister and I were like brother and sister to our cousin Theodred, may he ever rest in peace. And seeing this man, my uncle, my King, under the control of The White Wizard is the reason I disobeyed orders.
We ride, those loyal to Rohan, over the fields; we challenge where before there had been no challenge. We do not laugh or sing. We do not smile. There is nothing to be happy about. No reason to laugh or sing. There is no joy here.
We had been riding for a rather short amount of time when we were unexpectedly hailed. And now, standing before us is such an odd little company. Three men, and I use the term 'men' lightly. And elf, a man and a dwarf. Garbed as such that until we were called apon, we saw them not! The dwarf, Gimli, who speaks kind words about the Lady of the Golden Wood that lies on our northwestern border, is the son of Gloin, a dwarf I have not heard of. Not that I have heard of many dwarves.
The elf, Legolas of the Woodland realm of Mirkwood, to our northern borders. We have heard tales of elves and dwarves, but in the tales, they are enemies, and yet, when I threatened the dwarf the elf was quick to come to his defense! Truly we walk in dreams.
And the man, Strider at first. Dare I believe him? Aragorn, son of Arathorn. The heir of Isildur and Elendil! The long lost king of Gondor. Maybe, just maybe, they are exactly what we need! After all, to come so far in so few days, surely they are blessed! Maybe they are the ones who will save Rohan. Save Theoden. One can always hope...