Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 2:

We rode out this morning, into the sun, packing up camp and leaving the freshly burned pile of Orcs behind us. And hopefully my sorrow as well.

I followed the team, this time in the back of the group, a long way from Éomer and Firefoot. I was constantly being dragged by this other soldier. Wincing, the reins bit into the corners of my mouth as I tried to loosen his hold. Didn't he realize he was pulling just a bit too tight for me?

"Oh, forget it, Arod, you know well he's not going to loosen."

A chestnut horse besides me remarked cheerfully. "Shut up, Hasufel," I snorted and glared at him, and he silenced himself. I knew I shouldn't be hard on him, as he had lost his master, Garulf, as well in the battle last night, but how could I not? I had lost Caruryn, Firefoot was no longer by my side but up ahead, and this stupid soldier was dragging me too hard with the reins. And I was tired as well. I was not in a good mood.

I am definitely not a happy camper today.

We kept running for about an hour before I heard a loud shouting.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

With a signal from Éomer, we banked a sharp left, and before coming to a stop, we encircled something, although I wasn't sure what. I peered over tall heads and horse bodies. "What are they stopping for?" Hasufel asked, also trying to see. "I don't know." I replied back truthfully. I couldn't see anything! Darn, these horses are tall! But there seemed to be some argument.

Then I heard Éomer's voice, loud and clear, though I didn't understand the language of Men very well.

Plowing through the crowd of horses, he said, "What business does an elf, a man and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?"

My eyes widened. My lucky day. I get to meet an elf and dwarf at the same time! This should be interesting.

Yet when nobody spoke up, the heir of Rohan didn't want to be patient. "Speak quickly!" He barked at the three. And then, a gruff yet low voice spoke. "Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine." I guessed it to be the Dwarf's.

I heard Firefoot give a growl.

There was the sound of Éomer getting off of Firefoot, and a small thud indicating that he had dismounted fully. "I would cut off your head," he said casually, though it was dripping with full coldness and a new irritation and indignation. "Dwarf - if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Hasufel let out a chuckle. I smiled a bit.

Then a sound of a bow being pulled taunt and an arrow being prepared to shoot. A creak of wood being bent was heard as well. "You would die before your stroke fell!" My ears pricked at the sharp threat. Never had I heard anyone threaten Éomer like that before. This must be a first. Spears were instinctively thrust closer to the three men, dangerously, their pointed ends ready to unarm and defend.

"I'm Aragorn, son of Arathorn." It was the voice of a man. That meant the one who threatened Éomer was probably an Elf. I inwardly gave a wry smile. Who knew? Elves could be threatening and dangerous and sing and dance well too. Odd, isn't it?

Then the one who was called Aragorn, introduced the others. "This is Gimli, son of Glóin, and Legolas, from the Woodland realm." A Mirkwood elf and a descendant of the House of Durin. Hmph.

"We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king." Aragorn said gently.

Éomer was silent. "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." Then he paused for a moment before saying, "Not even his own kin." I blinked. That Grima Wormtongue. Stinking ugly lad. Should've kicked him and sent him flying into the mud when he came near me and whenever I had the chance. Knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should - then there was the sound of spears being withdrawn.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands." The heir of Rohan said. "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Éomer sounded regretful for some reason. Then came Aragorn's voice once again.

"We are not spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive." He told Éomer

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." Éomer sounded rather dry, though it sounded as if last night he were burdened with grief and sorrow. And he had been. "But there were two hobbits," another voice said desperately and quickly, probably Gimli, "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small - only children to your eyes," Aragorn added helpfully.

"We left none alive." Éomer said, sounding a little apologetic. "We piled the carcasses and burned them." I flicked my ears, swallowing and trying not to think about Caruryn.

Then there was a small voice. "Dead?" The Dwarf said.

"I am sorry." Éomer apologized.

As the three grieved for their lost friends, whatever they were - Hobbits, I heard - There was a whistle. "Hasufel! Arod!" On instinct, I surged forward, and a path parted way for me and to my odd luck, Hasufel, behind me. I was trained to react on instinct immediately to that whistle and come to whoever whistled. Usually Caruryn used it, but...now he's not here, so Éomer uses it for me.

I came to a stop besides the prince, and Firefoot. I cast a wary glance at him, and he shrugged, not knowing what was going on. Éomer said, "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." He nodded to the three. "Farewell!"

My mind registered the words "These horses", "Masters", and "Farewell" faster than lightning striking the plains of Rohan. Those words were very familiar to me. It was before then that I realized that I was being given over to these...I looked at the three weary travelers. One of them was tall, rugged, and dark-haired. The next one was also tall, had pointed ears and light hair, and the third was short, had reddish brown hair and beard and was carrying a battle ax.

What the...oi Éomer! Have you gone insane?

Firefoot stared at me, and I stared back into those black-eyed depths. We were quiet for a few moments before I broke the silence. "Firefoot, what are they doing?" I asked desperately before he had to go.

"I-I don't know." He said quietly. "I think they're taking you away, by the looks of it." Then he averted my gaze and looked down at the grass with particular interest.

"What?" I neighed loudly. "No, they can't!"

I had already lost Caruryn, and many other friends. Not Firefoot as well..."Don't let them!" I mentally slapped myself for sounding childish and weak, but it was the truth. Why was everything being pulled away from me? Was it my destiny to be separated from all that I love and have befriended for so long? Was it my fate that I may die alone during battle? Was it that I wander heaven without a friend?

Firefoot was mounted again. Éomer made some last words, and now Firefoot had no choice but to do whatever Éomer told him to do. "We'll meet again, sometime soon?" He said hopefully to me. But I had just realized that there was no hope, so my head was bowed low in misery. "I guess," I whispered, feeling beaten up and lost.

My friend dipped his head. "It was nice fighting alongside you." He commented. "Farewell." And then he rode away, heading north. There was a loud thunder of hooves as horses left my side, saying their good-bye-until-we-meet-again farewells to us, departing.

And it was then that they mounted us.

I winced as one heavy Dwarf and one light-to-average heavy Elf mounted on me. Rather uncomfortable. I shifted awkwardly under the weight. I never had two riders on my back. Nor did I like it the first time.

I fumed to myself, feeling the short one nervously cling to the other one. He was squeezing his legs tightly around my stomach, making me already feel more uncomfortable than I already was, along with the heavy weight. I let out a snort of annoyance. Hasn't he ever rode a horse before? I wished he would loosen some more.

We rode to the burning carcasses, Aragorn and Hasufel leading, to where the battle had taken place last night. A large cloud of smoke drifted easily from it, floating to the sky. I felt the shorter one get off me, to my relief. The weight suddenly decreased and I felt better. Except there was still weight. I twisted my head around to glare at the pointy-eared one. He wasn't looking at me, but when he felt my glare, he turned to me, surprised.

"What?" He asked gently. I snorted and stamped my foot, as if saying, Well? What are you waiting for? Get off! He made a move to pat my nose gently, but instinctively I reached out and nearly bit him. He recoiled quickly with his fast reflexes, a slight scowl plastered over his fair features.

I didn't trust him or the other two. I didn't want to, probably to my high arrogance and stubborness. He stared at me a bit more, and then got off with a shrug. I glared at him, making sure he didn't come back, and then went to Hasufel.

"You know, you should be nicer to him." Hasufel remarked as I neared him. I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And why should I be? I will respond to no other than Caruryn, and you know that."

"But Caruryn's passed away, Arod, get over it. I lost Garulf as well." His words stung me like salt on a wound, and then he left me without a good retort. I stared hard at the ground, biting my lip. Why was life so difficult?

There was a shout, or else it was a scream. It was of agony and pain, and sadness and misery as well, all mixed together. I jumped an inch off the ground in surprise, and looked back at Aragorn, who was currently kneeling. It sounded like his toe was physically injured. Think it might be. I've heard enough screams of pain or misery to know the difference. I snorted and shook my mane. "What in the name of Mearas was that for?" Hasufel obviously sounded as annoyed as I was.

"I told you, they're paranoid. A bad case of insanity, if you ask me." I told him lightly.

He snorted. "Surely, you jest Arod?" He eyed me playfully. "A bad case of insanity - how do you know?" I rolled my eyes and nipped his ear.

"Because I do." I said. "That's why."

Then from the man, came a thoughtful voice. It reminded me so much of Caruryn, when he was trying to figure out a battle plan, that I had to grit my teeth from letting out any sort of noise that I was still grieving. A war horse must stay strong if he wants to survive. "A hobbit lay here, and the other." I turned to look at them all curiously. "What's a hobbit?" Hasufel mused aloud. I shrugged. "I dunno."

Aragorn kept low to the ground, as if searching for something. "They crawled." Aragorn also had Legolas and Gimli's attention, and they followed him. I took a step forward, watching them. I also didn't want to get left behind. Although I didn't like our new companions and masters, I didn't want Orcs to spring out and kill both Hasufel and I. "Their hands were bound." Then, "Their bonds were cut." As if to prove his point, he held up a broken length of rope.

"Oh!" Hasufel said brightly. "I know what a hobbit is. I almost trampled one last night - I should know. Those poor little things." He shook his head. "Well?" I demanded. "What are they?"

The chestnut horse replied, "Oh...they're small." He said loftily, his gaze towards me, though his eyes a foot above my head, his expression curious and mildly dreamy, as if he were thinking back to them.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "And?"

"Uh...they have curly heads. Well the two of them had it. And quite hairy feet. And they were small. Like children." He said thoughtfully.

I sighed. "You're hopeless." I muttered under my breath.

"I heard that!" Hasufel's loud and talkative voice echoed in the plains. Snorting, I followed the three travelers to the edge of the forest. "Where are you going?" He called to me. I didn't look back, but answered, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going with them."

"Arod! There are things in that forest, didn't you see them last night?"

Looking back, I gave him an annoyed look. "Yes, because I really had time to observe the world around me while Orcs attack from every side and Caruryn dying and Firefoot scolding me. Yes, I really think so, don't you?" I snapped at him, irritated. Hasufel looked a little hurt, but followed me. I sighed, knowing that I should apologize, but now really wasn't the time.

The travelers were far ahead, so I picked up a faster speed to catch up. They seemed rather desperate to find whoever they needed the find. The hobbits, or whatever they exactly were. "Orc blood!" The smaller one said, looking disgusted as he examined the fluids on a leaf, and tasting them too, before spitting it out.

"These are strange tracks," Aragorn said, ignoring his friend's commenting of Orc blood. He still looked to the ground, his keen Ranger eyes trained to pick up trails.

"The air is so close here." The Dwarf said, looking around.

"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memories...and anger." Legolas said. "The trees are speaking to each other." But a part of me took the words, "trees", "speaking", and "memories" and my mind reacted to the combination. "Hasufel!" I whispered excitedly.

He looked interested, like I had just introduced him to a new toy of some sort. "What?"

"Listen! The trees - they're talking!"

I wasn't just copying what pointy-eared said, I could actually hear it. Whisperings about Orcs and someone named Saruman...then cutting the trees down. I could hear about the battle and how horrible it was. The trees were actually alive. They weren't just swaying their branches in the breeze...talking trees...I looked back at the chestnut horse. His eyes were full of wonder and excitement. "I can hear them!" He said happily.

Aragorn spoke sharply, "Gimli!"

I broke out of my listening and looked to them. "Huh?" The Dwarf looked confused.

"Lower your axe!"

"Oh!" Gimli did so, but still looked perplexed at why he was told to. Pointy-ears decided to tell him why. "They have feelings, my friend." He put in helpfully. "The Elves began it: waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

Hasufel looked at me in wonder. "Elves are so cool!" He exclaimed. I shook my head.

"Talking trees." Gimli huffed, seemingly unimpressed by this new piece of knowledge Legolas had shared with us. The Elf shot him a look of slight resentment and indignation that Aragorn missed. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." I let out a chuckle, though no one replied to the Dwarf.

Instead, the amusement had ended, and they looked alert and alarmed, all at the same time. "Aragorn, nad no ennas!" Legolas said quickly. Hasufel leaned towards me slowly, his face contorted into a look of confusion. "Eh...English?" He asked me.

"No idea."

"Man cenich?" Aragorn replied in kind, approaching pointy-ear from behind. The Elf didn't answer for a moment, but his blue eyes darted to the right, and then he replied in the language I knew, "The White Wizard approaches."

"Who?" Hasufel and I both said at the same time.

Obviously our three companions knew what was going on. But they obviously weren't as observant as they were before, because they seemed not to notice us, watching. "Do not let him speak." Aragorn warned them. "He will put a spell on us!" Readying their weapons, Aragorn wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, Gimli tightened his hold on his ax, and Legolas fingered his shaft of the arrow he had notched onto his bow. "We must be quick."

Then they let out a yell, and I tensed instinctively. Then the Elf and Dwarf threw their weapons, but Aragorn's sword became to hot to hold, the blade and handle growing red with heat, and he dropped it. There was a bright light emanating from the so-called White Wizard, who was a white figure. The weapons thrown were easily knocked aside, and the figure, though you couldn't see the face, was standing before them, looking supremely unconcerned by the situation.

"Bright lights," Hasufel commented dreamily. "Pretty."

I rolled my eyes and snorted, still watching.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits." The bright figure said. His voice was calming and gentle, but low and a bit gruff. "Where are they?" Aragorn demanded all a little too roughly.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

Apparently not.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" He demanded. Then the light gradually diminished, and there was an old man with white hair and beard, with a kind smile, dressed in white. "It cannot be!" Aragorn gasped.

Hasufel looked confused. "He fell? As in tripped? No wonder, his robes are too long."

He was lucky that nobody in this strange, small motley group could understand the horse language or else Hasufel would've been kicked out a long time ago before. Pointy-ear bowed down, and so did Gimli. Aragorn didn't notice. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." Legolas said.

The White Wizard smiled gently at the Elf. "I am Saruman." He said, but then he said, after some afterthought, "Or rather Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell!" Aragorn said incredulously.

"Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and each day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done." The old man said.

"Gandalf," Aragorn breathed. I made a mental note to myself, remembering that the old man's name was Gandalf. Strange names. "Gandalf? He asked, a little confused and startled to hear his name, for some reason. "Oh yes." He mused. "That's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

Hasufel leaned towards me, a perplexed look on his face. "Is it just me...or does he not know his name?"

I didn't even look at him. "I told you, men are paranoid." In fact, they truly were, or else I could be back at home eating buckets of hay.

They kept talking on and on, until finally they decided that it was time to move. "We should go now," I whispered to Hasufel, as they approached our hiding spot. We quickly walked all the way back to the forest, remaining out of sight until we made a burst of speed in our panic if they should find us wandering in the Fangorn Forest. We then were back into the light, quickly pretending to graze.

They took our reins. I made a face to the pointy-eared one, and Hasufel laughed. Outside the forest, Gandalf stopped a bit of a distance away from us and whistled piercingly. It was shrill and high, but it reminded me somewhat of my horse whistle.

Soon a neigh answered his whistle, and from the plain, a mighty white horse appeared, answering the call again.

My jaw must've dropped eighty miles to the center of the earth. Hasufel beat me, though. His jaw made it to a hundred miles. Darn!

"The Lord of the Horses," I breathed, my heart beating fast, and faster as he came nearer to us. I never though I would ever meet with Lord Shadowfax. Much less a horse of the race of Mearas.

"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." Legolas said, noticing the new horse that came to us. Hasufel's eyes were the size of watermelons. "I sure hope not," he said desperately. I agreed.

Shadowfax approached, his pearly white head high in his nobility and dignity, and stopped in front of Gandalf, who said, "Shadowfax." He stroke his neck gently. "He's the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers."

Hasufel and I both stood side by side, frozen as the great white horse turned his attention to us. My heart skipped a beat. The lord dipped his head. "Greetings, horse friends. I am Shadowfax. What are your names?"

Hasufel answered at once. "Hasufel," he said quickly, wanting to be introduced first. I suppressed a snort. Thanks for pushing me aside. "Arod," I said calmly, though I was sure that some layers of protection in my voice was peeling to reveal nervousness. Shadowfax stared at me. "It's an honor to meet you." Hasufel added in, trying to peel away the horse lord's attention on me.

Shadowfax laughed, his neigh like bells of joy and mirth. Then Gandalf mounted him, pointy-ear and shorty mounted me, to my dismay, and Aragorn mounted Hasufel.

And then the three of us rode off into the distance, across the plains.

There, like I promised, a longer chapter than the first. But I doubt that made any of a difference anyways.

8/22/11: A good 4000 words now. ;D

Oh Arod. Will you ever cope with pointy-ear and shorty?

Please review! :D *Holds up brownies* Plus thanks to whoever read this story!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes