Neither Gunnolf nor I could see through the blinding white that surrounded us. The blue roan stallion stumbled and almost lost his footing as the light receded from around us, and a jolt was sent up through the horse's body and the saddle as his hooves hit flat, solid ground.
Mountainous rock, snow, and ice no longer were our surroundings, rather a rolling grasslands with spars trees and pockets of wood and rock. We appeared to be at its border, heading out amongst the plains with a forest at our backs. Reflexively, I jerked up hard on the reins. Gunnolf slammed his heals into the dirt and reared up high, tucking his forelegs under himself in protest at the harsh command.
Where in Oblivion-?
From my now mostly still position, for Gunnolf was stamping and shuffling his feet and throwing his head at our new surroundings, I surveyed the area. At the second I took to breathe, pain flooded my body like fire, adrenalin starting to leave my system. The sun above was boiling hot, and I burned under my winter-in-Skyrim apparel, even with a light breeze that smelt like Autumn. I pushed the pain aside with horrific difficulty to the back of my mind, shushing the Wolf within so I could listen. On the wind the sound of a river pricked my ears, though it was some distance off, two or three miles at the most. My head swam, and my vision was becoming distorted as if I had consumed too much alcohol. Fighting against it, I warred with myself on what to do next, till multiple blood chilling, ear piercing screeches split the air like a knife.
I wasn't able to stop a cry from passing my lips. Gunnolf squealed in alarm, and turned round left away from the sounds. I quickly caught him from bolting out onto the plains, and instead fought him to turn right and ride to the crest of the hill we stood upon. Once there, I was able to look down upon more of the land at which we had appeared.
The rolling plains continued over the crest, and in the distance the grey-blue line of a river could be seen cutting through the land. Nine black figures on black steeds rode hard out across the grass and stones, not too far ahead from where Gunnolf and I stood on the hill.
Are they the cause of those hideous screams?
Looking harder against the glaring sun, I noticed a gleam of white at the head of the host of riders. Immediately I knew what I was witnessing, having taken part in one many times.
"It's a chase, Gunnolf." I spoke aloud to the stallion. A commotion snapped my attention farther right down the hill to the line of trees. Two tall figures and three smaller ones appeared, fruitlessly heading in the direction of the chase. I knew immediately, with no explanation of how, that the nine riders could not be allowed to catch their quarry.
Quickly, I strapped my shield back to the saddle, painfully rolling the arrowhead in my shoulder in the process, and sheathed my sword. With spurs jabbed into his flank, Gunnolf reluctantly leapt down the hill. I didn't head straight for the path of the rider's; I would gain no ground that way. Instead I took a path that would have me meeting them at an angle from the left. Turning my head, I looked back for a brief moment towards the party at the border of the wood as I passed them from farther down the tree line. I could smell their fear and apprehension. Turning back forward I pushed the building pain and discomfort back again, focusing on the chase. Adrenalin began to flood my system again, and despite the pain, the Wolf in me became excited.
The hunters were about to become the hunted.
Leaning forward in the saddle and taking some of my weight out of it and putting more in the stirrups, I gave Gunnolf a little more rein to extend his neck. He moved from a canter to a gallop, his hooves hitting the ground hard. The figures were still far ahead of us, and I urged Gunnolf faster still. The wind tore at my cloak and whipped Gunnolf's long black mane into my face; still I pressed him harder. We hadn't ridden this hard and fast in years.
I pressed my spurs into his sides again, and gave more rein to indicate that I wanted him to push his limits. Gunnolf gave in, sensing my urgency and willingness, he put the winds to shame. The rhythmic count of his gallop became an indistinguishable pounding of hooves on the ground as he pushed his body into a run. Head and neck extended forward and legs reaching as far as physically possible, we became a grey, black, and green blur on the landscape.
Flying as if on the wind, the riders in black began to grow larger on our right, as did the river in front of us. Almost drawing level with them, I directed Gunnolf with my left leg to carry to the right so we were behind the party. I now was able to get a good look at what I was hunting. All nine had dirty, pitch black robes with steeds to match, and hoods pulled up over their heads while hunched forward in their saddles. I finally came up next to the rider at the rear of the group, who turned his hooded head to face me.
An over-whelming sense of fear gripped at my heart. I could see nothing under the hood: no eyes, no shadow of a face, but still I felt as if the rider was staring into my very soul. It screeched out a high pitched note, and the other eight responded.
Tearing my eyes away for the abyss under its hood, I mentally guarded myself and pushed Gunnolf forward again. Ahead I could see the lead rider pulling up next to the bright white stallion, who seemed to be glowing against the contrasting darkness of its pursuer. A small figure garbed in a green cloak was huddled in the saddle. An over whelming urge to protect this rider over took the darkness that plagued my mind only seconds before. Rage boiled up inside of me as the black rider reached a black steel gauntleted hand out to the figure on the white horse.
Fire was in my sword hand before I could think, and I sent a ball of flame that landed right next to the lead rider. Its horse screamed and pulled up and away, galloping wide of the white horse. The river was not half a mile away.
Get past the river, stallion, that's all you have to do.
Instinct told me they would be safe once they forded the river. I sent another blaze of fire at the rider next to me. It missed, but detoured the rider away nonetheless. The rumbling of water grew nearer, and the splashing of a large creature pushing through it. Suddenly, like carrion birds to a battle field, I was surrounded by all nine riders on all sides. Gunnolf pulled up harshly, almost head-butting me in the face with the top of his head. They circled us wildly, each one drawing long swords of crude, black steel. The stallion under my saddle began to turn wildly around, and didn't cease even when I drew my own long sword from my back; a blade to match the short sword on the saddle. It, too, was forged of Skyforge steel, and shown in the sun.
They continued to circle, screeching and bellowing the whole while, till one, the one whom I had first thrown fire at, pulled up and spoke. "Who are you to defy us our Master's quarry?" Its voice was steel on stone, and my ears hurt to hear it. The voice sounded distant, like a scream in a wind storm, yet also crushingly heavy and close, as if it were in my head. Fighting to keep my voice steady, I replied, "I know not what you are, foul creature, and I care not who your Master is. Cease your chase, and follow no more!"
All nine cried out angrily and closed in and I raised my sword above my head, giving a battle cry of my own. I parried the first blow, striking out in an arch to slice the rider closest to my right in the shoulder. Spinning Gunnolf around and around, I kept him moving for fear of us becoming sitting ducks in a sea of slaughter fish. The black horses closed in even closer, and I did more blocking than serving blows. It was as if I was striking at empty robes.
"FUS!" I Shouted, gaining more room to make a break for the river. As a gap was made in the wall of riders, one stepped up, blocking my way. Knowing that my blade would probably do no harm to the rider, I brought Gunnolf side by side with the mount. Leaning back in the saddle, I swung my sword down on one of the black steed's hocks, severing the thick tendon just about the joint. The horse screamed in pain, and fell back onto its haunches, front hooves buffeting the air in an attempt to stay upright and balanced. The cloaked rider was thrown from its back, emitting a scream of its own as it hit the ground, almost being crushed by the body of its falling mount. I spared a glance over to the far bank to see the white stallion and his small rider atop the hill just up the bank. That was a mistake though. Another black rider's sword came round in a passing blow, cutting easily through wool, leather, and linen, all the way into the flesh of my side. I yelled as it burned almost as much as a silver blade. Fresher blood soaked quickly through my armor and clothing, leaching down the fabric of my trousers and streaming down Gunnolf's side. Mustering up my strength, I practically screamed:
"FEIM ZII GRON!"
A feeling of weightlessness came over me and I pushed through the wall of black cloaks and steel, directing Gunnolf for the river. Screams of fury rose up around me and behind me as attacks passed through me harmlessly. They were quickly left behind as foaming waters rose up around my mounts hooves. We rose up the opposite shore as the Shout faded, and the weight of the world came crashing back down. I could have cried at the sound of horses moving through water. Turning around weakly in the saddle, the eight riders that still stood were fording the river. The one who had been ungracefully dismounted was hunched on the ground, attempting to regain its footing, using its fallen mount as support. The horse upon the ground keened and wailed out in pain, unable to stand.
Just before the riders in the river reached the far bank, the water rose up from around their feet, flowing back up stream. Every head turned to look upon a wall of water, with the foam rolling and crashing forward in the shapes of great white horses. The riders in the river-bed turned down stream and fled the rumbling waves of water, which came barreling down upon them before they had gotten more than a few paces.
The water in the river settled. The riders did not reappear.
I hunched over the pommel of my saddle in relief. They are gone.
The rider still on the shore gave out a hideous screech of anger and defeat, then became nothing more than a pile of black robes and armor next to the felled horse. The two tall figures from the forest suddenly appeared running up to the opposite bank I had just come from. Another figure garbed in grey robes came from the brush and trees on the side of the bank I was on, calling out across the river as the two forded it. The waters stayed quiet as they waded through. The tall grey figure from the brush went straight to the white stallion and its small rider. I was still quite close to the river bank, and as the two figures made it across, one clad in blue and grey and gold, the other in dark green, they moved to approach me on Gunnolf. Raising my sword in warning, my blade suddenly clattered to the ground as pain shot through my body with renewed vigor.
There was no pushing it down this time.
The Wolf howled and whined out in anguish, I would only allow myself to whimper in the presence of these strangers. The two made to approach again, speaking in soft but urgent tones. Gunnolf backed off in alarm, though from no direction from me. My ears could not hear what they were saying, only that they were speaking. My vision swam and I fought to stay upright in the saddle with Gunnolf's turning and baulking. I tried as best I could to soothe him, but I had no strength left for any words or spells. The figure in dark green manage to catch Gunnolf's bridle and hold him,
Desperately I tried to focus on the man's face, but my vision was too blurry. I was starting to feel a mixture of hot and cold. My blood was boiling from the silver but my skin was cold and clammy from blood loss. There was more commotion around me as riders came from the path that was followed after the ford at the river.
Someone was speaking to me. I tried to listen but I couldn't make out any words. Gunnolf started to move forward again as two of the riders on bay mounts flanked him on either side. The whole group began to move with steady speed back up the path away from the river. I felt myself slipping and I didn't have the strength to catch myself. Perhaps falling off my horse after a chase worth singing about wasn't a bad way to die.
I welcomed it, actually. Then the pain of everything would finally end.
I was not so lucky. A strong hand shot out of somewhere and steadied me. It did not relieve itself of me, but kept ahold so that I was not at risk of falling again.
Through blurred vision and sound, the path beneath our horse's hooves became soft beds of grass, then neat patterns of stone. The air became refreshingly chill, and sounds of a great waterfall echoed around the rocky walls of a gorge we had just ridden through.
My consciousness was fading fast, and black rings played on the edge of my vision. Each breath was harder to draw than the last, and everything was slowly becoming wonderfully numb. Perhaps I will pass to Sovngarde on this day after all. It is a shame I will never find out more about where I am.
The riders split off into a larger space. I could hear even more commotion around me, although in my ears it was distant. Horns blew from somewhere, and the sounds of many people also could be vaguely heard.
The next thing I knew and the last thing of the immediate future that I remember was crying out as I was gently slid from Gunnolf's back.
You have no idea how long this took to type! It was fun though, I had such a specific picture in my head of how I wanted it to look and feel, and I think I did it all right. Just an FYI, the story will be following the LOTR books, only occasionally having movie references. Since this is a crossover category that has very few stories in it, I know it will not be getting a lot of traffic, so if you are one of the few who does find it, pleeeeaaaaase review!