Chapter 2:
"Everybody takes forever to fall asleep,
Everybody's got a life they don't want to keep
Everybody needs a prayer, and needs a friend"
The National, Lean
"Awake! Awake!"
I jolted awake, pulling myself up quickly into a sitting position. The light of dawn shone harshly in my eyes and I squinted in confusion as Legolas called to wake us up.
"It is a red dawn," he said, the familiar words helping to wake me up. "Strange things await us by the eaves of the forest. Good or evil, I do not know; but we are called. Awake!"
"We're awake," I mumbled as I crawled from my bed and began to roll it up, pausing to rub the sleep from my eyes. I heard Gimli huff in approval, clearly not enjoying the elf's liveliness any more than I was. However, we all quickly packed up and started off again on our third day of the hunt.
Another night's rest had done wonders for my leg, and I was pleased to find that I no longer needed to limp along as I had the day before. The cut itself was nearly closed, and showing no signs of infection, something that Aragorn was relieved to see. If he was curious as to why it had healed so quickly, he never mentioned it, and for that I was incredibly thankful.
It was almost noon by the time we reached the hills that I had seen the day before. The rose slowly from the flatness of the plains, before falling again lazily back down. The grass was shorter now, and the ground beneath our feet was hard and dry. All of the water in the land seemed to be running downwards into a wide stretch of marshland to our left, disappearing amongst the tall reeds. The Entwash was still many miles away beyond the marsh. At the base of the first hill, we came upon a wide ring of trampled grass. Here, we stopped while Aragorn examined the tracks.
"They rested here a while," he said, kneeling down. "But even the outward trail is already old. I fear that your heart spoke truly, Legolas: it is thrice twelve hours, I guess, since the Orcs stood where we now stand. If they held to their pace, then at sundown yesterday they would reach the borders of Fangorn."
"I can see nothing away north or west but grass dwindling into mist," Gimli said, looking around. I couldn't see anything more than the dwarf could, either. "Could we see the forest, if we climbed the hills?"
"It is still far away,' Aragorn replied, shaking his head slowly. "If I remember rightly, these downs run eight leagues or more to the north, and then north-west to the issuing of the Entwash there lies still a wide land, another fifteen leagues it may be."
"Well, let us go on," said Gimli, tiredly. "My legs must forget the miles. They would be more willing, if my heart were less heavy."
I watched Gimli as we started off again, thankful that I was not feeling the despair that the others surely were. And yet, despite the reassuring voice in my head telling me that everything would work out just fine, I couldn't help but feel a little worried for the two hobbits.
We carried on during the rest of the afternoon, slowing as Gimli began to tire. We were walking by the time we reached the end of the hills, and for that I was relieved. As fit as I was, the past three days had taken a far bigger toll on me than I had expected. I guessed that I had only managed to get a few hours of sleep the night before, and I found as we walked that my shoulders grew heavier with each step. Aragorn, too, was showing the same signs of fatigue, head bent and his mouth set in a grim line. Legolas, unsurprisingly, was as lively as ever, seeming to bound across the grass in comparison. He stopped as we came to the foot of the last hill and turned to us.
"Let us go up on to this green hill!" he said, before starting off of the slope. The rest of us mustered what energy we had left and clambered up after him. We climbed slowly as the sun set, leaving us in the darkness of the night. When we reached the top, it was barely light enough to see anything, but far away to the north-west there was a darker shadow on the horizon. I knew not their name, but I could make out the black shapes of mountains.
"Nothing can we see to guide us here," Gimli said, disappointed. "Well, now we must halt again and wear the night away. It is growing cold!" I joined him and Aragorn in shivering as a cold breeze ruffled our cloaks.
"The wind is north from the snows," Aragorn said, pulling his cloak tigher about his neck.
"And ere morning it will be in the East," Legolas replied. I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to carry on through the night, but it was painfully obvious that the rest of us needed to rest. "But rest if you must. Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. Rede oft is found at the rising of the Sun."
"Three suns already have risen on our chase and brought no counsel," Gimli said quietly in response, before turning away to cast his bedroll upon the ground.
That night passed much the same as the one before. I lay awake in silence, watching as the faint lights of the stars traveled west across the night sky. As the hours wore on, Legolas began to sing to himself, and I could hear his nearly silent footsteps as he walked back and forth along the hill. He sang of the forest and of the stars, and as he did so, I watched in awe as the stars above me seemed to shine brighter. I fell asleep to his songs, and slept soundly until the rising sun woke me gently the next morning.
Sitting up slowly, I yawned and looked around. The other three had already woke and were standing behind me, watching as the sun cast away the fog. Before me, I could see the Entwash as it flowed to meet the dark forest in the distance. Fangorn, I guessed as I narrowed my eyes, following the Uruk-hai trail away from the hill. That was when I noticed the thick cloud of smoke, far in the distance, and gasped silently.
As I did so, Aragorn dropped to the ground and placed an ear to the soil, listening closely. As I quickly scrambled from my bed, Legolas stepped forward to stand beside me. My heartbeat quickened as I realised that today our running would finally end. Raising his hand to his brow, the elf peered across the land. I did the same, a smile flitting briefly across my lips as I caught sight of what he was looking at.
"'Riders!" Aragorn said as he rose again to his feet. "Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!"
"Yes," said Legolas, flashing Aragorn a quick smile. "There are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall."
I couldn't help but laugh as Aragorn smiled. "Keen are the eyes of the Elves."
"Nay! The riders are little more than five leagues distant," he replied, turning his attention back to the riders. The Riders of Rohan. My heart continued to race in anticipation as I looked the group over myself. Legolas was right, they weren't terribly far away. I, too, could make out the gleam of the sun on the glossy coats of the horses, and their hair as the braids bounced on their shoulders.
"'Five leagues or one, we cannot escape them in this bare land," Gimli spoke up. "Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?"
"We will wait," Aragorn replied, sure in his decision. "I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were before us; for these horsemen are riding back down the orc-trail. We may get news from them."
"Or spears," Gimli muttered, and I smirked.
"There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits," Legolas said, still surveying the group as they rode towards us. I scanned the horses, finding the three riderless steeds near the back of the herd. The three Hunters had only been given two horses, but perhaps since there were four of us now, the Rohirrim would lend us three. But I didn't care really, so long as I didn't have to walk another day.
"I did not say that we should hear good news," Aragorn said in reply. "But evil or good we will await it here. Come"
We followed the Ranger down the hill, stopping just before the base. Pulling our cloaks up around ourselves, we crouched low in the grass and waited for the riders to arrive. Beside me, Gimli shifted restlessly, and turned to Aragorn.
"What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn? Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?" I resisted the urge to chuckle at the dwarf's fear of the riders, knowing that they would pose us no threat.
"I have been among them," Aragorn answered him quietly. "They are proud and wilful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. But I do not know what has happened here of late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather with the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood, among whom may still be seen many men tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Orcs."
"But Gandalf spoke of a rumour that they pay tribute to Mordor," said Gimli. I rolled my eyes and smiled, shielded by my cloak.
"I believe it no more than did Boromir," Aragorn replied quickly, as the sound of hoofbeats grew loud in my ears.
"You will soon learn the truth," Legolas said, drawing everyone's attention to what we were already hearing. "Already they approach."
The hoofbeats closed in on us quickly, and amongst the thunder I heard the cries of the riders. They rode straight towards the hill were we sat, the ground quivering beneath the shod feet of the horses. With a rush of warm air, they sailed past us, the lead rider turning soutwards along the hills. I found myself gaping in awe as I watched them gallop by. The horses, all of them grey, were much greater than I had imagined them. Their tails, some black and some white, streamed like silk behind them. Their manes were gathered in running braids that arched along their crests, and I could tell that they were long and full when not done up. They wore leather armour on their chests and on their heads, which was decorated with golden patterns and words that I could not read.
We stayed, unmoving, in the grass not ten feet from their thundering hooves, hidden from their eyes by our elven cloaks. I watched as the host galloped past, riding in pairs, and held my breath in anticipation. As the final few pairs rode past us, Aragorn stood up suddenly, revealing himself. He called out to them, his voice loud and clear.
"What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth had the riders turned their mounts around. Snorting, the horses tossed their heads and continued on at full speed back towards us. The earth shook and I turned to look at the others, debating if I should stand. When Legolas and Gimli stayed still in the grass, I did the same, not wanting to draw more attention to myself than was necessary. My heart raced as the riders broke up from their pairs and began to circle around us, caging us in at the base of the hill, drawing ever nearer. When the horses were so close that I could have reached out and touched them, they all suddenly halted. I listened to the sounds of their breathing as I held my own.
In unison, the riders drew their weapons, their eyes narrowed and mouths set in hard lines. My eyes widened and I gasped quietly as a spear was thrust towards me, wavering less than a foot away. Looking past it, I noticed that the riders behind had their bows drawn, arrows nocked and pointed at us. One misplaced word, one wrong move, and we were dead.
From the group a horse stepped forward, turning to face us. The rider was tall, and regarded us with eyes of steel. This must be Éomer. I shivered as he advanced, stopping only when his spear was just inches from Aragorn's chest. The Ranger didn't move, and met the rider's eyes with patience.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" Éomer asked suddenly in the Common Tongue. I was reminded of Boromir; the man's voice rich and heavy.
"I am called Strider," Aragorn replied calmly, never dropping his eyes. "I came out of the North. I am hunting orcs." He finished simply.
After a pause, Éomer dismounted. Another rider also dismounted and now stood at his side, and Éomer handed him his spear without a word. Then, removing his sword from the sheath at his side, he stepped towards Aragorn. He surveyed him for a moment with a hint of wonder. Probably disbelief that we would be so crazy as to run through Rohan on foot, chasing orcs too, I thought, watching as he lifted his eyes up to meet Aragorn's once again.
"At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs," he said, his expression neutral. "But now I see that it is not so. Indeed, you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them." As he spoke, his eyes passed to the dark forest across the plain. "But there is something strange about you, Strider." He continued, turning back to Aragorn. "That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?"
"No. Only one of us is an elf, Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. Another of our company, Tawariell, joined us as we passed through Lothlórien, but she is mortal. The gifts and favour of the Lady go with us."
At the mention of Galadriel, Éomer's eyes hardened, and he looked at Aragorn again in wonder. "Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell! Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days!" he paused for a brief moment to ponder the situation. "But if you have her favour, then you also are netweavers and sorcerers, maybe." I felt my blood freeze as he turned his gaze to the three of us who still sat upon the grass. "Why do you not speak, silent ones?"
Gimli stood quickly, and I could tell from a quick glance that he was angered by the rider's words. He gripped his axe tightly. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides," he said, not too kindly.
Éomer stared down at the dwarf. "As for that, the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Eomer son of Eomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark."
"Then Eomer son of Eomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you."
Did he just call Éomer stupid? My urge to smile was quickly wiped away as the riders spoke angrily in hushed voices.
"I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," Éomer replied, fire in his eyes, his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword.
Gimli had no chance to reply before Legolas had sprung up and pulled out his bow. "He stands not alone!" The great bow was bent and pointed at Éomer in an instant. "You would die before your stroke fell!"
All of the spears swung around over my head and were pointed at Legolas. Éomer raised his sword, the steel flashing in the sunlight. Jumping between Éomer and Legolas, Aragorn raised his hands.
"Your pardon, Éomer!" he said desperately. "When you know more you will understand why you have angered my companions. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?"
Shifting my weight, I watched tensely as Éomer's eyes calmed, and he slowly lowered his blade. The spears above my head were pulled back and lowered, and I took the opportunity to stand beside Legolas and Gimli. My legs ached from crouching for so long, and I longed to stretch them, but I refrained, standing still.
"I will," Éomer replied. "But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your right name."
"First tell me whom you serve," Aragorn said, dropping his hands. "Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"
"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel," Éomer answered. "We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?"
"I serve no man," Aragorn replied; "but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless."
At his words, I could not resist smiling slightly. But as he threw back his cloak and drew Andúril from its sheath, my lips parted in awe. The blade glittered in the sun, burning bright.
"Elendil!" Aragorn said proudly. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!"
I did not need to look to know that Legolas and Gimli shared my expression of wonder, and Éomer as well. The tall rider stepped back, now seemingly small in comparison to the man before him. His eyes fell to the grass.
"These are indeed strange days," he said quietly to himself. "Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass.
"Tell me, lord," he continued, looking back up, "what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone seeking an answer, and the horse that we lent him came back riderless. What doom do you bring out of the North?"
I bit my lip at the mention of Boromir, but Aragorn did not falter. "The doom of choice," he replied swiftly, brushing off the mention of Boromir. "You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for help, or at least for tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?"
The four of us turned to Éomer expentantly, and though I knew the answer, I still waited to hear his words.
"That you need not pursue them further," said Eomer. "The Orcs are destroyed."
"And our friends?" Aragorn probed, a hint of desperation in his eyes. Éomer shook his head.
"We found none but Orcs."
"But that is strange indeed," Aragorn said, brows furrowed. "Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of orc-kind? They would be small. Only children to your eyes, unshod but clad in grey."
"There were no dwarves nor children," Éomer replied again. "We counted all the slain and despoiled them, and then we piled the carcases and burned them, as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still." I followed his hand as he gesturned behind him to where the smoke was rising.
"We do not speak of dwarves or children," Gimli said quickly. "Our friends were hobbits."
"Hobbits?" said Éomer, curiously. "And what may they be? It is a strange name."
"A strange name for a strange folk," Gimli said. "But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings."
"Halflings!" A rider at Éomer's side laughed incredulously. "Halflings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?"
I raised an eyebrow in response to the man's outburst.
"A man may do both," Aragorn said, patiently. "For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!"
"Time is pressing," the rider ignored Aragorn as he turned to face Éomer once again. "We must hasten south, lord. Let us leave these wild folk to their fancies. Or let us bind them and take them to the king."
My eyes widened at the man's words, and I felt Legolas tense beside me. Éomer quickly turned to face the man and responded harshly in his own tongue. The man's face remained taught, and he soon left in a huff to carry out whatever orders Éomer had given him. I watched as he mounted and led the rest of the riders off.
"All that you say is strange, Aragorn," Éomer said once the five of us had been left alone. "Yet you speak the truth, that is plain: The Men of the Mark do not lie, and therefore they are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?"
"I set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago," Aragorn replied. "With me went Boromir of Minas Tirith. My errand was to go to that city with the son of Denethor, to aid his folk in their war against Sauron. But the Company that I journeyed with had other business. Of that I cannot speak now. Gandalf the Grey was our leader."
"Gandalf!" Éomer's eyes grew wide in surprise. "Gandalf Greyhame is known in the Mark: but his name, I warn you, is no longer a password to the king's favour. He has been a guest in the land many times in the memory of men, coming as he will, after a season, or after many years. He is ever the herald of strange events: a bringer of evil, some now say.
"Indeed since his last coming in the summer all things have gone amiss. At that time our trouble with Saruman began. Until then we counted Saruman our friend, but Gandalf came then and warned us that sudden war was preparing in Isengard. He said that he himself had been a prisoner in Orthanc and had hardly escaped, and he begged for help. But Théoden would not listen to him, and he went away. Speak not the name of Gandalf loudly in Théoden's ears! He is wroth. For Gandalf took the horse that is called Shadowfax, the most precious of all the king's steeds, chief of the Mearas, which only the Lord of the Mark may ride. For the sire of their race was the great horse of Eorl that knew the speech of Men. Seven nights ago Shadowfax returned; but the king's anger is not less, for now the horse is wild and will let no man handle him."
Gandalf took Shadowfax? This was news to me, but somehow it failed to surprise me all that much. Despite having yet to meet Gandalf, I certainly didn't put it past the wizard to do such a thing. Afterall, it had surely been plain to Gandalf that Théoden was not himself. And he rode him all the way to Rivendell, I guess!
"Then Shadowfax has found his way alone from the far North," Aragorn replied; "for it was there that he and Gandalf parted. But alas! Gandalf will ride no longer. He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and comes not again." At this he bowed his head slightly, and the rest of us did the same for a moment. I stared at my feet, happy that I had not been present to see Gandalf fall. I had much less reason to grieve than my companions. I wondered when we would stumble upon the wizard, and even more I wondered what he would think of my presense with all that remained of the Fellowship.
"That is heavy tidings," Éomer said, after a moment. "At least to me, and to many; though not to all, as you may find, if you come to the king."
"It is tidings more grievous than any in this land can understand, though it may touch them sorely ere the year is much older," Aragorn continued. "But when the great fall, the less must lead. My part it has been to guide our Company on the long road from Moria. Through Lorien we came – of which it were well that you should learn the truth ere you speak of it again – and thence down the leagues of the Great River to the falls of Rauros. There Boromir was slain by the same Orcs whom you destroyed."
"Your news is all of woe!" Éomer frowned, raising a hand to his brow. "Great harm is this death to Minas Tirith, and to us all. That was a worthy man! All spoke his praise. He came seldom to the Mark, for he was ever in the wars on the East-borders; but I have seen him. More like to the swift sons of Eorl than to the grave Men of Gondor he seemed to me, and likely to prove a great captain of his people when his time came. But we have had no word of this grief out of Gondor. When did he fall?"
Briefly, the battle of Amon Hen flashed through my mind, and I found myself looking down upon my bow, which lay in the leaves and the dirt beneath the tree. Again, it crossed my mind that I could have saved Boromir, but I knew that it was nonsense. I would only have died.
"It is now the fourth day since he was slain," Aragorn's reply brought me from my flashback. "And since the evening of that day we have journeyed from the shadow of Tol Brandir."
At this, Éomer's hand dropped and he looked at the four of us incredulously. "On foot?"
"Yes, even as you see us." Aragorn replied, and I nodded also.
The man's eyes widened again. "Strider is too poor a name, son of Arathorn. Wingfoot I name you. This deed of the four friends should be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you have measured ere the fourth day is ended! Hardy is the race of Elendil!"
Forty leagues? How far was a league? 3 miles, or about that? Now, for the first time since we had set out, I realised just how far we had actually come. I feel like all of my gym class runs together don't even total to such a distance.
"But now, lord, what would you have me do," continued Éomer. "I must return in haste to Théoden. I spoke warily before my men. It is true that we are not yet at open war with the Black Land, and there are some, close to the king's ear, that speak craven counsels; but war is coming. We shall not forsake our old alliance with Gondor, and while they fight we shall aid them: so say I and all who hold with me. The East-mark is my charge, the ward of the Third Marshal, and I have removed all our herds and herdfolk, withdrawing them beyond Entwash, and leaving none here but guards and swift scouts."
"Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?" Gimli asked gruffly. I watched as Éomer's eyes flashed warningly.
"We do not and we never have, though it comes to my ears that that lie has been told. Some years ago the Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses off us at great price, but we refused him, for he puts beasts to evil use. Then he sent plundering Orcs, and they carry off what they can, choosing always the black horses: few of these are now left. For that reason, our feud with the Orcs is bitter."
My heart ached as I thought of the horses that had been stolen. My grief for the men of Rohan was little, for I could only think of the pain that the horses would be suffering from under the care — or rather, the lack thereof — of Sauron and his orcs. The visions of the possible scenarios made my head spin and I quickly pushed them away.
"But at this time our chief concern is with Saruman," Éomer continued. "He has claimed lordship over all this land, and there has been war between us for many months. He has taken Orcs into his service, and Wolf-riders, and evil Men, and he has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to be beset both east and west.
"It is ill dealing with such a foe: he is a wizard both cunning and dwimmer-crafty, having many guises. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked, very like to Gandalf, as many now recall. His spies slip through every net, and his birds of ill omen are abroad in the sky. I do not know how it will all end, and my heart misgives me; for it seems to me that his friends do not all dwell in Isengard. But if you come to the king's house, you shall see for yourself. Will you not come? Do I hope in vain that you have been sent to me for a help in doubt and need?"
"I will come when I may," Aragorn replied, turning his eyes towards the smoke that rose in the distance.
"Come now!" Éomer insisted, taking a step towards the Ranger. "The Heir of Elendil would be a strength indeed to the Sons of Eorl in this evil tide. There is battle even now upon the Westemnet, and I fear that it may go ill for us.
"Indeed in this riding north I went without the king's leave, for in my absence his house is left with little guard. But scouts warned me of the orc-host coming down out of the East Wall three nights ago, and among them they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what I most fear, a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I led forth my eored, men of my own household; and we overtook the Orcs at nightfall two days ago, near to the borders of the Entwood. There we surrounded them, and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses alas! For the Orcs were greater in number than we counted on. Others joined them, coming out of the East across the Great River: their trail is plain to see a little north of this spot. And others, too, came out of the forest. Great Orcs, who also bore the White Hand of Isengard: that kind is stronger and more fell than all others.
"Nonetheless we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the Sword to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's axe and the bow of Legolas and of Tawariell, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Wood. I spoke only as do all men in my land, and I would gladly learn better."
"I thank you for your fair words, and my heart desires to come with you; but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains." Aragorn replied slowly. Éomer nodded his head, but his face was sad.
"Hope does not remain," he said. "You will not find your friends on the Northborders."
"Yet my friends are not behind," Aragorn insisted. "We found a clear token not far from the East Wall that one at least of them was still alive there. But between the wall and the downs we have found no other trace of them, and no trail has turned aside, this way or that, unless my skill has wholly left me."
"Then what do you think has become of them?"
"I do not know. They may have been slain and burned among the Orcs; but that you will say cannot be, and I do not fear it. I can only think that they were carried off into the forest before the battle, even before you encircled your foes, maybe. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such a way?"
"I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them," Éomer said. "We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some elvish power."
"Our friends were attired even as we are," Aragorn pointed out; "and you passed us by under the full light of day."
"I had forgotten that," Éomer sighed. "It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. The world is all grown strange. Elf and Dwarf in company walk in our daily fields; and folk speak with the Lady of the Wood and yet live; and the Sword comes back to war that was broken in the long ages ere the fathers of our fathers rode into the Mark! How shall a man judge what to do in such times?"
"As he ever has judged," Aragorn supplied. "Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves, and another among Men. It is a man's part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house."
"True indeed," Éomer agreed. "But I do not doubt you, nor the deed which my heart would do. Yet I am not free to do all as I would. It is against our law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the king himself shall give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of peril. I have begged you to come back willingly with me, and you will not. Loth am I to begin a battle of one hundred against three."
"I do not think your law was made for such a chance," Aragorn replied, holding Éomer's gaze. "Nor indeed am I a stranger; for I have been in this land before, more than once, and ridden with the host of the Rohirrim, though under other name and in other guise. You I have not seen before, for you are young, but I have spoken with Éomund your father, and with Théoden son of Thengel. Never in former days would any high lord of this land have constrained a man to abandon such a quest as mine. My duty at least is clear, to go on. Come now, son of Éomund, the choice must be made at last. Aid us, or at the worst let us go free. Or seek to carry out your law. If you do so there will be fewer to return to your war or to your king."
Éomer thought silently to himself for a moment, before replying. "We both have need of haste. My company chafes to be away, and every hour lessens your hope. This is my choice. You may go; and what is more, I will lend you horses. This only I ask: when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Théoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail."
"I will not," Aragorn swore with a gentle nod of his head.
With a whistle, Éomer called his men back to him. They cantered across the grass, halting before us. Éomer left us to speak with his men, and I saw the uncertainty in their eyes as they looked down at us. After a moment, the same rider who had spoke out before again expressed his disapproval.
"It may be well enough for this lord of the race of Gondor, as he claims," the man said from atop his horse. "But who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf?" a few of the other riders chuckled amongst themselves as Gimli stood tall.
"No one," the dwarf replied. "And do not trouble: no one will ever hear of it. I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged." I couldn't help but laughed quietly at his stubborness.
"But you must ride now, or you will hinder us," Aragorn said quietly to him. Gimli huffed.
"Come, you shall sit behind me, friend Gimli," Legolas said, looking down at Gimli with a smile. "Then all will be well, and you need neither borrow a horse nor be troubled by one."
Once Gimli had agreed to ride with Legolas, Éomer whistled again. This time, two horses stepped forward from the middle of the host. One, a dark dappled grey, was given to Aragorn.
"Hasufel is his name," Éomer said as I reached up to stroke the stallion's nose. The horse was larger than any I had seen in Lothlórien, powerful and of stockier build. "May he bear you well and to better fortune than Garulf, his late master!"
"And the other is Arod," Éomer added as another horse was led to Legolas. The horse snorted as the elf took hold of the reins, tossing his head in excitement. He was a light steel grey, and his mane was dark. His eyes were bright and his ears swiveled around attentively. To the Riders' surprise, the Legolas promtly removed the saddle and the bridle and passed them off to one of the men.
"I need them not," he assured them. He then leaped up and settled himself gently onto the stallion's back, who settled down and stood calmly. Aragorn helped Gimli to clamber up behind the elf, and the dwarf sat there awkwardly, clinging tightly to the back of Legolas's tunic. I chuckled and the dwarf shot me a dirty look, which only made me laugh again.
I had been hoping to receive a horse of my own, but had remained quiet for fear of seeming rude. It was now obvious that Éomer did not expect me to be riding on my own, so Aragorn waved me over and helped me up on Hasufel's back. I sat lightly behind the saddle, hesitant to hold onto anything but the cantle.
"Farewell," Éomer said to us as he mounted his own horse. "And may you find what you seek! Return with what speed you may, and let our swords hereafter shine together!"
"I will come," Aragorn promised.
"And I will come, too," Gimli called from behind Legolas. "The matter of the Lady Galadriel lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech."
"We shall see," Éomer replied with a hint of a smile. "So many strange things have chanced that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf's axe will seem no great wonder. Farewell!"
Turning the stallions around, Aragorn and Legolas rode the horses away from the hill. Hasufel's canter was smooth and easy to sit to, but riding behind the saddle made it difficult for me to stay balanced. I considered holding onto Aragorn, but he bent forward close to the stallion's neck to watch the path at our feet. Doing my best to get used to the strange feeling of riding so far back, I held on and looked ahead at the dark forest that stretched out before us.
It didn't take us long to reach the Entwash. It's silver waters flowed lazily along the shallow banks, where many reeds and grasses grew. Along the banks we found the other trail that Éomer had mentioned. It ran from the east towards Fangorn.
Here, Aragorn drew up Hasufel, and Legolas stopped beside us. Swinging his leg over Hasufel's neck, Aragorn dropped to the ground and took a quick look at the tracks, before hopping back up into the saddle once again.
"Wait here," he instructed Legolas. The elf gave a nod as Aragorn pushed Hasufel on again. We cantered along beside the trail as it headed east until the Ranger halted the stallion again. Dismounting again, he followed the footprints up and down the path, examining them closely.
"What do you see?" I asked curiously. Aragorn shook his head.
"Nothing of import. These tracks are not old, however," he replied. After another moment, he joined me once again on Hasufel's back, and we cantered back to where Legolas and Gimli where waiting. Arod's ears pricked and he nickered as we approached, happy to be seeing his companion again.
"There is little to discover," Aragorn said as Legolas and Gimli looked towards him expectantly "The main trail is all confused with the passage of the horsemen as they came back; their outward course must have lain nearer the river. But this eastward trail is fresh and clear. There is no sign there of any feet going the other way, back towards Anduin. Now we must ride slower, and make sure that no trace or footstep branches off on either side. The Orcs must have been aware from this point that they were pursued; they may have made some attempt to get their captives away before they were overtaken."
Picking up an easy trot, we followed along beside the main path, which ran along the Entwash up to Fangorn. As we rode, the sky became cloudy and the sun was eventually blocked out by the thick grew clouds. As we continued on, the clouds fell lower, and the air became heavier. Chilled, I let go of the saddle to tighten my cloak about my neck.
The path ran straight and true, with no footsteps deviating from the main trail. As we neared the forest, we began to see orcs laying dead along the side of the path. They had been running from the camp, it seemed, and had arrows sticking from their bodies. The grey feathers rustled in the soft breeze.
It was getting near dusk when we finally reached the edges of Fangorn. The smoke was thick and black, wafting from the ashes of the bodies that had been piled and burned. The smell was overwhelming, and I raised a hand to my mouth to keep myself from choking. Beside the ashes was a pile of the Uruks' belongings. Among the shattered armour and weapons, a spear was set in the ground, an orc's head displayed at the top. I grimaced as I stared at the foul creature's face, its eyes rolled back into its head. On it's helmet was the white hand of Saruman.
Here, we all dismounted. Taking Hasufel's reins from Aragorn, I stroked the stallion's nose and watched as he began to survey the battlefield. Legolas and Gimli began to do the same, and I followed along with Hasufel as they moved further down the camp. We searched until the sun had set, and found no sign of Merry or Pippin.
In the pit of my stomach, a small knot of worry had begun to form. What if things had gone wrong? What if the two hobbits actually had perished? No, we would have found them by now, I reminded myself. Turning towards Fangorn, I peered into the darkness. Somewhere beneath those shadowy branches, were Merry and Pippin.
"We can do no more," Gimli said sadly as darkness fell over Rohan. "We have been set many riddles since we came to Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the Orcs'. It will be hard news for Frodo, if he lives to hear it; and hard too for the old hobbit who waits in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming."
"But Gandalf was not," Legolas reminded him, his eyes downcast.
"But Gandalf chose to come himself, and he was the first to be lost," Gimli replied "His foresight failed him."
"The counsel of Gandalf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself or for others," said Aragorn. "There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark. But I shall not depart from this place yet. In any case we must here await the morning-light."
We left the battlefield and wandered a short distance along the forest, stopping beneath a large tree with branches that reached out above our heads. Its leaves were old and brown, but clung to the branches with determination. They rustled softly in the cool breeze as we settled down beneath the tree. Across from me, I noticed Gimli shiver and wrap himself tighter in his blanket.
"Let us light a fire," he broke the silence after a moment. "I care no longer for the danger. Let the Orcs come as thick as summer-moths round a candle!"
"If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them hither," Legolas said, and I nodded my approval as well. The clouds hung low at the edge of the trees, and the air was wet and cold.
"And it might draw other things, neither Orc nor Hobbit," Aragorn argued. "We are near to the mountain-marches of the traitor Saruman. Also we are on the very edge of Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said."
"But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday," Gimli pointed out, "and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet they passed the night after safely here, when their labour was ended."
"They were many," Aragorn replied firmly, "and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! Cut no living wood!"
"There is no need," Gimli said. "The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty." With that, he picked himself up from the ground and strode off in search for dry wood. Aragorn sat quickly with his back to the tree, quietly smoking his pipe, and Legolas was standing alone, looking into the darkness of the woods. I watched him for a moment, wondering if he was listening to the trees. Gimli soon returned and lit a fire, and I turned my attention to warming my hands by the flames.
Soon, the fire was blazing. The others came closer to join me and Gimli and we all huddled close together, blocking the light as much as we could. After a moment, Legolas turned his gaze upwards and smiled.
"Look! The tree is glad of the fire!"
Looking up, I smiled too. The light of the flames made the shadows of the branches dance and sway, and it seemed that they were stretching themselves to be above the warmth of the fire. It looked so surreal that I felt for a moment that I was not entirely awake. Realising that I was beginning to nod off, I sat up straighter and rubbed my eyes, not wanting to fall asleep just yet.
"Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn," Legolas said after a few minutes. "Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that Boromir had heard?"
I looked over at the elf beside me, surprised that he didn't know the reasoning behind Celeborn's warnings.
"I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere, but if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades," Aragorn replied, eyes trained on the fire. "I had thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter. And if an Elf of the Wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?"
"You have journeyed further than I," Legolas responded thoughtfully. "I have heard nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it."
"Yes, it is old," Aragorn nodded his head, "as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know."
"And I do not wish to know," said Gimli. "Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!"
As the fire crackled and we quieted down, my eyes once again began to grow heavy. More than once I dozed off, only to snap awake every time the fire popped. After an imeasurable amount of time, Legolas shifted beside me.
"Shall we draw lots for first watch?" he said, breaking the silence. Peeling my eyes open, I nodded slowly as Aragorn and Gimli also agreed.
Picking up a handful of twigs from beside the fire, legolas evened the tops and held them out to Gimli, who drew first. Aragorn drew next, and then Legolas. I blinked when he passed by me, sitting up straight.
"What about me?" I asked before they could compare their sticks. Aragorn chuckled.
"You need to sleep, Christa," he replied with a tired smile. I raised an eyebrow.
"We all do," I countered, knowing that it was more than true. "Please let me take a watch," I said, turning towards Legolas. With a smile and a sigh, he offered me the twigs and I pulled one out.
Dropping the extra twigs, Legolas opened his palm and showed us his stick, as did Gimli and Aragorn. I did the same, relieved to see that I had not drawn the shortest one.
"It would appear that I have drawn the first watch," Gimli grumbled, holding his twig up with a shrug.
The rest of us rolled out our blankets and settled down for the night. I was asleep within a few minutes, too tired to be troubled by the darkness of the forest behind me.
It seemed as though I had only been asleep for a few seconds when I stirred awake. Legolas and Aragorn had also woken up and were sitting up in their beds, staring out into the night. Gimli was on his feet, doing the same. Sitting up slowly as my eyes focused, I caught sight of what they were all looking at. At the very edge of the orange light of the fire stood an old man. He was leaning on his staff and was wearing a thick cloak and a hat that shielded his eyes. I gasped, thinking surely that I was dreaming, but I knew that I wasn't. I hadn't dreamed since I had arrived in Middle Earth, and this felt too real to be a dream.
Standing up, Aragorn called out to the man. "Well, father, what can we do for you? Come and be warm, if you are cold!" But as the Ranger took a step forward, the man vanished. Hesitantly, I lay my blanket aside and stood too, walking out with Gimli and Legolas to search for the man. He had left nothing behind, not even any footprints, leaving us all wondering if there really had been a man there at all.
"The horses!" Legolas cried out suddenly. "The horses!"
I spun around and looked to where we had tethered the stallions, but Hasufel and Arod were nowhere to be seen. The pickets had been pulled from the earth, and they had run. As we stood in the darkness, I could hear their whinnies as their hoofbeats faded away.
"Well, they are gone," Aragorn finally spoke. "We cannot find them or catch them; so that if they do not return of their own will, we must do without. We started on our feet, and we have those still."
"Feet!" Gimli grumbled. "But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them." Throwing a few more branches onto the fire, he sat down, leaning against the tree in a huff. I would have laughed, but given the situation, I couldn't find it within me to do so.
"Only a few hours ago you were unwilling to sit on a horse of Rohan," Legolas chuckled, wandering over to sit beside him. "You will make a rider yet."
"It seems unlikely that I shall have the chance," Gimli muttered, poking the fire. Aragorn and I joined the two around the blaze and we sat in silence. Risking a quick glance behind me into the night, I shivered. I still couldn't grasp what had just happened, and I felt even more uncomfortable than I had before.
"If you wish to know what I think. I think it was Saruman," Gimli spoke again after a few moments of silence. I blinked at him, startled. "Who else? Remember the words of Éomer: he walks about like an old man hooded and cloaked. Those were the words. He has gone off with our horses, or scared them away, and here we are. There is more trouble coming to us, mark my words!"
"I mark them," Aragorn answered him, quietly. "But I marked also that this old man had a hat, not a hood. Still I do not doubt that you guess right, and that we are in peril here, by night or day. Yet in the meantime there is nothing that we can do but rest, while we may. I will watch for a while now, Gimli. I have more need of thought than of sleep."
Settling back under my blanket, I stared upwards, too uncomfortable to close my eyes. What was Saruman doing so far away from Isengard? My only guess was that he had come to investigate what had happened to his orcs. But why hadn't he harmed us? Restless, I tossed for some time before I eventually managed to drift off.
The night passed quietly, and the old man did not return.
Yay, chapter 2 is done! It was a long one, and I never expected it to take so long to write, but it ended up taking me forever. I hope that you all enjoyed it!
There's an awful lot of dialogue in this chapter, which is a big reason why it's so long. I hope that you don't mind it, I feel it's important so I don't want to leave any of it out. Christa will be able to be more independent very soon, I promise!
I would love it if you would leave me a review and let me know what you thought! I am working all day today on the next chapter, so expect to see chapter 3 up pretty soon!
To everyone who is finishing up with university, I hope that you did/do well on your finals! I'm pretty stoked to be done for the summer!
-Eru