Chapter 10 is up, and I am so happy with how this is progressing. Every week I see that more and more people are viewing my story and I can't give enough thanks.
Every time I update I feel as if I repeat my words at the beginning, but as a writer, there is nothing more gratifying than when people leave lovely comments on your work, so once again, a big thank you to everyone who is enjoying this story.
This chapter is the first from 'The Two Towers' storyline, and I hope you all enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters/locations etc. belong to the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema. Some dialogue is borrowed from 'The Two Towers.'
Though he was more than used to long, tiring days, even Faramir was beginning to truly feel the need for a rest. It had been three days since they left Amon Hen on the trail of the orcs who had taken Merry and Pippin, and they had not stopped, so their stamina was being well and truly tested. To make matters worse, his arm was causing him great amounts of pain, and he needed new bandages as the ones Aragorn had wrapped his arm in were coming loose, and he was certain that his wound had opened again.
He desperately needed some rest, though he knew it was unlikely he would get any and he had never been one to openly voice his complaints, so he kept his thoughts to himself. Even the smallest amount of rest would mean the orcs would get further away, as this particular band of orcs had the ability to travel though the day.
As the rangers of the group, he and Aragorn had been tracking their steps, while Legolas searched further ahead with his better sight. At this moment, Aragorn was laid on the floor with his ear to a rock, listening to the footsteps of the orcs.
"Their pace has quickened, they must have caught our scent. Hurry!" And with that he was on his feet, sprinting ahead of them. Faramir jumped up after him and began to run too, and they would not stop until they had found Merry and Pippin. Legolas was already ahead of them all, as spritely as ever, not looking tired in the slightest.
Faramir looked behind him to see that Gimli was lagging behind, muttering to himself. He was certainly fairing better than the dwarf, who was clearly not cut out for long distance running.
They stopped by a hill to study the land around them. Legolas was using his advanced eye sight to peer into the distance while he and Aragorn looked for tracks that would indicate the direction they had travelled. He thought Aragorn was right and the orcs knew they were on their track because the tracks split.
As he was looking at the track, something glistening in the sun caught his eye. He approached it and immediately recognised what it was, for he wore the same brooch that he was now staring at on the floor.
"I've found something!" he shouted, and the three others came to see, eyes widening in recognition when they followed his eyesight.
"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," Aragorn said, picking up the brooch that Lady Galadriel had given to the members of the Fellowship. "We are on the right track. This gives us hope that they are alive."
Finding the brooch had lightened his spirits, as it gave him hope that they would find their friends. The last few days of constant running had been miserable, ad he wanted to hear their jokes to lighten the mood.
"Rohan, home of the Horselords," Aragorn said as they looked over the plains before them, the tracks leading to the realm north of Gondor. Despair filled Faramir's heart when he looked at the land. He had always heard of the beauty of the plains of Rohan but had found himself disappointed when he stopped at Edoras on the way to Rivendell. Now, if possible, the land seemed darker, grimmer, and it set Faramir's stomach on edge. "There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us," Aragorn continued.
Legolas had run ahead, and Aragorn called out to him, asking what he could see. Legolas strained his eyesight, trying to find the band of orcs they had been trailing.
"The Uruks turned northeast! They are taking the hobbits to Isengard!"
Saruman, Faramir thought, worry beginning to eat at him. They were taking Merry and Pippin to Saruman, the man who had betrayed them. No doubt he knew a hobbit carried the One Ring and had told the orcs to bring them to him. It gave him extra hope that they were still alive, for Saruman would not want them dead until he had the ring, but he feared what would happen if they reached Isengard before they were able to catch up to them, what Saruman would do when he found out they didn't have the Ring.
They continued running throughout the day, following the tracks to Isengard that the orcs had carelessly left. Night was now approaching, marking the fourth night without sleep.
"I fear we must rest," Aragorn said as they stopped, looking at the four of them, clearly exhausted and in need of a few hours sleep. Luckily for the four of them, elves and dwarves needed little sleep in comparison to men, and Faramir and Aragorn were descendants of Númenor, giving them extra stamina in comparison to the ordinary man, but even the ever-lively Legolas was beginning to look tired, his usual elegance starting to wane.
"Yes," said Gimli, who had already collapsed on the ground and looked half asleep. "Rest is needed. I always knew elves were unnaturally fit, but apparently men are as well."
Faramir and Legolas also agreed that rest was needed, and if he was being truthful, Faramir was grateful, for he did not know how much longer he could go on without food or sleep. Rest was the best thing for them, for they would be of no use to Merry and Pippin if they did not have the strength left to fight their captives. It also gave him a chance to have his arm bandages re-applied, and as soon as they were changed, he almost immediately felt the pain begin to disappear and he knew that a couple of hours sleep would do wonders for his arm.
Gimli and Aragorn had the first watch, giving Faramir and Legolas the opportunity for some much-needed rest. Within minutes of his head hitting the makeshift bed, Faramir fell into a dream, though this one was much more pleasant than many other dreams he has.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful glow on the land, which was picturesque, as if an artist had drawn it. The house was built in a hilly area, surrounded by trees and grasslands, and mountains in the distance overlooked the area. The house was new and was clearly built with care.
Faramir sat upon the grass, a book discarded next to him as his attention was drawn to more important things. The book had been replaced with a toy horse, and he had been assigned the role as the knight's horse, a role he accepted very seriously, lest he risk the wrath of the toddler before him.
The boy, perhaps five-years-old, had dark hair and grey eyes, and looked exactly as his father had at his age. He held a toy knight in his hand, and was waving at around, announcing that he was going to rescue the Princess. They continued their little game, Faramir more than happy to amuse his son by whatever means necessary. But before long, the child grew bored, and threw himself on his father, tacking him to the ground. Faramir pretended to put up a fight, before eventually allowing the boy to trap him.
"Mama," the boy shouted, looking at someone in the distance, "Papa is monster. I get him." This announcement came with an accidental knee to Faramir's groin. He cursed internally, though he didn't groan aloud, prepared to put up with a little bit of pain if it meant his son found fun.
"Help me, my love," Faramir said, laughing as his son tried to cover his mouth to prevent him from speaking. "I am being attacked by a little monster."
Watching on was a woman, another little boy in her arms, this time a blonde haired newborn. She headed towards them, and the boy climbed off Faramir and ran to her, begging to be carried by her. She handed Faramir the newborn and sat down on the grass, the little boy climbing into her lap.
"Faramir," a voice said, but it was a male voice. He looked around, confused as there were no men around.
"Faramir."
And then he woke, standing above him, gently tapping his shoulder to wake him was Aragorn.
"Forgive me, my friend. I know you would like a further rest, but it is your turn for watch duty."
Faramir sat up, and for the first time in a while, he woke in good spirits. It was not often his dreams were pleasant, but whenever they were, he would wake up much happier than those dreams he had that were dark. The dream he just had was a recurring one. The dream of the Númenor wave came to him most frequently, but this one was a common one too, and he treasured it.
This was what he was fighting for, the chance to live a peaceful life. He dreamed that a day would come where there was no need for fighting, and he could settle down and marry, and have a few children, give them a childhood he never received. The woman in his dreams was also a recurring figure, though he had never seen her face, or heard her voice. This was a dream that had been coming to him with some regularity for nearly twenty years, and the image kept him going through the darkest of times, leaving him with great anticipation for the day he could settle down in a beautiful house with a wife and children.
Though his sleep was only short, it was glorious, and he felt incredibly refreshed. He and Legolas took their respective places whilst they were on watch, but there was nothing to report. The air was eerily quiet, the howling of wind was the only noise that could be heard. He looked around him at the land of Rohan, despair filling him at the thought of such a beautiful land being slowly marred by darkness. Once more he cursed the evil that was Mordor and Isengard for ruining the beauty of nature, beauty that should be left alone. "A red sun rises," Legolas whispered to him, pointing to the distance, "blood has been spilt this night."
His words put Faramir on edge, and he prayed that their little friends were safe and that their overnight rest hadn't affected their chances of saving them.
A few hours later, they awoke Aragorn and Gimli, immediately setting out once more, with the intention of running long distances again. However, after a few minutes, Legolas stopped, hearing something approaching them.
"Something is coming this way," he said, and the four of them prepared to draw their weapons. However, the sound of hooves thundering on the ground and the neighing of horses reached their ears, and then they saw the horde approach. At least a thousand men, all on horseback, came charging towards them. Aragorn motioned for them to put their weapons down, and they did, and he began to approach the men on horseback.
"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" he shouted. The man at the front of the horde raised his spear and his men circled back to the four of them, surrounding them with their spears drawn at them. the leader rode to the front, approaching them.
He was a daunting sight. His big stature was made more intimidating on horseback, and he sat high above them. His eyes followed them, studying them and no doubt becoming confused at what a mix-match of a group they made.
"What business does an elf, two men and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" he asked. There was no immediate answer, for their errand was secret, and the man was clearly impatient for he spoke again, but this time his voice was raised slightly. "Speak quickly!"
"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine," Gimli said and Faramir sighed, knowing it would have been better for them to say nothing at all. He saw the fury that rose in the man's face and he dismounted, walking towards Gimli.
"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
Before he knew what was happening, Legolas had drawn his bow and aimed for the man's head.
"You would die before your stroke fell," he said, though it fell on deaf ears, for the Rohirrim surrounding them simply lifted their spears and pointed them at the four of them. The situation was quickly becoming out of hand, and Aragorn took the lead, stepping in between the man and Legolas, getting the elf to drop his bow and he held his hands up in peace.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Faramir, son of the Steward, Denethor, Gimli, son of Glóin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden, your King."
Aragorn's words seemed to have had a calming affect on the situation, for the man signalled for his men to lower their spears and his voice was softer when he spoke.
"Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe, not even his own kin," he said and removed his helmet, revealing the typical long blonde hair of the Rohirrim. "I am Éomer, son of Éomund and nephew to Théoden King. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and claimed lordship over these lands."
So, this is Éomer, Faramir thought. He had never met the man himself, but as the elder son, Boromir had been sent to Edoras on many occasions, and spoke very fondly of Théoden's nephew, and he remembered all that Lady Éowyn had to say of her brother when they spoke of him during his stop at Edoras on the way to Rivendell.
Faramir now realised why it had seemed so hostile when he had visited the usually cheerful Edoras and why Théoden had not greeted him. It put a dampened mood on his heart to know that such a mighty kingdom had been reduced to the shadow of its former self, with its King's mind enslaved by an enemy, and he shuddered at the thought of that every happening to Gondor.
"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," he said, clearly insinuating they were spies. Faramir stepped in at this point, feeling that Éomer might be willing to reason with a more familiar name, even though they had never met.
"My Lord Éomer," he said, stepping forward, hands in the air to show he meant no harm. "You do not know me, but you do know my brother, Boromir of Gondor. He spoke of you and your cousin, Lord Théodred, in high esteem." Éomer's eyes lit up in recognition at Boromir's name. "I can assure you, we are no threat to Rohan."
"Ah, yes, I do know Boromir. He spoke often of you too and made it clear that he considered you to be the best of men. You made quite an impression on my sister, too, though your stay at Edoras was short. She told me my Uncle did not greet you when you visited, and that instead you were greeted by Gríma." Faramir nodded, confirming what he said.
"Then it wouldn't surprise you if I told you that Gríma banished me from my home and was behind my Uncle's downfall?"
"No, it doesn't. I will admit, the man gave me chills when I met him. I had a feeling there was something not right."
"I believe you are not a threat to Rohan, nor are your friends. But I have to ask, you were travelling to Rivendell when you visited Edoras, how is it that you find yourself back in the Mark, accompanied by three strangers to these lands?"
"We were tracking a party of Uruk-hai. They have taken two of our friends captive."
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night," Éomer said and the four of them took an intake of breath, unsure of what had become of Merry and Pippin, who were held by that very Uruk pack.
"But there were two hobbits," Gimli said, voicing his concern, "did you see two hobbits with them?" Éomer had clearly never heard of a hobbit before, as confusion appeared on his face.
"They would be small. Only children to your eyes," Aragorn tried to explain, but Éomer shook his head, a regretful look in his eyes.
"We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He pointed to the plains behind him, where atop a hill they could see a large smoking pile.
"Dead?" Gimli asked, his voice quiet and mournful, not wanting to believe what Éomer had told him.
"I am sorry," Éomer said, guilt crossing his features as he realised innocents were caught up in their ambush. He whistled to his men, and they brought forth three horses. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters."
Faramir studied the horses and found that they were impressive creatures. All horses were wonderful, he believed, and he loved the animals, and though in his eyes no horse would ever be fairer than Anorroch, even he had to admit that these were striking horses, living up to the reputation that the horses of Rohan have.
The reigns to one of the horses were handed to him, and he stroked the nose of the horse, who neighed back, seemingly happy with his new companion.
"This one is Hasufel, one of our best. I trust that you will treat him well," Éomer said, and Faramir nodded, assuring the horseman that he would keep him from harm. Éomer then put his helmet back on and climbed atop his horse.
"Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands," he said and then galloped off, his men following him. Gradually, the sound of hooves became lighter until they could hear them no more. Faramir doubted this would be the last they saw of the Rohirrim, who may well be useful allies in the war against Mordor. For all the strain in the relationship between Gondor and Rohan in recent years, they were still fighting the same enemy.
They mounted the horses they had been gifted, Gimli sharing with Legolas, and headed to the pile of burned carcasses, hoping to discover some good news, not willing to accept the fate of Merry and Pippin just yet. They dismounted and began to dig through the pile, searching for any clue that might help them.
He had been searching for a matter of minutes when Gimli approached, looking forlorn with something in his hand. Faramir immediately recognised it, any hope he had of finding their hobbit friends left him.
"It's one of their wee belts," Gimli said, and the other two walked over to join them, also recognising what he held.
Legolas bowed his head and murmured a small prayer in Elvish. Faramir felt his heart drop and he too bowed his head, now forced to accept that their dear, little friends were lost to them. He silently cursed himself as it was, he who had last seen them alive, he who had failed to protect them. How he wished he could turn back time and fight harder against the Uruks who took them.
Aragorn kicked the helmet of an Uruk and fell to his kness, letting out an anguished scream as he did so. It was as if the grief all four of them was let out in that one scream, and they remained in silence for several minutes, slumped on the ground, memories of the hobbits in their minds.
"A hobbit lay here," Aragorn said, the grief gone from his voice and replaced with hope once more. Faramir looked over to see that he was inspecting the ground, using his skills as a ranger to help him. "And here the other."
He began to follow the tracks that stemmed from where the two hobbits had been laid.
"They crawled. Their hands were bound."
The rest of them followed, hope renewed to all of them. They followed him as he discovered more clues: a piece of robe that had been used to bind their hands, more tracks that led them away from the battle. Aragorn came to the end of the tracks, and looked up in horror, realising where the tracks had led.
"The tracks lead away from the battle and into Fangorn Forest."
"Fangorn?" asked Gimli, "what madness drove them in there?"
Faramir had heard unsavoury tales of Fangorn and was not thrilled at the idea of walking through there himself. But if the stories were true, then their friends were in danger in the forest, and so the four of them put aside any fears about the stories of Fangorn and headed in, filled with joy at the thought of possibly seeing Merry and Pippin once more.
After walking through the forest for a short period of time, it was easy for Faramir to see why it had got its reputation. The forest was unnerving and dark, and the trees almost seemed alive. They walked slowly through the forest, constantly on the lookout for possible threats.
Gimli halted, having seen something on a leaf nearby and put his finger in it, then lifted it to his mouth and tasted it. Immediately he spat it out, a disgusted look upon his face.
"Orc blood," he said.
"I could've told you that before you tasted it," Faramir replied, laughing gently and the dwarf grunted in return.
They raised their guard even more, knowing the chance that orcs could descend on them at any second, and the tracks they were following on the ground were strange, unlike anything they had ever seen before.
Next to him, Gimli raised his axe in response to a deep groan. They all stopped to survey the area as they had never heard anything like the sound. It was after the second groan that they realised where they noise was coming from.
"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas said, and Faramir felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought. "Gimli, lower your axe." Gimli looked rather sheepish, realising that he had inadvertently been brandishing his axe at the trees who were seemingly alive, irritating them. "They have feelings, my friends. The elves began it, waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."
"Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings," Gimli remarked, eliciting a chuckle from Faramir. He was about to reply with a joke of his own, but Legolas marched ahead of the group, and stared deep into the forest, looking for something.
"And no ennas," he said.
"What does that mean?" Gimli asked Faramir, not able to understand the elvish language.
"Something is out there," he replied, hand on his sword, and Gimli had his axe in hand once more.
"The white wizard approaches," Legolas whispered, making everyone more alert. Meeting Saruman was an ill omen for them.
"Do not let him speak," Aragorn advised, "he will put a spell on us."
From nowhere, they were blinded by a brilliant white light, seemingly coming from a figure before them, though they were unable to look directly at it, meaning they could not make out if the figure was truly Saruman.
Gimli threw his axe, but the figure deflected it easily, and he did exactly the same with the arrow that Legolas fired. Both Faramir and Aragorn drew their swords, but the hilts turned to a burning temperature and so they dropped them, their hands unable to keep hold of them due to the extreme heat.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," the figure said, speaking in a voice that left them in no doubt that this was Saruman before them.
"Where are they?" Aragorn shouted in vain, aware that now Saruman had found them, any hopes they had of finding Merry and Pippin were gone.
"They passed this day the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" None of them answered the question that the figure asked, confused at what he meant. Surely if this were Saruman, he would've struck by now, or would've taunted them about capturing the hobbits. Aragorn must have had a similar thought process, for he spoke to the figure once more.
"Who are you? Show yourself!"
The figure did as commanded and stepped forward from the white light. The light disappeared, and they saw his face. The four of them gasped in shock for before them dressed in all white and a white staff in hand, was Gandalf.
"It is impossible," Faramir whispered, remembering the battle against the Balrog at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. As he had walked over the bridge, he saw that the chasm below them seemed endless and falling would mean certain death, but somehow Gandalf stood before them, very much alive.
Faramir was too shocked to say anything, but he did bow his head towards Gandalf as a mark of respect. Legolas made the same gesture, eyes full of regret.
"Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman."
"I am Saruman. Or rather, Saruman as he should have been." Beside him, Aragorn shook his head, still in disbelief that the wizard was truly there in front of them.
"You fell," he said, and Gandalf's face contorted, reliving the memories of what followed his fall.
He explained how he was able to overcome the Balrog, fighting him through fire and water, and then spoke of how he had been sent back to Middle-Earth to finish his task, which, of course, was to help defeat Sauron. At hearing the story, Faramir marvelled at this man whom he was glad to call friend. He had never, and doubted he would ever, meet someone as extraordinary as Gandalf.
"Gandalf…" Gimli started, but did not continue speaking as the wizard looked puzzled.
"Gandalf?" he said, as if he had never heard of the name before, but then he smiled in recognition. "Yes, that was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. I am Gandalf the White, and I come back to you now…at the turn of the tide."
Suddenly, he walked past them at speed, beckoning them to follow. He donned a grey cloak to hide the white robes he was wearing. Why, Faramir was unsure, but he assumed Gandalf did not want anyone to realise that he had been brought back as a white wizard.
Faramir pondered what that meant. It was well known that Saruman was the most powerful of the wizards, and now Gandalf was also a white wizard, could he match his old master in terms of power. Faramir hoped so, for he knew it was only a matter of time before they faced Saruman.
His thoughts were interrupted when he realised they had completely forgotten something, the very thing they had entered the forest for.
"The hobbits!" he cried, and everyone stopped, remembering their purpose as well. "Where are they?"
"Worry not, Faramir. They are with Treebeard and the ents," Gandalf said, "they are safe."
"Ents?" Aragorn questioned at once, and Faramir was shocked too. He was not aware that ents still roamed Middle-Earth, but if Merry and Pippin were safe with them, then his mind would be put at ease.
"Marvellous creatures, among the oldest souls in Middle-Earth, and they dwell here in this very forest. I have no doubt you have heard them groaning as you have passed through."
"Are we really to leave them in this horrid, dark, tree-infested…" Gimli's rant was cut short by groaning from the forest, and he quickly changed his train of thought. "I mean, charming, quite charming forest."
"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn," Gandalf answered, "a great power has been sleeping here for many years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."
Beside Faramir, Aragorn chuckled at Gandalf's words. "In one thing you have not changed, dear friend. You still speak in riddles." Gandalf returned the laugh, the first smile Faramir had seen on his face since they reunited.
"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong." As Gandalf finished, Gimli opened his mouth to protest once more, but Gandalf dismissed him, "stop your fretting, master dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are safer than you are about to be, for the next part of your journey begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."
"Edoras? That is no short distance," Gimli said. Though they were within the borders of Rohan, they were closer to Isengard than they were to Edoras and it would be a few days ride to make it to the capital of Rohan. Thinking of Edoras made Faramir think of their earlier encounter with Éomer, and his description of what was happening there.
"There is trouble in Rohan," Gandalf spoke, as if he was reading Faramir's mind, "and it will not be easily cured. We must be ready to face hardship when we arrive."
They continued walking, everyone speaking to Gandalf, trying to get whatever information they could from him. Everyone except Faramir, that is. Now that they knew Merry and Pippin were safe, his mind was cast back to his parting with Frodo, and how he worried that Frodo and Sam would cross constant dangers on their road to Mordor.
"You need not worry for Frodo, my lad," Gandalf said, appearing suddenly next to Faramir and making him jump. "He knew the decision he had to make, and it was the correct one. I dare say his gardener will take care of him," he said, laughing, though Faramir was too sombre to laugh.
"But why was it the correct thing? They are out there all alone. They don't know the way, and while I don't doubt that hobbits have remarkable strength, they are half the size of men and two of them alone can be easily defeated."
"During your time in Lóthlorien, Frodo was summoned by the Lady Galadriel, to have a glimpse of what the future may hold," Gandalf began to explain, and Faramir realised this must have been where Frodo had disappeared to that night.
"In this vision, he saw the world fall under Sauron's rule. Both the Kingdoms of Men, Rohan and Gondor, collapse to the forces of Isengard and Mordor. And then he saw the members of the Fellowship die one by one, leaving him alone when facing thousands of orcs in Mordor and the Ring fell into the hands of Sauron.
"Lady Galadriel spoke to Frodo of another vision she had seen, this one with hope of victory. By going alone, the Fellowship was able to split, and therefore the vision that Frodo was shown may not yet come to pass, for it is my hope that Isengard is dealt with by the ents, who will wake after meeting Merry and Pippin, and we are to go to Edoras in order to break Saruman's hold on Théoden King. If the Fellowship had stayed as one, none of this would have happened."
Faramir was shocked at the bravery of Frodo, willing to travel to the most dangerous place on Middle-Earth with only Sam beside him, in order to help ensure that what he saw did not happen, though after spending so much time with hobbits, perhaps it should not have been such a surprise to him.
As Gandalf finished speaking, they reached the plains of Rohan again, the forest now behind them. Faramir felt he could finally breathe, for the air within the forest was thin, and though the sun was blinding after spending a few hours in a dark forest, he was grateful to have it shine upon them again.
Gandalf whistled a tune into the wind. For a minute, nothing happened, but then he could make out something coming towards them. As it got closer, Faramir realised that it was a great, white horse, galloping through the fields towards them.
"That is one of the Meeras," Legolas said, "unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."
Meeras? Faramir could not believe his eyes. He had read about these horses, the pride and glory of Rohan, though he had feared he would never see one in his life. Though the journey since leaving Gondor had been incredibly tough, it had provided him with experiences he never thought he would have, and this was one of them. It is said that the Meeras were the most intelligent of horses and superior in both speed and strength, and that only the Kings of Rohan and their sons could mount them, and of course, Gandalf.
The horse was truly beautiful. Its silver coat glistened in the sun as it ran towards them and it was not difficult to understand why these horses were worshipped in the Mark. The horse approached Gandalf, who bowed his head to him, and then extended a hand and was granted permission to stroke the horse's nose. Clearly there was some affection between the two.
"Shadowfax. He is the Lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers."
Gandalf climbed atop Shadowfax, with no saddle or stirrup, much to Faramir's wonder, and the others also mounted the horses that Éomer had lent them. they galloped off at great speed, heading for Edoras.
Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter 10. As always, chapter 11 will be up next Sunday. Next chapter we will meet Théoden and will be reintroduced to Éowyn. Obviously, we are now at the point where Boromir did not reach, and so everything is essentially new for a fourth character, and at times, adding in dialogue for a forth character is difficult, but this will obviously mean that some differences in dialogue and storyline will occur. And the development between Faramir and Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli will continue, as he has known the three longer than Boromir did and therefore will form better relationships with them. Next chapter will be the start of one of the most significant changes which is the effect Faramir being in the Fellowship has on Éowyn's you enjoyed chapter 10 :)