Gilrael had never done anything more boringly tedious in her life.
Doing nothing but run for days and days straight through identical plains surpassed even her time in captivity where Sauron had forced her to scrub clean thousands of sets of orc armour or the time he had forced her to scrub clean the thousands of stairs of Barad Dur or the time…well, you get the point. Running was excruciatingly boring.
Worse, she didn't have anyone to talk to because, far in the distance, Legolas was leaping along merrily like a gazelle, claiming the run was 'exhilarating,' while Aragorn was consumed in throwing himself face first onto the ground every few minutes and claiming, among other more poetic things, that he could hear the orcs' quickening pace. At that, Gilrael always rolled her eyes. They weren't that loud.
As for Gimli, for all his panting and flushed face, he still managed – in between his heavy breaths – to bemoan the soreness of every muscle fibre in his body and inform nobody in particular about the natural talent of dwarven sprinters. Still, Gilrael had to admit that the dwarf possessed a copious amount of endurance.
But as they ran (or sprinted or jogged or stumbled, depending on the person) into Rohan, the Four Hunters gathered on top of a rocky outcrop, gazing into the distance, where not a sign of the orcs could be seen.
Aragorn muttered something about 'evil', 'speed', 'creatures' and 'tired' while Legolas narrowed his eyes, peering into the distance.
"I see something!"
Gilrael leaped onto the rock next to him, but could see nothing.
"Well tell us what you see, don't just announce it!" Gimli commanded, wishing for the first (and last) time in his life that he had the physique of an Elf.
"I see…the orcs. Yes, the orcs. They're turning, hmm, northwest? No, northeast, they seemed to be a bit confused. Ah, they're headed towards Isengard!"
"You can see all that?" Gilrael muttered, not convinced, because even with her elven eyes she could see nothing of the sort.
"Yes, I can, and I can also see you are jealous."
Gilrael rolled her eyes, but Aragorn had already started running again.
"We must waste no time! If they take the hobbits to Saruman we'll be hard-pressed to rescue them!"
But as dusk turned to night, Ranger and Dwarf started to lag. Legolas and Gilrael exchanged a look, and they halted in a grassy vista.
"You need to rest," Legolas announced as Aragorn stumbled up to them.
Predictably, the man protested, and soon he and the Sinda were arguing.
As Gimli dragged his feet up to them, Gilrael told him, "We're resting for the night."
Predictably, the dwarf collapsed into a sleeping pile.
Eventually, however, Legolas succeeded in wearing Aragorn out, and the Ranger reluctantly pulled out his bedroll.
"But you wake us at dawn," he warned, "or else."
The Elves agreed, and soon he too was fast asleep.
Legolas and Gilrael lay on the soft grass side by side, gazing up at the stars in contented silence, when the ellon broke it with a softly spoken question.
"What was it like, living in Mordor?"
Legolas had often posed this question to her on many occasions, but she had always glared at him and given him the cold shoulder. That night, however, seemed different.
The Sinda was right, because after a moment's thought, Gilrael answered in a barely audible whisper, "I rarely saw the blue skies of day. Only black, rolling clouds, the air filled with smoke and ash. I never felt the fresh breeze of wind, nor the warmth of the sun. It was so sickening. I might have gone mad."
"You never once saw the stars?"
Gilrael exhaled sadly. "No, never. Well, sometimes when they moved me from prison to prison, I would catch a glimpse of the sun, green trees, and stars. I longed for nature, but they never allowed me any freedom."
She paused, glancing to the side where Legolas was now propped up on an elbow, staring at her intensely.
The elleth's eyes filled with tears. "Th-they had me go on raiding trips, all throughout the land. I plundered innocent villages, destroyed crops, burnt down whole cities. Especially in…Rohan. That is why I fear if we meet them, which we probably will, they will hate me for what I did to them in my ignorance and corruption. And I never once was able to apologize, not that it would have been enough."
As tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, Legolas' heart broke with pity and sympathy, wishing he could do something to comfort her, but knowing full well it would be pointless. She would hurt even more. So he made sure that his hard expression never wavered, watching her carefully for any sign that he could do anything.
Suddenly, Gilrael sat up, staring at him so intently that he did the same.
"What is it?"
The elleth's eyes still shone with her tears, but they were also full of determination.
"Legolas, do you have any idea how important this war is?"
The Sinda frowned. "What do you mean? Other than destroying the Ring to save Middle Earth?"
Her eyes blazed as she stared at the dark plains of Rohan stretching out into the night. "There is more at stake here than you realize. We must win, you understand? We cannot let Sauron emerge victorious. I-I don't know what I would do if w-we lost."
Suddenly, she shot him a look, a powerful one filled with a strange mixture of deep affection and pain, that made Legolas' heart spill over with aching love and helplessness. He felt his insides would melt, and he feared he was visibly trembling.
"G-Gilrael, I don't under-"
"Do not let Sauron win, Legolas," she ordered, still staring at him with that strange, passionate gaze. "You must promise me this."
Legolas swallowed, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that such a promise was a foolish and impulsive one. But the look her eyes, those beautiful deer-like eyes, like her living soul burned for him…only with a very large barrier in the way, that tinged his throbbing heart with ice.
"I promise," he finally declared, "that I will do everything in my power to make sure we defeat him."
Gilrael's gaze softened, and the Sinda found he could breathe again. Those eyes were dangerous, he knew, but then again, that was why he loved them.
Legolas stared at her deeply. "What troubles you?"
To his utter astonishment, she responded with by leaning her head on his shoulder, staring up at him with a slight smile.
"Nothing yet, Legolas. Nothing yet."
Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her soft, warm body close to his. Their scents of distant pine and cedar mixed with the fresh air of the night, and Legolas felt that nothing could be more peaceful in that moment.
The Sinda's skin tingled as her slender hand gently brushed his cheek, her back resting comfortably onto his chest.
"Don't ever leave me," she whispered, gazing up at him solemnly.
Legolas smiled, kissing her softly on her smooth forehead.
"Never, Ilweranael. Never."
Ithiriel was not in a good mood.
Grima had proved more irritatingly difficult than she had thought. Saruman had the man entirely in his grips and, as a result, the nation of Rohan as well. Nothing could be done to heal Theoden, at least not by her. Ithiriel knew very well the times to use her Ring, and that was not one of them.
But on the way back to Minas Tirith, where she would try to hold off an impending attack from the enemy, a most ill-timed and inconvenient band of Orcs had delayed her. And those were no ordinary Orcs. Those were Uruk Hai, spawn of Saruman.
Really, did the White Wizard have to meddle everywhere?
Ithiriel would have skirted around them with no trouble if not for two things: One, they were traveling during the day, a most unusual practise, and two, they had halfling captives.
The elleth had discovered the latter when she decided to follow them, noticing the two hobbits being tossed about like useless sacks of flesh.
What could Uruk Hai possibly want from two hobbits? she often wondered as she followed them at a discrete distance, her Elven eyes allowing that to be a very easy task. Neither of them is the Ring-bearer.
Her Ring told Ithiriel as much. No, the real Ring-bearer was far of, somewhere around Emyn Muil. And why the rush? Ithiriel had never seen any Orc so motivated to run at such a speed. What could it possibly mean?
All the questions spurred her to follow through the afternoon and into the evening. They made camp at the edge of Fangorn Forest, a most unwise choice, Ithiriel thought.
The elleth noiselessly manoeuvred Gwendol into the forest, where she slipped off and ordered her horse to keep still. Then Ithiriel crept soundlessly towards the edge and swung onto a tree, sitting hidden on a branch with a very good view of the meagre camp.
Ithiriel knew enough Black Speech to finally understand what was going on. Along with a lack of food, the Uruks had captured the hobbits for Saruman, thinking that one of them might have the Ring. They were going to bring the halflings to the wizard so that he could, obviously, take said Ring. Unfortunately, the Uruks were, of course, mistaken, and Ithiriel shuddered to think of what would happen to them.
In the meantime, however, it certainly wouldn't do to leave the poor hobbits all tied up, much less under the ruthless mercy of Saruman, Ithiriel's least favourite wizard.
But just as she pulled her bow out and was about to fire into the crowd of currently bickering orcs, her sharp Elven ears heard the strangled neigh of her horse.
Ithiriel froze, her eyes darting between the hobbits and the forest. Gwendol was in danger, she knew, but then again, so were the hobbits. Which would she save first?
Not a second was lost as the Elf dropped to the ground and dashed into the forest. She could make sure Gwendol was safe and return to save the hobbits in time, couldn't she?
But that, of course, was not at all how things worked out.
To be honest, the Elves didn't mean to forget about Aragorn, Gimli, and the time, but it happened nonetheless. They were, after all, Elves, who easily lost track of time.
So it was that they were faced with two angry, albeit fully rested, mortals, the light of day streaming onto everyone's faces.
"What part of dawn do you two not understand?" Aragorn demanded.
"And you must have no consideration as to my back!" Gimli huffed indignantly. "On rocks, the whole night, and you never once cared to look?"
Legolas and Gilrael exchanged amused glances. "We certainly apologise."
"Argh!" dwarf and man exclaimed, and then they took off running with renewed energy.
But it was not to last for long, because this time, a bit later than noon, Gilrael heard something.
"I hear something," she announced.
Legolas started visibly, but once again, Gimli huffed, "Well tell us what you hear, don't just announce it!"
"I hear…hooves. Much tramping and pounding. Seems to be a group of about twenty, oh, seven or so."
"You can hear all that?" Legolas muttered, not convinced, because even with his elven ears he could hear nothing of the sort.
Gilrael smiled smugly. "Yes, I can, and I can also hear your jealousy rolling off of you."
Legolas rolled his eyes and was about to respond, but Aragorn shushed them. "No time for arguing! These are Riders of Rohan, and we must convince them that we are friends, not foes. Dark days are upon us, and they cannot trust everyone at first glance."
Gilrael's face grew solemn, and she didn't meet the others' gaze. Trust. What a precious thing, a precious thing that she did not have with the people of Rohan.
As the horsemen passed, Aragorn called out, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the mark?"
They turned and circled around, surrounding the four and pointing at them with their bristling spears.
The leader of the horsemen gave them one look before announcing, "You go no further. Turn back now and you might be spared."
Gilrael's three companions were bewildered, but she stepped forward boldly.
"I assure you, my lord, that you are mistaken."
The leader snorted. "What mistake is there to see, Glurdag? I see you are dressed a bit nicer, and might have cleaned up a bit, but you are the general of Mordor nonetheless, and I should have you killed immediately."
The three others were opening their mouths to retort when Gilrael raised a hand. "This is my fault, and I must resolve it myself. Lord Eomer-"
"Dare you say that to my face," the man growled.
"- I have not stepped foot in Rohan as Glurdag in a thousand years. I have repented of my wicked deeds long ago, and I am here to reverse them as best as we can."
Eomer glaring at her through his helmet. "Not stepped foot in a thousand years, you say? Well I happen to know that you killed my mother, or do my eyes fail me?"
He suddenly thrust a parchment into her face, ignoring the icy blue glare of the Sinda, the hot, angry glare of the Dwarf, and livid look in the Ranger's face.
Gilrael took it slowly but read it quickly. She groaned inwardly, recognizing the handwriting. Roquen.
"My lord, there is a serious misunderstanding – "
"How am I to trust you?" Eomer interrupted angrily. "You burned our crops, you slayed our people, you even admit in your little note that you killed my mother! How do I know you're not lying?"
"You don't," Gilrael responded quietly.
Eomer started as she continued, "But I know that you are not a hard-hearted man, and that you are quick to forgive. Only actions will show my true intentions, but for now, you must accept these words. Every day I grieve what I did to your people, and the peoples of all the other nations that I wronged. If I could I would go back and change it all, I would, but since that is impossible, I will settle with doing what I can here and now. My companions, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm are here to help your people in these dark times. Will you accept us?"
Eomer seemed to weigh his options for a while, eyeing her and her three companions carefully. Then he slowly took of his helmet, and his men raised their spears.
"It may be a trick, but my heart tells me you are truthful. You will, however, find not much aid in Edoras, I fear. Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin."
"He banished you?" Aragorn asked incredulously while Gilrael stepped back next to the other two.
Éomer nodded grimly. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and claimed lordship over his lands. 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 glanced pointedly at Gilrael.
"We are no spies," Aragorn assured him. "We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."
Éomer arched an eyebrow. "The Uruks are destroyed, we slaughtered them during the night."
Gimli protested, "But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?"
"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn clarified.
Éomer pursed his lips. "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them. However," he added, a sliver of hope sparking in the Four Hunter's hears, "there was curious business going on there. Everything about it was strange. The trees, it seemed like they were moving. I felt constantly watched. If your friends are alive, if they managed to escape, I would look in the forest, but be warned that you may not find them. Fangorn Forest is generally known to be quite treacherous, and hope has forsaken these lands."
And with that warning, he whistled and three horses stepped forward, one sorrel, white, and a golden tan.
"We have three horses to gift you, Hasufel, Arod, and Belegroch. May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters, and that you may help us find peace and these troubling times. Farewell."
The riders followed Éomer off, leaving the four alone. Aragorn mounted Hasufel, Legolas and Gimli rode Arod, and Gilrael agilely lifted herself onto Belegroch.
"So we're bound for Fangorn then?" Gimli called from his seat behind the Elven Prince.
Aragorn nodded. "Aye. It is our only hope."
"Must be serious madness to drive them in there," the dwarf remarked as the rode up to the edge of the dark, dense tangle of forest.
"Not madness," Legolas replied dreamily, gazing at the trees. "A need for shelter, perhaps."
"Or the only place to go," Gilrael offered practically as they dismounted, all of them ignoring the burning pile of orc carcasses smouldering in foul fumes.
Aragorn nodded. "We will set up camp, and start hiking through the forest in the morning. Let's build a fire."
Gimli hefted his axe and was about to go for the trees, but Legolas quickly pulled back his arm.
"Do not harm the trees," Legolas solemnly declared. "They will get their revenge."
Of course, Gimli thought that was ridiculous. "I know you really love trees and all that, but chopping one down for wood isn't going to really harm them."
Legolas shot him a deadly serious look, then suddenly shrugged flippantly. "If you wish to find yourself dead or otherwise severely impaired by tomorrow, go on ahead. But do not say we didn't warn you."
Gimli gave one look toward the groaning trees, and one look at the fierce Elf, then rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll gather branches or something, but it won't be as nice."
Fortunately, since he was a dwarf, they soon had a nice, roaring fire regardless of the 'less than ideal materials.'
After a brief meal of lembas bread (again) Gimli volunteered to take first watch. "I'm not tired in the least, since someone forgot to wake us up this morning."
He glared pointedly at the Elves before continuing, "Aragorn is practically already asleep because he wastes too much energy, and Legolas has been watching every night since we started this quest. It's my turn now."
"What about me?" Gilrael protested. "I can watch."
"You're a lady," Gimli announced, as if that mattered.
Legolas looked doubtful. "Are you sure? You need the rest."
Gimli tossed his hand dismissively. "It's alright. Besides, you need the rest as well."
The Sinda was still uncertain. "Not as much as you do."
However, when the Elves saw how stubborn and unrelenting the dwarf was, and knew that it wouldn't do much harm, they relented.
"But on one condition," Gilrael warned. "Do not get distracted, and above all, do not fall asleep!"
Aragorn quickly said, "And don't forget that dawn is when the sun rises." He shot another pointed glare at the Elves before throwing himself onto the ground in a deep, instantaneous slumber.
Soon, all was quiet.
It stayed that way for hours, and Gimli perched himself on top of a stray boulder, eyes and ears alert. But the intense cross-country run had an affect on him. The dwarf stubbornly blinked.
Stay up, Gimli, he ordered himself. Don't let those durned Elves outdo you. And if you fall asleep, you'll be the laughingstock.
No matter how much he muttered this, however, the peaceful setting of quietly sleeping horses, the swaying grass, and the twinkling stars made his eyes start to droop. Eventually, his head nodded forward, and he started snoring, fast asleep.
Until the sound of horses neighing shattered the stillness of the night, and the Four Hunters woke to the animals being led off by a thin cloaked figure, disappearing from sight.