Captain Wheeler

Eradan had had boats prepared for them. They were flat bottomed rafts that could be polled along the river and were strong enough to carry men and horses. The captain of the regiment assigned to them was a tough-looking man named Wheeler.

Wheeler was missing one eye and he had a long scratch down the side of his face. "Orcs," he growled when Gwindor asked him about it. Wheeler was strict, keeping his men sharp and military. But the men loved him, and called him Big Wheely behind his back.

Eradan himself same down from the White Hall to bid them farewell. "Don't forget to stop by on your way back!" He called to Anduin as the rafts were pushed off from the bank. Anduin said nothing, save raise a hand in a gesture of acknowledgement.

"Step to it, yew lily-handed cows!" Wheeler barked. He voice carried well enough across both their raft and the second on that followed close behind. "I'll have yer guts for floss if I catch one of yew so much as blink too long!"

"Would he really?" Higgen asked a soldier nearby, who was using a large poll to push off into deeper water.

"Big Wheely?" the soldier said. "No, but he's a regimental captain and that's the talk they all make. My name's Fresen, by the way."

"Fresen? I met your sister Glazel in the White Hall," the hobbit said, shaking the young Man's hand. "My name is Higgen."

"Wot are yew standing around gabbing about?" Wheeler had come up behind them and his booming voice made Higgen jump. "Waiting fer a fly to fly in yer mouth I suppose! Push, yew son of an orc!" Fresen gave a smart salute and put his back into the pole.

Once they reached midstream, however, the Great River pulled them along swiftly and smoothly. The horses and ponies did not seem upset by this new way a traveling, merely vaguely interested as Minas Tirith disappeared behind them.

Higgen found Anduin with Phaethon, stroking the chestnut's neck as he watched a series of grim, black mountains pass them by.

"What's over there?" Higgen asked, leaning on the railing that ran around the boat.

"Mordor, where the shadows lie," Anduin replied. "It troubles me to pass so close, for therein dwells Sauron, chief captain of Morgoth."

Higgen looked over at the mountains in fear. "Will he try and stop us?"

Anduin shook his head. "Sauron was strong once, but no longer. And besides, "The shield wants to be united, always remember that. For only then is it at its strongest, its malice most evil", as Elrond told me." Anduin stopped and shook his head. "Resistance will not come from Sauron. But he has a great host of orcs and other creatures I have only heard of. It is these that we must fear."

"Aye, but I don't fear anything," Higgen jumped again; Wheeler had a nasty habit of creeping up unawares. "I could take on a dragon and he'd be bawling for his mamee by the time I was done with him." Anduin laughed, but it sounded strained.

"Of course I don't actually believe that," Wheeler dropped his voice to a whisper. "But it's important me men do."

"I understand the feeling," Anduin replied, ruffling Higgen's hair.

"I don't think you could take on a dragon," Higgen said to Anduin. The ranger gave a slightly strained smile. When the hobbit had gone away, Anduin put his head in his hands.

"Oh, but you do," he sighed. "You think far too much of me."

There was no need to stop traveling for sleep on the river. A few Men stayed up to keep watch, but the Great River continued to pull them southward as they slept. This close to the Sea, the river was very swift, and they reached the city of Pelargir by the next day.

Wheeler barked out orders and his soldiers unloaded the packs and horses. Eradan had restocked their supply of food, so much so that they needed packhorses to carry it. Overall, there were over sixty horses and ponies in the company now.

They set off from the port city the next morning, for Anduin was impatient to retrieve yet another piece of the shield. Wheeler led his Men at a sharp clip. Higgen did not dare ask him about second breakfast.

The dwarves' ponies were older and could not keep up as well with the fast horses of the Gondorians and Elves. Belladonna trotted gamely ahead, but she too lost ground with the riders. Anduin glanced back and then spurred Phaethon to where Wheeler led his Men.

"We must slow down," Anduin called to him. "The party must keep together."

"Then they'll just have to move their horse-flesh faster!" The captain called out. "The same goes to yer little horse there!" The Gondorians laughed, but Anduin's face darkened. He allowed jests from his Elvish companions, but he could not tolerate insults from strangers.

Phaethon shot forward, encouraged by Anduin. He swiftly pulled passed the soldiers and turned to block Wheeler's path. The captain was forced to pull up sharply, and he and Anduin stared each other down.

"Out of my way, ranger," Wheeler said, his voice a dangerous growl.

"We will slow down," Anduin said firmly. "Is that clear captain?" It was a battle, small that it was, for who would be in charge of this leg of the journey. The captain of Gondor, with his clipped regimental style; or the rugged ranger of the North. Wheeler stared at Anduin for a moment.

"Forward! Half-pace!" he shouted without looking away. The soldiers started forward, much slower than before, but Wheeler continued to stare at Anduin.

"Captain," Anduin said, inclining his head.

"Labadal," the Man replied.