Disclaimer: I looked and looked, but no matter how far I traveled I never reached that magic world where I wrote all the great stories and the famous authors copied me.
Author's Note: Yay for Shara Raizel for delivering the 100'th review in the box! Woop!
Chapter 29 – East Emnet
The cloud cover was so thick, the sky was barely visible. Only the grey light that set the Rohan plains in a bleak sheen signaled to Susan and Gandalf that it was day. Nimzülae and Shadowfaxe were matching each other's stride.
They had broken from a gallop to a brisk canter. Susan was panting slightly and scanning the flat plains. "How do you know we're going the right way?" she asked the wizard to her right.
The old man was scouting the horizon and stopped Shadowfaxe suddenly, as if he spotted something that needed further examination. "There are many kinds of trails to follow. One should always use his nose when hunting orcs, the saying goes," he glanced at her and smirked.
Susan smiled. "We had a saying like that in Narnia," He arched a brow in question. "Never look to the sky to track a fox." She huffed and smiled when she was reminded of the wise Fox who once shared the advice with her. The first ally in a new world. "Which sense should I use to track men?"
The white wizard smirked again. "It is a very particular sense which enables us to search out our own race. I would call it 'feeling'." His eyes had drifted to the horizon as he spoke. "Every human being leaves behind emotions in their wake. A sense that is often evident to other species. Horses, dogs and other creatures alike. Elves, on the other hand, leave no such trail and have little ability to sense it," His voice became distant. "They have moved across this earth like currents through water."
"If they're the current, then what are we?" Susan smiled.
"The fish." he said with a whimsical expression.
She chuckled, but shuddered when a gust of cold air slipped under her cloak. "How come I can't feel it?"
"All that is needed is a little practice. What do you feel at present?"
"A little cold," She smiled again when he chuckled, but quickly sobered. "And lost. . . A little lost."
He nodded sagely. "And what did you sense from Eomer when you first encountered him?"
"Anger." She frowned in remembrance. "And desolation." Her eyes saddened as she gazed over the plains. "He looked lost as well." she answered and realized that was the 'feeling' Gandalf was referring to.
He nodded. "You're quite right. I suspect your natural empathy will work for us this instance."
"How so?"
"You, my dear Queen, have a natural ability to, not only distinguish, but sense, the feelings of others. That is an ability many lack." He glanced at her with a smirk. "I'm surprised your siblings never mentioned as much."
"They have," She frowned. "I just never listened."
The older man nodded somberly and spent another minute gazing over the terrain. Shadowfaxe neighed impatiently. "And what does your sense of loss tell you now?"
She let her eyes drift south-east, lost in thought and a sense of longing.
He followed her line of sight. "Very astute." He sighed. "Very well. East we fly. Towards East Emnet." He kicked Shadowfaxe into another gallop and Susan urged Nimzülae to follow. "Across the river Entwash, through the shallows, and pick up the trail from there."
"Are you sure you trust my emotions to lead us on the right path?" she called as they galloped.
"When we cross the river we will not have to rely on feelings to follow their trail. It will be carved in mud and stone for all of Middle-Earth to see. Eomer commands a thousand men or more. Such a trail is not easily hidden."
They sped across the plains so fast Susan could do little but cling to Nimzülae's neck and pray she didn't fall off. They didn't slow their speed until they reached the river. Gandalf was right. Further up and down stream it swelled and deepened in dangerous whirls and currents. The only crossing Susan could see from their vantage point was directly in front of them. She looked at Gandalf's back and wondered how many times he had crossed this river in his lifetime.
"We have our trail." He smiled with his eyes fixed on the opposite bank. True enough; the grass there was trod down into a pool of mud. A sure indicator that a large company had passed. They guided their Maeras through the cold water and set off in a gallop on the other side. Swift as the northern winds they rode. Seen from a distance they were but two flecks of silver and white.
This was how Eomer first spotted them from his perch next to a scout; two snowflakes in a sea of green. "Company," he muttered to the scout at his side. "Alert Gjessir and the men. Tell them the enemy approaches."
The scout nodded and left. The éored was holed up in a ravine on the eastern side of the river Entwash, which divided East- from West Emnet. Ragged cliffs tore through the lush, grassy fields like the black bones of giants.
As the intruders approached, Eomer's face darkened. Gjessir had returned with the guard. "The men are ready and await your command, my lord."
Eomer hardly heard the words. "Tell me, Gjessir, my friend: What do you see?"
Gjessir followed his master's line of sight. "I see two horses, carrying two men."
Eomer frowned rapidly at the word 'men'. "Not two men. A woman and a white wizard."
Both the soldier and Gjessir, his second in command, sucked in a breath. "Saruman?"
Eomer didn't answer with anything but another order. "Prepare the men. Tell them the right hand of Sauron has found us. The war is here." As he spoke, his words quickened. "Go. Now."
Suddenly, as if a surge of lightning had gone through the éored, all mounted and drew swords.
The wizard and the young woman saw several hundred horses flow from hidden crevasses in the cliffs. "Are they mobilizing?" Susan asked.
Her companion slowed Shadowfaxe to a slow trot – his face, white and concerned. "Fear drives Eomer and thus his men."
She glanced at him in shock at the realization that they might never make it close enough to convince Eomer of their honest intentions. A lone war cry roared across the plains and was answered by the rapidly mobilizing knights. "Will they attack?"
"It is very likely, but do not falter." he said as she unconsciously slowed Nimzülae's pace. "If we are to have any hope at all, we must face Eomer. Make him see reason."
She obediently sided up next to Shadowfaxe with nervousness running through her.
Eomer drew his sword. Springir – his horse – was bouncing agitatedly on its forelegs. "Rohirrim!" A loud and synchronized salute answered their leader's call. It wasn't an order to attack, but a show of discipline and thereby force.
Susan and Gandalf calmly approached Eomer and his men. It seemed as if the lines of knights grew with every passing minute. Susan speculated there were about seven hundred. And more kept falling in line, ready to fight if provoked.
"Do not attack, Eomer of the House of Eorl. We come in peace," the wizard called. He and Susan drew close enough to notice the shock on Eomer's face as he recognized her. "I knew your father." he continued.
Eomer's eyes looked wild. "Lies!" His furious glare was directed at Susan. "The white hand of Isengard comes spreading poison along with Saruman's whore!"
Susan bristled by the anger in his voice. Hurt and astonishment flashed across her face and almost made Eomer retract his words. But before he could, she was consumed by righteous anger. "I am Queen!" Her sharp bark removed any lingering doubt among the men. "And you will address me as such or not at all!" she hissed with a fierce scowl on her face. Nimzülae huffed and whickered at Eomer. Susan had no doubt the mare understood and resented his disrespectful address as much as herself.
He glared daggers at her from atop Springir. "I have no respect for traitors and cowards."
"Don't you DARE call me a traitor-"
"Enough!" the powerful wizard bellowed. His voice darkened several octaves to something barely human. Something so sinister it scared everyone into submission. Even Susan and Eomer. He nudged Shadowfaxe forward. "If I were a minion of Sauron, and a coward as you say, would I have appeared before you in the manner I have?" He watched Eomer falter and continued in a softer voice. "Would I have showed up at all? Would I not have sent an army of beasts to slay you where you stood?" He looked each man on the frontline in the eye. "I am not Saruman as he is. I am Saruman as he should be."
Eomer frowned, but appeared calmer. "Your words mean little."
His face softened into something more reminiscent of a man his age – almost into a sad smile. "You know me, Eomer. See my face and not my robe. Look into my eyes and see the truth," He calmly waited as Eomer looked at him with an enchanted expression.
"Gandalf. . ." he whispered. His mouth hung slightly open.
Susan was still simmering with rage. This was the second time he had insulted her and he had yet to offer a single word of apology. Beneath her, Nimzülae vibrated in anger as well.
"How is this possible?" Eomer asked in shock.
"It is a story for calmer times," Gandalf answered in a soft voice and then continued. "But we must make haste. Time flies against us." Susan thought he sounded almost as a grandfather addressing his grandchildren.
The Rohan knight frowned.
"At this very moment, Saruman's army marches towards Helms Deep. To your uncle."
Eomer's face soured. "I have been robbed of what family I once had, by the worm, Grima, son of Gálmód."
Gandalf nodded. "Grima works for Saruman. The spell that bound Théoden King, your uncle, has been lifted." Somehow, not a soul present, doubted that it was Gandalf himself who had lifted the curse. "The spy has been banished." He spoke calmly and managed to penetrate Eomer's anger and sense of betrayal.
"You met us before," Susan said emphatically and moved up next to Shadowfaxe. "My brother and Aragorn sit at Helms Deep and are prepared to fight to the death for your people." Her ice-blue eyes bored into his hazel ones. "All we ask is that you come to the aid of your uncle – your own people."
"Defend Rohan from the terror that has been unleashed and marches to destroy them at this very moment." Gandalf said in a grave voice.
Susan glanced at her companion, surprised – but not doubtfull – that he knew exactly what was happening miles away. She turned back to Eomer and met his gaze steadily.
"What say you, son of Éomund?" Gandalf demanded.
The proud Rohan knight stared at the white wizard before he discretely turned his head to Gjessir. "Leave everything but the weapons and armor behind. We march to the aid of our king."
Gjessir smiled and drew a deep breath of relief before he turned to his people. "To the Deep!" he cried over the gathered. They all returned the order with proud jeers.
Susan glanced at Gandalf and smiled at the self-assured smirk on his face. "You knew all along, didn't you?"
Eomer joined them, but it didn't stop Gandalf from answering. "I had my suspicions."
Eomer looked between them with a frown, but received little in the way of an answer, when all that happened was that both Susan and Gandalf laughed. She was the first to turn Nimzülae around and head back towards the river.
They had barely crossed it when a cry went out from a scout.
"Orc-scout! North-west!" the scout announced while he pointed wildly.
Eomer's best archer sided up next to them with a bow in hand. He took aim. Susan was worried he was aiming too low, but held her tongue. He fired and missed. "The orc is too far, my lord."
"If he reaches Saruman before us, all will be lost." Gandalf said and shot a pointed look at Susan.
She smiled and kicked Nimzülae forward. "I'll get him." In her voice there was a fierce fire she had not possessed in decades.
"You cannot possibly hit him!" Eomer called.
She raced up to a small, toppled hill and stopped at the crest. She pulled her bow and notched an arrow. Trust in this bow, Susan, and it will never fail you.
"It's too far! Our only hope is to chase it down." Eomer shouted. She didn't turn to see Gandalf hold him back. Tension built like a dam that was about to burst. The army would chase the scout to the end of the world if need be. Eomer was about to shout something else when Gandalf interrupted.
"Patience!" His voice boomed over the army and made it clear he expected everyone to comply. "Susan!"
Eomer looked at the wizard in disbelief. Surely this woman couldn't outshoot his best archer?
"Do you have your target?" he continued.
Susan hadn't flinched when he barked her name. She pulled the string back and took a deep breath as she did; lining the arrow tip with the horizon as she had been taught. Then she arched her back to a point, approximately three inches over the little orc. She was at the right angle. Her bow would now prove just how skilled it was with her brandishing it. The arrow would hit. She could feel it. "I do," she muttered back.
"Then show Lord Eomer the strength of your arm, my dear." Gandalf answered in a proud voice.
"She'll never hit with a wild shot. She will miss and we will have lost precious moments, we should have used to catch it before it reaches Saruman!" Eomer insisted, wanting nothing more than to hunt down the enemy scout himself.
The orc was over half a mile away. Susan drew a deep breath and released the string. It snapped in the air and sent the arrow shooting in a flat arch before falling with pinpoint accuracy and hitting the orc in the back of its head. Even from where they stood they saw it suddenly slump and fall.
Eomer, as everyone else, fell silent in awe.
Susan lowered her bow and drew a deep breath. She guided Nimzülae down from the little crest. She almost wanted to laugh mockingly at the proud, Rohan knight, but didn't when she felt anger bubbling inside her again. She had nothing to prove to him. How dared he doubt her? He didn't even know her!
His shocked eyes followed her as she passed him and set into an easy canter. She didn't hear Gandalf's softly spoken words to the outcast of Edoras.
"Trust in her as she trusts in herself," he said quietly. Eomer turned to him with his mouth still agape. "She and her siblings are the only ones who will be able to win this war for us." Without another word he set into a brief gallop to catch up to his young queen. He smiled when he reached her side. "You did well."
"I know," Her eyes were fixed on the horizon. All the passion and desire to prove herself had gone and left her feeling tired and angry. "It was what I was taught."
Gandalf smiled and didn't doubt whoever had taught her. He suspected more each day that these children had been left with the remnants of, not only powerful and wise tutors, but that of a magnificent being as well. "You surely have, Queen Susan." He smiled. "You surely have."
AN: Susan does a little ass-kicking of her own in this one. I hope it was as satisfactory to read as it was to write.
