Author Note: Inspired by "Steady is the Hand" by rhosinthorn. Thank you for everyone who has read and reviewed my story.
The Shards of Sorrow
Review: The Company is summoned by Celeborn to speak again after nearly a month in Lothlórien. Branwen notices that Galadriel's power appears weakened. It is clear that their course is not yet decided. The Company goes to speak down in their pavilion and the majority favor Minas Tirith, though Aragorn and Frodo are undecided, and Branwen is the sole voice speaking against Minas Tirith.
They depart the next morning and receive cloaks of the Galadhrim and then gifts. Branwen is given a mithril circlet bearing an elfstone that has the first light of dawn captured within it. Galadriel recognizes her as an Elf-Lady of equal power among the other Elf-Lords.
They depart and travel along the Anduin by boat. Gollum has picked up their trail again and he makes another attempt on Frodo, but Frodo scares him off himself. Gollum now avoids coming close when Branwen is awake and Branwen feels that Gollum knows that she can See him. Frodo and Aragorn both wish to spare Gollum's life in consideration of Gandalf's wishes.
On their eighth night, they come to the rapids and, shortly after, Branwen Sees a Rider on a flying creature and she and Legolas shoot it out of the sky. She Sees Orcs further downriver but they depart shortly after. The debate between East and West renews.
They travel down a path next to the rapids the next day but there is deep fog that delays them until the following day. They travel in the thinning fog and pass through the Gates and Chasm of Argonath. Branwen has been struggling with feelings of affection for Aragorn and, under the influence of the Chasm of Argonath, Frodo sees the truth of her feelings but keeps his thoughts to himself.
They arrive at the foot of Amon Hen and sleep that night. Branwen finds the magic of Amon Hen is too heavy for her to See through. The next morning, Aragorn reports that there are Orcs around there as well and they need to make a decision. He places the choice on Frodo and Frodo requests an hour and walks off. Branwen sits away, staring into the water, as the rest of the Company talks. Eventually, Sam notices that Boromir has vanished and Branwen jumps up only to feel that someone has called upon Amon Hen's magic. She races away just before Boromir returns to reveal that Frodo has vanished after Boromir sought him out to speak with the Hobbit.
The Company split and run off in a panic to search for Frodo. Branwen reaches the top of Amon Hen and finds no one there. She tries to use Amon Hen's Sight to attempt to See Frodo and finds its too powerful to look so close. She is drawn into the Utter West and Manwë, the Elder King, speaks shortly with her. He informs her that they are aware of who she is, that her arrival created some difficultly for them but that she has a place in the Great Song, and, when she is ready, she will go to the Utter West for the crossroad that awaits her. He then binds her tongue so she might not speak and releases her.
Aragorn finds her convulsing on the Throne of Amon Hen and pulls her down—appearing unconscious with her head and fingers bleeding. She seems to wake up after a few minutes at his coaxing and he begins to cry as he had been so worried about her.
Chapter Twenty-Two – Sundering and Pursuit
The Third Age – February 26th, 3019
Branwen heard her name being called as if from a great distance and she was being jostled back and forth. Her head was hurting terribly, her throat felt raw, and her fingertips burned. What had happened…? Had she…? …Manwë had sent her back and then…she must have passed out.
…Why had a god been expecting her…? She had so many questions…but she could not even ask them, if what he said was true… What could he have meant by a 'crossroads'? At least, she now knew for sure that she would be allowed to cross the Great Sea to the Undying Lands…if for no other reason than she had an unspecified appointment.
With a great struggle, she cracked open her eyelids and the light stabbed at her pupils. The voice calling her became clearer. "Branwen! Branwen! Please wake up! Branwen!"
She knew that voice…
Opening her eyes fully, her vision was blurred but began to clear up. The voice had stopped calling her and she saw Aragorn's face close to her, his eyes glassy, and relief clear in his expression. Branwen noticed, though she felt too dazed to summon up any emotion, that she was being gently cradled in Aragorn arms.
She swallowed and her voice brushed past the rawness of her throat, "…Estel…?"
Then Branwen was enraptured completely in his embrace and her nose was at Aragorn's throat as he buried his face in her hair. She could hear him crying and he was softly shaking even as he held her tightly into his strong form. The scent of pine, juniper, and tobacco leaves filled her nose and she almost forgot for a moment why she should not kiss his neck that her lips were currently pressed against.
Her thoughts became clearer after a moment and she refrained. She began to feel out her body as best as she could without moving. Her fingers hurt and her head was throbbing now. At least her throat was not starting to hurt more than it already did.
Branwen's personal assessment was interrupted by the sound of an echoing horn blast, following by another and then another.
Aragorn lifted his face out of her hair, his face white, "That is the horn of Boromir. He is in need! Branwen, are you able to stand?"
Branwen nodded, her voice hoarse, "…Just set me down… My head is killing me."
Aragorn carefully sat her down on the step and said, "You struck the back of it on the stone and you're bleeding."
Ah, well, that would explain that then.
Branwen said, "I'll heal up quickly. Then let us fly to Boromir."
She did not so much sing as she quickly chanted her small healing song and felt it get to work. Thankfully, her injuries seemed mostly minor and her fingertips and jagged nails were no longer bleeding, and her heading stopped pounding. It still felt a bit heavy, but, if she had a concussion, there was little she could do about that. Her thoughts were not full of cotton but did feel just a tad slow. Her throat felt soothed as well.
Branwen stood and felt steady on her feet. Her voice sounded much better as she ordered, "Lead on!"
Aragorn looked unsure but nodded. He then glanced around and seemed to ask himself, "Where is Sam…?"
He shook his head and then took off at a run. Branwen easily matched it and said, "Estel, I can run faster! Do not hesitate on my account!"
He glanced at her and then abided as his strides grew greatly. Branwen found it more of a struggle to keep up but she drew on the bit of inhuman vigor within her. As they ran, there were the sounds of Orc-voices, shouts, and the horn was blowing urgently now. There was then an Orkish war-cry and the horn went silent.
Branwen had to take nearly two strides for each of Aragorn's but she kept pace somehow despite the near sprint Aragorn was running at, constrained only by the rough terrain. Aragorn was running through brush, snapping tree branches, and Branwen was right at his heels as they flew down the last of the slope. As the sounds of the horn died, Aragorn drew Andúril with a single flourish and the sword seemed ablaze with white light.
Aragorn entered a small clearing, maybe a mile from the lawn at the foot of Amon Hen, and stopped nearly dead. Branwen side-stepped him to avoid crashing into his back and saw what had frozen him.
Boromir was sitting with his back up against a large tree and his front was filled with black arrows. The horn that had been calling for aid was split down the middle while his sword had been snapped. Surrounding him were the corpses of many Orcs—nearly two dozen or more.
Branwen opened her Sight and Saw that his lifeforce was still there, if barely. That meant…she had to try!
Aragorn had begun walking to him slowly, likely thinking him dead, but Branwen rushed past, "He's still alive!"
Boromir eyes opened as she skidded to a stop next to him and fell to her knees. Aragorn kneeled down on the other side. Boromir glanced at her with some great regret, but he then looked to Aragorn, "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo."
Branwen paused for an instant, but then resumed. She had known that was likely already. She could berate him and smack him about after she tried to heal him…but there was just so many arrows. She began to whisper-chant her healing song and pulled on the Shards as much as she could. Boromir continued to speak, "I am sorry… I have paid… They have gone—the Halflings—the Orcs have taken them… I think they are not dead…orcs bound them…"
Branwen was focusing on his lifeforce, trying to coax it back, but it was like water slipping through her fingers. Boromir spoke again, "Farewell, Aragorn…Branwen… Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! …I have failed."
Aragorn declared, "No! You have conquered! Few have gained such a victory. Minas Tirith shall not fall!"
Boromir smiled and his eyes began to close before Branwen yelled at him, her Voice like a thundercrack, "Don't you dare!"
Boromir seemed to start for a moment before he looked back at her. She had immediately resumed her whisper-chanting of the healing song. Her heart felt even heavier now, fearing that Frodo, along with the Ring, and the other Hobbits had been taken Orcs. She had removed a few of the arrows away from the vitals and the bleeding of those wounds had stopped, but his lifeforce continued to fade.
Boromir said, "…My fair Lady Branwen…thank you for attempting to save me…but I know that this is my time… I am…so sorry…for having a weak heart."
Branwen ordered, "Shut up! Keep your strength!"
Boromir did not listen though and continued speaking, "…My heart has been so conflicted…between my duty to my people…my desire for the Ring…and my thoughts of you…"
Branwen paused for an instant but kept chanting. Please, don't do this. Don't say words she could not return. Boromir's voice grew weaker, "…I think I may have feared you…even disliked you at times…but I have never met a woman so bold, so strong…so beautiful… I think, from the moment you shouted me down in Rivendell…refusing to be compliant…I have loved you…"
And he said it. Words she could not…would not say back, even if it was nothing more than an empty comfort to the dying. She kept chanting, her eyes felt hot now, and she knew tears were beginning to gather there. How she hated this man…how dare he do this to her!? Stab at her with a dagger of guilt as he died, while she kneeled her repeating a stupid little rhyme that could no more heal these wounds than a band-aid.
Boromir said, "…I am sorry, my lady…"
Aragorn then asked, likely see that Branwen had no intention of speaking, "Which way did the Orcs go, Boromir? Was Frodo here?"
Branwen dropped her hands and her Voice grew silent. Boromir's lifeforce was gone and he did not reply. Angry tears came down her face now…how dare Boromir do this to her! He should have stayed silent rather than say those words… Did he not realize that she would carry the guilt of being unable to save him even more heavily now…? …That had been cruel of him to do…
Aragorn bowed his head on the other side of Boromir and kissed the dead man's brow. He said quietly, speaking to himself, "Thus passes the heir of Denethor, Lord of the Tower of Guard. A bitter end and now the Company is all in ruin. Vain was Gandalf's trust in me… What shall I do now? Boromir has laid it on me to go to Minas Tirith and my heart desires it, but where are the Ring and the Bearer? How shall I find them and save the Quest from disaster…?"
Branwen felt her heart breaking at the despair in Aragorn's voice. It sounded as if he carried guilt nearly as powerful as her own. Her thoughts were with the Ring that she feared now was being carried with haste away from them, but, for the moment, she set them aside.
She reached across Boromir and took Aragorn's hand. He flinched, as if he had forgotten she was there, and Branwen gave him an encouraging smile, though it hurt to do so, as she gazed into his grief-stricken grey eyes.
"However and wherever this ends, bitter or sweet, I shall be by your side, Estel… I promise."
҉
Aragorn felt his heart both swell with affection and ache with grief as Branwen's emerald gaze pinned him and her words left him speechless. He had watched as she fruitlessly struggled to save Boromir's life, even though Aragorn doubted even Elrond could have managed it with how grievous the wounds were.
As Boromir confessed his love for her, Branwen had seemed mournful…and then angry. Aragorn knew that she had not cared for Boromir…but it seemed Aragorn had underestimated Boromir's own affection.
His thoughts were swirling endlessly between grief for Boromir and for Gandalf, guilt in his failure as the Leader of their Company and for failing Gandalf, and his heart was still raw from what he had witnessed on Amon Hen and being so terrified for Branwen. He knew that she could not die, so she said, but it was still terrifying to think of and all thoughts of that had fled in that moment.
Aragorn swallowed and replied, "…Thank you, Branwen… Though I am not worthy of such promises, especially in this moment…thank you…"
Branwen squeezed his hand, "Foolish, man… You are more than worthy… You have not failed."
Aragorn felt his throat close as tears began to come down his face. Branwen came around Boromir and drew his head down. His face was now in the crook of her neck as her small arms came around him as best as they could.
He did not deserve this…but he could not refuse it.
Aragorn held onto her and began to weep openly again. It was too much—all of this. He was only one man. Whether he was Chieftain, King, or not, he was only one man… He had watched his mentor fall, one of his brothers die, and he had been helpless in both cases. He was being torn in two—go to his people and defend them or uphold his duty to Gandalf.
Aragorn whispered through his weeping, his lips on the junction of her neck and shoulder, "…I do not…even know…if Frodo was taken…or not…"
Branwen did not respond for a moment but then pulled him away. He took a moment to compose himself and saw that Branwen looked deeply conflicted. She then spoke slowly, "…I have not…tried since the Shards of Sorrow came into me…but, before they were the Shards of Sorrow…they had been the Deathly Hallows… One had the power to summon spirits of the Dead… If you order me…I will attempt to summon Boromir, and we might ask him… I do not like to disturb the Dead though…"
Aragorn felt his voice catch. Branwen had spoken of the Deathly Hallows only briefly and talked of them in terms as if their powers had been mere legend and the Truth of them was the Shards of Sorrow. To hear that the power, especially the one he had thought most terrifying, had been true was jarring.
Branwen looked unsure, anxious, and pale as she looked off to the side. Summoning the Dead…? Branwen had told him that Death was as if slipping into cool sheets for a long sleep that you never wished to wake from… That meant that the Dead wished to stay resting. Could he order her to pull someone from their well-deserved rest…?
No.
Aragorn embraced her again and answered, "No, I shall not. I would not ask you to disturb the Dead from their peace."
Branwen relaxed in his arms and she returned his embrace again. Aragorn could never ask that of her…of one of the maidens that he loved. Damn his heart…
҉
Branwen's heart felt at greater ease than it had been. She had been terrified to offer that to Aragorn—fearful of what he might think of her, as she had downplayed the truth of the Deathly Hallows, fearful that he might say yes, and fearful that she would try and fail…fearful that she would try and succeed and then forever tempted to call on the spirits of the Dead to comfort her rather than allow them their peace.
Even as much as she wanted to confirm if Frodo had been taken…she feared the consequences within herself.
Branwen heard quiet footsteps a short while later come from the Western side of the glade and separated herself from Aragorn. She saw Legolas and Gimli, weapons drawn with stealthy footsteps as if hunting, come into the clearing. Legolas had his long knife out and his quiver was empty.
Their eyes fell upon Aragorn and Branwen, surrounding by Orc corpses and with Boromir's body pinned to the tree. The Elf and Dwarf looked at the mounds of corpses in awe and then it became grief as they realized that Boromir was among the Dead.
They approached closer and Legolas said to her and Aragorn, "We have hunted and slain many Orcs in the woods, but we should have been of more use here. We came when we heard the horn…but too late. I feared that you both had taken deadly hurt."
His eyes linger on Branwen's blood crusted fingertips and blood she could feel stiffening her hair. She was sure that the blood was obvious if any had come over the band of mithril around her head. Branwen answered, "I'm fine now… I had felt someone had called on the Sight of Amon Hen and that was why I had rushed away, thinking it either Frodo or Boromir. By the time I arrived, no one was there. I attempted to use the Seat of Amon Hen to See and find Frodo…but the magic was too powerful and…"
She felt suddenly as if her tongue was frozen and the breath in her lungs was stiff. Branwen understood the Binding of Manwë had done this. She swallowed around it as it eased and finished lamely, "…it overwhelmed me."
Legolas and Gimli then looked to Aragorn and he said, "…Boromir is dead…but I am unscathed, for I was not here with him. He fell defending the hobbits…"
Gimli asked urgently, "The hobbits! Where are they then!? Where is Frodo!?"
Aragorn shook his head, "I do not know. Before he died, Boromir told me that the Orcs had bound them. He did not think that they were dead. I sent him to follow Merry and Pippin, but I did not ask if Frodo or Sam were with him…not until it was too late. All that I have done today has gone amiss. What is to be done now?"
Legolas answered firmly, "First, we must tend the fallen. We cannot leave him lying like carrion among these foul Orcs."
Gimli followed up, "But we must be swift! He would not wish us to linger. We must follow the Orcs, if there is hope that any of our Company are living prisoners!"
Aragorn said, "But we do not know whether the Ring-bearer is with them or not. Are we to abandon him? Must we not seek him first? An evil choice is now before us!"
Legolas spoke with a calming voice, "Then let us do first what we must do. We have not the time or the tools to bury our comrade fitly or to raise a mound over him. We might build a cairn."
Gimli tugged at his beard, "The labor would be hard and long—there are no stones that we could use nearer than the water-side."
Aragorn answered, "Then let us lay him in a boat with his weapons and the weapons of his vanquished foes. We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to the Anduin. The River of Gondor will take care at least that no evil creature dishonors his bones."
Branwen stood with Aragorn and she worked quickly with them to begin picking up the weapons, helms, and shields of the Orcs. Branwen could admit that Boromir had led a valiant final stand. Branwen had not encountered a great many Orcs in Middle Earth, especially living in Bree, but these appeared larger than what was normal. Many were as tall as her, if not a bit taller, and burly as well. That Boromir had killed so many with deep sword strikes and stabs spoke of his competence as a warrior.
Aragorn then lifted his voice, "Look here! I have found some tokens!"
Branwen threw the last of the Orc weapons into the pile as Aragorn pulled up two leaf-shaped knives gilded with red and gold along with their matching sheathes. Aragorn nodded, "These are no Orc-tools! They were borne by the Hobbits. Doubtless, the Orcs despoiled them, but feared to keep the knives, knowing them for what they are—work of Westernesse, wound about with spells for the bane of Mordor. Well, now, if they still live, our friends are weaponless. I will take these things, hoping against hope, to give them back."
Legolas responded, "And I will take all the arrows that I can find, for my quiver is empty."
Legolas quickly gathered up a good number of undamaged arrows from the quivers of the Orcs and the ground. He examined them and said, "These arrows are longer than what most Orcs use…"
Aragorn commented, "Yes… Here lie many that are not folk of Mordor. Some are from the North, from the Misty Mountains, if I know anything of Orcs and their kinds. And here are others strange to me. Their gear is not after the manner of Orcs at all!"
Branwen saw Aragorn was examining four of the larger specimens. He said, "They wield short broadswords rather than scimitars… Their bows are made of yew and crafted in the fashion of Men… I have not seen these symbols before. What do they mean?"
He appeared to be asking about the black shields that bore a white hand and the S-character in Tengwar inset on their iron helms with white metal. Gimli frowned, "S is for Sauron. That is easy to read."
Legolas argued, "No! Sauron does not use the Elf-runes."
Aragorn nodded, "Neither does he use his right name nor permit it to be spelt or spoken. And he does not use white. The Orcs in the service of Barad-dûr use the sign of the Red Eye."
Branwen shivered a bit, remembering that she had Seen it when her gaze fell upon Mordor. Aragorn stood and declared, "S is for Saruman, I believe. There is evil afoot in Isengard and the West is no longer safe. It is as Gandalf feared—by some means, the traitor Saruman has had news of our journey. It is likely too that he knows of Gandalf's fall. Pursuers from Moria may have escaped the vigilance of Lórien, or they may have avoided that land and come to Isengard by other paths. Orcs travel fast, but Saruman has many ways of learning news. Do you remember the birds?"
Branwen's thoughts instead went to what she had Seen from Amon Hen—Wolves of Isengard as a scourge of Rohan and Saruman standing on the top of Orthanc over an army of Orcs. Was the Ring, even now, moving toward Saruman?
Gimli huffed, "Well, we have no time to ponder riddles. Let us bear Boromir away!"
Aragorn replied, "But after that, we must guess the riddle, if we are to choose our course rightly."
Gimli sighed, "Maybe there is no right choice…"
Gimli then drew his axe before Branwen reported, "Before Amon Hen…overwhelmed me, I did See many things… Of them, I Saw Saruman standing at the pinnacle of Orthanc overlooking an army of Orc in Isengard. From Isengard, Wolves now spill out and have infested the Riddermark and it is awash with blood."
Aragorn bowed his head, "…That is evil tidings…"
Branwen nodded, "It is. But we should be prepared for it if…when we pursue the Hobbits."
҉
Aragorn watched as Gimli had quickly cut some thick branches before Legolas came with bowstring salvaged from Orc bows to fashion a litter to carry Boromir and the choicest of weapons from the man's fallen foes. Aragorn took the time to carefully pull the arrows from Boromir's body and release him from the tree. Branwen removed the Galadhrim cloak from him and laid it on the litter to better support his body.
Aragorn saw that Branwen did some quick scratching on the branches of the litter and spoke over them with a whisper. They bore the weight of Boromir a good bit easier, but it was still slow going through the woods, but soon they arrived at the waterside.
Branwen had gone to the water's edge and kneeled down, removing her circlet that had become stuck in her hair. She washed her bloodied fingers first.
Legolas asked him, his voice a whisper, "Aragorn, what happened to Branwen?"
Gimli looked concerned as well and Aragorn hesitated before he answered quietly, "…I went up to Amon Hen, following Frodo's footsteps. When I was nearly to the top, I found Branwen's as well. Frodo appeared to have walked back down the hill, but Branwen had not. I was concerned and also thought to sit on Amon Hen and See.
When I got to the top, I found her sitting there and she was…seizing and screaming, though there was no sound. She had ground her fingertips into the stone until they bled and I could not pull her from the chair with all my strength… Then, her head came back violently against the stone and I was able to take her from the chair finally.
…She was unconscious and breathing, but I feared the worst. I finally coaxed her back to waking. Before I could ask what she had Seen, we heard the horn of Boromir. She healed herself as quickly as she could, and we ran to aid him… She attempted to heal Boromir, to save his life, but he was too injured and he died…"
Gimli bowed his head, "Sorrowful indeed…"
Legolas said, "Yes… Let Gimli and I retrieve the boats as quickly as we can while you watch over Boromir… I do not think Lady Branwen should be left alone just yet."
Their eyes went to her. She was now scrubbing out the blood from her hair and the water that fell back to the lake ran red. Aragorn nodded, "…Yes, I would agree…"
Legolas and Gimli ran off together along the bank to get back to Parth Galen. Aragorn walked to stand next to Boromir in vigil, but his eyes went to Branwen. The water was running much clearer off her curls now.
As she washed her face, Aragorn could only wonder what she was thinking.
҉
Branwen was struggling between numbness, guilt, and anger. She felt guilty of many things, but she felt most guilty that she could not save Boromir… Had she not thought to herself, when she had been unable to save Frodo, that she should learn healing in Rivendell if she was allowed to stay? It had all fallen to the wayside because she had become too caught up with having a family for the first time… It was even more of tragedy as she thought Elrond would have been overjoyed to teach her.
She was angry that Boromir would say such things to her on as a deathbed confessional… He had to have known that it was for nothing, to say such things, and yet it had made the guilt sharper. Branwen was angry with herself though.
She had been attempting to regain her magic for weeks now and she felt like she had done little more than crawled forward. As she was, Branwen felt useless and pathetic. What was the point of being a Witch if she could not use magic when it was most needed? She did not deserve to wear the circlet Galadriel had given her. Branwen was not Galadriel's equal or Elrond or Celeborn or Glorfindel or any of them! Without her staff, she had been crippled…
And now, the Ring was being carried away by Orcs while she pitifully scrubbed herself clean of her own blood, because somehow, a god had pulled her Sight thousands of miles away, said some cryptic words, and dismissed her, but not without binding her tongue.
She was tired…
Branwen whispered a word of heat and the water dried away slowly. She picked up the mithril circlet and washed it clean in the water. The cut elfstone glimmered with internal light and some warmth within the delicately shaped vines of metal. She felt tempted to put it in her sack once she retrieved her bag.
She sighed…no, she would not do that. This had been a gift from Galadriel and Celeborn and she would not put it away to gather dust… If anything, she should continue wearing it to remind herself—Branwen had a responsibility to take up this great power within her and use it to protect those who could not protect themselves. It was why she had become an auror, a peacekeeper, and why she had torn out the throats of those who would trample on the peace that she had given up everything for.
Branwen did not know how, but she would live up to the expectations set upon her.
She replaced the crown in her dried curls and stood. She felt the Shards of Sorrow with her and angrily tugged on them. They were apathetic, but someday, soon, they would listen to her.
She turned and found Aragorn looking at her with an inscrutable expression. His face softened and he smiled sadly at her. Branwen's heart, as raw it felt, still quickened with a flutter. In her thoughts, Boromir's dying face was replaced with Aragorn and she felt her stomach clench painfully. Branwen would not let that come to pass. She refused and would not accept it, no matter what happened! She would not abide the death of the man that she…
…That she what…?
Branwen shoved those thoughts away when she heard the sound of paddling. Breaking eye contact with Aragorn, she looked to the side and saw Gimli and Legolas paddling up South with two boats.
They came onto the shore and Legolas said, as he pulled the boat onto land, "There is a strange tale to tell! There were only these two boats upon the bank. We could find no trace of the other."
Aragorn asked, "Have Orcs been there?"
Gimli shook his head, "We saw no signs of them. And Orcs would have taken or destroyed all the boats and baggage as well."
Aragorn hummed, "I will look at the ground when we come there."
Branwen could only wonder what that might mean. However, she put the thoughts out of mind as they laid Boromir into one of the boats. She folded his cloak and laid it under his head while Aragorn gently combed Boromir's hair back away from the man's face with his fingers. Gimli set Boromir's helm beside him as Legolas arranged his horn and broken sword on his chest and lap. Together, they stacked the Orkish swords at his feet, showing his triumph over them.
Before they pushed it off the shore and into the water, Branwen motioned for them to stop. This would take some time and would be tiring…but it was no less than Boromir deserved for the penance he gave for what he had done. Branwen felt that, if not for the Ring, she would have liked Boromir; as much as she like Gimli and Legolas.
She lifted her hands, "Water," and a thin stream rose up from the lake and begin to fill the boat. The others did not say anything, trusting her in whatever she was doing. With the water under her power, she held Boromir's body down to the bottom of the boat and his horn as well. Branwen breathed onto the filled cavity, "Freeze."
Reaching fingers of ice descended slowly downward and, after a few moments, Boromir was sealed into the boat and preserved in ice as clear as glass. Had she been on Earth, she might have cast charms to preserve the ice permanently…but she was not, so this was all she could do. Boromir's body would be undisturbed for a time…and maybe make it all the way to the Sea.
Together, they squeezed into the second boat, tying Boromir's to theirs, and drew him out into the water to escort him to the arms of Rauros. Past Parth Galen, they released Boromir into the sunlit mists of the Falls. They watched as Boromir, his body set in crystal ice and at peace, was carried by the current and ultimately to the Great Sea. Branwen thought it fitting, though his Dúnadan blood was thinner than many of the Rangers of the North, Boromir should go into the West.
The boat disappeared into the mist and it was clear that Rauros and the Anduin had taken him. Aragorn stood carefully and said, his voice noble and somber, "They will look for him from the White Tower, but he will not return from mountain or from sea."
Branwen felt sadness become stronger as Aragorn's voice rose and he began to sing a lamentation for Boromir:
"Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
'What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall, by moon or by starlight?'
'I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey,
I saw him walk in empty lands until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North, I saw him then no more.
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor'
'O Boromir! From the high walls Westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.'"
Aragorn's voice fell away as tears began to come to his eyes again, but Legolas' clear voice rose up instead to carry on:
"From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;
The wailing of the gulls it bears and at the gate it moans.
'What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?
Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'
'Ask not of me where he doth dwell – so many bones there lie,
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;
So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.
Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!'
'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,
But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.'"
Aragorn's voice rose up again, renewed in strength and grief:
"From the Gate of the Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;
And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
'What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?
What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'
'Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought,
His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the water brought.
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest,
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.'
'O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever Northward gaze,
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'"
As Aragorn's voice again fell, Branwen stood and her Voice rang out to echo like a church bell against the cliffs. She hoped that the Winds that had brought her to Manwë might be beseeched to instead grant them a favor:
"Towards the Realm of the Undying, and away from Middle Earth the East Wind blows,
Across the Great Sea it carries the souls of the departed and mortal woes.
'O mournful East Wind, fell news does comes today, to the West,
Will you bear Boromir the Brave across Sea to his final rest?'
'I do see that he is laid, with memories of Elder Days,
In a vessel of Elven-wood, and I will bear him under sun and star rays.
His noble deeds shall echo on my breath and find home in Valinor,
Where Death has no hold and his deeds shall live evermore.'
'O Boromir! Go West into peace with a heart free of fear,
You are now departed, but your people shall always hold you dear.'"
Branwen fell silent and resumed her seat before they began to paddle back to shore. After they reached the grass of Parth Galen and disembarked, Gimli remarked, "Lady Branwen, I would have said nothing of the East Wind and the tidings it bears, but your verse was most appropriate. Fell a wind that it is, at least it might carry him West across the Great Sea after Anduin has borne him out."
Legolas nodded, "Yes, well done."
Aragorn said, "Indeed… However, Boromir has taken his road, out into the Great Sea, and now we must choose our own road."
Branwen was grateful to Aragorn's desire to move along. Well sung or not, Boromir was dead and she could only hope that the East Wind might take her guilt with it.
Aragorn began looking over the ground, scanning it carefully and dropping into a crouch often. It seemed he was now dedicating his attention to solving the mystery of their missing boat, as they had been pulled entirely out of the water and could not have simply floated away. His eyes were dry now and he appeared to be putting his grief aside. Branwen resolved to do the same.
Aragorn reported, "No Orcs have been on this ground. Otherwise, nothing can be made out for certain. All our footprints are here, crossing and re-crossing. I cannot tell whether any of the Hobbits have come back since the search for Frodo began.
He came closer to the bank and said, "A hobbit waded out into the water and back…but I cannot say how long ago."
Gimli asked, "How then do you read this riddle?"
Aragorn hummed in thought and walked back to the camp as they followed behind him. Aragorn observed, "Two packs are missing…and one is certainly Sam's—it was rather large and heavy… That is the answer—Frodo has gone by boat and his servant has gone with him. Frodo must have returned while we were all away. I met Sam going up the hill and told him to follow me, but, plainly, he did not do so. He guessed his master's mind and came back here before Frodo had gone. He did not find it easy to leave Sam behind!"
Branwen felt a great relief in her. So, the Ring had not been taken to Saruman. If Sam was with Frodo, then that meant it was Merry and Pippin that had been taken. While that was still terrible to think of, her heart going out to the captured Hobbits, it was a lesser evil than the Ring being delivered to Saruman.
Gimli was bewildered though, "But why should he leave us behind? And without a word? That is a strange deed!"
Branwen was strongly reminded of Heather Potter trying to go off alone and being unable to convince her best friends to leave her to the Hunt for Horcruxes by herself. Yes…she knew Frodo's thoughts well and Sam's with him.
Branwen chuckled with some fondness, "Not strange, Master Gimli, brave! At one time, I had faced a choice like Frodo and I too chose to go alone rather than risk my friends. Only the two most stubborn that refused to be left behind accompanied me… That is what Frodo has been agonizing over—not East or West but alone or together. Frodo has gone on and will not be back."
Aragorn looked at her with some understanding as Legolas said, "Well, so much at least is now clear—Frodo is no longer on this side of the River; only he could have taken the boat. And Sam is with him; only he would have taken his pack."
Gimli raked fingers through his beard, "Our choice then is either to take the remaining boat and follow Frodo and Sam, or else follow the Orcs on foot that have taken Meriadoc and Peregrin. There is little hope either way. We have already lost precious hours."
Branwen felt her heart clench again thinking of Merry and Pippin but she looked to Aragorn and said, "I will follow you wherever you go."
Aragorn massaged the bridge of his nose, "Let me think! And now, may I make a right choice and change the evil fate of this unhappy day!"
Branwen did not know which way Aragorn was leaning. There was a dead friend on either side—Gandalf vying East and Boromir urging West. To Sauron or Saruman? To Mordor or Gondor? To the Hobbits bearing the Ring or the Hobbits in grave danger of torment, death, and being devoured?
Aragorn then nodded, his mind made, and declared, "I will follow the Orcs. I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end, but if I seek him now in the Wilderness, I must abandon the captives to torment and death. My heart speaks clearly at last—the fate of the Bearer is in my hands no longer. The Company has played its part. Yet, we that remain cannot forsake our companions while we have strength left. Come! We will go now. Leave all that can be spared behind! We will press on by day and dark!"
Yes, Branwen felt this was the right. Missions of stealth were no longer her preferred methodology, regardless of the use of her Veil, not since Voldemort's fall. Hunting down enemies to make them regret raising their hands against the innocent? That was familiar to her and, though she knew chances were slim of catching the Orcs, they could at least take vengeance.
Branwen felt the path East fall away. She would follow Aragorn West, to the captive Hobbits, to Saruman, to Gondor, and to fight the servants of Sauron rather than Sauron himself.
Together, they pulled the last boat from the water and stored all the items that they would not be taking with them inside of it. The laden boat was put inside the tree line, but Branwen doubted they would be back for any of it. She took a few moments to strengthen the enchantments on her bag and allowed the others to store what they felt they needed but would weigh them down too much.
They began to move quickly and returned to the clearing where Boromir fell. The afternoon was already sinking by the time they got there. Thankfully, the trail of the Orcs was clear to anyone with eyes.
Legolas shook his head, "No other folk make such a trampling. It seems their delight to slash and beat down growing things that are not even in their way."
Aragorn grimly said, "But they go with a great speed for all that, and they do not tire. And later, we may have to search for our path in hard bare lands."
Gimli declared, "Well, after them! Dwarves too can go swiftly, and we do not tire sooner than Orcs. But it will be a long chase and they have a long start."
Aragorn nodded, "Yes, we shall all need the endurance of Dwarves! But come! With hope or without hope, we will follow the trail of our enemies. And woe to them, if we prove the swifter! We will make such a chase as shall be accounted among Magicians and the Three Kindreds—Elves, Dwarves, and Men! Fly, the Four Hunters!"
Aragorn leapt away into the brush and along the path of the Orcs. Legolas' light feet ghosted behind him as Gimli pounded behind like a wrecking ball. Though her heart still felt heavy knowing what she might find at the end of this chase, Branwen could not help but laugh with delight! Now this was what she wanted—to hunt rather than be hunted!
She drew on the strength of the Shards and shot forward behind them and quickly caught up. Her footsteps were near as light as Legolas and she felt grief, guilt, and worries fall away as a savage grin spread across her face.
They flew out of the forest that surrounded the lake and began to hop, skip, jump, and climb over ledge, cliffs, and crevices. The dying sun colored the grey stone around them like blood and Branwen imagined there would be a good deal of blood in the near future. They continued on into the night, shades cloaked in Galadhrim magic, out into hard and bare land, as Aragorn had said.
Whether by magic or blade, Branwen planned to cut down many Orcs soon as she could.
҉
Aragorn felt much more at peace since their decision had been made. He could not help but notice the same for Branwen. Even hours into their chase, her beautiful face boasted a vicious smile that should have looked out of place…but did not.
He imagined that if Eagles could smile, this is how they would look upon seeing their unknowing prey. Aragorn was reminded of how she danced with her sword as she ran. He wondered if she knew that she became a great deal more Elf-like when she was in battle or anticipating battle.
They had slowed some on their outright sprint after coming out of the forest. Over the hard ground and dark stone of the Emyn Muil, the Orcs' trail was indeed harder to pick up, but not impossible. Their first challenge was overcoming the ridge before them that ran North-South.
The climb up on the Eastward slope of the first ridge was not terrible, but the descent was made difficult by the steep and jagged Western slope. The waxing moon gave them some light but Branwen's little Witchlight helped them avoid any terrible accidents. They finally came down into the valley between the ridge they had overcome and the one right behind it.
They rested for a short time there before Aragorn began to look for the Orcs' trail but, even under Witchlight, he could not make anything out. The land was simply too hard and unforgiving here.
Legolas asked, "Which way would they turn, do you think? Northward to take a straighter road to Isengard, or Fangorn, if that is their aim as your guess? Or Southward to strike the Entwash?"
Aragorn shook his head. Orcs hated water, especially moving water, and avoided it if they could. Also, they were terrible boatmen. He said, "They will not make for the river, whatever mark they aim at. And, even if the Wolves of Isengard are in the Riddermark, they will take the shortest way that they can find over the fields of the Rohirrim. Let us search Northwards!"
They continued on for a mile to the North, Aragorn kept his eyes fixed on the ground as Branwen kept her Witchlight over him to better allow him to see. It was just all rock here and the earth was nearly as hard. Legolas had gone ahead and Aragorn heard him call out.
He abandoned his searching and ran ahead, Branwen's light footsteps behind him, and came to Legolas. The Elf pointed, "We have already overtaken some of those we are hunting. Look!"
Five grey bodies, that looked like boulders among the rocky slopes until Witchlight fell on them, had been cut down with powerful strokes and two were headless. Branwen's Witchlight grew stronger and reflected in the black blood.
Gimli said, "Here is another riddle!"
Legolas nodded, "However you read it, it seems not unhopeful. Enemies of the Orcs are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell in these hills?"
Aragorn shook his head, "No. The Rohirrim seldom come here and it is far from Minas Tirith. It might be that some company of Men were hunting here for reasons that we do not know… Yet, I think not."
As Aragorn's eyes took in the gashes better under the Witchlight and the breed of these Orcs, Gimli asked, "What do you think?"
Aragorn nodded, feeling sure with his answer, "I think that the enemy brought his own enemy with him. These are Northern Orcs, that I can see. Among the slain are none of the great Orcs with the strange badges. These gashes appear to be made with short broadswords like the others boasted. There was a quarrel, I think—it is not uncommon with these foul folk. Maybe there was some dispute about the road."
Gimli remarked, "Or about the captives. Let us hope that they, too, did not meet their end here."
Aragorn turned his eyes as he heard Branwen say, "No, I can only See Orc blood, foul and disgusting as it is."
Aragorn turned his eyes back to the ground and began to search for some sign or track.
҉
Branwen frowned as she looked about with her Sight. The Orcs, despite their twisted lifeforces, were not strong enough to leave traces like a wraith could. There was no Shadow in their footsteps or any lingering tracing to magically follow. The cooled bodies of the dead Orcs and their blood stood out, and she would have Seen them if she had gone ahead with Legolas instead of staying with Aragorn, but there seemed to be nothing else for her to See here.
It was maddening knowing that the Orcs, if they continued through the night as their party had, were steadily getting away from them.
All she could do was keep her Witchlight strong for Aragorn to more thoroughly scour the area. Dawn was not far off now and the Morningstar glimmered in the East, as if mocking her ignorance. They traveled a bit more Northward, where a stream cut through the Western hillside down to the valley they were in, when Aragorn looked into the bushes and grass near the stream.
He suddenly looked excited, "At last! Here are the tracks that we seek! Up this water channel—this is the way that the Orcs went after their debate!"
Branwen smiled and looked at the Morningstar—maybe not mocking her but reminding her to hold fast as light was coming.
She extinguished her Witchlight as she bounded after Aragorn and Legolas, Gimli just behind her. Branwen regretted not taking up rock climbing or bouldering back on Earth as this was a great deal more fun than she would have thought. That or it was the anticipation of running down these Orcs.
They crested the second ridge just as dawn broke behind them and the West was being painted again by sunlight, revealing the rolling green fields and gentle hills of Rohan stretching onward until the White Mountains, far in the distance toward the Southwest, were crowned with snow.
The ridge fell away sharply just a stone throw from them and became a sheer cliff that was well over a hundred feet tall. This was the East Wall of Rohan that ended the Emyn Muil.
Legolas pointed, "Look! There is the eagle again! He is very high and he seems to be flying away now, from this land back North. He is going with great speed."
Branwen Saw it and felt strongly tempted to shoot it down, but it was far too high and at too great of a distance to manage, even with a spelled arrow.
Aragorn said, "No, not even my eyes can him, my good Legolas. He must be far aloft indeed. I wonder what his errand is, if he is the same bird that I have seen before. But look! I can see something nearer at hand and more urgent—there is something moving over the plain!"
Legolas replied, "Many things. It is a great company on foot, but I cannot say more, nor see what kind of folk they may be. They are many miles away—thirty-five, I think—but the flatness of the plain is hard to measure."
Branwen Saw them and, though it was a great distance, she could just make out the flicker of wrongness in their collective aura. She said, "I can See them. That is our prey."
Gimli grunted, "We need not trail then! Let us find a path down to the fields as quick as may be!"
Aragorn responded, "I doubt if you will find a path quicker than the one the Orcs chose."
Under daylight, out of the darkness of night and shadows cast by Witchlight, it was clear the Orcs had pressed forward at great speed with little regard for possible pursuit. Debris from spent food, scraps from poorly made clothing, and bits of crude iron littered their trail. The hunters continued North along the ridge until they found a fissure, etched by a stream, down the East Wall. Down its length, they climbed and stutter-stepped.
Stepping out onto the grassy sea of the Riddermark was nearly as jarring as it had been stepping into Lothlórien. With a suddenness, spring seemed to be starting around them, as if the East Wall held back the continued embrace of winter.
Legolas appeared renewed, "Ah! The green smell! It is better than much sleep! Let us run!"
Branwen noticed Aragorn appeared happy as well, "Light feet may run swiftly here. More swiftly, maybe, than iron-shod Orcs. Now, we have a chance to lessen their lead!"
Aragorn took off first, setting the pace, and Branwen was right behind him, drawing once more on the strength of the Shards. Legolas was right behind her and Gimli brought up the rear. It felt like the grass nearly sprung up against the soles of her boots, to propel her forward and onward.
Legolas commented with some amusement, "Why, Lady Branwen! You are certain that you were a daughter of Men? You seem as light-footed as any Elf-maiden!"
Branwen laughed with delight, feeling full of energy now with a clear path to follow and no concerns of footing, "I am on the hunt, Legolas! Is a cat not at its most graceful as it chases down its prey?"
Legolas joined in her laughter as they sprinted headlong in a single file through the grass like a pack of hunting hounds. Westward, they followed the crushed grass that the Orcs appeared to stomp on with some relish. It was after a while that Aragorn suddenly threw up a hand to halt them.
He ran off the side, even as he ordered, "Stay! Do not follow me yet!"
Aragorn was back in just a moment, "Yes, they are quite plain—a hobbit's footprints. Pippin's, I think. He is smaller than the others. And look at this!"
Branwen said aloud, Gimli and Legolas echoing her, "The broach of an Elven-cloak!"
Aragorn appeared a bit grim, "Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall. This did not drop by chance—it was cast away as a token to any that might follow. I think Pippin ran away from the trail for that purpose."
Gimli tugged at his beard, "Then he at least was alive. And he had the use of his wits and his legs too. That is heartening, that we do not pursue in vain."
Branwen felt better knowing that at least one of them was still alive, maybe. However, she would not bank on it, "We do not pursue in vain at all—either we shall secure our companions or vengeance. I hope for both as these Orcs are still in debt for Boromir's passing."
Legolas said, "Let us hope that Pippin did not pay too dearly for his boldness. Come! Let us go on! The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart!"
Prodded on by his words, they resumed their chase.
҉
Branwen felt near tireless, anticipation and the thrill of knowing each footstep brought them closer to cutting down these Orcs. That they had dared to take the Hobbits after cutting down Boromir, they would most certainly pay a high price.
The sun crested and then fell until night was upon them. They had rested for only a few moments twice since finding Pippin's broach but had continually run otherwise. Aragorn finally called them to a halt and said, "We have come some thirty-six miles today, I think, since leaving the East Wall behind. We have come at last to a hard choice. Shall we rest by night or shall we go on while our will and strength hold?"
Branwen found there was some weariness to her, but it did not compare to the goal that seemed to tease her. Just this morning, they have seen the Orcs here where they now stood.
Legolas said, "Unless our enemies rest also, they will leave us far behind, if we stay to sleep."
Gimli looked skeptical, "Surely even Orcs must pause on the march?"
Legolas shook his head, "Seldom will Orcs journey in the open under the sun, yet these have done so. Certainly, they will not rest by night."
Gimli hummed, "But if we walk by night, we cannot follow their trail."
Branwen said, "I can summon light so that we may follow the trail and keep an eye for any signs of them."
Gimli seemed to bow his head with shame, "Even I, Dwarf of many journeys, and not the least hardy of my folk, cannot run all the way to Isengard without any pause. My heart burns me too and I would have started sooner, but now I must rest a little to run the better. And if we rest, then the dark night is the time to do so, at least so my lady does not doubly tire herself with magic as we run."
Branwen could see the way this conversation would go. In the last few months among Elves, she sometimes found herself forgetting rest and often it was only the day-night cycle that kept her regular. She had found sleep less important, only needing more than an hour or so now, though a full night was still appreciated and welcome. Gimli was not like that, nor was Aragorn.
Aragorn remarked, "I said that it was a hard choice. How shall we end this debate?"
Gimli answered, "You are our guide and you are skilled in the chase. You shall choose."
Legolas said, "My heart bids me go on, but we must hold together. I will follow your counsel."
Branwen declared, "I will choose," and they all looked at her with some surprise. She said, "Today, we have run a distance that could have killed Lesser Men. Legolas is blessed with Elven vigor and I feel I am coming into that as well. However, even if we should overtake the Orcs by running through the night, I would not have you, Aragorn, or you, Gimli, slain because of fatigue. I am not yet perfectly tireless either and would prefer not to be skewered because of weariness. Let us rest and then we shall depart tomorrow."
Gimli nodded, "The Lady speaks true."
Aragorn said, "I fear that this was a vain pursuit from its beginning, maybe, which no choice of ours can mar or mend. Though it hurts to accept that we may be too late already, a choice has been made. So, let us use the time as best we may!"
Aragorn and Gimli plopped down into the tall grass and fell right asleep. Branwen realized that none of them had slept since the night before last on Parth Galen. She took the time to scribe out a barrier, still concerned about Wolves. Legolas stood vigil, appearing unwilling to sleep.
Branwen asked, "Do you place to stay up through the night?"
Legolas looked at her with some sadness, "I know the truth of your words, but it still stings sharply. I have never known the weariness of Men and Dwarves, and, at times, I do forget it as well… Had it been just you and I, I believe we might have caught the Orcs. Now…I fear that they will fly out of reach and this will have been in vain."
Branwen sighed, her own heart hurting at the thought that Merry and Pippin may be lost to them as well, just two more bodies to bury, if they were not devoured. She knew, if they found them dead, that she would be as broken up by their deaths as Boromir's. They were doing all they could to catch them without killing themselves…but, though it was painful to see it this way, her first priority was Aragorn and he and Gimli were far more important in the grand scheme than two Hobbits that should have stay in Rivendell. Aragorn was to be King of Gondor and then Arnor, once built, and Gimli was a tried warrior.
…Merry and Pippin had, up until Amon Hen, still been under the impression that this was not a life-or-death scenario.
She replied, "As I told Gimli, we shall either rescue them or have vengeance… Once this chase is settled, we shall move on to greater matters after. The Nine cannot look for Frodo if they are being pulled away to counter foes on the battlefield… I do not yet know how, but I will master…myself, as Lady Galadriel told me, and I will gain back my strength. With that, I shall do what I am best at—War."
Legolas observed her and said, "It is odd seeing the fiery Heart of a Man in the face of an Elf…but not unwelcome, I think, in these dark times."
Branwen smiled, "Yes, I should hope not."
҉
The Third Age – February 28th, 3019
Branwen was awoken by the sound of Aragorn coming to his feet. It was still dark and the sun was not yet up. She blinked in the fragrant grass, staring at the stars above, as she heard Legolas speak. Apparently, he had slept after she had laid down and already awoken or not slept at all. He told Aragorn, "They are far, far away. I know in my heart that they have not rested this night. Only an eagle could overtake them now."
Aragorn's voice replied, "Nonetheless, we will still follow as we may!"
Branwen got to her feet as Aragorn had turned to Gimli and began shaking him, "Come! We must go! The scent is growing cold."
Gimli sounded unsure, "But it is still dark. Even Legolas on a hilltop could not see them until the sun is up."
Legolas replied, "I fear they have passed beyond my sight from hill or plain, under moon or sun."
Aragorn declared, "Where sight fails, the earth may bring us rumor. The land must groan under their hated feet!"
Branwen watched as Aragorn laid down on the ground, his ear pressed to it. She stepped away, opening her Sight in the direction that the Orcs had been going. At first, she thought it was a trick of the light…but the more she Saw it, the more she was certain there was a Shadow upon the Riddermark to the West.
Was one of the Nine moving about…?
The sky lightened to the East behind her as Branwen continued to See. She heard Aragorn get up from the ground before she turned to look at him. He looked discouraged and reported, "The rumor of the earth is dim and confused. Nothing walks upon it for many miles about us. Faint and far are the feet of our enemies. But loud are the hooves of the horses. It comes to my mind that I heard them, even as I lay on the ground in sleep, and they troubled my dreams—horses galloping, passing in the West. But now, they are drawing ever further from us, rising Northward. I wonder what is happening in this land?"
Branwen shared, "In the West, I can See a Shadow has spread… From this distance, I cannot make out what its source may be—whether it is of the Nine or what, but something is afoot here in Rohan."
Legolas declared, "Let us go on! Our quarry continues to push onward as we speak!"
They took again to the trail and ate small bites of lembas as they ran under the dawn light
҉
They ran again throughout the entire day, heading Northwest, as they came closer to the Entwash and the Shadow that Branwen had seen that morning for the first time. As they drew closer to it, it was apparent that this was not the Shadow of the Nine nor was it like the Shadow of Mordor or the Balrog. This Shadow seemed…persuasive, seductive, and cunning.
She had worried of Wolves but, under Galadhrim cloaks, they appeared to pass unseen through the land and she did not even have to call upon her Veil to keep them vanished. As she was drawing on the Shards to sustain her enduring pace, Branwen was glad not to have to give up one of her sources of vigor.
Their path curved Northward, parallel to the Entwash when the river came in view before, and they entered the Shadow. Branwen pulled on her Veil a bit, diverting it around herself, as she attempted to discern its purpose.
Finally, dusk came again and Aragorn called them to a stop. Another thirty-six miles they had come that day. However, Legolas could only frown, "Now do I most grudge a time of rest or halt in our chase. The Orcs have run before us, as if the very whips of Sauron were behind them. I fear they have already reached the forest and the dark hills, and even now are passing into the shadows of the trees."
Gimli seemed to blame himself as he clenched his jaw, "This is a bitter end to our hope and to all our toil!"
Aragorn's own outlook was grim as he looked about their surroundings suspiciously, "To hope, maybe, but not to toil. We shall not turn back here… Yet, I am weary… There is something strange at work in this land. I distrust the silence. I distrust even the pale moon. The stars are faint and I am weary as I have seldom been before, weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some will that lends speed to our foes and sets an unseen barrier before us—a weariness that is in the heart more than in the limb."
Branwen realized at once then the purpose of this Shadow and who was casting it. She threw her Veil over them, cloaking all four of them from the influence of the Shadow, and said, "The Shadow of Saruman! That is who has cast this Shadow over Rohan. I have just shielded you all with my Veil from it. And how do you feel now?"
Gimli seemed to right him and said, "…I do feel less weary in my heart!"
Legolas nodded, "I had feared this since first we cam down from Emyn Muil. For I felt the will upon the land before us."
Aragorn declared, "He shall not turn us back! However, we must halt once more for the evening. The weariness from the day has spread into my limbs even if I am shielded from it now. But North lies our road between hill and fen when the days returns."
Branwen wanted to kick herself as they settled for the night. She should have thought to Veil all of them from the Shadow. Despair was felt from the Shadow of Nine and terror from the Shadow of the Balrog, but never before had she thought that a skilled magician could cast a Shadow that might sap their strength while invigorating his allies. Truly, Saruman was to be feared if he could exert such control over vast distances.
She set another ward and slept again in the grass.
҉
The Third Age – February 29th, 3019
"Awake! Awake!"
Branwen shot to her feet in alarm, heart pounding and hand on the hilt of her sword, and it took her a moment to process as Legolas continued, "It is a red dawn! Strange things await us by the eaves of the forest. Good or evil, I do not know—but we are called! Awake!"
Branwen blinked the sleep out of her eyes as Aragorn and Gimli came to their feet as well. About them, the Shadow now hung heavy…but the Wyld was also agitated and there was a feeling off to the North of something…ancient. Indeed, she if felt much like the magical Heart of the Black Forest in Germany had felt—old, powerful, and dark. Not evil, but suspicious of trespassers and humans.
It seemed something was awake in Fangorn Forest.
Branwen made sure to Veil them away from the influence of the Shadow as they resumed their chase and began to approach the short hills to the North of them. She felt not as tireless as she had been the last few days, as she now diverted vigor and attention to protecting the others, but it seemed they were better at least.
Though they ran from dawn, it took them almost until midday to get close to the hills as they follow the Orc tracks. Coming upon the hills, that stood some ten miles East of the Entwash, they found a circle of trampled grass on the trail they were following, and another exiting the circle.
Aragorn frowned deeply as he examined the tracks and reported, "They rested here for a while, but even the outward trail is already old. I fear that your heart spoke truly, Legolas—it has been a day and a half, I believe, since the Orcs stood where we stand. If they held their pace, then at sundown yesterday, they would have reached the borders of Fangorn."
Gimli said, "Well, let us go on. My legs must forget the miles. They are more willing than the day passed as my heart does not feel so heavy anymore."
Branwen have a humorless chuckle, "You're welcome, Master Gimli. I have shielded us all as best as I can from the Shadow of Saruman, but still, we have come many miles in only just a few days…and we still have many to go."
Aragorn waved them along, "Let us not keep them waiting then!"
It was many hours later, the sun almost set, when they came to the last hill of the Northern line of downs that marched next to the Entwash. Branwen was feeling a bit of strain in keeping her Veil tightly wound over all four of them, but Aragorn and Gimli seemed much better than they might have been as they were still able to trot along at a set pace, though not as fast as they had been. Mortality showed in the face of the immortal energy of the Elves as only Legolas seemed still so very light of foot. Branwen felt she could still match Legolas, if she tried, but there seemed little point with Aragorn bending low and slowing to scan the ground while Gimli seemed to be flagging as the day came to an end.
As they came upon the last down, Legolas said, "Let us go up on this green hill!"
He flitted up the slope, leaving hardly a footprint in the grass, but Branwen was content to follow behind Aragorn with Gimli coming up behind. As they came to the bald head of the hill, Branwen could not help but chuckle as she realized they had passed this point some days ago on the Anduin, and here now they ran North again. The sun was sinking the West, the Eastern sides of the Misty Mountains were dark purple except for where there was snow, all around them the Shadow of Saruman lay like a fell mist, and the Wyld of Fangorn Forest in the distance was thick and untamed.
Branwen could See no Orcs though and sighed in sadness. It seemed that Merry and Pippin were lost to them then, though she did not say so. She wondered if she might face Saruman head on, after she mastered the Shards, and exact their vengeance that way? She did not think they could face him now; putting aside the army of Orcs and Wolves.
Gimli groaned, "Nothing can we see to guide us here. Well, now we must halt again and wear the night away. It is growing cold!"
Aragorn said, rather stoically, "The wind is North from the snows."
Legolas continued, "And before the morning, it will be in the East. But rest, if you must. Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. Wisdom often is found at the rising of the sun."
Gimli muttered, "Three suns already have risen on our chase and brought no counsel."
Branwen said, "It does no good to moan, Gimli. Let us sleep and hope for something better tomorrow… I am not nearly so fresh after a day of holding Saruman's Shadow at bay and I do need some sleep to ease my weariness."
Her last image as she fell asleep was the tree line of Fangorn some thirty miles away, over which the snowcapped Methedras—the Southernmost of the Misty Mountains—seemed to preside.
҉
The Third Age – February 30th, 3019
Branwen woke before dawn as Legolas' soft singing roused her. It appeared she was not the only one to have had some trouble sleeping the night previous as Aragorn was already up and Gimli was stirring as well. As Legolas had said, the North Wind had been replaced by the East Wind and swept away all the clouds. The Morningstar hung bright in the predawn and Branwen wondered whether it was a good sign or not. The sunrise was at least unimpeded by clouds.
While she looked at the sunrise, Aragorn had turned to the forest. He suddenly dropped to the ground and Branwen looked over and saw some dark patch moving far in the distance. Coming to stand next to Legolas, she squinted as she opened her Sight and it became clearer—horses…horsemen.
How many, she could not tell, but they appeared to be Men by their collective aura. Rohirrim then?
Aragorn jumped up, "Riders!"
Branwen realized he must have been listening to the earth again to ascertain horse hooves. Aragorn said, "Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!"
Legolas reported, "Yes. There are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall."
Branwen blinked and wondered if she might have seen powerful vision someday. Aragorn smiled in amusement, probably feeling silly for forgetting there was an Elf who could see what he had laid in the dirt to determined. The Ranger said, "Keen are the eyes of the Elves."
Legolas shook his head, "No, the riders are little more than fifteen miles distant."
Branwen was not sure whether it was necessary to break it to Legolas that Men could not easily see fifteen miles and make out individual details or count how many were in a group unaided. Gimli seemed to think it unimportant and focused on the riders themselves, "Five leagues or one, we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?"
Branwen replied, "We need not escape them at all. If we do not wish to be discovered, our cloaks are well for that and, should I Veil us, they truly will never even notice our passing."
Aragorn instead said, "We will wait. I am weary and our hunt has failed. Or at least, others were before us—these horsemen are riding back down the Orcs' trail. We may get news from them."
Branwen wondered if, maybe, the horsemen had slaughtered the Orcs and rescued Merry and Pippin for them? That would be a blessing.
Gimli was not so optimistic, "Or we may get spears."
Legolas reported, "There are three empty saddles…but I see no hobbits."
Branwen felt her heart sink as Aragorn replied, "I did not say that we should hear good news. But evil or good, we will await it here."
Branwen sighed, "Well, let us not delay then and meet our bearers of news—good or evil."
They walked down the Northern slope of the hill before they came to rest just above where it met the plain so that they could sit comfortably on the slope. They each wrapped their cloak around them and drew their hoods. Branwen made sure hers was pulled well over her face. She realized this would be the first time she was walking with it undisguised among a significant amount of Men.
She had gotten used to not hiding though, and she did not feel the desire to go back to Veiling herself anymore in a false face.
As they sat there, Gimli asked Aragorn, "What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn? Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?"
Branwen laughed, "No, Gimli! They are not marauders!"
Aragorn answered, "I have been among them, and, no, they are no marauders. The are proud and willful, but 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 in between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been friends of Gondor, though they are not kin to them.
It was in forgotten years long ago that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North, and their kinship is rather to the Bardings of Dale, and with the Beornings of the Wood, among whom many still be seen many men tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least, they will not love the Orcs."
Gimli frowned, "But Gandalf spoke of a rumor that they pay tribute to Mordor."
Aragorn shook his head, "I believe it no more than did Boromir."
Legolas cut the debate short, "You will soon learn the truth. Already they approach."
Branwen watched as the host of riders approached—tall, long blonde braided hair, pale faced under leather helms, clinking mail shirts, round shields, long swords at their waists, and tall spears in their hands. Their horses were like Branwen's Dusk had been in decades passed, not sinuous and graceful like an Elf-horse, but powerful and only barely tamed by the riders atop them. They rode in pairs in a long file behind the tallest warrior at the head of the line, who rode alone, wearing a tall ridged helm with a flowing white horsetail off the crest. The combined noise of horse hooves and the voices of Men rolled over them like a wave of sound.
Though the riders appeared vigilant, looking to the sides and rear often, it seemed that their hunting party went unnoticed in their Galadhrim cloaks as they sat in stillness. Branwen felt impressed once more with the cloaks. If they had had these West of the Misty Mountains, she wondered if they would have had to worry about being spied upon by birds and beasts at all.
Aragorn then ordered them, "Be mindful. As I said, they are proud and they will attempt to test us."
He then stood up, dropping his hood, and called out, his voice carrying loudly, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan!?"
From a distance, she saw the call go up the file and the leader pointed his spear around. They wheeled about and, in a moment, their group was surrounded by horsemen on the hillside that drew as close as their horses could allow them in a perfect circle.
Aragorn remained standing and silent, waiting for an answer, and Branwen stayed seated with Legolas and Gimli with their hoods still drawn. Branwen only stiffened when, without a word or command, the host dropped their spear tips as one to point at them as others drew back bowstrings.
Well, wasn't this lovely…?