Chapter 22 - Many Tales

"What mischief we have been up to?" laughed Legolas. "I could ask the same of you, Elanor! How is it that Lord Elrond allowed you to leave the sanctuary of Imladris?"

Elanor grinned back. "He was awed by the skill you taught me with a blade."

Even Merry chuckled at that, and Elanor shifted uncomfortably on the hard stone floor.

"But I speak in earnest; what has happened to all of the others?" she continued, not wanting to answer awkward questions about her true reason for leaving. "This is not the whole company that I farewelled in Rivendell!" she said, glancing around at the three faces. She had not realised till that moment how desperately she wanted to know their fates. The book could not be trusted any longer, and her stomach knotted at the thought of the potential disasters.

Legolas and Merry turned to Glorfindel, who gave a resigned shrug and began. "The journey has been long and arduous, my lady. We travelled south from Imladris, making good time, and found the Gap of Rohan to be watched. Thus Gandalf led us to the Redhorn Gate, the Pass of Caradhas." Elanor nodded. Both she and Glorfindel were aware of her familiarity with this part of the story, so he did not linger.

"Yet alas! for we failed in crossing the Pass, and were forced to turn back. By great ill fortune we found ourselves seeking the Gates of Moria, in Hollin. Once that land was fair, and yet now is grievous to look upon. No other way could be found, and we entered the ancient halls of the Dwarves.

"The journey was slow and grim, for even Gandalf seemed at a loss with where to go. After several days, we found that Balin—Bilbo's old friend, I believe you have heard of him—had failed in his attempts to reclaim Moria. Gimli was grieved, but this was but a taste of the horrors we were to endure in the long dark of the Dwarf-kingdom."

Legolas sighed here, his face twisted with sadness. "Do not linger in Moria, Glorfindel, for fresh is my memory of Durin's Bane. Much of the poison is drawn from the wound, in seeing Gandalf once more, but I do not wish to dwell on it."

"As you wish," Glorfindel nodded, and even his usually serene countenance was marked by his anguish.

Of course… Elves hate Balrogs, and Glorfindel died in battle with one… that must've been awful…

Elanor was filled with pity.

"It is well, for I know what you speak of," she said gently. "And so you escaped Moria, and met Gandalf alive and well upon your travels through Fangorn. Where did you go then?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow.

Oh dear, I'm not supposed to know about Gandalf seeing them…

"The Golden Wood, home of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Glorfindel hurried on, frowning slightly at Elanor's slip. "Though I fear that it's beauty shall never be renewed, for it has lost it's former glory, and heavy is my heart. But I shall not dwell upon it. The Lord and Lady of Lórien equipped us with boats, and we continued down the River Anduin. I shall not bore you with details, my lady, for there is time for that later—" bless you, Glorfindel "—but the journey was uneventful until we reached Parth Galen.

"Many words were spoken, and after a time Sam walked alone, in an effort to discern his path. The remainder of the company were grim and silent, for a bitter choice was before us; to follow the Ringbearer whither he willed, or to travel to Minas Tirith. After a time, we observed that Boromir was also missing, and my heart was troubled—" he glanced meaningfully at Elanor "—but the son of Denethor returned, grim of face. Aragorn questioned him sternly, and the company hurried off in half a dozen directions, trying to find Sam.

"It was quite bewildering, for Merry and Pippin disappeared within the trees, and Sam was nowhere to be found. Aragorn and Gimli went one way, and Legolas another. I, for my part, followed Boromir, in the hopes of discerning the cause for his peculiar manner. I feared some treachery was afoot. 'Twas well that I did, for we found young Merry and Pippin, and were beset by orcs."

"Yrch!" muttered Legolas, in disgust, and Elanor pressed her lips together to subdue a smile. She found it difficult to banish her memories of Peter Jackson's trilogy in which Orlando Bloom defied all laws of physics.

"Boromir suffered many wounds, for the orcs were fierce. And yet together we succeeded in driving them back, though at great loss; for Merry and Pippin were taken from us," he glanced apologetically at the hobbit beside him.

"Quite all right, Lord Glorfindel," Merry nodded, graciously. "If they hadn't taken us, I daresay we might not have succeeded in capturing Saruman and Isengard. So really, it's all well that ends well, isn't it?"

Elanor couldn't help laughing. "Alright Master Brandybuck! Please go on Glorfindel; you've got me all wrapped up in suspense!"

The Elf-lord fixed her with his blue eyes for a moment, and in them she saw all that he had endured on her behalf.

I don't regret telling him about Boromir, or about Gandalf, but I really ought to thank him later. It must have been hard, especially carrying memories of the First Age and the Fall of Gondolin…

"Aragorn and Legolas swiftly answered the call of the Horn of Gondor, and with their aid we were victorious. My skills in healing fall far short of Lord Elrond's, but between Aragorn and myself, we were able to tend to Boromir. His injuries were painful, but did not place him in danger. After some rest, he felt a great deal better."

He's alive… oh my goodness, he's alive… Glorfindel did it… we succeeded in keeping Boromir alive… he succeeded… I can't…

Unable to say anything in that moment, Elanor attempted to channel all her gratitude and affection through her gaze. The golden-haired Elf smiled slightly and nodded; they would speak of it in private. He concluded with a short tale of their passage through Rohan, and Elanor marvelled at the distance the Man and his Elvish companions had traversed. When he told of their meeting with Gandalf, she put on an extra show of exuberance.

"That is good news, and I am especially glad to hear about Gandalf," she managed, unable to stop beaming. "But what of Sam? And Gimli? You have not spoken of their fates! And Gandalf and Pippin? I have not seen them here."

"That is because Gandalf and Pippin left for Minas Tirith not long before your company overtook us," supplied Merry. "Pippin—the silly goose—looked upon some device of Saruman's, and Gandalf had to spirit him away so that the Enemy didn't find him."

"You leap ahead, little hobbit!" Legolas laughed. "We shall come to your part in this tale presently, for I am sure you have Lady Elanor quite baffled with your tale of Saruman and Isengard."

"Quite," Elanor smirked, eyes flicking to Glorfindel once more. "Please, continue."

"In all of the commotion, we discovered that Samwise had slipped away alone—or so we thought. When we returned to camp, we realised his pack and one of the boats was missing, and the company was most distressed. Upon closer inspection, however, it was discovered that Gimli's belongings also had disappeared."

"Gimli!" Elanor cried. "That is news indeed." None of her imagined versions of the Fellowship had included Gimli travelling to Mordor with the Ringbearer. She had assumed Pippin had accompanied Sam, forgetting that Gandalf had taken him on Shadowfax.

And yet… that might not be a bad combination… Gimli is tireless and staunch. He will guard Sam's back well.

"I am glad Sam has a companion, at least," Elanor said. "Gimli will look after him."

Legolas nodded. "Indeed, though the loss of his company grieves me."

Did you really think you could separate Legolas and Gimli, even with sending one to Mordor?

She grinned.

"I am sad not to speak with him, but I imagine he would be a comforting person to have at one's back."

"Other than that," Glorfindel said, attempting to wrap up the tale, "we know little. Boromir left for Minas Tirith ere we departed in pursuit of Merry and Pippin. Their adventure, however, I shall leave to the former."

Elanor turned to Merry, who gave a good account of the capture by Uruk-hai, their subsequent escape, meeting Gandalf, and the havoc wreaked upon Isengard by the Ents. She was glad that the story was familiar to her, for she admitted ruefully that she tuned out on more than one occasion. She was rather interested to meet an Ent, but her exhaustion was creeping back now that she had satisfied herself that the Fellowship was all accounted for.

"And now we ride for Edoras, for the Riders of Rohan shall be mustered," sighed Merry. He appeared to Elanor very resigned and dejected, and she made a mental note to speak with him later.

He is probably pining the loss of Pippin…

"Before there is any more riding," she said, "I am in need of refreshment. Is there any food to be had?"

"Plenty," grinned Legolas, "the noon meal shall be served soon."

"Where exactly is Aragorn?" Elanor asked, turning to Glorfindel.

"In a high chamber of the Burg," said he. "He has neither rested nor slept, I think. He went thither some hours ago, saying that he must take thought, and only his kinsman, Halbarad, went with him; but some dark doubt or care sits on him."

"They are a strange company, these newcomers," frowned Merry. "Stout men and lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look almost as boys beside them; for they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most part, even as Aragorn himself; and they are silent."

"But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their silence," said Elanor, smiling at her recollections. "And Elladan and Elrohir are less sombre than the others, though that is not to be wondered at in Elrond's sons."

"Why have they come?" Merry inquired.

"They answered a summons, as you heard," said Glorfindel. "Word came to Rivendell from the Lady Galadriel, saying, Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride to him in Rohan!"

Elanor nodded, confirming this statement. "It is true."

Then the foursome rose, and passed out together towards the ruined gate of the Hornburg. Elanor's eyes darted back and forth, attempting to take everything in.

"The Lady of the Golden Wood!" said Legolas. "She read many hearts and desires. Now why did we not wish for more of our own kinsfolk, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel stood before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north and east, and his fair face was troubled. "I do not think that any would come," he answered. "They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on their own lands."

Elanor nodded, realising the truth in his words. It appeared from all she had seen and read that the war against evil was scattered across the entirety of Arda.

For a while the four companions walked together, speaking of this and that turn of the battle, or the various stages of Elanor's journey, and they went down from the broken gate, and passed the mounds of the fallen on the greensward beside the road, until they stood on Helm's Dike and looked into the Coomb. The Death Down already stood there, black and tall and stony, and the great trampling and scoring of the grass by the Huorns could be plainly seen. The Dunlendings and many men of the garrison of the Burg were at work on the Dike or in the fields and about the battered walls behind; yet all seemed strangely quiet: a weary valley resting after a great storm. Seeing the scars of battle made Elanor's stomach roil. She had never stood upon a field of battle, and the sight of such wanton death was harrowing. She was very glad when Glorfindel glanced at her face and suggested they return to the Hornburg, where the midday meal would be served.

As soon as they entered the hall, a tall man summoned Merry to his side. The hobbit seemed to brighten at the man's words, and took a seat placed beside him. For their parts, Elanor and the two Elves took seats at another table.

"Who is that with Merry?" Elanor asked, climbing awkwardly onto the bench seat. They had secured a table to themselves, for many of the Rohirrim looked askance at the Elves and the peculiar woman who accompanied them.

"Théoden King," Legolas replied.

"Ah."

The Lord of the Rohirrim was much as Peter Jackson had portrayed him, save his hair was more white than gold. His shoulders were broad and his eyes keen, and on his left and right sat many powerful-looking lords. Elanor recalled various comments by the folk of Rivendell that she would fit in with the Rohirrim, and could not deny the fact; they were remarkably similar in colouring and general appearance to herself.

"Which is Lord Éomer?"

"The one to his left," put in Glorfindel, tearing some bread and passing some to Elanor. "He is a noble man."

She merely nodded, more interested in her friends than ogling the Rohirrim. There was plenty of time for that later.

The three ate in silence for a time, too consumed by hunger to speak. Elanor was glad for the respite; the Elves were pleasant companions, in both speech and quiet.

"The hour draws nigh that we must leave," Glorfindel said, at last. "Come; we go to find Lord Aragorn."

Merry had departed the hall with Théoden's company, and Elanor hoped that she would not lose the hobbit. He, like her, was largely a piece of luggage on this quest, and she had hoped to secure his company for the ride. She had no idea what her position was to be from here-on in; she had many questions for Glorfindel yet, and was reluctant to leave the company of her foster-brothers.

At that moment, she became acutely aware that she was not an Elf, but more closely related to the Rohirrim. If it came down to awkward questions, she had no lineage to speak of besides Elrond's fostering. To her, Middle Earth seemed to resemble a sort of Medieval society, and she had studied enough history to understand that rank was fairly consequential. Her time in Elrond's library had merely reinforced that; the Elves were not quite so hierarchical—despite their deference towards lords—but the races of Men appeared fairly concerned with influence and rank.

And I have neither, especially considering these Rohirrim seem suspicious of the Elves.

As she followed Glorfindel and Legolas out of the dining hall and down a corridor, Elanor felt a knot of anxiety form in her stomach. It sounded as if the whole company was riding out today, and she with them. Her memories of this part of The Lord of the Rings were a little vague; she was still extremely tired, and it had been weeks since she'd read this part of the tale. She had no desire to follow the company of Rangers through the Paths of the Dead and to the battle; if she could avoid the battle entirely, that would be preferable. She hoped that her vague recollections were correct, and that the Rohirrim would be going first to Edoras, and then departing.

What am I supposed to do about King Théoden, and Lord Éomer? No one's introduced me, so I can hardly waltz up… but if I want to stay in Rohan and keep clear of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, I'm going to have to bring up the subject sometime… and I've only been able to speak with Glorfindel, Legolas and Merry for a small while, not nearly long enough, and I haven't seen Aragorn at all! Gosh, things move fast…

"Are you coming, Elanor?" laughed Legolas, pausing at a turn in the corridor. In deep thought, she had lost track of her movements.

"Yes," she half-sighed, forcing herself to hurry. The Elf fell into step beside her, and Elanor recalled wistfully their happy times in the meadows of Rivendell.

"Where are we going?" she inquired.

"To find Aragorn and Halbarad, and the sons of Elrond," Legolas replied. "Come now; you shall soon be back upon your horse, and your feet need not carry you far."

Elanor gave a tight-lipped smile. The prospect of remounting Fundanár was almost worse than walking to Edoras.

Glorfindel strode several metres in front of them. They reached the end of the corridor and he pushed open a great wooden door.

The room inside was panelled in dark wood, with a stone floor. It made Elanor think of old medieval buildings, for it lacked the modern lightness of Imladris. Inside was gathered a small group. Aragorn had his back to her, and opposite him were Halbarad, her foster-brothers, and the golden-haired man that Glorfindel had identified as Lord Éomer.

"Ah, Lord Glorfindel," nodded Halbarad, seeing them enter. "Prince Legolas; Lady Elanor."

Elanor smiled stiffly, feeling immensely small and pitiful besides the two Elves with their royal lineages.

Glorfindel and Legolas both inclined their heads in return, and Elanor gave a brief curtsey. She thought she ought to have curtseyed lower, considering Éomer's presence, but she did not wish her legs to give out beneath her. It did not appear to matter, however; whilst Halbarad had acknowledged her, Éomer seemed more concerned with studying Glorfindel and Legolas, who moved to stand beside Elladan and Elrohir.

Clearly I am nothing more than a bedraggled woman, dragged along in the wake of the Dúnedain…

Then Aragorn turned to face her, and Elanor struggled to maintain her pleasant expression. So startling was the change that she saw in him, as if in one night many years had fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.

He must've looked into the Palantír…

"Lord Aragorn," she said softly, feeling his eyes resting on the top of her head as she inclined it.

"Lady Elanor," he replied. "It is good to see you again."

"And you."

He looks as tired as I feel! Man, it's a hard road for him to walk, just to win back Arwen!

When Elanor raised her eyes, she noticed that Lord Éomer was watching her. He had golden hair of a similar shade to her own which fell below his shoulders. His armour was thick and heavy, his shoulders broad, and his face rather handsome. She found little to appreciate about him, however, feeling slighted as she was; he had taken no notice of her until Aragorn had acknowledged her presence.

"Welcome, Lady Elanor," he said, nodding politely. "I fear that there are few comforts here, but we shall arrive in Edoras ere long, and then pass to Dunharrow. There I shall introduce you to my sister, and I hope that we may afford you due hospitality."

"Thankyou," she responded, flattered but still somewhat irritated. His accent was different to any she had encountered, reminding her a little of the typical Irish lilt. She then remembered that the Rohirrim did not generally speak Sindarin or English—dubbed Westron in Middle Earth—but their own tongue.

Then the gathered company passed out of the Hornburg, and down onto the green, where many riders were assembled. Elanor spied easily the company of Rangers, for their grey cloaks stood out amongst the deep green and gold of the Rohirrim.

As they emerged onto the grass, Elanor spied Théoden sitting upon a great white horse. To her surprise, Merry was mounted upon a pony to his side.

Of course, Merry becomes Théoden's esquire. They will ride together.

Her stomach sinking, she watched as Aragorn moved forward to speak with the King of Rohan and his nephew. She heard little of what was said, and turned to Legolas.

"What is happening?" she whispered.

"Aragorn shall not ride with Théoden; they will travel too slowly, and he has need of haste. He is troubled, and desires to make for The Paths of the Dead," Legolas replied softly. "The Grey Company shall go with him; as shall Glorfindel and I."

Elanor's stomach plummeted.

"And what of me? I cannot go through the Paths of the Dead!"

Legolas's blue eyes turned to her. "Shall you accompany Théoden King, as Meriadoc does?"

"I don't know," she replied, panic rising. She felt perilously close to tears, for she did not wish to farewell her companions any more than she wanted to go near the Dead Army. "I had hoped—I don't know…"

"I believe that we ride swiftly to Edoras, and thence to Dunharrow; if Éomer speaks true, his sister is in Dunharrow, and you might remain there in her company," Legolas said gently, placing one hand on her quivering shoulder.

And that still means a long day's ride…

She smiled weakly, seeing no better alternative. "That sounds all right."

Elanor sat dolefully upon her blankets. Théoden, Éomer and their company—including Merry—had ridden away, intending to take the safer mountain paths to Edoras.

And somehow, I end up having to go on another breakneck ride across the plains of Rohan, heading to the Paths of the Dead! And then I'll still have to say goodbye to my friends!

She thumped her fist ineffectually on the blankets. She felt extremely bad-tempered and cross.

Aragorn had closeted himself with Glorfindel and Legolas, filling them in on details they had missed whilst speaking with her. He had included Elanor in the invitation, but she had declined. She knew perfectly well what he was going to tell them—that they rode by the Paths of the Dead, that he had looked into the Stone of Orthanc and seen Sauron, and that things were about to get real. Elladan, Elrohir and the Rangers had gone to make ready, and she had retired to the sleeping chamber to pack and have a quiet, uninterrupted sulk.

All Elanor could think about was that she was painfully tired and that in a few days the only people she knew—including her foster-brothers and her friends amongst the Rangers—would depart upon a rode she could and would not travel.

After a few minutes of well-deserved brooding, Elanor began to scoop up her belongings. She had seen Fundanár standing with the other Ranger horses, and so assumed her saddle and bedroll were already packed. She figured that Aragorn and co. would take a little while to nut out details, so she had no cause to rush.

Pausing, she contemplated her odds of being able to have a wash.

There might be time…

Making up her mind to do it anyway, Elanor grabbed a clean set of clothes from within her pack and hurried to the primitive bathroom. She used the bucket to relieve herself with great reluctance, and then turned to the big basin of water.

It was cold, and there was no soap, but it was better than nothing.

After checking that the door was securely bolted, Elanor stripped off her clothes, wincing at the way she smelled. Grabbing a clean rag, she dipped it in the water and began to scrub her face.

A surprising amount of dirt came off as she rubbed at her skin, gently probing with her fingers to check that she hadn't had a pimple breakout. Fortunately she was spared that evil, and moved on to rubbing at the rest of her body. It was a poor way to get clean, but she felt distinctly fresher after she had finished. The icy water helped soothe her frustration and wake her up a little.

Her hair was a complete disaster, but it was highly unlikely she would have time to wash it. Instead, she settled for tugging out the snarled braid and finger combing the long golden curls with damp hands. This seemed to subdue it somewhat, and she re-braided it neatly before pulling on a clean set of breeches, a finely-sewn tunic which extended to her knees, and a surcoat. Whilst less than impressed with the underwear of Middle Earth, she had to admit that the method of binding her chest certainly did the job of a bra. She still felt a little grimy, but at least she didn't smell, and her clothes were reasonably fresh and neat.

When she returned to the room in which she had slept, Elanor found that the others were gathered and waiting for her. She blushed a little and mumbled an apology.

"You look better, nethig," grinned Elladan, swiping at her braid as she hurried past him.

"I feel better," she admitted, stuffing her things into her pack and gathering it into her arms. Seeing she was finished, Aragorn nodded curtly and indicated that they move out.

Legolas promptly took her bundle of belongings as well as his own, and Elanor gave him a grateful smile. They passed out of the Burg, down the ramp and back to the green, where, still and silent, the hooded Rangers waited. Legolas and Glorfindel mounted, whilst Eärendur moved to Elanor's side and helped her secure her belongings to Fundanár's saddle. She nodded her thanks and clawed her way onto the big chestnut's back.

Aragorn sprang upon a rough bay horse that the Rangers had brought with them, and Halbarad lifted a great horn. The blast of it echoed in Helm's Deep, and with that they leapt away, riding down the Coomb like thunder, while all the men that were left on Dike or Burg stared in amazement.

Elanor clung to Fundanár's saddle and sighed heavily.

And here we go again.

Poor Elanor is having a bit of a rough time at present, being dragged helter-skelter after her companions. I'm trying to make her reactions believable considering the situation she's in, how tired she is, and how much stuff is on her mind. I know the story is progressing slowly at this point, but I hope to sort things out over the next few chapters so that the story is flowing nicely and Elanor's mind is sorted out. (My head is full to bursting trying to emulate her reactions!)

Thanks again for reading, if you notice any mistakes, typos, or gaps in what I've written, please review so I can correct them. :)

Thanks! - Finwe.