This chapter takes place within context of chapter 15 ("Return to the Hidlands") of The Lady of the Rohirrim, in which the Battle of Helm's Deep has already transpired, and Truva has travelled northward with Aragorn in search of reinforcements. Upon encountering the Dúnedain in Rivendell they continued on to the Hidden Lands.
Author's recommended listening: Pärt, Tabula Rasa
Halbarad found it difficult to believe the evidence his eyes witnessed; how many years had the Northern Rangers patrolled Arnor, exploring its every crevice from Carn Dûm to Methedras and beyond, ever sure that the Hidlands were little more than myth! How could it be that they had passed generation upon generation ignorant of the inhumanity that thrived, hidden among the lofty, snow-capped peaks of the Hithaeglir? Yet he stood then in the darkness, observing a warrior of complex origins moving about in the darkness as though she did not even need the moonlight to illuminate her path.
She led the company of Dúnedain directly to a series of tall cages, and Halbarad's stomach turned to see a heap of rags shift at the noise of their approach, only to reveal itself to be the emaciated figure of a woman. Her dull eyes blinked at them in the moonlight, sending guilt writhing further into Halbarad's chest.
"Truva?" the captive spoke, and within moments she was beyond the bars that had constrained her for years, a flurry of activity surrounding her and the neighboring cage. Dúnedain clamored to accompany this newly freed Hidlander to the next village, to secure the freedom of as many fighters as possible. As the woman slipped into the darkness, however, Truva asked that which Halbarad too so desperately wished to know:
"What is your name?"
"Chaya," came the whispered response, and within the span of a breath Halbarad found himself wholeheartedly dedicated to ensuring the welfare of she who had such a beautiful name, which belied her ugly past.
Cage after cage, barrack after barrack, enslaved fighters freed from their bonds gathered about the Dúnedain and their unlikely leader, or made off with their newfound independence. So many, so many had endured such abominable exploitation, and the Rangers had done nothing, save assume that legends of long ago were nothing more than whispers in the dark.
It shamed him even more that they met little resistance, for even the few slave owners that dared show their faces were quickly overcome. How effortlessly could they have liberated these fighters, how quickly! Yet in failing to have done so, it now became their duty to dedicate themselves entirely to protecting these victims.
As the black night sky turned grey, threatening dawn, the mass of fighters turned back along the main road toward the vast amphitheatre that lay at the entrance to the village. Even as they did so, Chaya returned from the nearest village, leading a stream of fighters. The newly arrived merged with those that milled about, eventually surging toward the Coliseum.
A palpable energy thrummed amidst the fighters, and Halbarad felt it echoed in his heart. The thrill was nigh on uncontainable, and it was with awe and admiration that he watched Truva leap up the stairs to a platform that thrust out over the amphitheatre. Yet the tension grew too taught, and pushing and shoving between the fighters and their former masters threatened to derail the proceedings. The Dúnedain bounded forward to intervene, Halbarad seizing a particularly unruly owner, but a voice rang out:
"Stop!" It was Truva, and from her position upon the platform, her figure commanded unyielding respect. The entire congregation froze, and Halbarad found himself face to face with Chaya, each with their hands upon the same troublemaker. With a short glance, they both turned to face Truva as her speech drew the attention of all.
This leader of the Hidlanders seemed wholly different from the withdrawn, unsociable creature Halbarad had encountered in Imladris; for now Truva stood before her audience as though her entire worldly purpose was to guide them from their plight into the lands beyond. She spoke with an eloquence that he had not believed her capable of, a fervor he had not anticipated.
Before his consciousness could comprehend this development, Halbarad found himself blindly accepting Truva's instruction as she ordered about all who were willing to lend a helpful hand.
"Harrodoc," said the stocky fighter Truva had assigned him to lead in watch with.
"Halbarad," he said, absently shaking the fighter's hand.
"It was an honor to be Truva's thousandth fight, you know," said the fighter as they meandered eastward down the market street, accumulating Hidlander and Dúnadan individuals here and there to complete their watch outfit. "Though I had outpaced her in wins until that point, the victory was clearly and undeniably hers. It is true I resented her for quite a while, but much time – I know not how much – has passed; and now she has done the unthinkable, and returned..."
Halbarad nodded absentmindedly as the Hidlander nattered on, attention drawn instead to their surroundings and any potential threats. At great last the hovels began to peter out, and the duo found themselves on the outskirts of a tiny village, with nearly a dozen men in their company.
Halbarad held up a hand to shush his companion, who continued to narrate the entirety of his combat experience against Truva. "As intriguing as such exploits are," said the Dúnadan, "Let us focus now upon the task at hand. The first thing you must do when on watch is establish a perimeter, particularly when the territory is unfamiliar or unsecured – and in our case, it is both."
He motioned for several Hidlanders to step forward, though he bade Harrodoc stay. "You six, follow me. The rest of you, remain here and ensure that no aggressor passes while we are gone." With half a dozen Hidlanders in tow, Halbarad struck out into the early morning light. They had stumbled over the rocky terrain no more than a quarter mile before Halbarad divided them once more, sending a trio circling back southward and leading the other three north.
All seemed still in the cool morning air. Convinced that they would encounter no trouble, Halbarad began to lead his small scouting party toward the rendezvous point when all of a sudden he heard the sound of cries carried distant upon the wind. He spun on his heel and scanned the horizon; hidden within the gleam of the rising sun he could just distinguish a cluster of figures, making with all haste toward the village.
"Damic! Damic!" came a shout from the approaching party. "Well you know me! Oft have we fought! I see you are free, too! Save us now from our owners that pursue us!"
A red-headed fighter in Halbarad's company leapt forward in an instant, even as a group of shadows loomed behind the fleeing figures. "Come to me, come to me! We shall protect you!" cried Damic.
Halbarad gave a sharp whistle – then cursed himself for failing to teach the Hidlanders so significant a signal as requesting support. He darted after the Hidlander named Damic, and soon the fleeing fighters were among their small company. Halbarad halted briefly to face the trailing owners. He drew his blade, which glinted in the clear morning rays of the sun.
"Come no nearer!" he cried. "I stand in defense of those you have abused!"
The owners hesitated, finding themselves confronted with an opponent who could clearly challenge them in a way they were unfamiliar with. Yet they were many in number, and Halbarad was but one, and regardless of his skills they knew they could easily best him.
"Run!" Halbarad urged the Hidlanders. "Alert Harrodoc!" Roused from their daze by these words, they dashed off in the direction of the village.
"Come off it, lad!" one owner called. "You've not a chance against all of us! We'll just have our property back, nice an' easy, and nobody has to get hurt."
"You have hurt far too many already," replied Habarad, yet the moment one owner raised a club threateningly he turned and fled, his pace easily outstripping the Hidlanders' laggard strides. Within moments, Harrodoc and the others emerged from the morning fog, advancing to lend succour to their new compatriot. Together they easily surrounded and bound the Hidland slavers, and Halbarad began to drag them toward the central village.
"You understand now what you must do, and the significance your task carries," he said to the Hidlanders, all those save two he selected to accompany him in transporting the owners to the village. "Send a messenger in each direction every half hour to make contact with the next watch team; in two hours' time, we will send relief."
"Yes, sir," said the Hidlanders, and though Halbarad was perturbed by being addressed so politely, he did not question it; for Truva had likewise been quite particular about such things. Perhaps it was some Hidland oddity.
No sooner had he entrusted his new captives to the guards standing about the Coliseum than Halbarad stumbled upon the cooking tents assembled along the main street. Already the Dúnedain had begun distributing simple meals of beans and chicken, and he accepted as many servings as the cooks would afford him, balancing the dishes precariously upon every part of his body as he returned to his watch.
"Ai-oi!" he called, causing the anxious Hidlanders to whip around. When they discovered the source of excitement, however, their tension eased and they fell upon the Dúnadan as he explained, "A watchman is typically expected to eat either before or after his watch, yet unusual circumstances reign, and I brought what I could!"
The Hidlanders did not even have the foresight to thank Halbarad as they snatched at the food and thrust it steaming into their mouths – though he minded not, for it was more than once that he had found himself in a similar situation. The Hidlanders' hands darted between the searing chicken and their earlobes to cool their burning fingers, and soon the food had vanished entirely.
"Have you eaten?" asked Harrodoc, suddenly aware of their discourtesy. "I am terribly sorry; we have saved you none."
"My last meal has been far more recent than yours, I imagine," said Halbarad with a sympathetic smile. Still the Hidlanders continued to lick the plates and bowls, and he found himself wishing he could have provided more.
At great last their relief appeared, and Halbarad returned immediately to the main market with the intention of assisting the cook line as best he might. He was promptly put to work chopping vegetables, and all too soon his eyes began to sting from the onions that slipped and slid beneath his fingers.
"Oh aye, they're right monstrous," said a voice beside him, and although Halbarad could make out a hazy outline, his vision was far too blurry for all the tears to distinguish precisely who it was that worked there. "I've found it's best to slice them right down the middle, then peel and set to work on the rest."
Halbarad wiped his face upon his sleeve, and though his eyes quickly watered up once more, he was able to briefly glimpse the similarly pained expression of the first Hidlander that had been freed. "Ah, yes, Chaya, was it?"
"Indeed, and this is Blackbramble," she said, indicating a hulking Hidlander beside her. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, though I don't believe we've had the pleasure?"
"You may call me Halbarad."
"How is it that you came to know Truva, Sir Halbarad?"
"In truth, it has been but a few days," he said, "Though in spite of our short time together, I have found her to be an intriguing character."
"She inspires in an unexpected way, does she not?" said Chaya. "I have given my life for her, and would gladly give it again."
"As noble such a sentiment is, life brings uncertain beauty," said Halbarad. "Do not be so quick to cast it aside."
Blackbramble interrupted then, saying, "Yet you would encourage us to join your ranks and endanger ourselves. Surely your campaign is worth risking one's life for?"
"I suppose," mused Halbarad, caught unawares. "Though I – like you – follow another where he will, without question."
"Who is this other you speak of?" asked Chaya, and in this manner of question and answer, and intriguing conversation, the late morning turned to early afternoon. Even as the sun sank toward the western teeth of the Misty Mountains, the trio moved from task to task as directed by the master chefs, and it was fully dark by the time they were chased away and ordered to rest, a bowl of gruel in hand each.
"Come now," said Chaya as Blackbramble trotted off to join another congregation. Together, she and Halbarad stumbled along the dirt lane in their exhaustion. "I succeeded in secreting away an additional blanket for one who needed it most, and I suspect that such a person might be you."
"It is entirely unnecessary; I've my cloak, and the night is not so terribly cold," said Halbarad, though his shivering body immediately disclosed his lie. The Hidlander brooked no argument, extricating a pair of thick wool blankets from beneath a leather stall not far down the market street. As she offered the second blanket to Halbarad, however, she froze, eyes focused upon something beyond.
Halbarad turned to see what it was that drew her attention – there, a short distance away, stood a young man as unmoving as she. A choking noise escaped Chaya's lips as she dropped the blankets and ran toward the man, yet before she could reach him she tripped and fell to her knees, tears coursing down her cheeks. He dashed to her side, lifting her to her feet and wrapping the suddenly frail woman in his arms.
They stood motionless in each other's embrace, seemingly as though the external world did not exist. Halbarad collected the blankets that had fallen to the ground, dusted them off, then placed them back upon the leather stall. He made as if to disappear back along the street without disturbing the reunited pair, yet all at once Chaya had turned and called his name.
"Halbarad!" she exclaimed, tears welling in her eyes. "I would like to introduce you to my brother, Eilif!"
"It is a pleasure," said Halbarad as he closed the distance between them and extended his hand toward the young man. Eilif was still so overwhelmed by his emotions that he could not speak, though he heartily shook Halbarad's hand.
"They told me he was dead," Chaya sobbed, once more embracing her brother. "For years they used his very existence to browbeat me into submission; then one day – after a particularly brutal loss of mine – that vile creature Dregant told me he had died. I had often considered the idea that they had killed him a long time prior, for they brought me little indication that he lived. It had been mere hope that had sustained me until that moment.
"And now! To see him alive – and so healthy! Oh, I could easily endure poor fortune the rest of my days, in exchange for this one glorious moment!"
"Do not speak so, dear sister," said Eilif, finding his voice at last, "For we have suffered enough poor fortune to last us a lifetime. Let us revel in what lucky happenstance is afforded us, and mind not what the future may bring."
"You must see to his wellbeing before my own, if ever there is the call for it," Chaya demanded of Halbarad.
"I am loath to make such promises, though I do believe I might make an exception in these circumstances," said Halbarad as he once more picked up the blankets. Though he offered both to the joyous siblings, Chaya took only one, pushing the second back into his arms.
"The joy in my heart will keep me warm this night," she assured him, and Halbarad saw there was no arguing with the Hidlander. He left the pair then to reacquaint themselves and carried his blanket to the Coliseum, where the vast majority of freed Hidlanders appeared to be gathering. From its entrance he spied Truva upon the platform, and so he wove among the congregation to mount the steps.
"You have done well today, leader of the Hidland army," he said, handing her the remaining blanket. "We shall set out with several hundred more than we Dúnedain had hoped for – enacting justice in the process."
"The events of today were insignificant in comparison to all that has occurred of late, and that which I fear is yet to transpire," said Truva. Unease was written clear upon her face, and Halbarad thought of Eilif, grown in body yet clearly still so young of mind. These Hidlanders clearly had no conception of what evil lay ahead, for even to Halbarad it was not so clear; none save perhaps Aragorn understood the danger that lay within their southern campaign. Despite their unexpected increase in numbers, the path ahead would surely not be easy.
One glance at the furrow between Truva's brow told Halbarad not to speak of such matters to her, however. "I believe you, of all people, understand how best to deliver unto the Hidlanders their deserved future, having made the same journey yourself," was all he said.
"Perhaps," she replied. "We must see what tomorrow brings."
His caution might be misplaced after all, Halbarad thought, for Truva seemed intimately aware of the darkness that loomed; or mayhap it would be better to leave such details to Aragorn to explain. Halbarad wrapped his cloak about him and soon nodded off to sleep, the gleam of Truva's eyes upon the moon reassuring in the dark.
Those eyes gleamed even in the early morning when he awoke, and Halbarad found himself wondering whether Truva had slept at all. The other Hidlanders most certainly had, however, and it took a great effort to rouse them from their slumber. After a breakfast scrounged from what little remained of the previous day's meal, the company was soon on the march, the Dúnedain aiding their unshodden companions along the rocky path.
Halbarad found himself walking alongside Chaya and Eilif, the latter chattering enthusiastically despite the early hour.
"My sister has been fighting since before I was born, you know," he said to the general vicinity, to anyone who would listen, despite Chaya's shushing. "At first our parents were thrilled, as she would bring in additional income. But as soon as she brought up the idea of moving out earlier than expected – oh, my dear friends! – they were not pleased!"
"Do not Hidlanders live with their families?" asked Halbarad, intensely curious.
"Oh no, sir," answered Eilif. "Most are thrown out whenever they fail to make any significant contribution! But our Chaya, she started earning enough to spark our mother's greed. Even so, she was determined to leave – then there was I, equally determined to accompany her!"
"Maybe if I had refused, we would never have wound up in this situation," said Chaya ruefully, her eyes downturned. Halbarad felt intense sympathy for this fighter who had struggled to protect what little she found precious in the world.
"These past years must have been harrowing," he said, "Yet you have the opportunity now to grasp true freedom for yourself and your brother, and it is justly deserved."
"Thank you," said Chaya, and Halbarad saw the flicker of a true smile form on her lips. Just as she slipped over shifting rock, he caught her hand, and his heart fluttered at how slow she was to withdraw once on steady footing. Looking anywhere but at each other, they followed the others as Eilif continued to blather about whichever topic crossed his mind.
It was early afternoon by the time the Dúnedain's camp became visible in the distance across the scrubland. Halbarad breathed a sigh of relief to lay eyes upon friendly support, yet his companions were not of the same mind.
"Am I mistaken, or is that an entire herd of horses?" asked Chaya, trepidation clear in her voice.
"You are not mistaken," said Halbarad with a laugh.
"For what purpose?"
"For riding!" he declared. "Why, have you never ridden a horse?"
"I have scarcely seen one, let alone touched one," Chaya bemoaned. "To ride one – unthinkable!"
"I suspect you shall have little alternative if you wish to travel among our company," said Halbarad, yet Chaya's unease only grew more pronounced the nearer they drew to the camp. Soon the sons of Elrond were greeting the returned Dúnedain, who immediately set about pairing the Hidlanders with their mounts by size and temperament.
"For a tall, pale mistress: Luinadur," said Halbarad, leading Chaya toward a beautiful dark bay. He slowly held out a hand toward the horse's twitching nose, and encouraged her to do likewise. "Allow him to catch your scent – good – and brush your hand along his neck and shoulder."
Chaya giggled at the tickle of the horse's whiskers. "They are not so frightening as I thought!"
"Horses are powerful creatures when they've a mind to be; you must always treat them with respect," he said, quickly adjusting the stirrups before handing her the reins. "Do not let go no matter what," he warned. "Now place your foot here, like so, and— precisely! Lift yourself into the saddle. Now for your brother—"
Halbarad turned toward Eilif just in time to snatch the boy away from the flanks of a chestnut mare. "Never approach a horse from the backside! One kick and you shan't wake up until next Tuesday. Come now, up!"
Once he had succeeded in the chaotic task of mounting a handful of Hidlanders, then proceeded to locate his own horse, Halbarad guided them through the basics of riding. All throughout the camp were similar clusters, each Ranger having taken a dozen or so Hidlanders under their wing. Hardly had they grown accustomed to guiding their horse left and right when a brief, low horn sounded and Aragorn peeled out toward the south.
The Dúnedain followed, spurring their horses to no more than a gentle walk, and as one the company set out under the afternoon sun at a glacial pace. There were few incidents – for Elrond had wisely selected each head – yet the Hidlanders' concentration was palpable.
After a time, Truva rode up between Halbarad and Chaya. "How goes it?" she asked of her friend, though Chaya was far too occupied with Luinadur to hear or answer.
"I shall be astounded if we make it so far as Rohan ere the war has ended," said Halbarad quietly.
"Our pace shall soon quicken, I imagine," Truva said. "Though they are no Mearas, these horses of the Elves seem exceptionally adept; they are even-tempered and intelligent."
"I hope you are right. It will be an unbearable journey otherwise."
Truva's prediction indeed proved accurate; before the end of the day, not only the company's pace but also their conversation picked up. Eilif was the first to begin narrating several of his more thrilling fights – much to his sister's chagrin – and his loquacity was soon followed by all other Hidlanders, who were eager to learn of life beyond the Valley. Their talks did not last long, however, for Aragorn called a halt far earlier than expected that evening.
"Why is it that we are stopping so early? I thought our need was pressing," Eilif commented.
"Pitching camp is not so easy," replied Halbarad, dismounting. "And while the weather grows warm and we have little use of tents, we must set watch and build fires, and prepare the evening meal."
"I can build a fire well enough," said Chaya, nearly tumbling into the Ranger's arms as she fell off Luinadur onto trembling legs.
"Then I charge you with gathering firewood, and demonstrating to the others how best to construct a campfire," ordered Halbarad. "As for Eilif, come with me and we shall learn how Aragorn has organized patrols."
The Hidlanders took quickly to their roles, and though Halbarad was astonished by how little they knew, he was equally impressed by how rapidly and eagerly they learned. As the company's pace increased over the following days, and as training in weapons commenced, his amazement only grew; for though the Hidlanders' knowledge clearly did not extend beyond hand-to-hand combat, they were quick to adapt to the weapons Truva and the Dúnedain demonstrated.
Discontent simmered throughout their training, however, and thus it was no surprise when a small faction separated and abandoned course for their own destination after a few days. Halbarad did not feign as if to understand all dynamics between the Hidlanders; all he knew was that with the villagers' departure, the atmosphere that settled over the company grew markedly more comfortable, and their pace became even more rapid.
He had traveled south frequently enough to be familiar with the distinctive milestones: the Bruinen, followed by the lands of Eregion spotted with holly trees, and the three peaks that marked the entrance to Moria. The company's progression fell into a steady rhythm, and Halbarad often enjoyed passing the time in conversation with his Hidland companions.
All seemed in accordance to plan, their progress untroubled, yet no sooner had they forded the river Glanduin than Halbarad noted Aragorn had grown more withdrawn than usual. There was an anxious air about him, and it quickly spread throughout the Dúnedain. The horses, too, grew restless, and the Rangers struggled to keep them under control while preventing the Hidlanders from sensing anything was amiss.
Yet even the Hidlanders' suspicions could not help but be aroused when the time to call a halt came and went, and still the company hurtled through the deepening gloam. The evening grew late, dark descended around them, and apprehension hung thick upon the air.
Even as Halbarad cast frantic glances toward Aragorn, Chaya rode up beside him. "Eilif's mount has nearly bucked him thrice," she called across the distance between them as their mounts raced onward. "Why is there no word of halt, and what is it that disturbs our horses so?"
"I know not," Halbarad replied. "There is something unmistakably foul upon the wind. Wait here; I will go and speak with Aragorn." He spurred his horse forward, yet no sooner had he drawn alongside his captain than an unmistakable whine wavered on the air. The Hidlanders turned their heads frantically this way and that, yet his years in the north gave Halbarad immediate knowledge of the source: Wolves.
"Do you hear that?" he cried to Aragorn.
"I hear it," said the Dúnadan, jaw clenched.
Halbarard turned quickly to the nearest Ranger behind him. "Quickly, into formation!" he ordered, and the rider dropped back to organize a protective wall about the inexperienced Hidlanders. Halbarad turned round once more to find Aragorn extending a flaming staff toward him, and he scrambled to accept the fire with his own and pass it onto the others.
The first beast lumbered into sight. Even as Halbarad took aim, however, a figure darted from the corner of his vision; Chaya leapt directly at the creature, blade flashing in the firelight, felling it with one swift strike. A second beast took advantage of her distraction and attacked from behind, yet before Halbarad could shout warning, the Hidland warrior had spun about and slayed it, as well.
Halbarad stared agape; how fearless was this Hidland warrior, how bold and brave! He had witnessed green Rangers quake at less! Yet even so, he noted that the Wolves did not attack so fiercely as they were wont to, nor so quickly. They hung back, hesitant; in all his years, he had never known them to behave in such a way.
A cold wind swept across the company then, something not of nature – something far more ominous. Halbarad could see it in Aragorn's gaunt expression, illuminated by the torches: that some evil deed was afoot, forces untoward, which concerned even the self-possessed captain.
There was no flash of action, no warning when a swath of darkness plummeted down upon the company and raised several of their number skyward, clutched in sharp claws of obsidian that gnashed in the moonlight. Horse and rider alike plummeted toward the earth when released, then scrambled to regain their footing and evade the dark force's secondary attacks. Each assault against it seemed to redouble the creature's fury; it arched high overhead before swooping low over the Eorlingas and their guard.
Suddenly a warrior's cry arose, and a streak of light pierced the night, hurtling up toward the black beast. Truva had released an inexplicable volley, causing the creature to emit an ear-splitting shriek before vanishing back into the night. Even so, the chill lingered long after its cry faded upon the wind.
In the tense silence that followed, Halbarad could still sense the tension had not been alleviated; indeed, it had intensified tenfold.
"Our battle does not end here!" cried Aragorn to the riders that sat gasping upon their mounts. "We are far too exposed in this place, and must continue on even now."
Truva likewise sought to encourage the Hidlanders, shouting, "Dig deep to where the determination I know you to possess lies! Tonight, we ride!"
Invigorated by their leaders' words and the thrill that still coursed through their veins, the company drove on, riding nearly until dawn when they made camp beneath a protected embankment in the mountains' foothills. The process was far more chaotic than ordinary, yet once his horse was picketed and his duties seen to, Halbarad sought out the Hidlanders to enhearten them and assuage their concerns – though he himself might have benefited from such reassurance.
"Oi, Ranger!" came a quiet summons as he passed between several clusters of fighters, and Halbarad turned to see Chaya beside her brother, gathered together with Blackbramble. He approached and took a seat among them.
"Care for a bite of lembas?" offered Blackbramble, extending a leafy bundle. "As large as I am, it takes but two to satiate my hunger – it is truly the magic of Elves!"
"No thank you, I have eaten," lied Halbarad as he glanced with concern toward Eilif. The young boy sat quite still, save terrible shivers that racked his body. His eyes stared off into the distance at nothing. Though the others had placed their cloaks about his shoulders, there was nothing that could warm him.
Halbarad drew nearer and took Eilif's hand, though the boy did not so much as look at him. "Such wickedness affects us all to varying degrees, and so I understand why you fret even now," he said in an attempt to soothe the boy, "But I do not think the creature will come again this night. We will be safe here for a while."
"I felt so useless," said Eilif, tears in his eyes. "Just as I had back in the Hidlands, when my sister was taken from me! I was terrified that once more I would fail to protect her; and that so hard upon our reunion we would be parted once more – this time forever!"
"And yet he is here, as are you," Halbarad reassured him. "We have not lost a single man amongst our company this night, and soon we shall be under the protection and guidance of the Rohirrim."
"I had thought myself prepared for whatever I might encounter," stated Eilif, his gaze still fixed upon nonexistent shadows, "For though Truva's speech was unnerving, I was certain that nothing beyond the Hidlands could be more terrible than what lay within. Oh, how wrong I was!"
"Come now, do not despair," said Halbarad, removing his own cloak and tucking it about Eilif's shoulders, in addition to the others'. The chill that continued to whistle over the Misty Mountains bit into his bones, but he paid it little mind. "We shall yet come into circumstances where you will be granted the opportunity to evade dangers from both past and future. Now get some sleep – to greet tomorrow all the stronger."
As Blackbramble assisted Eilif in settling down upon his bedroll, Halbarad rose. Chaya was quick to follow, and she spoke softly so that the others would not hear. "I am envious that you have such hope for what is to come," she said. "Is it true that there is someplace he might be safe, even in such times as these?"
"The people of Rohan are kindly," said Halbarad. "They are sure to offer sanctuary to any who seek it." Chaya did not respond, and merely turned her gaze upon the curled form of her brother.
"You ought to rest, too," Halbarad added, laying a hand upon her shoulder. "Your actions this night were courageous, and of one with many more years experience. Do not worry overly much; perhaps the warmth of morning's light will serve to dispel the gloom."
His words were not wholly wide of the mark, for though the entire camp rose far earlier than ordinary, it was with a determined air that they departed the following morning. Three days the company's progress continued undisturbed; their pace did not falter or flag, driven both by fear and hope. Soon Halbarad recognized Methedras and the furthestmost reaches of the Misty Mountains rising up in the southeast.
That evening, the sun began to descend behind the company as they turned eastward through the Gap of Rohan and crossed over the Fords into the Riddermark. Even as his mount climbed the far bank, however, Halbarad noticed Truva had halted, lingering upon the eyot that stood in the roiling currents of the river Isen; yet with a quick gesture, she indicated for the company to carry on without her, and so Halbarad rode after the others.
A sense of relief washed over the Dúnedain to know that they were in friendly lands, though a shadow of unease soon undercut his calm – for in the far eastern skies a black haze had begun to form, obscuring all that lay in its path. Even as the Rangers and Hidlanders looked on with apprehension, the darkness grew ever thicker and more ominous.
Halbarad drew alongside Aragorn when he could no longer hide his concern. "What do you suppose this new fell sight is?" he inquired.
"I know not," replied Aragorn, "Yet whatever it may be, it is certain not to favor us. What has become of Truva?"
"She paused before the River Isen and the graves of the Eorlingas. I do not think she knows of the danger that lurks."
"Seek her out, and ensure that she returns safely among our numbers."
"Yes, my lord," said Halbarad. He wheeled sharply about and raced back along the way they had come, yet his horse had gone no more than a few strides before a telling chill swept across the grassland. The beast! Had not Truva destroyed it upon their last encounter? Panic stabbed at Halbarad's heart as he redoubled his pace, frantically scanning the horizon for a lone horse and rider.
It took far longer than comfort allowed to catch sight of Truva, yet few words passed between them as they set out after the company. They had little need to spur their mounts onward, for already the horses' muscles strained to the fullest extent, and each minute stretched into eternity until they gained upon the company, then rode at its rear once more.
Even as the Hornburg emerged from between the rocky buttresses of Thrihyrne, the beast's presence drew ever nearer, and though it could scarcely be seen through the overcast of haze, the sense of dread it generated only grew. Halbarad eyed the distance that still remained between their position and the fortress, his misgiving amplified by the unfavorable conclusion.
The creature's shriek cut through his bleak ruminations, causing several of the Hidlanders to drop their reins in favor of covering their ears, and chaos to break out amongst the less stolid of mounts. "That is an unexpected development!" Halbarad shouted to Truva, darting forward to round up spooked horses and riders.
"Take all riders who yet have energy!" Truva called in return. "I will guide those who cannot keep pace."
Halbarad balked at this suggestion; to divide the Riders would surely be disastrous, and though he said as much, Truva would not hear of it. At her insistence, he urged his horse forward and sought out Aragorn once more.
"Truva would have us forge on ahead, while she remains behind with the stragglers," said Halbarad. The grim lines along Aragorn's jaw hardened.
"Could you not convince her otherwise?"
"She would have it no other way."
"As rash as her decision may have been, it was not foolish," said Aragorn. "If we were the Dúnedain alone, I would not have us sundered; but we have the Hidlanders to consider. Let us first guide to safety those who can ride swiftly, then return to lend succour to those that remain. If we fall under attack, we can but hope it is the forward group – more numerous and better defended as we are – that finds itself under attack."
Aragorn's pace increased then, for Hornburg was still some distance ahead and full night was beginning to descend. Flickering torches flared upon the walls of the fortress, yet the riders pressed on, desperate, breathless, every moment unending as their destination seemed to draw no nearer. Halbarad found himself riding headlong beside Chaya, who with a backward glance noted suddenly the absence of the other riders.
"What of Truva?" she asked, panic clear upon her voice as she cast about the company, searching for those who were nowhere to be seen. "And my brother? He was behind me but a moment ago!"
"They are coming," said Halbarad, yet even as he spoke a second shriek rent the sky. The forward riders glanced back in panic, though they could no more than sense the descent of the fellbeast; those who had fallen behind were not visible through the pressing darkness – fate had not favored the divided company, and it was indeed those most vulnerable who fell prey to the creature's attack.
"Eilif! My brother!" cried Chaya, struggling to turn her horse around. "I must go to them!"
"No!" shouted Halbarad, maneuvering to prevent her retreat. "Follow Aragorn, and seek the safety of Hornburg! I will return to your brother, and ride to Truva's aid. Go now – go!"
Without waiting for so much as a response, he turned and spurred his mount to her fastest speed. The beast filtered into view before his very eyes, and he observed as it dipped and wheeled above the rear party. Halbarad drew his staff and put fire to it – for it had been fire that had tamed the beast before; perhaps fire might tame it once more. Yet in his distraction he lost sight of the creature, and even as he drew nearer to the Hidlanders he could not spy it within the murky darkness.
Truva bounded abruptly out of the night, her sword drawn and bearing down upon Halbarad. She did not slow or turn from her forward course, and he feared they would collide. At the last instant Halbarad veered away, and only then did he realize Truva's purpose: to divert him from the path of the fellbeast's claws, only to be caught in them herself!
No sooner had she wriggled free of the creature's vise-like clasp than the Hidlanders and their companions darted forward once more, assaulting the creature with the full strength of their limited force. Arrows arced skyward; some fell short, yet even those that struck their target failed to effect any damage. Having regained the saddle, Truva attempted to recreate the fortune she had experienced on the previous encounter by lighting her arrows upon Halbarad's flaming staff, but nothing came of it. The fellbeast would not be slowed, and it simply became more frenzied as the company drew within the gorge surrounding Hornburg.
It dove again, grasping yet another rider in its claws and soaring skyward to sickening heights. Fear clenched Halbarad's gut as he and the others bombarded the beast, only for its hapless prey to be released and plummet downward. Truva was out of her saddle before the rider hit the earth, Halbarad tumbling after her.
It was Eilif.
There was no Man who could land in such a manner and survive. Even so, Halbarad looked on in shock as Truva threw herself upon the supine figure. He attempted to pull her to her feet, for he was certain the fellbeast's following strike would come at any moment, yet she fought him with a fierceness born of acute desperation. No sound but that of shiver-inducing sobs could be heard.
"There is nothing that can be done for them now! You must see to those that still need your help!" Halbarad urged, though his desperate pleas fell upon unlistening ears. He cast about in the darkness for the fellbeast – for it had disappeared once more – yet his heart sunk once he caught sight of its form hurtling toward the company. He braced for impact; there would be no avoiding its final, destructive pass.
Yet there was no need to avoid the beast, for out from the shadow of night raced Aragorn and a great number of the Dúnedain, and they drove the beast from the Hidlanders with overpowering strength. Those Hidlanders that remained fell under the Rangers' wing, and gained at last the protection of Hornburg.