GreyLadyBlast, you're absolutely right. I didn't look back carefully enough at what I put in chapter 10 when I re-edited chapter 8, and I repeated myself. Sorry about that.
Ch. 11: The Four Hunters
As the Company was searching for Frodo,
they heard a blast from the great horn Boromir carried. Worf, Legolas,
and Gimli arrived just after Aragorn, to see Boromir pierced with arrows,
and hear his dying words. Worf dropped to his knees by his friend,
opposite Aragorn. Aragorn spoke quietly to him, words of encouragement
and victory, and Boromir finally acknowledged his king. When Aragorn
paused, Boromir spoke weakly to Worf. "I am sorry, my friend.
My cowardice has caused us all great grief. Merry and Pippin are
captive, and I do not know what has happened to Frodo."
"No, friend. You have fought
with honor. You will have a place among the honored dead. I
will do all I can to help the Hobbits. You have my word of honor"
With that, Worf gave a howl that startled the others, but he explained
that all races face death differently. He said simply, "It
is a way to honor the dead." Having no time to bury Boromir's body,
they put it in a boat and sent it down the falls. Seeing one of the
other boats missing, they were able to figure out what had happened with
Frodo and Sam.
After a few minutes' debate, the foursome
decided to follow the Orcs to retrieve Merry and Pippin. Leaving
all that could be spared, the four Hunters set off, walking through the
night and taking only brief rest. Without Aragorn's hunting skill,
they would have been lost. Just before dawn, they found the bodies
of five Orcs, presumably killed in a quarrel amongst themselves.
Aragorn was lost in a moment of reverie when they came in view of Gondor
to the south, but they went on following the Orcs, north and west.
Though he had never attempted to claim his throne, Aragorn's feelings for
his land ran deep.
The next day, Legolas spotted a great
company on foot, but far away, about twelve leagues, he guessed.
Worf wondered what distance a league measured, but it didn't matter; it
was obvious the Elf's eyes were much better than his, anyway. They
continued, now running and not stopping for rest. In the cold on
Caradhas, Worf's Klingon heritage had been no aid, but now it was to his
advantage. His body had been toned for walking these last few months
on this journey, and his stamina was good. The running was no difficulty.
Suddenly, Aragorn paused, and they
all saw the small hobbit footprints, and an Elven brooch, just beside the
main trail of trampled grass left by the Orcs. Encouraged, they continued
on, with little rest, for the remainder of the day. Darkness came,
and after much debate, Aragorn decided to stop. They could not risk missing
signs or wandering off the trail in the dead of night. With no light,
they could not continue, so they rested for the night. Even Worf
was glad of the rest, though he would never admit it.
Waking before the sun, the hunters
realized how far behind they had fallen during the night. Aragorn
laid on the ground for a long time, listening to the very earth.
His report was that the Orcs were indeed far away, but also that horses
were passing in the West. Not sure what to make of this, the four
set off again, alternately running and walking, eating lembas from
Lothlórien without even stopping. It was a marvelous food,
and better than any other trail ration Worf had encountered. It did
not fill the stomach, but it provided the strength to continue.
They stopped again that night; even
Worf was weary. They all begrudged the stop, but they were tired,
unnaturally so. It took little effort, even to brains fuzzy with
exhaustion, to realize Saruman was its source, but they refused to let
it stop them. The darkness forced them to halt and rest, but started
again with a red dawn. Finding a hill where the orcs had rested,
Aragorn estimated that they were now 36 hours behind the orcs. After
taking a moment to clarify the length of time measured by an hour, they
continued. There was nothing else to do.