Meaning: In Shadows Lies Hope
Pairing: n/a
Type:
Rating: PG
Notes: To Athena: No, the other senshi will most likely not be making an appearance. It's hard enough fitting Makoto into the plot that I'd probably wind up insane before I could fit in the others.
Disclaimer: Anything owned by me will be duly noted. Until such a time, you may safely assume that everything belongs to someone else.
Together did Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli watch the dawn grow in the sky, which was now cloudless, until the full sunrise came. The day bloomed pale and clear, the wind was in the East, and all the mists had rolled away. The wide lands lay bleak about them in all directions. Ahead and eastward they saw the windy uplands of the Wold of Rohan that they had seen before from the Great River. North-west there lay the dark forest of Fangorn: still ten leagues away stood the shadowy trees, and the further slopes faded into the distant blue. Beyond there glimmered the white head of Methedras, the last peak of the Misty Mountains. Out from Fangorn the Entwash flowed to meet them, it's stream swift and narrow. The orc-trail turned from the down towards it.
Following the trail to the river, and then from the river back to the forest with keen eyes, Aragorn saw a shadow upon the green. It was a dark and fast moving and so Aragorn threw himself to the ground, listening intently. But Legolas stood next to him, shading his bright elven-eyes from the sun with a slender hand and saw not shadows or blurs, but tiny figures of many horsemen with the glint of the morning on their spear tips. Far behind them dark smoke rose in thin curling threads. Through the silence in the empty fields, even Gimli could hear the air moving through the grass.
"Riders!" cried Aragorn, springing to his feet. "Many riders on swift horses are coming towards us!"
"Yes," said Legolas, "there are one hundred and five. They have bright spears and yellow hair, and their leader is very tall."
Aragorn smiled. "Keen indeed are the eyes of Elves," he said.
"Nay! These riders are very near to five leagues from us," said Legolas.
"Five leagues or one," said Gimli, "we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait from them here or go on our way?"
"We will wait," said Aragorn. "I am weary, and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were before us, and they are riding back down the orc-trail. These may well be the Riders of Rohan Makoto so wanted us to wait for. We may get news from them, either way."
"Or spears," said Gimli. "There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits," said Legolas.
"I did not say that we would hear good news," said Aragorn. "But bad or good we will wait it here."
The three companions left the hilltop where they would be an easy target in the bright sun, against the pale sky, and walked slowly to the north slope. A little above the hill's foot they halted, wrapped their cloaks about them, and sat huddled together on the grass. The time passed slowly, the wind thin and searching, and Gimli was uneasy.
"What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?" he said. "Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?"
"I have been among them," answered Aragorn. "They are proud but true-hearted, generous, and bold but not cruel. They are wise but none have taught them, they write no books but sing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. I do not know what has happened here of late, nor how the Rohirrim think of the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron. They have long been friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not kin. It was in long forgotten years that Eorl the Young brought them out of the North and kinship is with the Bardings of Dale and the Beornings of the Wood. At least they will not love the Orcs."
"But Gandalf spoke of a rumor that they pay tribute to Mordor," said Gimli.
"I believe it no more than Boromir did," answered Aragorn.
"You will soon learn the truth," said Legolas. "They approach even as we speak."
After a time even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, still following the trail, had turned from the river and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind. The cries of clear and strong voices suddenly came ringing over the fields and even more suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder. The foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him rode the rest: a long line of mail-clad men. They were swift, shining, and both fell and fair to look upon.
Their horses were of great stature, strong and their grey coats glistened even as their tails flowed in the wind and their manes were braided upon their necks. The Men that rode them nearly matched them: tall and long-limbed; their yellow hair flowing from under their light helms and streamed in long braids behind them. Their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were long spears made of ash. Painted shields were slung across their backs, while long swords were sheathed at their belts. They galloped by in pairs, and though every now and then one would rise in his stirrups to gaze ahead at either side, they appeared not to notice the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host had almost fully passed when Aragorn suddenly stood up and called in a loud voice:
"What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"
Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli soon found themselves surrounded in a ring of horsemen, created through astonishing speed and skill. Aragorn stood silent and the others stayed sitting, each wondering how things would turn. Without word or cry or signal the Riders had stopped about them, and shining spear points came at them from all directions. Some of the horsemen had bows, too, with arrows already fitted to the string. Now one man, taller than the rest, rode forward, and advanced until the point of his spear was only a foot from Aragorn's chest. Still Aragorn did not stir.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" he asked, using the Common Speech of the West.
"I am called Strider," answered Aragorn. "I came out of the North and I am hunting Orcs."
The Rider leapt down from his horse. Another quickly rode up and dismounted next to him, and took his spear as he drew his sword and stood face to face with Aragorn. He inspected Aragorn closely and not without wonder, and at length he spoke again.
"At first I thought you were with the Orcs," he said; "but now I see this is not so. Indeed you know little of Orcs, if you are hunting them in this fashion. There were many, and they were well armed and fast. You would have quickly become their prey, rather than their hunters, should you even have over taken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider."
Aragorn found himself once again under the clear, bright eyes of the Rider, who had been surveying the others as well.
"Yours is no name for a Man. And stranger is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass, for how else did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?"
"No," said Aragorn. "Only one among us now is an Elf, Legolas of Mirkwood. The other was one who lives in the forest of Fangorn, but she has since passed from our company. We have gone through the woods of Lothlórien, and the gifts of the Lady go with us."
The Rider looked at them with a new sort of wonder, but his eyes hardened.
"So there is a Lady of the Wood, as the stories tell," he said. "Few escape her nets, they say, and these are strange days. If you hold her favor, then perhaps you are net-weavers and sorcerers too." Suddenly he turned his cold glance to Legolas and Gimli. "Why do you not speak, silent ones?" he demanded.
Gimli now rose and spread his feet apart and held his axe ready. His dark eyes flashed. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more."
The Rider stared at the Dwarf, "Oh? Oft it is the stranger who gives his name first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Eomund, and am called the Third Marshal of the Riddermark."
"Then Éomer son Eomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin's son warn you against foolish words. You would speak evil of that which is far beyond the reach of your thought, and only stupidity can excuse you."
Éomer's eyes blazed and the Men of Rohan muttered angrily as they advanced on the three companions. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if you stood but a little higher," said Éomer.
"He may stand short, but he does not stand alone," said Legolas. He fitted an arrow to his bowstring with hands that moved quicker than sight. "You would die before your own stroke fell."
Éomer raised his sword and things might have gone bad, but Aragorn leapt between them with his hands raised. "Your pardon, Éomer!" he cried. "When we explain it you will understand why you have angered my companions. We mean no evil toward Rohan, nor any who live there, man or horse or otherwise. Will you not hear me out before you strike at us?"
"I will," said Éomer lowering his sword. "But those who wander into the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your real name."
"First tell me who you serve," said Aragorn. "Are you friend of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor, or are you his enemy?"
"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel," answered Éomer. "We do not serve the Power of the Black Land, but neither are we yet openly at war with him. If you are fleeing from him, you had better leave this land. There is trouble threatening all our boarders; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, serving no other lord – good or evil. We welcomed guests more kindly in the better days, but now strangers come and find us stern and hard. But come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At who's command are you hunting Orcs in our land?"
"I serve no man," said Aragorn; "but the servants of Sauron I will pursue wherever they go. There are few Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them as we are now out of choice. The ones we pursued have captured two of our friends. In such a time as this, since we have no horses, we must go on foot, and we shall not count the heads of our enemies but with our weapons. I am not weaponless."
Aragorn tossed aside his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered in the light as he grasped it and the blade of Andúril shone like a flame as he pulled it out. "Elendil!" he cried. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn. I am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunadan, the heir of Isildur of Gondor. Here is the blade that was Broken and now is re-forged! Will you aid me or stop me? Choose swiftly, for I have no time to tarry!"
Legolas and Gimli watched Aragorn in amazement, for they had never seen him in this mood before. It seemed to them that their friend had grown while Éomer had shrunk in size; and watching his face they saw a short vision of the power and majesty of the kings of stone. To Legolas it even appeared that a white flame-like crown flickered upon Aragorn's brow. Éomer stepped back, a look of awe on his face. He lowered his proud eyes.
"These are strange days," he muttered. "Legends and dreams coming to life out of the very grass. Tell me, lord," he said louder, "what brings you here? Long has Boromir son of Denethor been gone in search of an answer, and the horse we lent him came back with no rider. What doom do you bring to us from the North?"
"The doom of choice," said Aragorn. "You may tell Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live as they have lived, and few shall keep what is theirs. But of these matters we shall speak later. If chance comes I myself will see the king. Now I am in great need, and I ask for your help, or at least tidings. I have spoken of an orc-host that has carried off our friends. What can you tell us?"
"That you need not hunt them any more," said Éomer. "The Orcs are destroyed."
"And our friends?" said Legolas.
"We found none but Orcs."
"But that should not be," said Aragorn. "Did you search among the dead? Were there no other bodies but those of the Orcs? Our friends would be mere children to your eyes, and they were clad in grey and unshod."
"There were no dwarves or children," said Éomer. "We counted all the dead and then burned them. The ashes are smoking still."
"Someone approaches!" cried one of the Riders in the back ranks. "Shall we make ready to attack?"
"Nay!" said Éomer. "Hold your fire until we can be sure of the person's identity!"
There was near silence until Legolas could perceive the sounds of footfalls upon the grass. They were light and swift, and he knew at once it must be.
"Oh, let me pass, confound you Riders!" cried Makoto. "I am not your foe, nor have I ever been! I wish but to speak to Aragorn, and that I cannot do from back here."
"Let her pass, as she requests," said Éomer. "It is but the Elfling."
Makoto gave a delicate snort as she walked swiftly through the path of horses that the Riders had made on Éomer's orders. Legolas' ears picked up the sounds of her muttering softly in Sindarin, and his heart warmed slightly. She walked with her head held high and the breeze caught her hair and cloak, tossing them behind her. Her elven-knife glittered at her side. Many of the Riders looked at her with respect, for they had dealt with her many times and she had proven her will and heart true.
"Aragorn," said Makoto when she approached. Aragorn nodded to show he heard her; but his eyes filled with concern. Up close she looked weary and rather like she was fighting to stay upright, and more human than Elf. "Upon your request I have searched for your friends."
"Then they are dead, as the Riders say?"
"Dín i lam chín, Aragorn. Allow me to finish before jumping to outrageous claims! They are alive. Less than an hour ago they entered the forest of Fangorn. They will be safe there, no matter what you may have heard. Ti im beriathan."
"So there were children that we did not see?" Éomer murmured.
"We speak not of dwarves or children," said Gimli. "Our friends are hobbits."
"Hobbits?" said Éomer. "And what are they? It is a strange name."
"A strange name for strange folk," answered Gimli: "but these were very dear to us. Apparently you in Rohan have heard of those words which troubled Minas Tirith. They spoke of Halflings, and these hobbits are the Halflings."
"Halflings!" laughed the Rider who stood next to Éomer. "Halflings indeed! They are only little people in old songs and tales out of the North. Do we walk upon earth or in legends?"
"A man may do both," interrupted Aragorn, and Makoto scowled at him lightly. She had been ready to show that Rider the sharper side of her human tongue. "For those who come after us shall make legends of our time. And the green earth, you say? In itself it is made of the matter of legends, though you walk upon it."
"We must hurry south, lord," said the Rider, ignoring Aragorn. "Let us leave these wildfolk and the Elfling to their own fancies. Or let us bind them and we shall bring them before the king."
"You would do well to pay heed to this man," warned Legolas. "For he is not one who should be taken lightly. Do not beguile yourself to think that he is but an ordinary stranger. There are those, if he will not, who will take actions against such thoughts to prevent them."
"Legolas! Dínenno!" said Aragorn sharply.
"When did the Riders of Rohan become so infatuated with themselves, I do wonder," muttered Makoto. "They were not so cruel to those they did not know when last I met them, nor did they speak rudely to those they did."
"Times change and so must we change with them, Elfling," said the Rider haughtily. "Ignorant though you are of the world, you surely must know at least that."
"Peace, Éothain!" said Éomer, sharply, in his own speech. "Do not insult the Elfling; for she is of Fangorn and carries with her the forest's wrath! Leave me now for a while. Tell the éored to assemble and make ready on the path for Entwade."
Muttering darkly Éothain moved into the ranks of the Riders and spoke with them. Soon Éomer was left alone with the four companions. Makoto smirked at the back of Éothain, then turned to Aragorn and gave him a slight bow.
"I shall leave you here, and see that your companions come to no harm in the Forest," she said.
"We are grateful for all you have done," answered Aragorn.
Makoto nodded and swiftly set her path to the Forest. The three companions and Éomer watched her run. There was a short period of silence before anyone spoke.
"All you have said is strange, Aragorn," said Éomer. "Yet you speak the truth, that is plain. The Men of the Mark do not lie, and so we are not easily deceived. But I sense you have not told me all there is to tell. Now that we are alone, will you speak more of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?"
"I will," answered Aragorn. "But first you must be warned that it is a long tale."
"That I have already assumed," said Éomer. "But speak, and I will listen."
Owari, chapter three
Sheesh, that took a long time to get out. Sorry for making all my fans wait, but I was busy with school and all that wonderful stuff. This chapter is also shorter than the others (only five pages --;;), and I'm sorry if you find it lacking, but like I said, chapters four through most likely six will be very different from the books.
Other Notes: Now, as close as I can figure from the most reliable sources:
Dínenno!
Dínen (silent) no (be; imperative form of na-, 'to be')
Be silent!
Dín i lam chín, Aragorn.
Dín (silence) i lam ([lit] of the tongue) chín (your)
Be silent, Aragorn.
Ti im beriathan
Ti (them) im (I) beria- (protect) than (I will)
I will protect them