Chapter Thirteen:
The continuing journey for the Fellowship was perilous. There was many a
battle against Orcs and Uruk-Hai but they made it to a safe place to camp
alive and in one piece. The Hobbits were the worst off, the hard fought
battles and rough travelling wearing them down to the point of collapse.
Pippin was bearing a deep cut across his cheek, where he had been to slow
to duck an Orc blade. Frodo, Sam and Merry held similar wounds in various
places as well as bruises and scrapes.
Aragorn, Faramir and Gimli had fared better than their four smaller companions, but they had not escaped unscathed either. Gimli had a gash on his thigh, Faramir had a black bruise running from his temple to his jaw, and Aragorn's left shoulder had been pulled from the socket, and was supported in the neck of his shirt. There had been no time to put his shoulder back into place, as the Orcs and Uruks had come at them thick and fast. The tired group were amazed they were able to escape with so little injuries.
The group had found shelter in a small cave and Aragorn gathered them close to take stock of the injuries sustained. He patched up the cuts as best he could, and had Faramir see to his shoulder. He then took some of his precious stock of the Athelas plant out of a small pouch on his belt, crushed them and pushed them down the neck of his water skin. He then passed the skin around the group, getting everyone to take a gulp until it was empty. They then settled in for a painful night of recovery.
Faramir, who had received the least damaging injuries, had offered to stay on watch, allowing the others to get some well-needed sleep. To occupy the time, Faramir had taken to recalling interesting facts that he had read from the books in the White City's library. He was trying to remember how many different cloths could be hand woven when he saw movement in the distance.
Cautiously, he stood, trying to determine if it was necessary to wake Aragorn. He crept carefully, towards the movement, sword drawn and at the ready. As he got closer he realised that it wasn't an Orc patrol or riding party, but a horse. A magnificent, pure-white horse. Faramir sheathed his sword and stepped out quietly to meet the animal.
Faramir was awed to see such an animal. Such grace and beauty he had not seen for a long while. He thought back to the War of the Ring and remembered seeing Gandalf ride such a magnificent beast. "Shadowfax?" Faramir spoke quietly into the night. The horse turned his head and looked at him with such clarity, that Faramir felt the horse could understand exactly what he said. "Shadowfax?" Faramir asked again. "Where is Gandalf? Why is he not with you?" At the mention of Gandalf, Shadowfax let out a soft whinny and pawed the ground once. Faramir, never being a big lover of horses, did not share the same aptitude with animals that Aragorn, Legolas, and even his brother, had displayed on many an occasion. But even still, Faramir could tell that Shadowfax was trying to tell him something.
After several puzzling minutes, Faramir had realised that Shadowfax was trying to get Faramir to follow him somewhere. Shadowfax got more agitated and urgent when Faramir mentioned Gandalf, so he figured that the horse's appearance had something to do with Gandalf's absence. Faramir was torn at what to do. On one hand, Shadowfax's urgings were persistent, making Faramir believe that what the horse was trying to get him to realise was of some importance. On the other hand, Faramir knew that the Fellowship would not make it much further without some decent rest, and this sleep they were having could very well be the last they get for some time. But just as Faramir began the difficult decision of what to do, he was saved the trouble.
Dawn's first glow had begun on the horizon, casting a pink glow on where the Fellowship were sleeping. With a grunt and a sigh, the King of the Re- United Kingdom opened his eyes and surveyed the scene before him. Four Hobbits and a Dwarf still slumbering, and the night watchman deep in thought, while a white horse tossed its head patiently. *All is how it was at our arrival,* Aragorn thought rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Then he did a double take. He shook his head, and looked back to where Faramir was seated. Sure enough, there was a very familiar white horse. Shadowfax. Aragorn pushed himself to his feet and strode out to where Faramir sat.
"Good morning Faramir," Aragorn said, startling Faramir out of his thoughts. "Good morning," Faramir replied. "How did you sleep?" "Well enough," Aragorn replied, the sides of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "At what time did Shadowfax arrive?" He stepped forward to stroke the horse's nose gently. "He turned up quite unexpectedly about ten, fifteen minutes ago. It took me awhile to discover what he was trying to tell me, and I was just deciding whether it would be necessary to wake you." Faramir stood from the log where he had been sitting and said, "I'll go and rouse the Hobbits, shall I?" "Please. They do take awhile to get going, don't they?"
Faramir walked over to where the small group slumbered, leaving Aragorn with Shadowfax. Aragorn gave the horse a pat on his neck before asking, "So what brought you to me from Gandalf's side, old friend?" Shadowfax nickered at the sound of Gandalf's name, as he had done with Faramir. But Aragorn, having a more keen interest in animals, read volumes into Shadowfax's actions.
Meanwhile, the four Hobbits had been gently shaken awake and were sitting up, rubbing their eyes with tiny fists. It took more effort to wake the slumbering Gimli who, at Faramir's shake, had grunted loudly and rolled over. Faramir continued to shake at Gimli, who woke muttering curses against the race of Men. "Come now Gimli, not all Men are as bad as you make us out to be. How many men do you know that would cook you a hearty breakfast after all?" Seeing Gimli wake, Faramir had begun the motions of preparing breakfast. Sam has moved over and lent a hand, not wanting to be out of a duty. Aragorn, having finished his business with Shadowfax, moved back to camp.
"What did you find out?" Faramir asked Aragorn. The rest of the Fellowship looked at him with curious, yet sleepy, eyes. "Gandalf had been taken by a band of Orcs, bound for Mordor. Kayla and Legolas are on his path, no more than a day behind," Aragorn told them in a flat voice. The group looked startled. "With Gandalf's capture, we have to assume that the Orcs have four of the Istari, and that is enough to bring Melkor back. We have little time. This meal will have to be a quick one; we must be ready to leave as soon as we can. There is no time left to linger. We must make as much ground as possible this day."
The time for breakfast was a flurry of activity. All plans for a warm meal were abandoned, and instead the time was used for gathering belongings and filling the water skins. Breakfast consisted of lembas eaten on the run. There was no time to waste. The plans for the downfall of Middle Earth were in motion.
Aragorn, Faramir and Gimli had fared better than their four smaller companions, but they had not escaped unscathed either. Gimli had a gash on his thigh, Faramir had a black bruise running from his temple to his jaw, and Aragorn's left shoulder had been pulled from the socket, and was supported in the neck of his shirt. There had been no time to put his shoulder back into place, as the Orcs and Uruks had come at them thick and fast. The tired group were amazed they were able to escape with so little injuries.
The group had found shelter in a small cave and Aragorn gathered them close to take stock of the injuries sustained. He patched up the cuts as best he could, and had Faramir see to his shoulder. He then took some of his precious stock of the Athelas plant out of a small pouch on his belt, crushed them and pushed them down the neck of his water skin. He then passed the skin around the group, getting everyone to take a gulp until it was empty. They then settled in for a painful night of recovery.
Faramir, who had received the least damaging injuries, had offered to stay on watch, allowing the others to get some well-needed sleep. To occupy the time, Faramir had taken to recalling interesting facts that he had read from the books in the White City's library. He was trying to remember how many different cloths could be hand woven when he saw movement in the distance.
Cautiously, he stood, trying to determine if it was necessary to wake Aragorn. He crept carefully, towards the movement, sword drawn and at the ready. As he got closer he realised that it wasn't an Orc patrol or riding party, but a horse. A magnificent, pure-white horse. Faramir sheathed his sword and stepped out quietly to meet the animal.
Faramir was awed to see such an animal. Such grace and beauty he had not seen for a long while. He thought back to the War of the Ring and remembered seeing Gandalf ride such a magnificent beast. "Shadowfax?" Faramir spoke quietly into the night. The horse turned his head and looked at him with such clarity, that Faramir felt the horse could understand exactly what he said. "Shadowfax?" Faramir asked again. "Where is Gandalf? Why is he not with you?" At the mention of Gandalf, Shadowfax let out a soft whinny and pawed the ground once. Faramir, never being a big lover of horses, did not share the same aptitude with animals that Aragorn, Legolas, and even his brother, had displayed on many an occasion. But even still, Faramir could tell that Shadowfax was trying to tell him something.
After several puzzling minutes, Faramir had realised that Shadowfax was trying to get Faramir to follow him somewhere. Shadowfax got more agitated and urgent when Faramir mentioned Gandalf, so he figured that the horse's appearance had something to do with Gandalf's absence. Faramir was torn at what to do. On one hand, Shadowfax's urgings were persistent, making Faramir believe that what the horse was trying to get him to realise was of some importance. On the other hand, Faramir knew that the Fellowship would not make it much further without some decent rest, and this sleep they were having could very well be the last they get for some time. But just as Faramir began the difficult decision of what to do, he was saved the trouble.
Dawn's first glow had begun on the horizon, casting a pink glow on where the Fellowship were sleeping. With a grunt and a sigh, the King of the Re- United Kingdom opened his eyes and surveyed the scene before him. Four Hobbits and a Dwarf still slumbering, and the night watchman deep in thought, while a white horse tossed its head patiently. *All is how it was at our arrival,* Aragorn thought rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Then he did a double take. He shook his head, and looked back to where Faramir was seated. Sure enough, there was a very familiar white horse. Shadowfax. Aragorn pushed himself to his feet and strode out to where Faramir sat.
"Good morning Faramir," Aragorn said, startling Faramir out of his thoughts. "Good morning," Faramir replied. "How did you sleep?" "Well enough," Aragorn replied, the sides of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "At what time did Shadowfax arrive?" He stepped forward to stroke the horse's nose gently. "He turned up quite unexpectedly about ten, fifteen minutes ago. It took me awhile to discover what he was trying to tell me, and I was just deciding whether it would be necessary to wake you." Faramir stood from the log where he had been sitting and said, "I'll go and rouse the Hobbits, shall I?" "Please. They do take awhile to get going, don't they?"
Faramir walked over to where the small group slumbered, leaving Aragorn with Shadowfax. Aragorn gave the horse a pat on his neck before asking, "So what brought you to me from Gandalf's side, old friend?" Shadowfax nickered at the sound of Gandalf's name, as he had done with Faramir. But Aragorn, having a more keen interest in animals, read volumes into Shadowfax's actions.
Meanwhile, the four Hobbits had been gently shaken awake and were sitting up, rubbing their eyes with tiny fists. It took more effort to wake the slumbering Gimli who, at Faramir's shake, had grunted loudly and rolled over. Faramir continued to shake at Gimli, who woke muttering curses against the race of Men. "Come now Gimli, not all Men are as bad as you make us out to be. How many men do you know that would cook you a hearty breakfast after all?" Seeing Gimli wake, Faramir had begun the motions of preparing breakfast. Sam has moved over and lent a hand, not wanting to be out of a duty. Aragorn, having finished his business with Shadowfax, moved back to camp.
"What did you find out?" Faramir asked Aragorn. The rest of the Fellowship looked at him with curious, yet sleepy, eyes. "Gandalf had been taken by a band of Orcs, bound for Mordor. Kayla and Legolas are on his path, no more than a day behind," Aragorn told them in a flat voice. The group looked startled. "With Gandalf's capture, we have to assume that the Orcs have four of the Istari, and that is enough to bring Melkor back. We have little time. This meal will have to be a quick one; we must be ready to leave as soon as we can. There is no time left to linger. We must make as much ground as possible this day."
The time for breakfast was a flurry of activity. All plans for a warm meal were abandoned, and instead the time was used for gathering belongings and filling the water skins. Breakfast consisted of lembas eaten on the run. There was no time to waste. The plans for the downfall of Middle Earth were in motion.