Heading Home
Herudil stood at the end of the table as the Dúnedain gathered for their midday meal. After the standing silence, he remained on his feet as the rest sat. "After the meal, I want those of you with horses to take them to the fields to exercise them in preparation for riding out tomorrow. Those of you without horses are to gather by the main gates on the fields." He sat down and started eating, refusing to answer any questions.
"I hope they do not put us in a cart tomorrow and make us ride home that way," Meglin mumbled. "The Rohirrim will never let us hear the end of it."
"We shall find out soon enough," Vardamir said. "I do not care how we get home, just that we get home. My father refused to leave his home despite Elrond's offer of sanctuary. And quite frankly, I miss my wife."
Tarkil exchanged a look with Haldon. Their eldest brother, Mallor, had sent his family to Rivendell but stayed to help guard the village. His fate had been on both their minds much of late, almost as much as the worries of the safety of Poppi's family had been nagging at Tarkil.
All the Dúnedain had been anxious to leave the city behind for the freedom of the moors and forests of home. A collective sigh of relief had been felt more than heard when the word went out that the Rohirrim had been seen approaching Minas Tirith early that morning.
They hurried through their meal and those that had horses headed for the stables on the lower level while those without walked as a group through the circles to the main gate and onto the fields. Soon the rest of the Dúnedain rode out and formed into a loose formation as they trotted across the fields. Tarkil, Vardamir and Meglin stood together watching as Angrim rode his stallion beside Elrohir. They all grimaced to see the older Ranger slide off his mount at one turn.
"He is demanding too much from himself," Vardamir said, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry across the plain. "He just lost half a leg and yet he expects to get back up on his horse and ride with no problems?"
"Keep your knee pressed into the horse a little more than you would normally until you find your balance." Elrohir cinched the stirrup up to the right height once Angrim hauled himself back up on his horse.
"I think he has been doing very well. The horse seems to have figured out his commands though his touch is different. Pretty intuitive steed he has there." Tarkil watched Angrim urge Maethor into a trot then a canter. "He still has a good seat; he just took that last turn too fast. I would wager he will be sore from that tumble though."
"Same as you?" Vardamir chided. "I remember when your brother finally let you ride his horse, you were stiff the next day from what I remember."
Tarkil snorted, "that was from lack of exercise, Vardamir, not a fall. I do not know if Haldon was protecting me or Feinnail. The healers said I could start riding a week before he finally allowed me to ride his horse."
"Do not be too hard on him, Tarkil." Meglin watched Angrim turn his horse in tight circles. "He thought he had lost you at the Black Gates. He would not leave your side and drove the healers mad with his demands."
The Dúnedain watched as fifteen of the Rohan éored followed King Éomer from the Rohirrim encampment. Their interest peaked when they saw each of the Riders lead a spare horse; the Dúnedain on horseback reined in their horses as they watched. They had trouble restraining their curiosity when Aragorn rode out from the gates to join the Rohirrim.
"Gentlemen!" Elessar dismounted in front of them and handed the reins to an equerry. Éomer jumped off Firefoot and stood beside him. "We leave for Rohan tomorrow and from there you shall accompany Mithrandir and Elrond on to Rivendell. Since you lost your mounts in the battles, King Éomer has graciously provided replacements."
Aragorn took a step back as Éomer strode forward. "In honour of your courage in battle, for volunteering to fight for the freedom of not only Gondor but Rohan, I present you with these fine mares from the plains of Rohan so you may journey to your homes safely." King Éomer made a small gesture; the first Rider dismounted and led a chestnut mare to his king.
"Gethron, old friend, come forward," Elessar called as Éomer took the reins of the horse.
The king of Rohan presented the mare to Gethron saying, "This is Eobrynne. May she serve you well and provide you with many foals."
Tarkil watched as Gethron bowed to both kings and took the reins of the horse. One after another, those Dúnedain of the North who had lost their mounts in battle were presented with mares of the Riddermark. Tarkil watched in surprise as Jorund led a horse to Éomer and grinned at the ranger once he handed the reins to his king. Tarkil heard his name called.
"This is Leofwine. May she serve you well and help you keep all evil from your land." Tarkil bowed to Éomer and Elessar and took the reins to the tall bay mare, now his, to stand beside the others. He spoke to her softly, allowing her to sniff his hands then reached up to scratch her neck as she sniffed his. Astounded at the detailed leatherwork on her bridle and saddle, Tarkil lengthened the stirrups to the proper length; he saw Éomer keep a watchful eye on them before he mounted his own steed once again.
Tarkil gave a tight grin to Gethron when Eobrynne tossed her head, hearing a slight murmur of reprimand from the old ranger.
"I doubt she understands Sindarin curses, old friend." Tarkil grinned. "I think you will need to learn some Rohirric. Perhaps Jorund can teach you a few."
Éomer's horse danced beneath him as he waited impatiently for the last of the rangers to mount and join their brethren.
"Now, my friends, I would ensure you can ride these horses as well as their trainers." Éomer smiled broadly in challenge. "Eorlingas, let us show these men of the North how a true horseman rides!"
Gethron grinned at Tarkil as Éomer released his reins to allow his stallion to charge across the fields. "True horsemen, indeed!" called Gethron. "Let us show these Rohirrim a thing or two about the skills of the Dúnedain of the North."
Tarkil laughed as he watched the Rohan king and his men race away, feeling the mare straining to join them instead of the slower pace her rider demanded. "Easy now, Leofwine, we must get used to each other first. I shall not have you throw me in front of your King. Or mine!" Pleased with her obedience, he allowed her to canter before he released her to charge after the others, thrilled with the feel of the wind as it tugged at his hair, finally free from the stone barriers of the city
o-o
That night, after a feast in Merethrond, Tarkil found himself sitting on a bench in the crowded tavern on the first level of the city, surrounded by the green and white uniforms of the Rohan soldiers, a tankard of ale pressed into his hand.
"I take it the Rohirrim found you to be worthy of their horses." Haldon grinned as he hoisted his brew. "By the way, 'Kil, I expect a foal from Leofwine. She is a beauty."
Jorund wedged himself between Tarkil and Haldon. "I heard that your brother had to apologize to the Prince of Dol Amroth but he will not tell us this riddle that caused the affront. He claims your captain forbids him to repeat it and told me I should ask you since you are the one who told it to him. So, my friend, I must insist that you tell us." Jorund pounded his fist into Tarkil's arm in punctuation to his words.
Gethron grinned. " Go on, Tarkil. Tell it. It is all men here, and you cannot get in trouble for telling it in a tavern."
"It is a silly riddle I heard when I was a lad. When we were in the mess hall the evening before Aragorn's wedding, I happened to remember it. I cannot believe that it has taken on such proportions." Tarkil glared at Haldon over Jorund's shoulder.
"Tell it already!" the soldiers at the table shouted.
With a sigh, he relented. "What grows erect in a bed, is hairy underneath, and causes women to weep?"
"Everyone knows that one." Tarkil cringed to hear everyone groan and yell, "tell us a better one!"
"I do not know many others," Tarkil protested. "I generally leave it to my brother to tell the jokes."
"We could teach you some better jokes. One's that would be much more likely to get you in worse trouble if that type of joke offends the noblemen's daughters." Jorund pounded Tarkil on the arm and signalled to the barmaid for a fresh tankard. "So you like my horse, do you, my friend?
"I had wondered about that when I saw you lead her to King Éomer. I am surprised you could afford to give such valuable mares away. You lost so many of your own horses." Tarkil rubbed his arm, certain he would discover bruises the next morn in the shape of Jorund's hammering fist.
"I will take her back if you do not like her. Certainly we would have more use for her than you would." Jorund said with a broad grin. He grabbed a tankard from the barmaid and drained it before slamming it upon the table, and signalled for another to be brought.
Tarkil shook his head and grinned. "No, Jorund, you cannot take such a gift back once it is given. We will put the mares to good use in the North."
"That is if they are found to be willing brood mares. I have heard your mares are wild, and unwilling to stand to be serviced." Gethron said with a grin. Tarkil stared at him, amazed at his friend's audacity. "That is probably why they gave us these mares, Tarkil lad. They are probably beasts unworthy to be bred."
In the midst of taking another swig of his latest tankard, Jorund choked at Gethron's implication and beer spewed across the table. He glared at the older ranger as he wiped his sleeve across his ale-soaked beard. Tarkil relaxed to see him smile, his white teeth shining in the gloom of the tavern. "If they do not breed it will be because your stallions are unable to satisfy her in the manner in which Rohan mares require, my friend. Your stallions are too soft and their equipment too small to properly service our mares. But I hear that is a common complaint uttered by all the females in your land."
A roar of laughter went up as the Rohirrim overheard their comrade's comment.
"At least our women do not look like our horses!" Vardamir roared back.
"Their women have to look like their horses, 'Mir!" Gethron said with a grin. "How else can they entice their men away from their mounts!"
"We have never seen a woman of the North, perhaps you have no need of them!" Jorund retorted.
"Well, what do you get when you mix a dwarf with a warg then, Jorund?" Haldon fired back.
"I….I cannot imagine" Jorund slowly replied.
"Your mother calls him 'son!'" Haldon said with a wide grin.
The rest of the evening passed quickly as the two companies easily traded barbs and insults. Tarkil sipped the strong brew, attempting to make it last the night, knowing he did not wish to ride the next day with a heavy head and a rolling stomach.
The evening wound down and Herudil reminded them of the long journey ahead so the rangers straggled back to their quarters. The two brothers slowly wandered up through the circles discussing all they had seen in Gondor but they both agreed that they were definitely ready to return to the north.
o-o
Tarkil saddled his horse, as the travellers prepared to leave Edoras. "So you will not accompany us any further?" he asked Jorund.
"No, I am to be part of the escort that accompanies Elessar to the borders of Gondor once your king returns." Jorund looked around the stables before quietly asking, "So what does grow erect in a bed, is hairy underneath and makes women weep? Since everyone else in the tavern seemed to know, I did not want to admit I did not know the answer and I have not had a chance to speak with you alone since."
Tarkil chuckled at the Rohir's confession. "An onion."
Jorund shouted in laughter. "Ah, my friend, we definitely need to teach you some better jokes if we are to make you into a Rohir! If you are ever near the Westfold, do not hesitate to stop by, you are always welcome in my home." The Rohir slapped Tarkil on the back and stood back against the paddock fence watching as the Dúnedain prepared to leave Edoras.
"Ready to go home, 'Kil?" Haldon lifted himself into Feinnail's saddle.
"I was ready months ago, Hal. I think we all were," Tarkil replied, seeing the others nod their heads in agreement. He put his foot in the stirrups, preparing to swing into his saddle then cursed under his breath when he felt a familiar tightening across his back. On the ride from Gondor, his back had seized and he had spent the night flat on the ground in pain. Elrond had been summoned and attended the ranger so he could ride the next day and each day since he had been required to present himself to the healer who continued his treatments. But Tarkil had overheard Herudil say that if there were any more incidents, he would have to order the ranger to return to the Houses of Healing in Gondor.
Haldon looked around and moved his horse to block the sight of his brother from the others. In a muted tone, he said, "You are in pain again. Can you ride today?"
"I have to, Hal. I will not be left behind the way Herudil threatened last time." Tarkil breathed deeply a few times, willing the spasm in his back to lessen. "I just hope he does not notice me."
Haldon handed him a small waterskin. "I thought you were stiff in your movements this morning when you got up so I made some willow bark tea just in case."
Surprised at his brother's forethought, Tarkil thanked him and swigged some of the now cool brew. "I hope it works. I do not know what will happen if Heru—"
He choked when Haldon interrupted him to loudly say, "If Lady Eowyn had not already agreed to marry Faramir, I might have had a go at her myself. I imagine a fine horsewoman such as herself would appreciate riding a good stallion."
"Haldon, that remark is inappropriate, especially for a guest in this land," Herudil growled from behind them. "You have double watch for a week."
"Yes, sir. I apologize." Haldon nodded and watched the commander move away from his brother.
Tarkil shook his head and sighed. "Thanks, Hal – I did not see him approaching. I am sorry you got in trouble … but that remark? Would there not have been an easier way of distracting him?" He took a deep breath and hauled himself onto his horse and tried to suppress a wince as pain rippled through his shoulders and back.
"Perhaps but I could not think of one that quickly. No matter, little brother. It is just an extra watch." Haldon shrugged and looked up the hill to Meduseld. "Look up there, 'Kil. Glorfindel is talking with Lady Éowyn. I wonder if she knows he made that prediction about her killing the Witch King."
"I wonder if he knew it would be her or just that it would not be a man who managed to defeat him?" Tarkil watched as Glorfindel bowed to the White Lady. "I doubt we shall ever see such a sight as this again – elves and dwarves and men mingling like this. Do you think we shall see such a difference back home? Will we be needed now that Sauron has fallen?" Tarkil wondered what he would do if his skills were no longer needed, dreading the possibility of having to stop patrolling. Could he stand to be a farmer as Poppi's father had suggested?
"Sauron may have fallen, but there will still be orcs, and you saw at Poppi's farm that they are not the only threat to the land." Haldon clapped a hand on Tarkil's back and then grimaced when he saw his brother wince. "Sorry, I forgot you were sore. I hope that did not make things worse for you."
The two brothers joined the rest of the Dúnedain as they flanked the hobbits for the journey to Helms Deep.
o-o
Tarkil fought his mare as she nickered to Feinnail. "Haldon! Keep that beast away from Leofwine! I swear he would try to mount her even with me in the saddle."
"She is in heat, 'Kil, and Feinnail is a stallion. What do you expect?" Haldon guided his steed to a safer distance as they rode through the orchards as they approached Orthanc. He nodded towards the elven rider ahead of them and whispered, "I wonder if he puts those bells on his horse even in battle?"
Tarkil shook his head and whispered in reply, "I was wondering the same thing the other day at Helms Deep when I watched him putting Asfaloth's tack on."
"Perhaps they are a good-luck charm." Meglin brought his mare up between them to join in the quiet conversation. "Think of all the battles he has been in over the thousands of years. Maybe there is some Elvish charm upon them to ward off his enemies."
"Nay, they have no Elvish charm other than the charm of their music," Glorfindel slowed his horse and smiled at their embarrassed looks. "And to answer your question, child, no, I do not put them on Asfaloth when I am in battle. But I do enjoy their harmony on glorious days such as this."
He rode amongst them, singing a soft elven tune that brought images of a great city filled with light to Tarkil's mind. When they reached two tall trees at the edge of the circle, the travellers stopped to wait, looking towards the shimmering lake that encircled the great tower of Orthanc.
Tarkil dismounted and led Leofwine away from the stallions to stand near Gethron and Meglin with their mares. "It is different than when last we saw it from afar – remember the clouds of steam over this land?"
Meglin nodded. "I heard the hobbits talking about the destruction we saw but how was it repaired so quickly?" His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "WHAT are THOSE? They look like trees! But they are walking!"
Tarkil watched in amazement. "And talking! Did that one just bow?"
"That is Fangorn for whom the forest is named, or Treebeard as the hobbits refer to him." Glorfindel approached, smiling as he watched their awed expressions. "Once they roamed this land freely and I had many long conversations with them. Over time, they became mere tales to amuse children such as yourselves." His eyes got a far-away look in them, Tarkil thought.
"I heard Pippin talking of the Ents earlier though I was not sure if I believed him," Gethron said quietly. "But now to see not just one Ent, but two!" They stood watching the conversation between the wizard, the elves and their King. The Ent bowed three times to the Lord and Lady as Legolas leapt onto his horse, and Gimli clambered on behind.
Glorfindel gave a bow as Legolas and Gimli rode past them; the dwarf scowled while the Mirkwood elf laughed at a comment Gimli had grumbled.
"Where are they going?" Meglin wondered.
"I would imagine they are heading to their homes. Young Legolas told me earlier that he wished to wander the great forest, and apparently the Gimli agreed to accompany him. It will be quicker for them to return that way rather than heading along the west side of the mountains as we shall." Glorfindel watched them ride away, continuing to stare into the distance long after Tarkil lost sight of them.
"Tarkil, if Poppi does not believe in elves, do you think she will ever believe you about walking-and-talking trees?" Gethron asked with a grin.
Tarkil shook his head in amusement. "Not a chance!"
"Who is this Poppi who does not believe in elves?" Glorfindel raised an amused eyebrow at them.
"A girl I have been courting, my lord Glorfindel. I am hoping to marry her when I return," Tarkil explained. "She has never met an elf."
"But elves go through Bree quite often. Gildor and his people regularly travel through there between Imladris and the Havens."
"Yes, that is true, my lord, but somehow she has never seen one. Whenever I mention anything about elves, she thinks I am teasing her. One of these days, I shall manage to convince her." Tarkil shrugged. "Perhaps you could visit her if you travel through Bree?"
"Looks like we are leaving, lads." Gethron mounted his horse as Tarkil and Meglin did the same.
Glorfindel arched an eyebrow and smiled. "Perhaps you should bring her to Imladris or the Havens." The elven warrior nimbly leapt on his horse and led them away with the rest.
"I may do that, my lord." Tarkil grinned to himself as he clucked to Leofwine to follow.
Tarkil glanced at Haldon and, remembering their previous conversation, ventured to ask, "my lord, when you made the prediction about the Witch King … did you know it would be Lady Éowyn who killed him? Or did you simply know it would not be a man?"
"I said he would not fall by the hand of man. Lady Éowyn is not a man. Does that not tell you what I saw?" Glorfindel nodded to the rangers as he spurred his horse back amongst his people.
"No, my lord, it does not," Tarkil muttered to himself. "Why is it you can never get a straight yes or no answer out of an elf."
They rode at a much faster pace for the rest of the day until they reached the Gap of Rohan. The Dúnedain came to attention in their saddles when the king approached their group.
"I take my leave of you here. I had hoped that when I finally reclaimed the crown I could leave the North in Halbarad's worthy hands. Would that I could see him amongst you all so I could proclaim him my Regent." Aragorn paused as they all nodded. "I have decided to appoint Halbarad's eldest son, Galathor, Regent so if there are any problems in the land, the village chieftains now have a representative of the crown to turn to. The North has run itself for centuries without a King, I doubt I shall need to interfere in its business.
"I have decided the area is too large for one person to manage on their own so I have given orders for Herudil, Anardil and Ciridon to be made captains. They shall reorganise your posts as they feel is needed." Aragorn looked at each one of them. "I am proud of you all. Never shall I let my people in the south forget how you left your homes for all this time and put your lives in peril to help me reclaim the throne. They shall remember your feats on the Pelennor and how the great Dúnedain of the North stood at the front of the ranks against the hordes at the Morannon. Gentlemen, you have the eternal gratitude of your King."
Herudil ordered the rangers to form a protective circle around the hobbits. They finally led the group off, leaving Aragorn and his guards silhouetted against the sunset. Tarkil saw the hobbits glance back at the dwindling figures behind them and wondered at the flare of green that reflected in their eyes.
o-o
After what seemed to the rangers to be an interminable stop near Tharbad, they finally mounted their horses and headed north once again. Even the Dúnedain horses sensed they neared the end of their journey as they approached Rivendell. They crossed the bridge and saw all the lamps lit in welcome, and joyful songs rose around them as elves and those who sought sanctuary flooded from Elrond's home and the buildings nearby to greet them.
Tarkil and Haldon watched as Meglin grabbed his wife and daughter into his arms, laughing in joy after being separated for so many long months. All around them, other rangers also greeted their kin in ecstatic celebration. Tarkil saw Angrim's wife, Ithilwen, run towards the old ranger; the warm smile on her face quickly changed to shock when she saw him grab his crutches and balance them as he swung off his horse. She flung herself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. Borgil and Vardamir were quickly engulfed by their families, even Gethron hugged a woman and a youthful boy, Tarkil noticed.
The two brothers swung themselves from their horses, Haldon grabbed Meglin's mount for him, and led them to the stables. "Did Mallor not bring Bregwyn and the children to Rivendell, too? I wonder where they are?" Tarkil wondered aloud.
"Some of the families have returned to their homes already. Once the war finished, they wished to plant their crops and ensure their houses were safe." An elf informed them as he took their horses from them. "We shall look after your horses for you, do not worry."
Haldon walked over to Meglin, greeting his friend's family. Tarkil smiled when he saw Meglin's daughter, Meril, throw her arms about Haldon's neck in greeting and Meglin tried unsuccessfully to suppress a scowl.
Herudil lead his horse into the stables, handing it off to another elf, and addressed the Dúnedain who gathered nearby. "Elrond has arranged rooms for us tonight and dinner shall be served after we have had a chance to wash up. He has said we are welcome to stay as long as we wish, but I imagine those of us whose families did not come to Rivendell will want to leave first thing in the morning." He looked around to see heads nodding in agreement. "Those of you who wish to ride out with me, meet me here after we break the night's fast. We can ride out together."
"Tarkil, I would like you to meet my daughter, Elrin, and my grandson, Halboron." Gethron proudly introduced his kin once Herudil had finished.
Tarkil bowed over Elrin's hand and greeted Gethron's grandson with a smile. Elrin had Gethron's straight dark hair and grey eyes, Tarkil noted, but she was shorter than the average Dúnedain woman, and though he knew she could only be his age, already she bore the ravages of time as strands of grey threaded her hair. He briefly wondered if he was seeing what his and Poppi's children might look like. Elrin must have married a Dúnedain, Tarkil surmised, for the boy bore little trace of his Fornost ancestry. Gethron told Tarkil he planned on relaxing in Rivendell for a few weeks before they journeyed back to their home near Fornost. Tarkil excused himself when he saw Elladan gesture to him from the steps of his father's house.
"Tarkil," Elladan said once the ranger neared. "I thought you would like to know I spoke with one of Gildor's messengers about that proposal you asked be sent to the woman in Southlinch. They assure me that they did take it to her house, but they did not see the woman herself. Apparently they left it with a man named Henry Rushlight. I hope that was sufficient."
"Yes, my lord. Henry is her father. I am sure that it reached her then." The ranger nodded his thanks. "But how did you know that note asked her to marry me. Did you read it after I had handed it to you?"
Elladan smiled. "Do you think, child, that after 2800 years I have not developed the ability to read writing from the opposite side of a table? I read it as you wrote."
"Our tutor often used to hand us notes to take to our father but he would seal them so we could not peek." Elrohir admitted with a wry grin at his twin. "It became a useful skill to know what to expect once the note was delivered. He did not spy, my friend, it is simply an old habit."
Haldon wandered over to join them and the Peredhil led the brothers to a room in the last homely house where they found soft beds and a bath filled with warm water awaiting them, even clean tunics had been set out for them to wear that evening. The two brothers bathed and dressed, finishing just as a peal of bells called out over the valley informing all that dinner awaited.
They arrived in the hall to find a feast set out, the Dúnedain and their families rejoiced as the worries of the past year slid from their shoulders. Tarkil lifted his glass of wine and paused, thinking of all that had been sacrificed for just such an end, wondering what would come in the days ahead. For half an age, their people had fought to protect the land. For half an age, they struggled to see their king crowned once again and rule their land in his true name. And now, in their lifetimes, they saw their ancestors' dreams come true. He noticed that many of the Dúnedain around him also bore a pensive look on their face. Without saying a word, as they glanced at each other, they could tell that each contemplated the same thoughts. With the dark lord finally defeated, they stood on the threshold of a new age.