Chapter 25

As Rhian and Aria set out across the water in the grey boat for the last time, seeking the Ringbearer, the sound of the Horn of Gondor echoed over the trees. The sound of Rauros kept it from the women's ears, but above on the high seat Aragorn heard. He sped down the slope, seeking after the source, but even as he came near the sounds died away. He went on, crying Elendil! until at last he came upon Boromir, son of Denethor, lying in a small glade. Fallen orcs were heaped about him, at his feet, and he lay against a great tree as though resting. But black arrows sprouted from his chest, and the sword clasped in his hand was shattered near the hilt. His horn was cloven in two at his side.

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes, striving to speak. His words came slowly, and with difficulty. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo," he whispered. "I am sorry. I have paid." His voice was harsh and painful. His eyes wandered over his fallen enemies. "They have taken them, the Halflings," he said. "The orcs had taken them. And-" he gasped sharply, pale with suffering. "And the Lady Erin. They have taken..." He struggled for breath. "I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them. Lady Erin...struggled valiantly...and the Halflings..." He seemed to sag, and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again. "Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed."

"No!" said Aragorn. "You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!"

Boromir smiled.

Legolas and Gimli found Aragorn kneeling at Boromir's side, his head bowed with weeping. They carried Boromir to the shore, and bringing the last two boats, and laid him in the one that would bear him down the Anduin. At his feet they placed the weapons of his enemies, and the remains of his sword and his cloven helm they laid across his lap. They paddled the boats out in to the current, and cast the funeral boat loose, the River taking it away.

Aragorn looked at the place where the missing two boats had rested. The ground was crossed and re-crossed with their own tracks, and little could be told. At last Aragorn said "Four packs are missing, and one is certainly Sam's; It was rather large and heavy. Another was Lady Rhian's, for she had her harp. And I think another must have been Lady Aria's." He paused. "This then is the answer: Frodo has gone by boat, and his servant has gone with him. Frodo must have returned while we were all away. I met Sam going up the hill and told him to follow me; but plainly he did not do so. He guessed his master's mind and came back here before Frodo had gone. He did not find it easy to leave Sam behind!"

"But why should he leave us behind, and without a word? But take Lady Aria and Lady Rhian?" said Gimli. "That was a strange deed!"

"And a brave deed," said Aragorn. "Sam was right, I think. Frodo did need wish to lead any friend to death with him in Mordor. I do not believe he has taken Aria and Rhian with him by choice; rather they came after, and guessed the answer as well, and have gone after him."

"So well they might, those two," murmured Legolas.

"Our choice then," said Gimli, "is either to take the remaining boat and follow Frodo, or else to follow the Orcs on foot."

"Let me think!" said Aragorn. He stood silent for a moment. "I will follow the orcs," he said at last. "I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end, but if I seek him now in the wilderness, I must abandon the captives to torment and death. Lady Rhian has followed the Bearer- she can not know that her sister is taken. And so it is to us. We that remain cannot forsake our companions while we have strength left."

So the Three Hunters set out.

Rhian found herself forced to go slowly, despite her anxious fear, and Aria's pale face. Her ankle protested sharply each time she set her weight on it, and she was already exhausted in both body and spirit. She tired swiftly, and as much as she cursed her frail human form it was soon clear that she was unable to go far. Aria smiled bravely and made camp, even as her beloved moved farther and farther ahead, and Rhian moved restlessly. The pull on her heart and the strength of her legs were in direct conflict. She let Aria insist on the first watch, but she slept with her hand on her sword.

The second day they rose early, both troubled in spirit and unrested, and set out again in to the Emyn Muil. Rhian's ankle protested ever more as she scrambled over the great barren rocks, sometimes jumping from one to the next, and every so often losing her balance and dropping to her knees, scraping her hands open all over again on the rough stone. The way was yet more difficult for Aria, so much smaller, but she struggled bravely on, though some of the jumps Rhian made were too much for her. As they went on, Rhian would go ahead, finding the way, then lift the hobbit maid up after her, taking her hands to swing her over the gaps as she would have Rosie.

They spoke little. Rhian strengthened, and they went on earlier and longer each day, but the rocks were impossible in the dark and they were forced to stop, though neither of them seemed to sleep at all. Even though she had chosen to go on, Rhian was tormented by thoughts of her sister- what if she had not found Aragorn at all? Might she still be lost at Parth Galen? What if Boromir, still in his madness, had found her and done her harm? What if....

The third day, as they made their slow way over the rocks, Rhian had Aria by the hand, guiding her leap over a crack in the stone when the wind rose up in a sudden gust, knocking her sideways and to her knees. Aria screamed as her feet missed their mark and she dropped in to the chasm, but Rhian kept tight hold of her wrist. She fought for purchase against the wind, braced her feet, and slowly lifted Aria on to the exposed stretch of stone, catching her other hand lest the wind push her over and she fall again. Both trembling, they pressed themselves to the earth, their hands over there is. There was a dreadful, terrible sound sweeping over, more than the sound of the black wind that sought to dislodge them. It was a scream more horrible than any they had heard before, and they shivered. The wind and the scream ended, and thunder cracked above their heads. Lightning struck the stone little more than a yard from them, scorching the very rock and searing the air. Rain poured down in sheets.

Keeping hold of each other's hands, they crawled down, finding against one of the cliff walls a ledge, with a shallow depression beneath it. Here they huddled together, pressed against the stone, as the rain poured down around them. Rhian prayed briefly that they were high enough that no flash flood would come through the chasm- it was little more than a slash down in the rocks, and not deep. Aria sneezed and shivered. The hobbit girl sat practically on Rhian's lap, her arms around her. The human woman's pack, thankfully worn beneath her cloak- it gave her the appearance of a hunchback, but this journey was no time for vanity- was dry, and Rhian worked it loose from her back and put it beneath her knees to keep it so. Her harp, safe in its hard leather case, she tucked carefully between herself and the stone wall; she prayed water would not get in to her sheath and rust her sword.

Best of all, their blankets were nearly dry. They wrapped them around themselves as best they could beneath their cloaks, and curled together, waiting for the rain to stop. "I hope Frodo is all right," Aria whispered. Rhian hugged her gently, and, shivering, against all probability they fell asleep.

The fourth day, the two came out of the Emyn Muil. The sun was out, but the rocks were slick with the rain, and their hands were bloodied.

The unplanned sleep had refreshed them, and they made good time weaving among the tumbled boulders. Rhian sagged with relief when she found faint traces of a brief camp near the foot of the precipice, and a clear hobbit foot-print left in the rain-softened ground. Aria cried out joyfully, clapping her hands- they could be no more than a day behind the Ring-bearer and his servant.

"I do not like the look of that marsh," Rhian said, frowning. Blessing Strider all the way, the two of them had tracked Frodo and Sam as they went away from Emyn Muil, down the broken, stony slope, towards the foul-smelling marshes that now stretched before them. The faint trail led down a rift and in to the marsh itself- and there was a third set of tracks, apart from Frodo's neat prints, or Sam's broader, more widely set ones. There had been so few clear marks- they had been following smudges and dislodged stones for most of it- that it had taken Rhian some time and much puzzling to decide that there must be a third in the party ahead of them, and that it must be nearly hobbit-sized. In some places the ground had been clawed up, like a creature on all fours. It seemed Gollum was guiding the Ring-bearer.

But...in to this? Rhian took a hesitant step forward, and her foot went through the thin layer of 'ground' and in to the water with a sucking gurgle. Aria bit back a scream and caught Rhian's hand as the woman threw herself backwards and braced her painfully bent left foot- the ankle was screaming- to keep from sliding down further. Carefully, she scrabbled backwards up on to the sparse grass. Her boot came free with another horrible sucking noise, covered in stinking black mud. The cleaned it off as best she could with a clump of grass, holding her breath.

"Let's not try and go that way," she said, struggling up to her feet, wincing as her leg informed her that it was most definitely not happy with its recent treatment. Aria nodded vigorously, and they moved back quickly.

"Surely they didn't go in there?" Aria said anxiously.

"Perhaps," Rhian said. "It's more than possible I read the signs wrong, and they doubled back and went another way. Or perhaps Gollum knows some kind of path through it. But we shall never be able to get through, that's for certain."

Aria nodded. "Now what do we do?"

Rhian pushed a strand of hair back from her face, leaving a streak of mud across her cheek. "If they are going around it," she said, "I would think they would go south, and east. Those mountains look nearer...and...it is Mordor they're trying to get to." Aria bit her lip and nodded. "There's no telling where Gollum might be taking them, though- or if he's even leading them at all, or just following, or a prisoner. But we can't go in to the marsh...and there were no other signs farther back. I think the best we can do is go south, and hope to find some sign of them that way."

Aria nodded again. "Then...let's do it."

A/N: Aaaaand another one! This one, of course, much shorter and nearer my chapters' usual length. We will probably be following Rhian and Aria for some time, seeing as Erin is going to be unconscious for a bit. But we'll see how things pan out. So, here y'are, here y'are, hope you enjoyed, if you're still reading, please review and let me know! I'm hoping to finish this fic, and then go back and revise the first chapters, so if you're about, what do you think of that?