Chapter Seven

Horses of Rohan

Far to the south, Saruman was chuckling to himself. What a nasty trick to play on Gandalf. Now he would think Aragorn was dead. And he got to throw Boromir into the bargain, as well.

"A lot of good that swordfight did us," Boromir complained.

"Wel, if we hadn't circled so much, I might actually remember which way was they way back."

"The circling was your fault."

"I'm used to it. When you're fighting a million on one, you have to circle around so that no one stabs you in the back. It was purely instictual."

Boromir smiled. "You're not used to one-on-one combat, are you?"

"Nope, not at all."

"I practice all the time with Faramir."

"One by choice, one by necessity, but warriors both," Aragorn mumbled.

"Huh?"

"I have no idea. It sounded good."

"It sounded like my brother."

"Time with the Elves'll do that to you. I think it's this way."

"As you wish, my king."

Aragorn turned around, a look of disgust on his face. "Don't say that."

"My feet hurt," Pippin complained.

"I'm tired," Merry added.

"I'm hungry," Sam joined in.

"I'm cold," Frodo sighed.

"I see something!" Legolas called from the front. "Four horses, coming this way."

"We're too far north to be in Rohan already," Faramir pointed out.

But Gandalf was already shouting, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

"Um . . . Gandalf . . . it's not riders. Just horses," Legolas said, thinking the Wizard needed to get glasses, or perhaps a haircut.

Gandalf shrugged. "Horses of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

"Maybe they're hungry, too," Pippin suggested when the horses said nothing.

"All right, all right, we'll stop," Gandalf sighed. "But no snowball fights. You saw what happened last time, fool of a Took."

"Okay, no snowball fights," Pippin agreed. "Can we build a snowman."

Gandalf nodded. Instantly, Merry and Pippin put aside all thoughts of food and started rolling big balls of snow.

Just then . . .

"Lad, look out!" Gimli shouted. No one moved becasue they all thought the Dwarf was talking to someone else. Gimli jumped at Legolas and pushed him out of the way just in time to stop him from being trampled by a horse.

"Stupid, clumsy Dwarf!" Legolas shouted, not realizing he had just been saved. "Why did you--" Then he stopped short, for the horse had knocked Gimli to the ground, which, really, wasn't all that far. "Gimli, why--" he started again.

"Lad," the Dwarf said as Gandalf helped him to his feet, "just because I don't trust ya doesn't mean I want ya to get trampled."

"You . . . you saved my life. But really, Gimli. Lad? Strange thing to call someone who's more than two-thousand years older than you."

Gimli shrugged. "You look younger."

"I'm an Elf."

"Don't remind me. When do we eat?"

"Yeah, I'm starving," agreed Pippin. He'd just finished his snowman, which consisted of a small body and a huge head.

Faramir chuckled. "What is it?" Legolas asked.

"I think Pippin just made my dad." He sat down by the Hobbits. "So what do you call this meal?"

"Early late second supper."

"Sounds good," Gimli said cheerily. "Whatcha got, Gandalf?"

"Apples."

As Gandalf tossed him one, nearly hitting him on the head, a tear came to Pippin's eyes. Poor Aragorn.

At that moment, Poor Aragorn and Poor Boromir were lost in the snow. Still.

They'd come up with a plan for what to do if they ever made it as far as Minas Tirith. As soon as the last battle was over, Aragorn would sneak off into the wild. Boromir would make a big deal about the king dying while "nobly defending his people," and Aragorn would get off scot-free and get to be Strider the ranger again.

It would work perfectly as long as Gandalf didn't spoil it.

The rest of the Fellowship, meanwhile, had finished early late second supper, which was likely to be the only supper that day. They were ready to set off.

Pippin rode with Gandalf on a horse the Hobbit soon learned was named Shadowfax. Gandalf had agreed to this only after Faramir, who was riding with Merry, had agreed to switch Hobbits every so often. As Gandalf trusted Faramir, it wouldn't be a problem to have him riding with the Ringbearer.

Legolas and Gimli rode together. Legolas, at least, trusted the Dwarf more. Sam had insisted on riding Bill so that the pony wouldn't get lonely, so Frodo was left alone on the last horse, a smaller one, as well as the only one with a saddle.

Merry and Pippin were firing questions at Gandalf and Faramir, about Rohan, the people, the horses, the food, everything. They kept switching, but that didn't help. Gandalf tried pulling his hat down over his ears, but it didn't work. Finally, Faramir volunteered to take both Hobbits. It was a little crowded, but now Frodo got to ride with Gandalf, who was most grateful.

Merry and Pippin were quieter now. They were talking in whispers. They were planning something, Gandalf knew, but decided to let Faramir find that out for himself.

"Okay," Pippin whispered. "On the count of three. One, two, three."

Muahahahahahaha. What are they planning now? At the moment, quite honestly, I don't know. So if anyone has any ideas, I'm open to advice.

SirNotAppearingInThisFilm–Well, as you know now, Boromir and Aragorn did not kill each other. I don't have the heart to kill anyone in what is supposed to be a funny fic.

Ice Ember–Yes, the first time I read that chapter in the book, I didn't have time to make that joke because I was so stunned, but when I went back and read it again . . . well, I always thought someone should have said that. But, then, I like humor. Even my non-humor stories aren't completely serious. (there's some suspense, some action, some humor, etc. Not trying to brag. I can't do romance worth beans. Not that I've ever tried.) :)

Minou–Is this possible? Did I actually find another Radagast fan! Yeah!!!! Oh, yes, he'll be showing up sooner or later. Now that there's been a request for him, probably sooner.

Crusading Hobbit–Yes, Pippin will need a lot of help getting into Mordor. (Mental, physical, psychological, grammatical . . . ) :)

Eilidh the Nitwit– :) Yeah, show me someone who doesn't love Pippin and I'll show you a Vulcan. Or my mom. :) The two terms basically mean the same thing. She can't stand naivety. In fact, I respect it. And make fun of it. Remarkable how often those two traits coincide. Sorry. I'm also a Jack Sparrow fan. :) (hey, hey, stop it, stop it. Okay! Captain Jack Sparrow. Sheesh. Maybe my mom's not the only Vulcan around here. Take a joke, would ya, Athos.) My apologies. Fellow pirate fan. Now I have to go eat dinner. (No, not second dinner or early late first dinner. Just plain old ordinary leftover-spaghetti dinner.) :)