Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part two: The Plains of Rhoan

They had been in pursuit for two straight days, over hills and dales, through streams, past rivers and more. Arwen had been sorry she had only her own horse for while one person could have ridden ahead, Aragon insisted they stick together and thus their progress was not as good as it could have been. They kept at it, going without food or rest, even Gimli finding resivoirs of stamina he would have never thought possible within himself.

Aragon led the way, his tracking skills helping find the path the orcs had taken. Arwen was aiding him, also good with tracking. It was not lost on their three companions there was tension between the duo but attraction as well. While Aragon clearly did not want Arwen here, the elf was admant of staying and holding her own.

Boromir had been lost in his own thoughts, his injury forgotten as he kept up. He knew Aragon had not told Gimli or Legolas how Boromir had tried to take the Ring from Frodo. Boromir was grateful for that as the shame of his act was already hanging over him. At the same time, he and Aragon had not had a chance yet to talk over the events at Pareth Galen. Boromir wanted it desperately, wanted to tell Aragon how he now regarded the man, of the newfound respect.

But all that could wait. For now, Boromir still blamed himself for Merry and Pippin's capture. No matter how far it took them, he would find the hobbits and rescue them, as an atonement for his own actions.

They were in the plains of Rhoan and it had been a long time since Boromir had seen them. They were closing in on the Uruks and had even found a brooch from Pippin's cloak dropped in the path as a sign. It was clear the orcs were taking the elves to Isengard and the group hurried their pace.

The sun was rising on the third day of their quest when Legolas paused to look at it. Boromir stopped himself to face his friend. "What is it?"

Legolas nodded at the sun, which seemed tinged with a light shade of crimson cloud. "A red sun rises." He looked at Boromir gravely. "Blood has been spilt this night."

Boromir had known the elf long enough to trust his feelings and believed things were getting more complicated. The two quickly moved to catch up to Aragon and Arwen. The elf had dismounted from her horse and joined the Ranger by a group of rocks. Aragon was checking the tracks when a whinny cut through the air. Exchanging quick looks, the five quickly rushed to the shelter of some nearby rocks. Arwen paused long enough to whisper to her horse and the animal trotted to the far side of the outcropping. She grabbed Gimli and pulled him into the corner just as a horde of horsemen came over the nearby hill.

There were nearly forty of them in all, all in suits of armor and helmets with long spears, each riding a magnificent horse. Boromir and Aragon instantly recognized the suits as those of Rhoan's soldiers and exchanged a look. Aragon rose and walked out into the open, his voice calling out. "Riders of Rhoan! What news from the Mark?"

The platoon was racing down the hill when their leader held up his spear. With astonishing skill and speed, the entire line checked themselves and turned, riding toward the Fellowship. The others came out of hiding to join Aragon, Boromir and Legolas exchanging concerned looks. The horsemen began to surround them in a series of wide circles until the five were completely closed off. Then, in perfect unison, they all lowered their spears at the members of the Fellowship.

The leader, his armor brighter and more elaborate than the others, rode into the center of the circle. His cold gaze raked across the five before he spoke. "What business do elves, men and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

"We are searching for friends," Arwen stated. "We hope you have information that may help us."

The man shot a dark gaze at her. "Are you one of the witches of Lothlorien?" he bitterly asked. "A net-weaver and sorcerros?"

Aragon stiffened in anger and Boromir quickly put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Gimli did not hold back his own barked words. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine and more besides."

"I am Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark," the man identified himself.

"Well, then, Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark," Gimli shot back, lacing every word with heavy sarcasm. "You speak ill of that which is fair beyond your comprehension and only the little wit you obviously have can excuse you!"

Eomer stared at him for a moment before handing his spear to another soldier and dismounting. He marched to where Gimli stood and glared at him with anger. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, dwarf…if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In a flash of movement, Legolas had an arrow nocked and aimed right at Eomer. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he barked.

All of the horsemen raised their spears, letting Legolas know that the instant his arrow loosened, he, and the others, would each be impaled a dozen times over. The lessons of his youth in etiquite came to Boromir as he moved forward. "Your pardon, Eomer!" he called out. "When you know more of our quest, you will understand why you have angered my companions. Will you at least hear us out?"

Eomer stared at him, his eyes taking in Boromir's clothing. "A man of Gondor," he said, recognizing the style. "Why do you ride with them?"

Aragon had placed a hand on Legolas' arm to lower the bow. The riders lowered their spears as well as the Ranger faced Eomer. "I am Aragon, son of Arathon. This is Gimli, Son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realms, Arwen of Rivendale and Boromir, son of Denethor."

There were some surprised looks on the faces of the riders as they realized the son of the Steward was with the party. The surprise was greater to some who saw how Boromir seemed to be letting this strange Ranger take lead of the party. Aragon continued. "We are friends of Rhoan and of Theoden, your king."

Eomer sighed as he reached to his face. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He pulled the helm off to reveal his bearded face. "Not even his own kin."

"Eomer…" Boromir paused as the name came to him. "Theoden is your uncle."

The man nodded. "Yes. But now Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and gained lordship over these lands." He motioned to the riders around him. "I and my men are loyal to Rhoan. And for that, we are banished."

He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked." His cold eyes fell on the two elves and with obvious suspicion, he finished. "And everywhere his spies circulate."

"We are not spies," Boromir quickly stated. He was aware Legolas was seething and even Arwen showed impatience at this man's beliefs.

"We track a party of orcs westward," Aragon explained. "They have taken two of our company captive."

Eomer nodded. "The orcs are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

"Did you see two hobbits?" Gimli quickly asked. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small," Boromir added. "Only children to your eyes."

"We saw none but orcs," Eomer continued. "We left none alive." He pointed to the horizon. "We stacked their bodies and burned them as is our custom."

A chilling silence came over the Fellowship. "Dead?" Gimli whispered.

Eomer nodded. "I'm sorry."

Legolas put a hand on Gimli's shoulder, whether to steady the dwarf or himself uncertain. Boromir closed his eyes and felt a new pang of guilt. Eomer turned and let out a short whistle. A pair of horses came forward with empty saddles. "May these horses bring you to better fortunes than their former masters," he stated.

He replaced his helmet and moved back to his own horse. He paused long enough to say one last thing. "Look to your friends but do not look to hope. It has forsaken these lands." With a kick of the spurs, he set off and the rest of the company followed him, leaving the five party members behind.

Arwen moved to get her own horse and returned to find the men lost in thought. "There is always hope," she softly stated.

Aragon nodded slowly. "Yes…yes, there is."

"At the least," Boromir said as he moved to one horse. "We can discover the truth. And if they have fallen…" He choked before continuing. "We can give them a more proper burial than a pyre."

He set himself in the saddle as Legolas lifted Gimli to join him on his own horse. Aragon and Arwen exchanged a long look before Aragon climbed onto her own steed, moving behind her. It could have been a trick of the light but for one brief moment, Boromir swore he saw a smile on Arwen's lips as Aragon climbed behind her. Then all three mares quickly rode off toward the rising plume of smoke.