Chapter 3: First Halt

They had been hiding in the shadows of the failing sun, among the fading outline of the trees, and now they walked forward towards her. Two thin and muscular shapers, one light-haired, slim, proud, and moving with the grace cat; there was no doubt he was one of the best warriors Rivendell had to offer. The other one was dark, shorter, and constantly looking around him. The girl had only one word for him: Nervous. If Gandalf, no, Gandalf wanted them to accompany her but she knew that they were accompanying her to do one thing, no doubt upon the Wizard's instructions: Keep a close watch upon her. Who knew what other instructions he had given them. Be that as it may, she could not face this challenge on her own, a foreigner in a foreign land.

"Greetings woman. We are here to accompany you and help you in your task," blurted the blond elf. He felt clearly out of place speaking to a human, and the girl wondered if he wasn't supposed to die on the walls of Helm's Deep if she was keeping from his destiny.

"Ehm… ok, but some things have changed." Now that they were close to her it was scary how much taller than her they were. And that was unsettling for her. They had this imposing nature about them as they towered over her, and she definitely did not like it. She gulped, taking a deep calming breath before speaking, hoping that she projected the image of quiet and calm confidence, instead of nervousness and uncertainty, "Gandalf and Elrond are no longer in charge of this mission. I am. The man we are "hunting" is not to be harmed under any circumstances. Understood?"

The elves nodded, faces serious, and the girl could only wonder what their thoughts were. Did this young human in wizard clothes impress them, or were they going to obey whatever orders Elrond had given them? Indecision and mistrust was at the forefront of her thoughts. She had always trusted easily and had been betrayed several times because of it, and her boyfriend had warned her of that, almost fatal flaw in her character. Sadly she knew that she did not have much of a choice in this hunt.

She patted the only saddled horse as she studied it, nothing in it was disproportionate; she guessed a mixture of Arabian and Akal Teke, if those breeds actually existed in this world. Maybe it was simply what was called a horse of elvish stock. From a distance, his coat had appeared to be a deep shade of brown, but up close, she the coat was actually dark gold as if it was shimmering with the last rays of the sun. She ran her hand down its flank, and along the horse neighed quietly, as it nuzzled its head against hers, asking for a treat. The girl held him tight, wondering at the name of the beautiful creature now in her care

The elves stood awaiting a sign from her, as they stood by their mounts, silver shimmers on their coats and knot free white manes, and as she pulled her the blue hood of her cloak above her head, they seemingly glided on their mounts, moving them in a circle to warm them up. The elves knew, just as she did, that they had at least several days of hard travelling ahead of them.

Departure was at hand, and the girl looked one last time back to what had been her home for a couple of days: Imladris, the home of Elrond, marvelling again at its beauty and splendour before she pulled the hood over her face to hide a visage of grim determination, she nodded to her elven companions and they set off as one down the forest path away from Imladris: The hunt was on.

XXX

It would take them forty days to arrive at Rohan's Gap. But as the hunted did not have a horse, it would be less. How much less, they did not know. Was he going in a straight line, wandering, heading to Barad-dhur, or Orthanc?

They had ridden through out the night, the star filled skies, and that half moon that had watched their progress in silence while giving them just enough to light their way, important for her, as she lacked elven eyesight. Now, they rested at the break of day in the shadows of the misty mountains that loomed over the trio like the Sword of Doom. The elves had not exchanged a word with each other or with her the entire night and now the sky was beginning to turn a light blue, like dark ink spread over too much paper.

Whereas Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli would pursue the Orcs without break to save Peregrin and Meriadoc, the girl lacked that hardness in her. She had lived in the city, and although horseback ridding came naturally to her, she was more of a walker. She stretched and cracked her knuckles, happy that for once no one would look at her and say "you'll have arthritis when you get older". She grinned, as it wasn't even sure she'll survive this quest. Frodo understood before the end that his adventure would cost him his life, and in a way it did. Would it be the same for her?

The elves quickly had a fire going and handed her some way bread in silence. There was no competition among them, just a professional determination of reaching their quarry in time. What would happen then, neither could phantom. Until the moment where her orders and Elrond's diverge, they would rely on themselves.

But it was time to rest now, not think. She rolled herself up in her blanket and snoozed off, Rivendell still being near enough to grant protection.

"The Lark in the morning

She rises of her nest

And she goes off in the air

With the due on her breast

And like a jolly ploughboy

She whistles and sings

And comes home in the evening

With the due on her wings…"

She sang the tune while the elves finished watering their horses the next morning. Sleep was the best thing to make her cheerful. She was not of grumpy nature, she just took herself too seriously at times, but not anymore.

"Here's a herald to your ploughboys wherever you maybe, who likes to have a bony lass sitting on each knee…"

It was time to have fun in the chase. She knew Firestorm. For all his pride and showing-off, paintball and counter strike gaming, he sucked in the outdoors. She remembered the first time he had seen a squirrel, and laughed. The elves just raised an eyebrow and followed her south.

A/N

The song is called by many names, it's traditionnal irish and one of my favourites. I do not clame authorship of the rhymes!