She came upon the other rangers by late afternoon. A whiff of smoke in the breeze had been all she needed, and she followed the smell until she reached a small copse in the trees. A cloaked figure turned around sharply, brandishing a hunting knife. Daeril raised her good hand in surrender, and the other ranger took down their hood.
"Daeril, goheno nin," Aeldis apologized.
"No need," Daeril approached, trying to see who Aeldis was kneeling next to.
"He passed early this morning. I started to dig a grave, but hadn't the strength to finish."
Daeril looked upon the face that only days prior been so full of life. Gaerchon had always been quick with a joke and had loved to sing; she tried to remember him as that person, and not the pale shell of a man that lay dead in front of them.
"His wounds were not mortal," Aeldis explained, sadly. "Those riders have some sort of evil about them. He complained about being cold the first couple days, and it just got worse from there. I would never have thought to see someone die of despair, but it appears he has."
"They are not of our world," Daeril said. "Nothing we could have done would have stopped them. I shot one dead on, and the arrow did nothing."
"Gaerchon stabbed one of them. That's what I think caused this." She shook off a chill that seemed to creep up on the both of them. "I suppose we should bury him."
Daeril assisted in digging a grave as best she could with one arm, and soon resorted to digging with her foot. They made a shallow grave, and tried to drag him into it as ceremoniously as they could. It was not a funeral suitable of a Dunedain, but it would have to serve.
"Let me see to that arm," Said Aeldis, motioning for Daeril to sit by the fire.
Daeril tried to take the afflicted arm from her sleeves, but it was too painful to move. She had not been able to attend to her wounds while on the run, and already the shoulder had swollen and stiffened. Aeldis broke one of Daeril's arrows in two, using the halves to fashion a splint which she then bound with scraps of cloth.
"That will have to do, I dare not move it any more than that," She held a hand to the younger woman's pale face. "You're burning up. You need food and rest."
"It hasn't been safe to rest. I would have gotten food in Bree, but I left all my money back at the Ford."
"It's not safe in Bree, the riders tracked us there. I'm certain they will return at nightfall."
"I don't think they're tracking us anymore. The barkeep at the Prancing Pony mentioned they were looking for someone called Baggins."
"A hobbit?"
"I would assume so."
"That is why they came to the Ford, to get to the Shire. But why a hobbit?"
"Whatever the reason, Aragorn and Gandalf know something that they were not telling us. This hobbit must be important."
Aeldis cleaned the wound at the back of Daeril's head which had become inflamed and seeping. That had been the source of the fever, but Aeldis knew the girl would not die from the minor wound. She was not cold like Gaerchon had been.
"We will return to Bree for the night, then. I can get us a room at the Inn. We will purchase horses and leave tomorrow."
"Where will we go?"
"I am riding to the Angle. You can join me or go East to Imladris, if you wish."
She had not been to the House of Elrond in many years, not since before she took the cloak of the Rangers. Her brother, Daenir, patrolled the wilds and the mountains around Imladris, often with the sons of Elrond.
"I will decide in the morning."
It was late when they reached the East gate of Bree, and the gate was closed for the night. The night guard opened a small window and challenged them.
"What do you want?"
"We wish to stay at the Prancing Pony," Aeldis said. "We mean no trouble."
"Where do you come from?"
There was nothing beyond Bree to the East, so he was right to be suspicious. Their rough looks did not help, however being female did.
"Combe," Aeldis lied. "We have been hunting all day and do not wish to make the long walk back."
"Hunting? Not much to show for it, eh?"
"Not much out there with those riders scaring them off."
"Very well, then."
They were let in a smaller door, and had no more than passed through when the door was shut and locked directly behind them. It was small comfort to the rangers who knew the riders could get in if they so wished to, gate closed or not. The two made for the Prancing Pony, noting how quiet and deserted the streets were.
They got a room upstairs, and had food and drink brought up. Daeril could not stomach much of it, and had only made it through half a pint of ale before she was too tired to finish. She passed out on top of the covers, and did not wake until Aeldis roused her in the early hours.
"I found us horses. They're not much, but unless you want a pony it's the best they could offer."
She had packed food for herself and a bag for Daeril, and helped her get her sword belt, bow and quiver back on. Daeril's fever had lessened, but her body hurt more after having finally gotten real sleep.
"I can't even use my bow," She said, forlornly.
"I don't even want you to try," Aeldis tightened the strap so Daeril's arm was pinned to her chest. "Can you lift your sword?"
"Yes, but if I have to use it one handed, I'm not sure it will be much use."
"Let's hope you do not have to. You are going to Imladris?"
"Yes. Daenir will be there."
They went down to the stables in the courtyard of the inn, where two horses stood tacked and ready. Aeldis helped Daeril onto the smaller one, a bay gelding. He was skinny, and although his coat was growing fluffy for the cool weather, most of his mane and tail was rubbed out. He started to move out the moment she was in the saddle, and then threw his head back when she stopped him with a slight pull on the reins.
"This is going to be a long ride."
Aeldis's mount was not much better, bigger but with bad feet and obnoxiously chewing at the bit.
"At least he is not a mare." Replied Aeldis, mounting the grey.
They rode out the East gate together, the horses moving rough but quickly upon the East Road. They had not seen any sign of the black riders, and the East Road was deserted. By nightfall they had already traveled thirty miles, and only stopped so the horses could rest. Daeril's horse, whom the stable master called Rocky, was lame in the right hind and paddled the leg out as he ran. They camped for the night, hearing the howling of wolves far in the distance but thankfully not the shriek of the riders. For nine days they rode, making a fast pace despite the poorly suited mounts. It was at the Last Bridge at the Mitheithil that they parted ways.
"I hope that we shall meet again soon. And under better circumstances." Aeldis said.
"As do I. Na lû e-govaned vîn."
"Novaer. Ride safe."
Aeldis turned on the grey mare, and rode south along the river Mitheithil, the Hoarwell. Daeril made for the bridge, but the horse was not willing to cross. He tossed his head in the air, planting his front hooves firmly in the dirt before the threshold of the bridge.
"Do not do this to me, horse!" She dug her heels in, but the gelding began to back up. Sighing, she dismounted. "If we ever make it to Rivendell, I will have Lord Elrond prepare a feast. Out of you, mellon nin."
She grabbed the reins, and walked forward with a purpose. The horse, realizing that his human did not die from walking on the bridge, began to follow. The river was loud, rushing beneath the bridge, but he trusted the ranger would not let him perish. Daeril found herself longing for the horse she had left home in the Angle- her Garavel would never had shied at anything, let alone a bridge.
The horse and rider team made it to the stone trolls by nightfall, and set up camp a little ways away. Daeril would have felt safer camping in the middle of the stone trolls as so many travelers often did, but the horse had spooked at them, naturally. She knew the trolls were sixty miles from the Bruinen, and from there it was twenty miles to Imladris. If she kept up the pace with time to rest, they would be there in at least two days. As soon as the sun rose, she was back on the road.
That night, the riders came. She heard the scream far behind her, and Rocky stopped dead in his tracks. She stroked his balding neck, and urged him on. They had already done fifty miles, and both were ready to drop. There was no way they could cover the remaining thirty to Imladris, even if the horse was a good one. The trees would not hide them, but if she could get further ahead, perhaps they did not know she was there.
She kicked the gelding into a canter, and brought him painstakingly up into a gallop. The screams grew closer, but Rocky sped up. If there was one thing the horse could do right, it was knowing when something to be afraid of was near. Daeril soon heard the thunder of hooves approaching, and knew that her mount could never outrun the steeds of the black riders. She turned in the saddle, and could see three dark shapes in the moonlight. They would be on her within minutes.
"If you have any more to give, now is the time." She pleaded to the horse.
As if her words gave him strength, he sped up. For an hour they galloped full speed, and soon the sound of rushing water alerted Dearil that they had reached the Bruinen. The horse had galloped for ten miles in that time, and she could feel him breathing laboriously. At the edge of the ford, he began to jig and pull at the reins, trying to turn back from the sound of rushing water.
"Not now, not now!" She cried, kicking his sides. He charged forward.
The riders reached the edge of the river when Daeril and Rocky were half way across. The horse, terrified by the riders and the water, reared up, and with a terrible scream, flipped over backwards. It was so quick that Daeril hadn't realized she'd been dismounted until she was in the water, having fallen hard on the rocky shoals. She did not get up, both stunned from the fall and hoping the riders may think she was killed. The riders cried out once more into the night, and turned back the other way. She didn't get up until the sound of hooves died away.
Rising to her feet, aching all over but not otherwise injured, she went to the horse. He had gotten to his feet but was panting hard, bleeding from his nostrils. She caught his reins, and approached carefully, not wanting to scare him off. Checking him over for injury and finding no more than scrapes, she walked him across the ford, the both of them limping.
"I am sorry to have brought you into this," She said to him, stroking his sweat soaked neck. "You have served well, my Lord Rocky."
They camped that night at the throat of the valley. Rocky's breathing returned to normal, and he finally lay down beside her. She prayed he would still be alive in the morning.
Translation guide:
goheno nin- forgive me
Na lû e-govaned vîn- until next we meet
Novaer- farewell
Mellon nin- my friend