Hello again everyone, Nuin Griffondor with the beginning of The Two Towers, and I am super excited to say that the FF has gotten over 5000 views, I just want to thank all of my followers, favoriters, and reviewers once again for their support. So now without further Adieu.
For the next three days we did not rest, keeping on the trail of the orcs that had captured merry and Pippin, the trail of our attackers still fresh. We set out at a steady pace determined to catch up to our orcish adversaries. Stopping only for brief drinks of water, and rests.
"Which way would they turn, do you think?" I asked in one such stop, my breathing becoming labored. "Will they head Northward to take the strait path to Isengard, or Fangorn, or strike southward to the Entwash?'
"They will not make for the river, whatever mark they aim at," Aragorn replies, breathing heavy. "And unless there is much amiss in Rohan and the power of Saruman is greatly increased, they will take the shortest way that they can find over the fields of the Rohirrim. Let us continue northwards!"
And for three days, we continued northward, once in a while finding evidence of our preys passage, much of it chopped down trees and devastated shrubbery, as if these beasts wanted to destroy every hint of life on middle earth.
On the morn of the third day, Aragorn and I stopped so the others could catch up a bit, he put his head to the ground as to listen for our quarry. He listened for a minute and then opened his eyes.
"Their pace has quickened, they must have caught our scent." He says to me, and I roll my shoulders in discomfort, then look behind me to where the others were coming up a hill.
"Hurry, they have picked up their pace." I yell, and see Gimli fall the rest of the way down the previous hill.
"Aragorn, Arindil," Boromir (Who, since I had saved his and Durhil's lives has been far kinder to me) yells to the both of us, "We will be no use if we are run off of our feet when we reach them."
"If we don't catch them soon they will have reached Isengard by the time we catch them," I yell back, I saw demos with them, panting heavily, and I felt a pang of sorrow for him, he was already so tired, and I was pushing him to go beyond his limits, but when he looked at me with his wolf eyes, I coulds see a fire within his that would not be quenched.
"They are less than a day ahead of us, Aragorn tells me and the two of us begin running again at a slightly faster pace, From behind I can hear Gimli and Boromir griping behind us as we all continue across the fields of Emyn Muil. As we neared the pleasant fields of Rohan, we stumbled upon a puzzling sight.
"We have already overtaken some of those that we are hunting," Legolas says. "Look!" He pointed, to the bodies, Five dead Orcs lay there. Their bodies hewn with many cruel strokes, and two had been beheaded. The ground was wet with their dark blood.
"Here is another riddle!" said Gimli. "But it needs the light of day, and for that we cannot wait."
"Yet however you read it, it seems not unhopeful," said Legolas. "Enemies of the Orcs are likely to be our friends. Do any folk dwell in these hills?"
"No," Aragorn says. "The Rohirrim seldom come here, and it is far from Minas Tirith. It might be that some company of Men were hunting here for reasons that we do not know. Yet I think not."
"What do you think?" says a huffing and puffing Gimli.
"I think that the enemy brought his own enemy with him," Aragorn answers. "These are Northern Orcs from far away. Among the slain are none of the great Orcs with the strange badges. There was a quarrel, I guess: it is no uncommon thing with these foul folk. Maybe there was some dispute about the road."
"Or about the captives," Gimli says, catching his breath. "Let us hope that they, too, did not meet their end here."
"Saruman will want them alive, he wants the ring." I says, and the others look at each other, all of us knowing what fate awaited our two foolish, yet merry hobbits when the arrived to Orthanc.
Once again we head off, running past great valleys and rocky hills that stretched on for leagues upon leagues, barely resting, for every minute we tarried was another minute that the Orcs put distance between us and them. As we ran I heard Demos begin complaining about his feet hurting, but he said he would suck it up, which gave me a small smile. At about midday we were running through a depression in a rock formation, when Aragorn stopped and kneeled on the ground. I stopped as did Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, Tauriel and Arzaroth. Aragorn picked up a familiar broach, one of the leaves of Lorien broaches.
"Not idly do the Leaves of Lorien fall," He says, and I can see what he is thinking, he thinks that they are dead, or if not, injured.
"They may yet still be alive." Legolas says
"Yes, and these tracks, they were made this morning, they are less than a day ahead of us, we can catch them." I say, and we all begin running, from behind I hear a crash, as I look behind I see Boromir, Gimli, Demos, and Durhil all in a heap together, they all get up and begin loping after us.
"Come Gimli, we are gaining on them," Legolas yells back to him
"I am wasted on cross country, we dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances," Gimli calls back.
"As are we wolves, we are lethal at short distances," Demos calls out, not wanting to be outshone by Gimli in the drama department.
"The men of Gondor have just as much endurance as the dwarves, we can move like this for days," Boromir retorts back to Gimli, as they ran. We ran several more leagues, when we reached an outcropping of stone, were we stopped.
"Rohan" Aragorn says
"The realm of the horse lords, we could find aid here." Boromir says, looking upon the lands before us.
"We will not have the time to go looking for it, some evil gives speed to these Urkus, they have been running far longer than we have, yet, they are still going," Durhil says, her breath heavy and labored, clutching her chest.
"How is your chest," I ask, concerned
"Painful," She says.
"Damn, the magic must not have worked all the way through, go ahead the two of us will catch up with you after this is finished." I say, sitting Durhil down on a rock next to me, and the others begin moving, running at a fast pace.
I place my hand over where her wound was, and began a soft chant in elvish, using what energy I had left to help her wounds.
"Arindil, I just want to say, that I am sorry for how I treated you, I let the judgments of others cloud my own, and let me think that you were just like he who sired you, but better at hiding it than he was." She said to me, as I was healing her. I momentarily stopped, shocked, I mean I had hoped for this, but never really expected it to happen. I nod my head and continue to heal her, a smile forming upon my lips. As soon as I finished, I nodded to her, and the two of us began running, trying t catch up to the others, I barel hand to even look at the ground to follow them, Gimli and Boromir's tracks were so noticable. Eventually, about an hour later, I could hear the voices of Gimli and Boromir from ahead, griping at each other again. When we caught up to them, and I ran past them, the looked at each other, and began moving faster, to try and keep up with the new pace I had set for us. We went on into the night, continuing our pace, to hopefully catch up with the orcs. In the morning, we got our first sign of dread, a red sunrise.
"Blood has been spilt this night," Legolas says as we began running up a hill. Aragorn stopped and put his ear to the ground, and listened for a second, then opened his eyes.
"Riders," He cries, springing to his feet. "Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!"
"Yes," Legolas says, from the top of a nearby rock, "there are three hundred and five. Yellow is their hair, and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall."
Aragorn smiles, and says "Keen are the eyes of the Elves."
"Nay! The riders are little more than five leagues distant," Says Legolas looking down at us, and I look the direction he was looking, and saw myself, many riders approaching. Their leader tall, bright haired, sitting proudly upon his steed.
"Five leagues or one," Gimli says having difficulty breathing, "we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?"
"Let us await for them here, we can learn much from them, and perhaps gain the use of some of their horses, though they will be loath to relinquish them, but many of the rohirrim know me and are of good a kinship, all are honorable men." Boromir says, with a smile upon his face
"The come from the orc trail we are following," Elrohir says
"Besides we may get news from them," Tauriel says tilting her head to the side
"Or spears," Gimli retorts
"I doubt they will attack us," I say to him
"There are three empty saddles, but I see no hobbits," Arzaroth says.
"I did not say that we should hear good news,' said Aragorn. 'But evil or good we will await it here."
We then began to wait upon the hilltop, where we might be an easy mark against the pale sky, and we walked slowly down the northward slope to be easily seen by the approaching horsemen. A little above the hill's foot we stopped, and wrapped our cloaks about us, and sit huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. I laid my head upon Elladan's chest, and Demos passing out on mine, I began closing my eyes for the smallest of naps, I could hear gimli shifting in uneasiness.
"What do you know of these horsemen, Boromir?" He asks. "Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?"
Boromir breaths in a small sigh, "They are proud and wilful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years. They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to us. There are many among them whom may still be seen tall and fair, as are the Riders of Rohan. At least they will not love the Orcs.'
"But Gandalf spoke of a rumour that they pay tribute to Mordor," Gimli says.
There is no truth to that, the men of rohan value their horses almost as much as their own lives. The also have no love for those in the east," Boromir tells him, in a dismissive tone.
"You will soon learn the truth," Legolas says, with Tauriel leaning on him. "Already they approach."
I opened my eyes as everyone started getting up, and I stretched and looked into the distance, and sure enough the riders were approaching. We didn't have to wait long, the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him they rode: a long line of mail-clad men, swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon.
Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes were braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched them well: tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them; their faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash, painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their belts, their burnished shirts of mail hung down upon their knees.
As they were passing, Aragorn stood, and in a clear, booming tone, he called, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"
With astonishing speed and skill they checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round. Soon we found ourselves in a ring of horsemen moving in a running circle, up the hill-slope behind us and down, round and round us, and drawing ever inwards. Aragorn stood silent, and the rest of us stood without moving, wondering what way things would turn.
"Well, this looks promising," I whisper to Elladan sarcastically, flipping my hood up out of habit, and the others in our group who could speak elvish snorted at this, except for Aragorn, who stayed silent, and impassive. Demos on the other hand had hidden in my cloak, between my legs.
Without a word or cry, suddenly, the Riders halted. A thicket of spears were pointed towards the strangers; and some of the horsemen had bows in hand, and their arrows were already fitted to the string. Then one rode forward, a tall man, taller than all the rest; from his helm as a crest a white horsetail flowed. He advanced until the point of his spear was within a foot of Aragorn's breast. Aragorn did not stir.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" said the Rider, using the Common Speech of the West, in manner and tone like to the speech of Boromir, Man of Gondor.
"Eomer, I must say, last time I visited, I received more of a kind welcome," Boromir says, lowering his hood.
Eomer, as he was now dubbed turned his head in surprise, he handed his spear to a man next to him, and went to embrace his comrade "Boromir, When your horse returned riderless we had feared the worst, but not even a field of orcs could bring down the might Boromir of the White Tower. What brings you back in such a fashion?"
"We are hunting a pack of Orcs, the took two of our friends hostage," Aragorn says to Eomer, who turns and looks at the rest of us, I was suddenly glad that my hood was up when his gaze flitted over me, but I couldn't tell why.
"What is your name," He asks Aragorn, who replies, "I am strider of the north."
"Well then Strider, indeed you know little of Orcs, if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. You would have changed from hunters to prey, if ever you had overtaken them."
I snorted at this, a little too loudly, for Eomer turned his head over to me.
"What is worse you have many woman in your hunting party, though they can be good warriors, they could not stand up to the strength of one of us."
At this second I was half tempted to both laugh and punch the Eomer right in the nose, but Elladan's arm around my shoulder stopped me. I sighed then took a deep breath, and stood back as the others talked.
Eomer, after having dismissed me, turned his attention back to Aragorn, "There is something strange about you, Strider.' He began, turning his clear bright eyes upon him. "That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment. Have you sprung out of the grass? How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?"
"Nay, but there are many in this group who are of the elves, we have Legolas and Tauriel of the Woodland realm of Mirkwood, Arzaroth and Durhil half-elven of the woods of Lothlorien, and Elladan Elrohir and Wraith of the last homely house of Rivendell. Aslo traveling with us is Gimli the Dwarf, we all traveled through the golden wood, and the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us."
He looked upon us with renewed wonder, but then his eyes hardened. "Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!" he says. "Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe." I shifted rather uncomfortably at this, though I didn't like the phrase sorcerer, I much preferred spell weaver. He then turned a cold glance suddenly upon the rest of us.
"Why do you not speak, silent ones?" He demands.
Gimli rose full(yet unimpressive) height and planted his feet firmly apart: his hand gripped the handle of his axe, and his dark eyes flashed. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides,"
"As for that," Eomer says, staring down at the Dwarf, "the stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Éomer son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark."
I then realized that Gimli was planning on starting something with Eomer, but before I could stop him, he unleashed his wrath
"Then Éomer son of Éomund, Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you."
Éomer's eyes blazed, and the Men of Rohan murmured angrily, and closed in, advancing their spears. I turned towards Gimli and slapped him upside the back of the head for being such an idiot. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," Éomer says, and Legolas draws his bow.
'He stands not alone,' said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. "You would die before your stroke fell."
I heard Demos from below me, " I knew it, I knew it, we are going to die."
"Pardon the dwarf my dear Eomer, If I was in your position, then I too would be quite displeased with him to, but he is right the lady of the wood is fair and kind indeed. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?" Boromir says, trying to diffuse the situation.
"I will," Éomer says lowering his blade. "But wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your right names Strider and Wraith.'
"First tell me whom you serve," I say cooly. "Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"
"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden King son of Thengel," Éomer answers him. "We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him; and if you are fleeing from him, then you had best leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders, and we are threatened; but we desire only to be free, and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Whom do you serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land?"
"I serve no man," Aragorn says; "but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man that has no horse will go on foot, and he will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless."
"And I, no mere woman, that depends of the strength of others to protect her, I follow my captain into wherever he may lead me, but I am not just a ranger, I am a highborn elf," I say throwing my cloak and hood back, "I am Arindil Calanare* and this is Aramancil the dawn bringer." As I say this, I draw from my sheath Aramancil, streams of white flame seemed to fly from my blade as I did so. From the corner of my eye, I could see Elladan looking at me with such pride, him and Aragorn the only two that knew of the change in my title.
Aragorn then threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath from Galadriel glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Andúril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. 'Elendil!' he cries. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!"
Eomer looked at me, his eyes meeting my own, and in his eyes, a sudden wrath formed.
"The others may go but we are taking her," He said pointing to me, "Back with us, there have been reports of a strange being with two colored eyes slaughtering entire villages."
"No we won't let you take her," Elladan says, his hand flying to his blade
"Then we will take her by force." Eomer says, and his riders once again leveled their assorted weaponry at our little group.
Bwahahahaha, cliffhanger, I feel really bad about doing this (not really), but yeah, I really enjoyed making this chapter, and I hope you did to, if you did or didn't, leave a comment below.
* Calanare-The light flame, she decided to take that name, as a symbol of her forever siding with the light against evil, I just didn't feel like writing that scene, because I was excited to get a move on.