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Author's Note: I know, I am so sorry that I killed off Boromir, but it was a necessary evil.
Return
Through the next three days, the group chased after the Uruks non-stop, although the creatures always managed to stay far ahead. Drifter remained at the back with Gimli, stopping when he would pause to breathe and complain every once in a while chatting with the dwarf. Even with her experience, the ranger had never known that one of his kind could be so sweet and humorous. The other two runners would occasionally ask the woman if her wounds were the reason she stayed by Gimli, but each time, she casually denied it. Drifter's injuries actually were keeping her behind; however, with her herbs, they were progressively healing faster than without the plant she kept with her at all times. Unfortunately, she did not possess the elvish trait of extremely quick healing. By the third day in the late morning, they were nearing territory which Drifter was familiar with: Rohan.
"Come on, Gimli!" Legolas called, purposefully not urging their female companion, which, in turn, caused her to growl lightly as the dwarf said,
"Three days' and nights' pursuit. No food. No rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell."
Over the next hour, Drifter remained silent, the only prominent sound being Gimli's heavy footfalls. While they were navigating their way through a rock formation, her newfound friend tripped and rolled down the rest of the hill they were on, landing on the path below. The girl almost smiled as she helped him stand.
"Come, Gimli!" the elf called the second time in fifteen minutes. "We are gaining on them!"
"I am wasted on cross-country!" Gimli growled. "We dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!"
Drifter quickened her pace as the ground beneath her feet triggered memories of one of the few times she lived in peace, without having to worry about anyone throwing her out or trying to kill her. That and she had recognized an imprint in the mud of a Lorien leaf clip from a cloak. Aragorn must have picked it up. She nearly ran into Aragorn as he stopped at an overlook of a field.
"Rohan," he stated. "Home of the horse-lords. There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us."
"There was evil lurking here when I left," Drifter said in turn, stationing herself next to the Man, mentally thanking him for stopping, "but not like this. Now, it's as if evil has infiltrated every blade of grass, every stone."
"Legolas," Aragorn called to the elf, who had run ahead, "what do your elf-eyes see?"
"The Uruks turn northeast," was the answer. Drifter quickly eliminated her jealousy of Legolas' elvish sight. "They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"
"Saruman," the Man whispered.
As they continued their chase, Drifter felt that her wounds were healing better than she thought, for they did not pain her when she ran almost the same pace as Aragorn.
"Keep breathing!" Gimli panted from behind them. "That's the key! Breathe! Wonderful! Now, even the woman outruns me!"
"They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them," Legolas noted.
--
By dawn the next day, the four companions were still running without having seen more than the enemies' trail. Just as Drifter noticed the horizon's color, the elf pointed out,
"The red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night."
They continued the race until noon, when the sound of galloping horses came near. Aragorn pointed to a boulder for him and his friends to hide behind, although Drifter only just stood behind the rock. She was the first to come out of hiding after the other ranger as the riders passed and Aragorn yelled,
"Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"
(Yay! Eomer)
Hearing a strange voice calling from behind his company, Eomer lifted his spear to signal them to turn. His loyal followers quickly had the four strangers surrounded with a tight circle of spears.
"What business does an elf, a man, a dwarf, and a…woman have in the Riddermark?" he addressed them. "Speak quickly!"
"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," the dwarf offered.
Getting off his mount, Eomer said to cocky newcomer,
"I would cut off you head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
The elf suddenly had a bow in his hands and was pointing an arrow in Eomer's face.
"You would die before you stroke fell!" he yelled, to which the riders responded by lifting their spears. Oddly the man and woman did not tense whatsoever before the former made the elf lower his weapon.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he stated prior to pointing at his companions. "This is Gimli, son of Glóin, Legolas of the Woodland realm, and Drifter, a Ranger of the North. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."
"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," Eomer replied, removing his helmet and causing his company to raise their spears harmlessly. "Not even his own kin. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."
"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive."
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughter them during the night." When his eyes momentarily settled on the woman, Drifter, she stared right back, challengingly. It slightly surprised Eomer, since most people would have averted their eyes at seeing his piercing stare.
"But there were two hobbits," Gimli said. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"
"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn finished.
"We left none alive," Eomer replied, once again looking at Drifter, who parted her slightly dry, but attractive lips in shock over what he had revealed. "We piled the carcasses and burned them." Drifter followed his pointing finger to gaze at the smoke in the distance.
"Dead?" Gimli whispered.
"I am sorry."
Whistling, Eomer called two of the horses forward.
"Hasufel! Arod! May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." He was about to help Drifter mount one of the horses, but she had already hopped into the saddle behind Aragorn. There was something strangely familiar about her, and yet, he knew that he had never before seen her face. "Look for your friends," he continued. "But do not trust to hope, it has forsaken these lands. We ride north!"
(Drifter)
The woman was utterly annoyed as Aragorn spurred the horse on towards the smoke. Couldn't she spend at least some time honoring Boromir before another man started fawning over her? Aside from that, the Riders of Rohan were definitely less courteous than when she had last arrived…maybe.
"Edoras! Open your doors, for I am a traveler and a friend in need of sanctuary!"
The gates of the city opened instantly after the bedraggled woman's call, although, the moment she set foot in the city, approximately ten spears were pointing at her hidden face.
"Show your face, stranger!" one of the guards called, to which the newcomer complied, swiping the hood of her cloak back off of her dirty, matted hair.
"I wish to request a place of rest for however long your king is willing to keep me," she said. "I have come from Gondor."
"How long ago did you leave there, for we have heard news of strangers in Gondor?"
"Four days ago."
"Four days?! That is no small feat, my lady! Please, come. The king will wish to see you; however, he will not return for perhaps a day as he is making his yearly rounds of the realm."
"Thank you, sir."
A day later, the woman was standing in front of the door of the palace, her golden hair blowing in the wind. The king and his men had returned. She had been told to wait for him. The people of Rohan had been extremely hospitable, giving her a bath, food, clothes…definitely more than what she received her last day at the White City, which was very nearly a kick out the door, although she had done nothing wrong except care for the Steward's young sons.
"My lady?" a man queried, standing beside her.
"Ah, good sir, I have been waiting for you."
"How did you...?"
"You were leading the party coming from the plains earlier. Clearly, you are Théoden...am I wrong?"
"No, you are quite correct. I am told that you wish to stay some time in my House. I have also been told that you are rather secretive. Therefore, for the sake of my people, I must know who you are."
"It is a very long story. Are sure you're ready for it?"
"I am sure."
"Very well. I was and am a Ranger of the North, though I have been wandering throughout Middle-Earth for some time. In the places I have gone, I am called Drifter, Falathiel, or Lyn, though my real name is…"
As they approached the burning mound, Drifter leaped off of the horse before Aragorn barely had time to slow down and ran to stand in front of the pile. She looked around the area while the other three dug through the heap.
"It's one of their wee belts," Gimli pointed out, picking a crisp piece of leather from the mingled body parts.
"Hiro hyn hîdh… ab 'wanath... (May they find peace in death)" Legolas whispered as Aragorn kicked a helmet and fell to his knees, yelling.
(Aragorn)
The man fingered the soil.
"A hobbit lay here, and the other. They crawled." He began following the trail to two cut ropes on the ground. "Their hands were bound…their bonds were cut. They ran over here…they were followed. The tracks lead away from the battle…and into Fangorn Forest." Aragorn was surprised to see that Drifter was already staring at the forest in front of them.
"Fangorn…" Gimli breathed. "What madness drove them in there?"
"Fear drove them in there, Gimli, and desire for sanctuary," the girl pointed out, about to pass into the trees, but Legolas stopped her.
"Are you mad? Haven't you heard the stories of Fangorn?"
Drifter glared at him as though she wanted to burn his eyes out.
"And here I was thinking that you had begun to trust me," she said, clearly suppressing some other statement behind clenched teeth. "I have been here before, Legolas, and I have gone into those woods before. Do I look like a ghost to you? Then don't look at me that way! You forget that you know nothing about me, you scatterbrained goat!" Leaving the prince stunned, she walked straight into the forest.
"Consider trying not to offend her, Legolas," Aragorn kindly advised prior to following the woman.
Some time after they entered the wood, Gimli fingered a liquid on a nearby bush and tasted it. Spitting it out, he swore,
"Orc blood."
Drifter was some ten feet ahead, staring into the brush with her arms crossed, silent. She was probably still fuming over Legolas' assumption.
"These are strange tracks," Aragorn noted, kneeling to study the imprint on the ground.
"The air is so close in here," the dwarf worried.
"This forest is old…very old," Legolas stated. "Full of memory…and anger. The trees are speaking to each other!"
As the woods loudly groaned, Aragorn caught sight of Gimli's raised weapon.
"Gimli, lower your axe."
"Oh."
"They have feelings my friend. The elves began it; waking up the trees, teaching them to speak," Legolas said.
"Talking trees, what do trees have to talk about? Except the consistency of squirrel dropping?"
Suddenly, the elf ran to stand next to Drifter. Aragorn was almost afraid that she was going to hit him.
"Aragorn, nad no ennas (something's out there)!"
"Man cenich (What do you see)?" the Man queried.
"The White Wizard approaches."
"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us. We must be quick." He knew that Drifter was slightly reckless, but he unintentionally thought of how crazy she could be when she did not draw any of her weapons. With a yell, Aragorn turned around, sword drawn. Somehow, the man in the white light was able to make his sword red hot as he cast aside the others' weapons.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," the strange man questioned.
"Where are they?"
"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"
"Who are you? Show yourself!" The man complied by walking forward and dimming the light. Everyone but Drifter, oddly, gaped in shock as Gandalf was standing before them. "It cannot be."
"Forgive me!" Legolas whispered to the wizard. "I mistook you for Saruman."
"I am Saruman. Or rather, Saruman as he should have been," Gandalf corrected.
"You fell?!" Aragorn exclaimed.
"Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."
"Gandalf!"
"Gandalf? Yes…that was what they used to call me: Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."
"Gandalf!" Gimli happily exclaimed.
"I am Gandalf the White…and I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."
(Drifter)
As the wizard led them out of the woods, Legolas whispered to Drifter,
"You knew?"
"I suspected, but yes, in a manner, I knew."
"And yet, you did not tell us."
"Again, you judge me for what I do or do not say, Legolas. Like I just said, I suspected. In Moria, this was the main reason why I did not grab his hand. Gandalf told me of the possibility long ago. Do not think that it was an easy choice for me." When Legolas continued to stare at her, she gave an exasperated sigh. "And to think that I used to…" She cut herself off and quickened her pace to walk next to Gandalf.
--
"One stage of your journey is over, another begins," Gandalf stated as they neared exit of the forest. "We must ride to Edoras with all speed."
"Edoras?" Gimli complained. "That is no short distance!"
"We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the king," Aragorn told the wizard.
"Yes, and it will not be easily cured."
"Then we have run all this way for nothing?" the dwarf continued. "Are we to leave those poor hobbits here in this horrid, dark, dank, tree-infested…" He stopped in mid-sentence as the trees once again growled. "I mean, charming, quite charming forest."
"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains.
"In one thing you have not changed, dear friend," Aragorn whispered to Gandalf.
"Hmm?"
"You still speak in riddles."
"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The ents are going to wake up…and find that they are strong."
"Strong?!" Gimli once again exclaimed. "Oh, that's good."
"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."
"This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one."
(Sorry, but I'm going to switch Aragorn for just a second)
Aragorn heard a low, yet musical laugh. He wasn't sure where it came from, but he suspected Drifter as she patted Gimli on the shoulder and trotted towards the field, a hint of smile tugging at her lips. Finally outside of the forest, Gandalf stood erect and whistled. Soon, an elegant white horse appeared, racing towards them.
"That is one of the Mearas," Legolas thought out loud, "unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."
As the animal stopped in front of Gandalf, the wizard introduced,
"Shadowfax. He's the lord of all horses and he's been my friend through many dangers."
"Hello, old friend," the woman murmured, approaching the beautiful creature and taking a sugar-cube from her belt pouch. "Yes, I have something for you."
"It seems that he has not forgotten you, Falathiel. Would you like to ride him with me…with his consent, of course."
"I would like nothing better," was the answer as a forced smile appeared on the girl's face.
The conversation caused Aragorn to furrow his eyebrows. Each time he thought he knew enough about Drifter to satisfy his curiosity, she came up with some other way to confuse him.
--
(Ok, back to Drifter)
Night came upon Middle-Earth as the group set up camp. Drifter stood beside Aragorn as Gandalf approached him on his other side.
"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape," the wizard said. "Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-dûr, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Númenor still lives. Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become. And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of Men. He will use his puppet, Saruman, to destroy Rohan. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge for Rohan is weak and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved, it's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning we have one advantage. The Ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams. And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor in the hands of a Hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed and the secrecy of his quest. But, you must be careful, Aragorn, for Sauron may yet try to use those you care for against you…as well as those who care for you more than almost anything in the shadows. The Dawn of Men is near."
"Like I said earlier, Gandalf, you still speak in riddles," Aragorn joked before his face once more became serious.
"Do not regret your decision to leave him," the old man continued. "Frodo must finish this task alone."
"He's not alone. Sam went with him."
"Did he? Did he indeed? Good. Yes, very good."
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