The weak sunlight filtered through the clouds, breaking the heavy cloud cover into jagged pieces. As the feeble sunlight trickled through the banks of gray clouds, it revealed what last night's torrent of rain had done to the already bleak landscape. The bland looking grass lay trampled under the weight of rain that had poured down upon the plains, and the scant trail the three companions had been following was almost completely gone, except for the odd print that had been sheltered by a craggy boulder. Legolas tensed, and his pointed ears pricked up hopefully. He heard an irregular thumping, and his icy blue eyes strained to see anything. Then, bursting over the crest of the hill, half a battalion of Rohan Riders stampeded down the hill, the horse's coats damp with morning dew and foam flecking their muzzles.
"Riders of Rohan! What news from the mark?" Aragorn shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the rolling thunder of hooves that struck the earth with dull thumping sounds. In unison, fifty horses wheeled around, encircling them. Dangerous looking lances were gleaming dully in the watery sunlight, sporting fresh blood stains that bespoke of a hard night of battle. The lances lowered and pointed at the three companions.
"What business does a man, an elf, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" a scornful voice asked. It came from a heavily armored man on a bay horse, a black horsehair plume on his helmet, bespeaking of royalty and the leader of the Riddermark. His lance was at his side, but Aragorn noted his hand was straying slowly to the sword at his hip.
"Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give yeh mine." Gimli grunted, his auburn beard twitching in annoyance. The man who had spoken slid neatly off his horse and unsheathed his sword. It still wore marks of a recent battle, and it made it quite intimidating, especially when the tip of it was at your neck, as Gimli was.
"I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground." the horse master growled. Legolas, in an unexplained fit of anger, notched an arrow to his bow with alarming speed and aimed it directly at the horse master. His cobalt eyes were hard, bitter chips of chilly ice, and his knuckles were white with strain. All of the bloodied lances edged closer to them, and Aragorn had to push several away from his neck.
"You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas snarled, his eyes dark and flashing. Aragorn put a restraining hand on his friend's bow and pointed the arrow towards the ground. With a murmured scolding, Aragorn forced Legolas to put his arrow back in his quiver, then he addressed the horse master.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and this is Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood and leader of the woodland realm." Aragorn said slowly. "We are friends of Rohan, and of your king, Theoden."
Something passed in front of the horse master's eyes, and he pulled off his helmet. Long, tangled blonde hair tumbled out, and his striking gray eyes and handsome features came into view. When he spoke, his voice was layered with a tangible note of bitterness and nostalgia. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." he said softly. The lances that had been inanely close to the companion's necks withdrew reluctantly at a signal from Lord Eomer, for of course it was he. "Not even his own kin." he said finally, looking away.
"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company is of those who are still loyal to Rohan; for that, we are banished." Eomer halted, and then his gray eyes glared at Legolas directly. "The White Wizard is cunning. He goes here and there they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everyday his spies slip past our nets." he added with a final glare to Legolas.
Aragorn felt his friend's body go taut at Legolas was accused silently of being a spy. He noted his Elvish friend's hands creeping dangerously close to one of his ivory daggers, and he spoke quickly to soothe his friend's suddenly developed temper. "We are not spies." Aragorn said firmly. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plains. They have taken two of our friends captive."
"The Uruk's are destroyed. Our party slaughtered them in the night." Eomer said, a subtle note of pride edging his voice. No doubt he was thankful of their swift victory, but his eyes saddened when Gimli spoke up.
"But there were Hobbits! Did you see two Hobbits with 'em?" the dwarf asked desperately, all former annoyance gone.
"They would be small, only children to your eyes." Aragorn said, his dark green eyes flashing. Eomer looked away, his jaw tightening apologetically.
"We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." he said, gesturing over to the north where a plume of yellowish smoke was rising lazily in the sky.
"Dead?" Gimli asked hoarsely, his throat suddenly very dry. All of this for naught?
"I am sorry." Eomer said softly, genuine sympathy crowding his words. His gray eyes lost some of their chill as he said this. When no one spoke, he whistled sharply. "Hasufel! Arod!"
Two horses were brought forward, and he handed the reins to Aragorn. "May these horses bring you better luck then their former masters." he said gently. Eomer swung himself back into the saddle and put his helmet back on his head. "But do not trust to hope," he added grimly. "It has forsaken these lands."
With a signal from Lord Eomer, the horses plunged off, kicking up chunks of mud from the soft earth. The three companions stood there for a moment, stunned into silence, unsure as to what to do. Aragorn fiddled with the reins, his heart aching with bitterness, a lump lodged solidly in his throat.
"I am sorry for the loss of your friends." a voice said from above them. All three heads snapped up, and three pairs of hands automatically reached for their weapons. When they saw who it was, all of them visibly relaxed, and all of their mouths dropped open in surprise.
Hzrathgur was standing on top of a rock, sunlight framing his solidly muscular form. Accalia was sitting atop him, her silver eyes soft with concern and sadness, her purple cloak dampened at the hem with mud and dew. Legolas noted with something like pride and a strange emotion he could not identify that she was still wearing his bow. The top of it was actually worn slightly where she had fingered it.
"Yeh certainly pick yer times fer swoopin' in fer a visit, lass." Gimli said gruffly, but he was glad to see the beautiful Rider. Accalia swung herself off of Hzrathgur's back and the two of them descended slowly.
Accalia glanced at Legolas. A strange array of emotions was flickering rapidly across his face. Sadness, happiness, anger, and a look that she couldn't understand. Then she tore her gray eyes from the handsome elf and looked at Aragorn. It was the first time she had looked at him with something other then disdain or anger. "We should go to them." she murmured.
"Accalia." Legolas said softly. She turned to him, her eyes looking slightly ashamed. She fidgeted, toying with the hem of her cloak, then she raised her gaze to him.
"I wanted to see you, Legolas, I truly did." she said softly. "But I had to go after Frodo and Sam to ensure their safety."
"And did you?" Legolas asked. She was surprised at the raw betrayal in his voice. Her temper threatened to raise it's head, but with a great effort, she beat it back into submission.
"No. I lost them over the mountain range." she admitted. "I fear for their safety. We met a few of the inhabitants of that mountain range - they aren't friendly."
Aragorn climbed onto Arod and settled his feet into the stirrups. "I'm going to see if they survived." he said quietly. "They may yet be alive."
"Do not put too much faith in your feelings, Aragorn." Accalia warned. Aragorn noted this - it was the first time she had ever called him by his name. "They are apt to betray you."
Gimli got boosted on Hasufel by Accalia, and Legolas stood uncertainly, his heart telling him to ride with Accalia but his mind telling him - sharply - that he should ride with the dwarf, irksome though he was. Accalia smiled, and touched his elbow lightly. "Ride with Gimli, Legolas." she murmured. "Hzrathgur and I will follow you."
Legolas nodded decisively and slid onto Hasufel with Gimli, taking the reins in his hands. He had rarely ridden a horse with a saddle and bridle before, and he distantly wondered if it was uncomfortable for the horse.
It is, Prince. a deep voice boomed in his head. On occasion, I have been known to be saddled and bridled. Only for formal parties, you understand, but to answer your question - yes, it is distinctly unpleasant.
Do you always do that? Legolas thought back irritably, not in the mood to have another stay-away-from-Accalia speech.
I have been known to startle humans. Hzrathgur admitted. The two horses took off, Hzrathgur easily keeping pace with him, his long legs covering twice the distance the horse's could. However, seeing this, he checked his stride so Accalia and Legolas could stay near each other. Legolas noticed this.
You changed your mind, then? Legolas asked. Hzrathgur shot him a look that was poignant with displeasure and disapproval.
My Rider has made up her mind. I am still not sure about you, Prince. I will risk repeating myself - stay away from my Rider. Hzrathgur growled unexpectedly, and Accalia absently stroked the tips of his ears. Legolas watched how she rode; close to Hzrathgur's shoulder blades, her left hand buried in Hzrathgur's nape, her right hand resting on his head. Her knees dug into his sides, and her heels were hovering close to his hips in case a speedy sprint was called for.
They arrived at the still-smoking pile of corpses in a few minutes of riding. An Uruk's head had been hacked off and impaled grotesquely on a spike of wood that jutted upwards from the earth. A rotting stench of burning hair and flesh hung heavily in the air, and Accalia choked on the smoggy, stench-filled air. Hzrathgur's muzzle twitched in a disgusted expression. They all slipped off of their mounts and stared in shock at the awful scene in front of them.
A huge pile of halfway burned Uruks was in front of them, their leather armor smoking and sending up plumes of sickeningly yellow smoke. Hzrathgur began sorting through the pile of corpses, and Gimli used the shaft of his axe to toss charred limbs aside. Legolas stood there, swaying, his belly twisting unpleasantly as the smell rose to his nostrils. He felt someone take his hand, and he glanced over. Accalia was holding his hand firmly, and she regarded him with a pair of sad, somber eyes. They had none of their usual fire and spite in them; instead, there was only pity. He squeezed her hand, and they stood there as Gimli emerged with a broken leather belt in his hand.
"'Tis one of their wee belts." he whispered. Hzrathgur barked loudly, and began taking his frustration out on the burned corpses. Grilled flesh flew through the air as the huge wolf slashed angrily at the hapless bodies.
Aragorn kicked a helmet with his foot; there was a crunching noise as he undoubtedly broke several toes, and he dropped to his knees with a inhuman roar of pain and anguish. His head dipped towards his chest, and for a moment tears dewed his eyes. They had failed.
Accalia broke away from Legolas and stood above Aragorn. To everyone's surprise, the knelt and placed a hand on his shoulders. "Look, Aragorn." she said.
He did so, and his intense eyes caught what she was looking at. He leaned forward, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. "A Hobbit lay here." he whispered to himself. He crawled forward, his gloved hands hovering over the scant tracks that he was struggling to see. "They crawled." he said to himself.
Gimli and Legolas followed behind him carefully, unwittingly holding their breath as Aragorn began making sense of the minute details that were invisible to the Dwarf and the Elf. Accalia picked up a frayed, dirty rope that was spattered with blood and crusty with dirt. "Their hands were bound." Aragorn muttered, taking the rope from Accalia.
"They got to their feet…" he said, getting up and following the tracks. "And into Fangorn Forest." he finished, despair sinking his heart again. His hopes, which had risen in the few seconds that he had been tracking the marks, sank to ashes.
"Fangorn Forest? What madness drove them in there?" Gimli asked of thin air. Hzrathgur sniffed the wind, his liquid black eyes half closing as he took in the scents.
Treebeard is expecting you, Accalia. he growled in her mind. Accalia ignored him.
"I'm coming with you." she said decisively. They all swiveled to look at the blonde Rider, and when she caught them all looking at her she lifted her chin defiantly in a gesture they all recognized. Aragorn never thought he'd be grateful to see her defiant. "I owe it to Merry and Pippin, after all." she said softly. Then she glanced, almost imperceptibly, at Legolas. "And I need to speak with the ents in Fangorn." she said.
"Why?" Legolas asked curiously. Accalia looked away.
"If it ever comes to war, I need to know if they'll be on the Rider's side." she said. Aragorn shot her a look as they began advancing into the dank, dripping treeline of Fangorn Forest.
"And what side will the Riders be on?" Aragorn asked aloud. Accalia glared at him.
"I have never liked your tone, Ranger." she snapped, her irritability coming back in a rush. "The Riders will be on the side of the Elves, that much is for certain. If the Elves refuse to fight, we will side with the Dwarves. If they also refuse, our last chance will be with the Men. Never will I allow my people to side with Sauron - he killed too many of our kind to be let off lightly. He deserves to be slaughtered." she finished, spitting on the ground.
They entered Fangorn with little hope of finding their friends, Hzrathgur leading, Gimli bringing up the rear. Legolas looked at Accalia, and their eyes met. They knew they forgave each other, and with a nod that nobody else noted, they continued into Fangorn.
Together.