Maith woke with a light heart. Last night, through her tossing and turning, she had come to realize that actually, love was the last thing she needed to worry about. It would be selfish to let personal feelings trouble her while the fate of Middle Earth was at risk. Maith had come to a resolution to dismiss her emotions until the world was at peace again, and then when all had settled she would tell him-and she would probably regret it.
Either way, it did not matter.
Sitting up, she noted that it was dawn. The land was the colours of pale green and yellow, and although there was a mist, the air was clear and crisp. The sun rose, a fiercely red circle of fire shimmering on the horizon.
"When the red sun rises," Maith murmured as she sat down on the grass beside Legolas, "blood has been spilled this night."
Legolas looked at her in surprise. Since leaving LothLorien, the elleth had hardly spoken to him. Now her hair was pulled back firmly, her mouth set in a determined line and depthless blue eyes sparkled with life. A stray strand of hair came loose to curl at her cheeks, and she tucked it away impatiently.
"Let us hope, then, that the blood is dark with evil and not of the innocent," he replied.
"You miss the forest, Legolas?" Maith asked suddenly after a moment's silence. It was not a question. The elves shared a glance, which spoke of their yearning for the leaves of trees.
"I can imagine the day when this will all end, and the world is at peace again. I am visiting LothLorien again." He turned the dancing blue of his eyes on Maith, who quickly looked ahead to avoid melting under his gaze, "would you want to come with me?"
"I may," she smiled. "Though I would like to see Greenwood (Mirkwood) someday… too."
Gimli stirred next to them, and then muttered a stream of curses before sitting up.
"I will go and wake Aragorn," Legolas said. It was time to depart.
The companions heard a galloping of hooves and stopped, looking around to see the source of the noise. Soon a horde of riders appeared from the grey, wearing heavy armor and grim expressions on their faces.
"Riders of Rohan!" Aragorn exclaimed delightedly, and ran out to meet them, "what news from the mark?"
The others followed cautiously, sensing hostility in the air. Indeed, they were not welcomed. The riders began to circle them, trapping the group in the midst of their spears.
A man broke through the circle to the center. "What business," he narrowed his eyes, "do two elves, a man and a dwarf have in Riddermark?" He spoke slowly, cautiously, but his voice had a cold and arrogant edge. "Speak quickly!" he warned sharply after no one spoke.
Gimli bristled. "Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine."
The man stared at the dwarf coolly, "I would cut off your head, dwarf,if it stood but a little higher than the ground."
He had gone too far. Immediately, at a small stirring of air, the bows from the Elves were raised to his head. The movement was done without a sound and fast as lightning.
"You would die before your sword fell," Legolas said calmly, the control in it resembling his father.
Aragorn stepped forward, between the elves and the man. "I am Aragorn, Son of Arathorn," he began, "this is Gimli, son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and Maith from Rivendell." His tone showed respect, "we are friends of Rohan, and of Theoden, your King."
The man studied him before replying with a calmer tone, "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," he sighed, "not even his own kin." Reaching out, he pulled off his helmet, and Maith could see that he had honest features and light hair. The riders withdrew their spears, and she no longer felt the cold wind of their points pressing against her back. She exhaled and loosened her hand holding the bow.
"You do not belong on these plains, Eomer of Rohan," Aragorn was saying.
"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal o Rohan," he bent his head, "and for that, we were banished." However, when he lifted his head, his eyes burned. "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."
Maith could sense the unspoken suggestion behind the sentence. "We are no spies," she hissed.
"We track a band of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive." Aragorn added.
Eomer shook his head firmly. "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."
"But there are two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli burst out.
"They would be small," Aragorn said softly, "only children to your eyes."
Eomer looked at them for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was apologetic. "We left none alive."
"None?" Maith demanded, feeling the ground spin beneath her feet.
"We piled the carcasses and burned them."
Maith did all she could to stay standing. She looked down so that they would not see the tears pooling in her eyes.
"I am sorry," Eomer said gently. After a pause, he drew himself up and mounted his horse again. "Farewell," he said, this time his voice was brisk, "look for your friends, but do not trust in hope," he looked up at the gathering clouds, "it has forsaken these lands."
And at that the Riders of Rohan turned and rode off, soon becoming a small cloud of grey dust in the distance.