Chapter 2: At the Summit of Weathertop
After a day and a half of easy riding, they arrived at Weathertop, their enemies nowhere in sight. Erestor really had lead the Black Riders away from them as she did not hear their piercing shrieks being carried on the wind as they had the night before she met the elf. It was a relief the atmosphere of peace she felt settle over the land, but it was under false pretenses as she knew the Nazgûl were not far away at all. The false little hope that had sprung forth in her mind was quickly defeated as she pulled Suldal to a stop at the bottom of the ruined tower.
"Stay, Horse Mother," she commanded. "Little Brother, you're with me." She led Goldor to the cracked steps and they began their journey upwards, searching the ruins for any enemies. Surely the Black Riders were not able to bring their horses up the steps to the tower. And she had not found any of the black deranged horses as they scouted the circumference of the base. There was nothing except scraggly bushes and grasses and the stone of the tower.
Coming to the first level of the tower she motioned for Goldor to take the left side as she took the right. Drawing her long dagger, she proceeded carefully. Covering the whole right wing, she ended up meeting with Goldor and they walked back to the stairs. There was nothing threatening on that level or any other level. All that was left was broken wood and broken stone. As they finally came to the top they could see for miles all around. It was no wonder why the builders had chosen such a place for a watch tower. It was spectacular.
"Coran!" The explosive bark from Goldor alerted her to look west of the tower. In the distance she saw dark figures. She could see the figures of five people and a pony. And they were coming towards the tower. They would be upon the tower within the hour, depending on how quickly they moved.
"With me, Little Brother," she whispered. She and Goldor sped down the stairs on the South side, trying not to draw attention to themselves. As they reached the bottom she grabbed Suldal's reigns and pulled her into a crevice in the base of the tower in order to hide her from plain view. "Stay, please." The horse neighed in understanding and waited patiently in the crevice. Placing the bowl she had in her pack on the ground and filling it with water, she allowed Goldor and Suldal to drink from it. Placing a bundle of hay that was in her pack and a piece of dried meat, she allowed them to eat.
As they had their fill she replaced the bowl in the saddle bag and motioned for Goldor to come with her. They made their way up the stairs again and hid in a room on the second level to the top, where they could see the figures coming closer. Seemed like she held her breath forever as they came closer and closer. Finally they were upon them. As they made their way around the base, checking just as she had done, they had their weapons drawn.
"Little Brother, can you tell if they are friend or foe?"
The dog just whined in discomfort. Coran ran a hand through her hair in uneasiness as they made their way up the steps. In the same way she had done, they scouted each floor. Hissing in agitation, she drew her long dagger again and motioned for Goldor to move closer to her.
She hoped that they were the ones she sought and not thieves or enemies. She was far outnumbered for any real fight, but she would give one if it was necessary. Closing her eyes, she settled her heart beat as they came to her floor. The sun's position cast shadows upon them, obscuring them from her eyes. They moved in a pack and took the right wing first.
She had picked this floor because it was the only floor where the left and right wings did not meet. She could back herself into a corner and hide if she needed too.
They were coming back. She dropped to the ground and listened to their footfalls. They were not armored. At least not fully. Rising again she caught glimpses of them, small were four of them and tall was the fifth who led them. Still, because of the shadows she could not see their faces.
They came into the room and stopped, staring at Goldor, who could not be missed. He growled and they backed away slowly. Whispering as soft as she could she told Goldor to continue, gradually approaching them.
"Back up slowly. The dog is mad," came the order she was looking for. It was spoken in Westron and without the drawl of a poisoned tongue.
She drew her hood over her head, concealing her identity, with a smile. Standing she moved to the middle of the room, in sight of the leader. "And what bring you to the palace of a mad dog?" Her Westron was more accented than his, but it was based on the area in which she had grown up: far in the North.
With a growl the leader shouted into the dark of the room. "Show yourself! And call off your dog!"
Walking forward she still had her dagger in a defending position. She came out into the open air. "Cease, Little Brother." Goldor stopped growling and sat by her, ready to spring if necessary. Switching back to Westron, she smiled as she heard the little people behind the leader whisper amongst themselves about her using of Sindarin. "I am here, my lord."
"Take off your cloak so I may see who you are." He was so demanding, so impolite. Though, she understood. She had startled them and allowed Goldor to intimidate them.
"As you wish, my lord." She pulled the string of her cloak and allowed it to float to the ground.
"I know your face," he whispered in Sindarin.
She bowed before him and bowed deeply. "My Lord Aragorn."
He rushed to her, grasping her face and placing his forehead upon hers in greeting. She embraced him and laughed as he kissed her cheeks. "Well met, cousin."
"Aye." This greeting drew all of her sadness away. Seeing him alive and well made her heart soar and it was as if nothing could be wrong in the world. But those were fools' dreams. Everything was wrong with the world. That was why she was here. "Did you grow so impolite since our last meeting?"
"Oh! I am sorry." Turning he brought forth each of his companions. "This is Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, hobbits of the Shire."
They bowed with a few murmured 'milady's.
"Well met, hobbits of the Shire. I am Coran of the Dúnedain of the North, cousin to our Chieftain and King, Lord Aragorn, with whom you travel. And this is Goldor Orcsbane."
Goldor inclined his head in greeting, remembering what she had said about speaking only two days beforehand. With a nudge, she reprimanded him. "You were so quick to speak the other day, Little Brother. But you will not speak before our Lord and King? Foolish of all hounds are you."
Shaking his head, Aragorn said, "There is no need."
"No, I apologize. Welcome, Chieftain." The hobbits about fainted as they heard him speak.
With a cleansing breath, she took Aragorn by the arm and began to lead him to the top of the tower. Calling behind, she said, "Little Brother, watch our backs."
"Aye, Coran!"
Turning to Aragorn, she switched to Sindarin. Dropping her voice low, she murmured. "With a heavy heart, I bring you dark and dire news. I rushed from my post on the borders of the Shire to find you." Looking into his eyes, she was sure he knew. They came to the top and looked down on the countryside. "You know what hunts you?"
His piercing eyes confirmed her words. "The Black Riders, the Nazgûl, entered the Shire about a week ago, searching for something, though I know what not."
She caught the hobbits staring at them, listening intently. One of the hobbits was translating what she was saying. In irritation, she sighed. Her heavily accented Westron came out. "They slaughtered us. Those who were left alive fled to various safe holds or to people who needed to know the information we carried."
With tears in her eyes, she looked at him, searching for some comfort. "How many? How many are dead?" he asked.
"All but three of us. And they pursued us. We tried to stop them, but the power they wield was beyond us." Rolling her sleeve up, she showed him a nasty wound she had received. "I blocked a blow from one of their blades and was sent flying into the ravine on the borders of the battlefront. I connected with a sharp rock. I bandaged it, but I feel as though I did not do enough." She was sobbing now. It was not her arm that hurt her.
He searched her eyes. "Where is Feredir? Where is your husband?"
Throwing herself onto him, she clutched at his shirt, desiring security. "He fell! They killed him first. They…" she choked on her words. "They cut off his head!"
He calmed her, but allowed her to cry. She had probably not grieved as she had focused solely on her mission. It was a coping mechanism.
Barking with caution, Goldor spoke. "It is nearly nightfall. I smell foul things on the air. The enemy is close. Erestor was not able to lead them away as well as we thought, Coran."
"So it seems, Little Brother." She drew her sleeve across her eyes, drying them. "We will be of service if you need it, my Lord."
"I will need it." Turning to the hobbits, he said, "Coran has some battle prowess. She will watch over you while I go. I need to collect some athelas for our wounds. Goldor Orcsbane, will you accompany me?"
"Yes, my lord." The wolfhound bounded up to him.
"We will be back shortly after night fall. Get some rest."
~x~x~x~x~x~
She sat facing the East side of the road while the hobbits were watching the West. There was a dark cloud that cloaked the entire land, obscuring any sun or moonlight trying to light the night. Aragorn had given the hobbits short swords for protection before going off into the woods.
He had not been gone fairly long before she heard the terrible screeching. Gathering herself, she ran to the hobbits' encampment to see them stamping out a small fire they had used for warmth and food. "Fools," she cried as the fire went out. The shrieking ceased. "To the summit!"
Clumsy feet stumbled up the stairs as she threw them before her, forcing them to run up the stairs. As they reached the top, she saw the riders, clear as day, as they slowed their mounts. "Behind me," she called. "Draw your weapons." She did not pull her dagger from its sheath, but the long, curved elf sword.
Heavy armored foot falls sounded and they seemed to appear out of the very darkness that surrounded them. Calling out in Sindarin, she yelled, "This is Hathelas, the Leaf Blade! The Valar protect me and my companions. You shall not harm them! For the power of the Dark One has no holding here!"
The Black Riders drew their long swords, holding them straight up as they moved slowly forward. She warned again. "You have no power here! This is free land! You may not move upon!" There were five of them, slowly edging forward their swords pointing at them now. They kept backing them into a corner. "I command you to stop in the name of the King!"
The one in the middle pulled up with a short laugh. "The name of the king? What king? Your king is dead?" He motioned for the others to stop. "That line was broken!"
"No, one still lives!"
The Nazgul seemed to think for a second. "You're that ranger's slut. The one we killed in the Shire. I thought you were dead." He reached forth and grabbed her by her hair, holding her above the ground. She swung Hathelas viciously, but to no avail.
Sam lunged, "Get back, you devils!" There were two clinks of the swords crashing together before he was tossed aside. The Black Rider who had ahold of her hair took his armored hand and scratched her cheek as he backhanded her, causing her to fall to the ground, hitting her head on some rubble.
The Riders advanced as Pippin and Merry moved in front of Frodo, protecting him. They were easily pushed out of the way, causing Frodo to back up frightened from the five foes before him. He dropped his sword, tripping backwards.
Gasping she tried to sit up as she came to. The world spun about her and she caught a quick glimpse of Frodo fooling with a pocket. She tried to scream 'run', but no words came. She watched as he held of a peculiar ring and the one Black Rider who had hurt her parted his companions and moved forth, drawing his sword. Frodo backed away as fast as he could, crawling. He was backed into a corner and disappeared as the wraith raised its sword at him.
She managed a weak scream, "Frodo!" Clutching her head, she stood, stumbling to her feet. The leader stabbed at the empty space where Frodo had been, earning a terrible cry from the hobbit. She leapt into action, lunging clumsily at the nearest wraith. She was met with a sword and power that was easily thrice that of hers. Still she fought.
Aragorn came wielding sword and flame, pushing the wraiths away from her and from Frodo, who reappeared howling in pain. Sam moved to Frodo with a yelp. Coran regained her balance and momentum and was able to fight a little longer as her adrenaline heightened. Aragorn caught the cloaks of two wraiths on fire and helped Coran push two into retreat. The leader still screamed as he advanced again filled with ire. Aragorn, with a swift throw, threw the torch into the hood of the leader, causing him to flee as well.
As the battle settled down, Coran dropped to her knees, grasping her head. Sam called out to Aragorn, "Strider!" Frodo still writhed in pain. She moved over to the group huddled about Frodo.
Aragorn picked up the blade by Frodo, cursing as it turned to dust. "He was pierced by a Morgul blade." Picking Frodo up, he said, "This is beyond my skills. He needs Elvish medicine." Throwing him gently over his shoulder he carried him down the ruins. The hobbits followed with Coran bringing up the rear.
"Little Brother! Horse Mother!" she called desperately into the night. They came as their group made for the forest. Her head felt so heavy, the scratch burning as though a small fire was built on her face. "Chieftain," she cried hoarsely. "Make for the Trollshaws!"
Addition Information:
Feredir means "Hunter" in Sindarin.
Hathelas means "Leaf Blade" in Sindarin.
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