Chapter 16: Questioning

Coran rode atop a prancing Suldal. She was entertainment for the hobbits as they began to make camp that night. "So in addition to riding bare back, I can do this!" She slowed Suldal to a stop. In Sindarin, she commanded, "Be like stone, Horse Mother!" Suldal did as she was commanded and stood perfectly still as Coran slowly stood upon the horse's back. "Walk," came the next Elvish command.

The horse began a slow trudge as Coran stood balanced perfectly on her back. The hobbits cheered as the horse went a little faster. Drawing her bow, Coran notched an arrow and shot it at an invisible target on a nearby tree.

"Coran, I do not think you should continue with this," her Chieftain announced nervously as he piled up wood for the fire. He felt as if he was always scolding her.

"Let her have her fun. She keeps us merry," Gandalf chided as he pulled his pipe from his lips, huffing out brilliant forms in the smoke.

As Suldal increased her speed, Coran could not keep her balance. As the horse rounded a turn, Coran fell off. But before she could be injured, she landed carefully, rolling to a stop. Sitting up, she cried out joyfully and jumped to her feet. She laughed cheerfully at the event. She shared a smirk to her Chieftain, who looked at her with worry in his eyes, daring her not to do anymore stunts.

She abided by him and did not climb back atop Suldal. Goldor was her next victim. She began to chase him, trying to tackle him to the ground. The hound let out a bark of surprise as she pounced on him, squirming to get out from under her.

As she continued to play with Goldor and with the Hobbits, pulling them into her tackling game, the others began to settle down to talk.

"It is surprising how much energy the lassie has after so much travelling," Gimli commented roughly as he began the fire. He looked among them. Boromir was sharpening his sword, Gandalf smoked heavily, and both Telthedir and Aragorn were preparing the ingredients for the stew for their dinner. Legolas was off farther away, keeping his eyes on the setting sun. He said he felt uneasy without the cover of trees and felt as if they were being watched. So he had taken upon himself to stand guard for their camp.

"I do believe she is regaining the life she had before Feredir's passing," Aragorn commented. "I still do not know how it will affect her if she learns that he is truly alive."

They carefully spoke as they watched her play with the Hobbits. She went after Frodo and as soon as she did, the other three stormed her, tackling her to the ground before she could wrap her arms about the dark-haired Hobbit. She slipped through their grasps, and laid herself out on top of them, trying to pin all three. This did not work as Goldor came out of nowhere, biting her collar and pulling her off them.

There was so much laughter erupting from them that it took away from the thoughts of soreness and pain they had induced from the great distances they had to walk each day. Needless to say, it took away from the uneasiness and solemnness of their mission. It reminded them of the days they had spent in the Green Dragon, dancing and making merry all through the night. And they sorely missed the Shire, with its rolling hills and grasses green and all the good folk. It was much different than that of the rough, rocky foothills they travelled now, with hardly any green thing in sight.

"Telthedir," Gandalf called to him, taking a deep draw on his pipe. "How will you handle going through Dunlending territory? Surely, you will draw to close to the North King's domain."

"We will be taking the path through their territory. I plan on trying to transverse it quickly, spending the least amount of time there. I do not know the number of their masses, though I reckon that a good amount has been loaned to Saruman to take the lands of Rohan."

"She mustn't meet him. I know you will do everything in your power to avoid them meeting. I do not need to tell you that her heart would be crushed to find out that he is working as an enemy agent," Aragorn said definitively. He tasted the stew to see how it fared. Deciding that it was finished along with their conversation, he called the Hobbits and Coran to dinner.

Coran took the spot next to Gandalf and allowed Pippin to sit on the other side of her. As they took their meal, it was almost silent. Either everyone was too tired, too hungry, or too polite to break the silence. And it was a good meal, rich in flavor and in nutrients. It was much better than what Coran had had last time she was in the wilderness.

As they finished their meal, Telthedir moved to take Legolas's spot at the watch, giving him a chance to eat. Telthedir was much different now, Coran thought. He was so different to the smug and snarky elf she had met all those weeks ago. He had aged, adopting more serious tones and natures. He had lost his life, just as she was regaining hers.

When they went scouting the path ahead of the Fellowship, he was quiet and pensive. He hardly ever glanced in her direction, let alone, spoke to her. He only ever spoke when having to answer questions or when he found relevance to the conversation.

She didn't know how to console him. Amongst all the strife in her life, she never had to lose her family all at once out of choice. She didn't choose for her father to leave or for Calithil to die or for Feredir to be murdered before her eyes. She had no control over those events. Telthedir made a choice. He chose to leave his family behind with the possibility of never seeing them again. And that is quite different from having no control.

She called Goldor to her side, feeding him some dried meat she had stored in her bag for him. He willing chose to be with her. But he had no family. She was his family. And she was glad she was. He kept her sane in this time of turmoil. He was her rock and her shield.

Nuzzling him, she whispered her thanks. He said nothing and crawled into her lap, his large body spilling out of her lap. She was content with him, comfortable with his warmth and support. He was just what she needed.

It was not long after that the fire started to die and Boromir went to fetch more brush to feed the fire. The sun had neatly tucked itself behind the horizon and the air grew colder and colder with the lack of fire. Coran curled up next to Goldor, pulling her cloak and blanket closer as she tried to sleep. She just couldn't get comfortable.

Aragorn sat opposite of her, staring into the fire's dwindling embers. Smoke curled thinly as the fire was taking its last breaths. Aragorn nudged the embers, trying to encourage a little more warmth out of them as he watched the Hobbits and Coran shiver involuntarily.

Boromir returned, placing the tinder in the fire, stirring it to life. He took a seat next to Aragorn. "I still think we should accompany her through the Gap of Rohan to get to Gondor. It would ensure her a safe travel and we would be safe within the White City. We could amass an army there and hit Sauron's forces head on!"

Aragorn's eyes darkened at the younger man's plan of action. "The path Gandalf has chosen for us will aid us far more than accompanying Telthedir and Coran will. Taking the Pass gives us the advantage of secrecy and stealth. I am under the impression that our enemies are not sure where the Ring is and where we are heading. I think it best to keep it that way." He had raised his voice without meaning to.

Goldor stirred at his voice; a paw fell across Coran's cheek, alerting her too. She sat up, glancing over to the two men. "Is everything alright?" she asked in Sindarin, blearily, swiping a hand across her face.

"Everything is fine. Sleep," Aragorn answered her in Sindarin in a low voice. She's nothing but a child still. Feredir, were we wrong to push her in to such situations? Do you even know what she is doing now? Do you think of her? Letting her go alone will be a very hard thing for me to do. Could you do it?

"Alright, Feredir. Join me soon," she murmured as she lay back down. Goldor shot Aragorn a look and bared his teeth, growly slightly. He was angry that the man had woken her from a good dream or had tricked her into thinking he was Feredir with his soft, loving tone.

Aragorn understood him. Throwing up a hand in surrender, he told him, "I will not disturb her peace anymore. I am sorry, my friend." Contented with his response, Goldor lay his head back down, still looking at the two men.

Turning back to Boromir, Aragorn was met with continued opposition. Boromir was not convinced that their path was the correct one. "You do not know that we would not avoid detection. It seems to me if our enemy wanted to find us, he would."

"We'd draw too close to Saruman. Prince Theodred told us that his forces were growing. Now with the backing of the Dunlendings, Saruman has control of the entire region. Our group is too large and too slow to avoid his eye. He would find us and kill us. And then, everything we would be working towards would have been in vain. I do not believe we should take the path that may result in our premature deaths." He pulled out his pipe to smoke. He was agitated. He felt exposed on this wasteland and bothered by Boromir. He did not understand how the man could not comprehend their reasons for their chosen path. Gandalf, Elrond and himself had spent days looking over maps, choosing the best path to ensure the quickest and safest passage. Over the mountain had been that road. If Moira had not been silent for many long years, they would have gone through the splendid Dwarven halls, basking in the warmth of their hearths. If Saruman had still been their ally and the Dunlendings had still been hiding in their mountain villages instead of pillaging the Eastfold, they would have taken the Gap of Rohan, enjoying the hospitality of Théoden King and his son. Instead they must take the cold, barren path through the mountains, the safest route: its dangers less dangerous than the others.

Boromir reined his objections, nodding in slight agreement with Aragorn. He placed his chin in his hands as his elbows met with his knees. He darkly muttered, "I do believe that this is a suicide mission. I do not think all of us will return. Surely, not all of us will fall, but I do not think most of us will survive. I would like to think that Lord Telthedir and Lady Coran will be safe, but I am not sure. They might also be casualties in this war."

Aragorn did not answer him for a moment, taking in what he had said. He knew that all he had said was true. "Every one of us who has decided to aid this cause is forfeiting their life knowingly. It is not out of ignorance or rash decision making that they have decided this. For some of us, going on this quest is not a question. There is no other path."

"Understood. Maybe one day those who think that will think otherwise, that their lives are a blessing and that they are impacting this world more than just this quest." Boromir gave a small smile as he looked upon Coran's sleeping form. As he continued, Aragorn scowled. "If we survive this war, I would like to ask your permission to court Lady Coran."

His response was curt, "Do you fancy her?"

Boromir shook his head. "No, but I feel like I could. I could love her."

"She is a widow. She might still be grieving." He knew Boromir's father would never allow the marriage, regardless of her noble birth. He hoped Boromir had caught his implications rather than him having to outright say what he thought, which was that Feredir was still alive and that if she married Boromir, she would be an adulteress.

"After this war, I will give her all the time she needs. I will not rush her. I respect her very much, Aragorn. She is a marvelous woman. She seems like a fine match for me."

He had not caught his implications. Sighing, the older man shook his head as he nudged the fire. "She is indeed; however, she is of Dúnedain descent. She will continue to stay young as you grow old. And what would your father say? He does not wish for my blood to have the throne. Why would he want my blood in your bed?"

Contemplating what he had said, he conceded. "I see your point. However, I will ask you again when this is over. Maybe, in time, her heart will have healed. She cannot dwell on him forever." He stood, going to relieve Telthedir at his post, standing guard.

Just then Gandalf had returned with Legolas, the young elf's offered arm, guiding the old wizard in companionship. They came and sat near Aragorn, taking in the sleeping forms of those around them. Aragorn turned to them, acknowledging them. "What did you find?"

"Something is indeed watching us. It stays just beyond the range of sight, though I can smell it, a nasty, festering smell," Gandalf answered with a groan as he stretched his back before reaching for his pipe to join Aragorn in smoking.

"I think it is the creature Gollum. I know he has followed the Ring since Bree. Do you think he is a threat?" Legolas asked seriously, his expression never changing.

Gandalf shook his head as Aragorn voiced his position. "No. He is too weak and too smart to attack or steal from us. He is strategic and will take his chance when it is offered." With slight accusation, he added, "As you should remember, Prince of Mirkwood."

"I was not assigned to keep vigil over him, though I greatly regret it."

Still slightly angry about what had transpired, Aragorn narrowed his eyes as he quietly snapped, "Regardless of whose fault it was, it happened and it is the reason the Nazgûls came after Frodo."

Gandalf intervened, puffing out a large amount of smoke. "As you said, it does not matter whose fault it was, but the Dark Lord would have discovered Frodo by other means. He is powerful. I might even be to blame as I went to Saruman for guidance when he was well under Sauron's influence. We cannot remedy it now. We must continue to move forward; there is no other way." Aragorn's gaze on Legolas relented and he nodded his apologizes and the elf accepted them.

It will not get any easier, he thought. Doom will come and we will falter. Our oaths are not as strong as our lack of fellowship; deep grudges and distrust divide us. When the world starts to burn, I am not sure if we will succeed. None of us can do it alone. He passed a hand over his weary face, knowing this night he would not be able to sleep regardless how tired he was. His mind was too full of thoughts and nothing he could do would make them vanish. Will we fail because of our distrust? Will our distrust murder our friends? How can we possibly succeed?