Chapter 20: The Grip

When dawn took them, they were gifted with a beautiful conglomeration of hues as the sun broke over the horizon. The mountains that had stretched on and on for what seemed as infinite as the horizon, now had a sloping end. The Gap of Rohan. Coran could not be more pleased. The further they traveled from Dunland, the better.

Telthedir did not have to remind her that even if they left dangerous territory that did not mean they were safe. Before they had left Rivendell stories of the Westfold burning had been numerous and detailed. The path before them was no safer than the path behind. And now more than ever, as they neared hostile land, Coran wished that her King had accompanied them. Even having the group of hobbits seemed preferable.

In some dark part of her mind, she almost wished for conflict and battle. Apart from the spare duels she had with Telthedir, she rode, studied her books, and slept. What she really wanted was a change a pace. A nice hot bath and something other than various root plants and rabbits would be nice. Telthedir told her when he caught a doe that he felt like they would be betraying all of the rabbits in Middle Earth.

So little by little, Telthedir was coming back to her. A slight smile here, a joke there… extended conversation. She relished in the times they spent going over Rohirric politics and various herbal remedies. The constant game of question and answer that they had developed made for easier rides and easier nights. Her mood improved greatly as both he and the skies brightened and she was beginning to feel less anxious and less depressed about their whole ordeal. And it had all started with a simple question, out of the blue: "How did you fall in love with Lhûn?"

The question seemed to startle him. His head turning more stiffly and briskly than she thought it should. His widened eyes softened and a smile touched his lips. With a sigh brimming with nostalgia, he answered, "We were assigned to the same patrol. On our first night on watch, we talked for hours on end. She asked me what I thought I would be doing in a hundred years. I asked her what books she liked to read. We fell in love that night." His smile now touched his eyes. "I wed her that winter."

Coran's curiosity shone. "What does she like to read?"

"She is the most beautiful and brilliant woman I have ever met. She fills her brain with songs and tales of old; she adores history. Lhûn would not tell you this, but she has gotten reprimanded from Lord Elrond on multiple occasions for breaking into his library. In there, she can read all of the ancient stories that she wants."

"My father told me stories when I was young of our ancestors and the Valar and Maiar. I learned our bloodline and the battles of old all atop my father's knee. That was before he went off to war. I have never liked to read, but it is the thing I share in common with my father outside battle and so I cherish it."

Telthedir slowed his horse, pulling back to ride next to her. "I have no use for reading either. I've always found it tedious and too precise. But Lhûn would read to me and our children every night. She wanted to make sure that our children knew the world we live in and why we must fight for it. She has always known that this day would come. When I would be sent off to war. She had seen it in the texts long ago." His smile had faded as he reminded himself grimly of where they were and what they were doing. "It was her, though, that begged me to go. Her love and her soul have always steered me true. She has always been right."

"Then by that," Coran considered, "we should be thankful for Lhûn. If she has always been right, we are on the right path. And that is a comfort that we do not know sleeping in caves and eating roots. I am thankful for your wife."

"I am too. I imagine Feredir would be thankful for you if he was here. You make for good companionship." And it was like the dark fog that hovered in his heart had dissipated and his soul sung a little louder.

Since then the days had gotten more tolerable. They often talked of his family and hers. Of their dreams and hopes that had existed before all of this went into motion. They talked a great deal of what each of their lives had been and what would have been. It passed the time.

"Coran," he beckoned her over to the small creek at which he filled his skin up before splashing his face. "Any sign of Goldor? It's been hours since he's checked in." Unbuttoning his tunic, he began to wash the smells of travel off his body.

"When I rode to the hilltop, I did not see anything on the horizon that might be him. Should we wait for him here?" She bent and splashed water on the back of her neck, trying to rid herself of the dried sweat that had gathered beneath her braid. She blinked rapidly as a wave of exhaustion flooded her.

"No. We're far too out in the open. He will be able to find us." Standing, he looked her over, a frown appearing on his face. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her face back and for as he surveyed her features.

"What?" she asked, a blush crawling over her cheeks.

"You look pale. Are you alright?"

Batting his hand away, she gave him a small laugh. "I feel fine."

"You're pale and you have had cold sweats. I do not have a lot of experience with illness, but this," he waved a hand, "does not worry you?"

Before she could answer, he snaked a hand out and covered her forehead. "You are warm. A fever?"

She brushed his hand aside and placed the back of her hand against her forehead and one against his. She couldn't tell if the stark difference between them was because of her fever or because he was an elf. She pressed her lips thin, accepting his diagnosis. "A fever," she confirmed.

"What do I do?" Cocking his head to the side, he thought and rephrased his question, "What can I do for you?"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "It's just a cold, probably from the rain and chill of winter. It will pass. There is not much we can do."

"But you will suffer?"

His quizzical look almost made her laugh. She was sure that he had read of human illnesses, but she did not know if he had even experienced someone having a cold. "I may feel tired and my nose might run, but I will be fine. It's nothing to worry about. I have had many a cold in my lifetime."

As much as she hated to admit it, her throat had been a tad sore and her back ached as well. She had chalked it up to riding too long and thirst. She prayed it was nothing more than a cold. She did not know how they would handle anything more out in enemy territory. And there was no promise that when they enter Rohan that they would find the help she might need regardless if they were received well.

"Regardless, are you well enough to ride? We could make camp and I can send Goldor out to find a better campsite or he might have found one already…" He stuttered out his words, flustered and concerned.

"Telthedir!" she cut him off. "I am fine. I am not so sick for all of that. I promise you that I will be fine, grand even. I studied the healing arts. I think I can best a cold, medicine or no."

"As you wish," he conceded, looking her over again. "But if you start to feel worse, you will tell me."

"I assure you." She passed a hand over his arm. With a smirk, she added, "Who knew you were so skittish about colds?"

This time, he pressed his lips thin and rolled his eyes. "Yes, please continue making fun of my ignorance of the human body." Her only answer was to laugh and stick out her tongue.

Mounting their horses, they sped from the creek, closer and closer to the Gap of Rohan. It was several hours later when they stopped again, the sun hovering just barely over the horizon. And Goldor had still not come to find them. She was beginning to think they should have stayed put at the creek. Surely they would have crossed paths with him; he could not be that far ahead of them.

Running a hand down her face, she tried to keep from groaning in pain as she straightened herself after dismounting Suldal. Her nose was running more heavily now and her throat ached as if she had a rock lodged in her neck. She massassed her lower back, ignoring Telthedir's watchful gaze. She didn't want to tell him she thought her cold might be worse than she had originally thought. She didn't even want to think about it.

"I'm worried," she said, stifling a yawn. "Goldor hasn't come back yet. What if…"

"I don't think we should entertain such thoughts, Coran. He is smart. Not many would be able to take him."

"But-"

"It won't bring him any closer to us," he interrupted. "If it will calm you fears, I will go scout for him while you set up camp here."

She just nodded her approval. She wasn't thrilled about their place of came, a small little overhang in the rocks, with about ten feet of shelter. If she lit a fire, they surely would be seen. Now that they were nearing the end of the mountain range, caves and other useful shelters were few and far between. And Coran wasn't thrilled about the idea of sleep on hard rock with the body aches she was experiencing.

Coran built a small fire, enough to cook a yam and some mushrooms. The sun dipped below the horizon and she acknowledged that Goldor and Telthedir may not be back until much later. Weary, she settled down against Suldal's saddlebags, laying as close as she dared to the fire to draw some amount of warmth from the flames.

She bolted awake and her body seized as she felt a coughing fit come on. The barking sound her body made was not encouraging. Wiping some spit from her lips, she glanced around, half expecting to see Telthedir's worried face. Fear wormed through her as she saw that she was alone.

She did not want to force herself back into another coughing fit, but she had difficulty controlling her breath as fear began to fully set into her bones. Breathing shallowly, she stood, alerting Suldal and received a harsh huff from the horse. "Horse mother, have they - have you seen anything?"

Suldal gave her big eyes and a quick snort. Of course, they hadn't come back yet. Surely Telthedir would have awakened her to greet Goldor after she had been worrying all day. Looking up into the sky, she saw the moon high and to her dismay a clear sky.

Her fire would be visible for miles, even as small as it was. She weighed her options, brain fuzzy with congestion and exhaustion. She could leave, move, go after them. Or she could stay and be found - by anyone. Shaking her blurry head, she dismissed leaving. She wasn't a tracker. She couldn't find Telthedir or Goldor. For all her months of study in Imladris, she had never even thought of learning to track. It was always assumed that Goldor and Telthedir would be with her. Any of the skills she learned were just in case something bad happened, like an ambush. Had they truly taught her anything, especially to survive on her own? She could fight with a sword, but she couldn't fight off a band of scouts or a pack of orcs. She could shoot a bow, but nothing more than felling a deer for dinner. She was defenseless and useless alone.

She stood and began to pace, much to the irritation of Suldal, who whined quite unhappily at her. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she tried to calm herself. Coughing violently, she leaned heavily against the rock wall. She was about to slide back down to the ground to recover her breath when Suldal let out a loud whine.

Her head snapped to the horse to tell her to quiet down. Before the words could leave her mouth, a pair of hands wrapped around her midsection and pulling her back against a solid body. Panicking, she fought with her remaining strength, trying to pull away from the arms or catch them with her elbows.

Her assailant barked out an unfamiliar word in her ear, causing her to still completely. She could feel a beard and furs press against her body. She froze in fear. Dunlendings.