Hello again. I am dead on my feet, so it's lucky that I'm sitting down. I have been notified that the POV switches are hard to follow. I will remedy this: Each horizontal line breaking the text represents a change, or the end of a chapter. Pretty sure you can tell which is which.
Pippin woke with a start as the ground reappeared beneath him. Tirnel and Merry were thrown down beside him, both watching the orcs around them with wide eyes.
"We're not goin' no further until we've 'ad a breather!" one of the orcs yelled, panting.
"Get a fire going!" Uglúk yelled. He alone was not breathing heavily. The orcs grabbed weapons and ventured into the edges of the wood that was beside them, chopping into the trunks and branches. Tirnel winced as the trees screamed in her mind. All the hobbits heard was a creaking moan arise from the forest.
"What's that noise?" Pippin asked. He looked scared.
"It's the trees!" Merry hissed. "Remember the Old Forest? On the borders of Buckland?" Pippin nodded, still worried about the orcs. "People used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees come alive. Trees that could talk, and even move!" Tirnel nodded in agreement. Pippin reached over to remove her gag, but stopped as he heard the orcs' conversation move to food.
"I'm starvin'," one growled. "We ain't had nothin' but maggoty bread for three stinkin' days!"
"Yeah!" another agreed, this one with a nasty, sneaky look about him. "Why can't we have some meat?" His eyes caught on Pippin, Merry, and Tirnel. "What about them? They're fresh…"
"They are NOT for eating!" Uglúk roared. He stumped over to where the three captives sat, placing himself between them and the ratty one.
Undeterred, the scrawny orc peered around Uglúk's frame. "What about their legs? They don't need them." He switched sides, licking his lips. "Ooh, they look tasty."
"Get back, scum!" Uglúk bellowed, shoving the ratty orc back.
Yells of "Carve them up!" broke out among the orcs. The hobbits struggled to their feet, shoulder to shoulder as Tirnel tried to sit up by their feet.
The ratty orc pressed forwards, knife ready. "Just a mouthful."
"No!" Uglúk's yell echoed around the trees as he killed the orc. The body fell with a screech, but Uglúk just laughed. "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" he yelled. "Be sure to take some to Mauhúr and his boys. They've been waiting for us for a long time." The orcs stormed forwards, knocking the hobbits to the ground.
Pippin rolled over and slipped his hands free of the ropes, garnering a wink from Tirnel. He reached over to her and pulled the gag from her mouth.
"Thank you," she said. "There's a knife in my boot, if you care to help the rest of us, Pip."
He grinned and retrieved the blade, cutting the ropes on his own legs before freeing Tirnel and Merry. "I've still got a bit of lembas," Merry whispered. They each took a bite before making for the trees. The screeches of the orcs behind them spurred them on, and soon they were within ten feet of the dark eaves of the forest. A foot crashed down on Pippin's back, making him fall.
"Go on," the orc snarled. Tirnel whirled around and grabbed Merry's arm. "Call for help. Squeal. No one's gonna save you now." Tirnel was almost to Pippin's side, her small knife at the ready, when a spear landed in the orc's back. The resulting howl was truly horrible, and Tirnel grabbed Pippin before the orc could fall and crush the hobbit.
Horsemen appeared out of the dark, slaughtering all the orcs that they could. A few orcs got in lucky shots and a few of the riders fell, but more immediately took their places. Merry yelped as the orc with the spear in its back grabbed hold of his belt. "Get rid of it!" Pippin cried, and Merry unclasped it, leaving the elven belt behind. The orc shrieked in fury and shook the belt before being stabbed through by a horseman.
Merry and Pippin both were terrified as they fled into the forest, but Tirnel seemed calm. "Over here, you two," she whispered. They went over to where she was pointing: a tall tree. She gave Pippin a leg-up, but just as she was hoisting Merry towards the lower branches, bushes rustled on the other side of the tree. She left Merry hanging on to the lowest branch and drew her other knife from her arm. Orcs appeared, several of them. They yelled when they saw Tirnel, beginning to charge. She ran right back at them and killed two before managing to sprint past the others, leading them in a chase. Pippin watched from behind the tree, eyes wide. Merry yelped as another orc appeared from behind a rock.
"There you are!" it hissed.
"Pippin! Help!" Merry cried. Pippin grabbed Merry's hands and brought him up into the tree, but the orc snarled and began hacking at the roots.
Pippin glanced at its mossy trunk, searching for a secure handhold as the tree shook, then did a double-take. Trees were not supposed to have eyes. The big amber eyes blinked once, and a horrible squeal issued from the base of the tree as the entire thing moved. Merry toppled out of the tree's branches, but a branch that looked like an arm caught him. Pippin yelped in terror and tried to jump, but the tree caught him.
It blinked again, before speaking in a low, rough voice. "Little orcs. Burhahruhm."
"It's talking, Merry. The tree is talking," Pippin whimpered.
"Tree?" The tree appeared offended. "I am no tree. I am an ent."
"A tree-herder. A Shepherd of the forest!" Merry seemed to be in awe of the massive tree.
"Don't talk to it, Merry. Don't encourage it!" Pippin hissed.
"Treebeard, some call me," the ent said, ignoring or possibly not hearing Pippin's remark.
"And whose side are you on?" Pippin asked carefully.
"Side? I am on nobody's side, because no one is on my side, little orc." Its face softened, and it spoke quietly, "Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"We're not orcs!" Merry cried. "We're Hobbits!"
"Hobbits? Never heard of a Hobbit before. Sounds like orc mischief to me!" The ent began squeezing the hobbits' middles, making them wince. "They come with fire. They come with axes. Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! Destroyers and usurpers! Curse them!"
"No! You don't understand! We're hobbits! Halflings! Shire-folk!" Merry pleaded. Pippin nodded frantically, pulling at the ent's mossy hand.
"Maybe you are, and maybe you are not. The white wizard will know." The ent began to stride off at tremendous speed, its legs taller than three hobbits together.
"The white wizard?" Pippin asked, confused.
Merry's face had gone slack as he whispered, "Saruman." Pippin looked over, horrified. Before they could attempt to escape, the ent dropped them before a glowing figure dressed all in white. Pippin thought briefly as the glow grew to a painful level that Tirnel was surely in a better situation than them.
Tirnel, however, was ambushed before she had gone ten yards. Other orcs had been waiting for their fellows just beyond the trees, and suddenly she was surrounded. Even though the orcs were heavily armed, she still managed to kill five and had just killed a sixth, cutting her enemies down to two when something hit the back of her head and her vision filled with inky night.
Early the next morning, Aragorn and Gimli were awoken by Legolas. He shook them and pointed at the eastward sun. "A red sun rises!" he said, worry etched into his ageless face. "Blood has been spilled this night." He had felt terror and adrenaline coursing through the connection last night, but they had stopped abruptly shortly before sunrise, leaving his own the only emotions there. The other two made ready to run on without speaking, and soon they were off again, running over the hills.
As the Sun climbed through the sky, Aragorn pulled them to a halt. He looked over the plains, eyes catching on a cloud of dust fast approaching them.
After a moment, he pointed towards an outcropping of stone which he crouched behind, Gimli bringing up the rear. Legolas grabbed the dwarf and pulled him behind the rock as horsemen thundered past. They appeared not to see the three crouching forms, but galloped past. All had passed and were soon to be gone, but Aragorn stood suddenly and called to them. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" Almost before he had finished speaking, the leader raised one arm and checked his horse, turning about to where Aragorn stood.
Legolas stood as well, and went to Aragorn's side. "I do hope you know what you are doing," he muttered. The man grimaced. The horsemen surrounded them, spears at the ready and eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What business do an elf, a man, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" The leader stopped before them, his own spear merely a foot before Aragorn's face. "Speak quickly!"
"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine!" Gimli said, his feet planted and his hands upon his axe. Aragorn and Legolas both rolled their eyes.
The leader considered Gimli for a moment before handing his spear to a rider beside him before dismounting. "I would cut off your head, dwarf," he spat, "if it stood but a little higher from the ground."
Something within Legolas flared, and his bow was bent with an arrow aimed for the man's eyes before anyone could blink. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he growled, eyes burning. He didn't need this. The stress of the past few days, losing nearly all of his companions, and now this...this mortal threatening to kill his friend? His fingers tensed.
Spears lowered quickly, hovering centimeters from the elf's head. Aragorn lowered Legolas's arm, pushing down gently to lower the tension. Legolas let his friend push down the weapon, but kept his eyes trained furiously on the leader of the horsemen. The spears were raised, and Legolas felt one graze the pointed tip of one ear.
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Aragorn said carefully. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden, your king."
"Théoden no longer recognises friend from foe," the leader said, removing his own helm. "Not even his own kin." The last few spears were raised as the man tucked the helm under one arm. "I am Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal the Rohan, and for that we are banished." He turned to Aragorn, his face tight and suspicious. "The white wizard is cunning," he said quietly. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked." He turned to Legolas, eyes narrowing and voice dropping. "And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Legolas prepared to pull his bowstring back again, but Aragorn stepped in quickly.
"We are no spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken three of our friends captive."
Éomer looked to him, face turning suddenly sympathetic. "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them in the night."
"But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli broke in.
"And an elf?" Legolas asked quietly. "One of my kin?"
"The hobbits would be small," Aragorn added. "Only children to your eyes. The elf was dark-haired, but streaked with gold."
Éomer's face fell, and he set his jaw. "We saw no elves, nor children, and left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He pointed to a smouldering pile in the distance, set at the edge of a dark forest.
"Dead?" Gimli said, his voice hoarse with disbelief and grief. Legolas placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, appearing to comfort him but really trying not to stumble under the weight of his own grief.
The Third Marshal of the Riddermark nodded solemnly. "I am sorry. Hasufel! Arod!" He whistled, high and sharp, and two horses with empty saddles appeared at his side. One was white as snow, and nuzzled at the elf's shoulder. The other, a chestnut, stood quiet beside Aragorn. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." He mounted his own horse, but caught Aragorn's shoulder. "Look for your friends," he said quietly, "but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." To his riders, Éomer yelled, "We ride north!" before spurring his steed and leaving the three hunters with two horses and hearts heavier than ever.
Aragorn swung into the saddle and galloped towards the distant smoke, Legolas taking a moment to catch up after lifting Gimli onto Arod's back. They rode for a long time, none speaking or even looking to one another. Legolas knew that if he saw the hopeful look on Aragorn's face, he would shatter. The fact that the connection had gone silent terrified him, but he tried to remain calm as they arrived at the body pile.
A severed head greeted them, mounted on a pike. Its tongue hung out grotesquely, but it was nothing compared to the smell. Gimli rooted around in the remains with the end of his axe until he came up with a small belt, woven neatly with an empty sheath.
"It's one of their wee belts," he whispered.
Legolas fought to keep his composure. His ears burned as he muttered a prayer, "Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath." His voice cracked on the last word.
Aragorn aimed a ferocious kick at a nearby helm, which still contained its last occupant, sending it sailing down the slope. The man's yell of rage echoed across the plains and through the trees as Aragorn fell beside the pile of dead orcs.
"We failed them," Gimli muttered.
Legolas knelt by the bodies and continued to murmur prayers, voice ragged. "Savo hîdh nen gurth. Nínion an gurth lîn. Nínion an gwannad lîn."
Aragorn, however, did not appear to be concerned with the death of his three friends, but rather in the dust at his feet. "A hobbit lay here," he muttered. Gimli looked up. Legolas, though, did not want to hear the details of his sister's death. "And the other. And beside him, an elf." Aragorn stood and followed scuff marks in the dirt. "They crawled. Their hands were bound." He stooped and picked up a length of rope. "Their bonds were cut." Legolas looked up, then went to his friend's side as Aragorn searched the earth. "They ran over here, but they were followed." He stopped at a puddle of black blood, then continued to follow the tracks. "The tracks lead away from the battle," he called, running ahead. "...and into Fangorn Forest." He stopped at the forest's edge as the others caught up to him.
"Fangorn?" Gimli asked, giving a shudder. "What madness drove them in there?" A whinnying of horses came from where they had left Hasufel and Arod, but the horses were gone by the time Legolas came to where they had been left.
After the Sun had set, Legolas gazed up into the starry sky, heart and mind exhausted though his body was only slightly fatigued. He had tied Tirnel's scarf about his face to block the acrid smoke of the orcs and it had become damp, so he removed it, wrinkling his nose as the smell of roasted flesh hit him.
Aragorn was lying on his side, head propped on one hand, gazing into their little fire. Gimli snored just beyond the ring of firelight. "Estel?" Legolas used Aragorn's childhood name, prompting the man to look up.
"Las?" he replied, using the nickname that Tirnel had devised.
"When Tirnel was in such grief...She told me why. She told me what happened that day." Legolas glanced over to his friend. The ranger had rolled onto his back and was gazing at the stars.
"What had happened?"
"The elf she loved, Nemirdir...the Galadhrim went on a patrol. Seven died, including him."
Aragorn sat up. "She did not tell us!"
Legolas shrugged sadly. "We left but two days after his death. She was still mired in grief."
Gimli snorted in his sleep. Aragorn lay back on the earth, passing a hand through his messy dark hair. "If only we had some sign. Some sign that they were not killed in the forest."
"The trees would be in uproar if an elf had been killed among them," Legolas pointed out.
"Aye, but what are hobbits to the trees?" Aragorn muttered.
"Sleep, Estel. The morning will bring new judgement, and we do need to rest." Legolas shifted so that he could keep an eye on the eaves of the forest.
Aragorn sighed. "I suppose you are right. Good night, Legolas. Wake me when it is my turn to watch."
"I will. Good night, Estel."
Early the next morning, Legolas woke the other two. Aragorn looked up blearily, then gasped.
"You didn't wake me for watch!" he said accusingly.
Legolas shrugged, feigning innocence. "Forgot to."
Aragorn groaned.
"Come on, what are we waiting for?" Gimli asked, ruffling his cloak for warmth.
Legolas flashed Aragorn an apologetic grin, then turned to face the trees. The man scoffed from behind him, then led the way into the dark trees.
The forest was dark, and rivalled Mirkwood for its level of foreboding. Legolas felt no fear beneath the trees, but was alert in case any orcs remained.
Gimli walked over to where a bush was stained with a dark liquid. He put one finger in it and tasted it, then spat. "Orc blood."
"These are strange tracks," Aragorn murmured, kneeling by an impression in the mud. Legolas peered over his shoulder and spotted the tracks of orcs.
"The air is so close in here," Gimli muttered.
"This forest is old. Very old." Legolas straightened up and looked around. "Full of memory and anger." A creaking echoed through the trees. "The trees are speaking to each other!" the elf realized.
"Gimli! Lower your axe," Aragorn warned. The dwarf lowered his large axe and glanced around, scared.
"They have feelings, my friend," Legolas said. "The elves began it: Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."
"Talking trees," Gimli muttered. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."
Legolas moved to the top of a small knoll, skin prickling. "Aragorn, nad no ennas," he warned. A magic presence was moving quickly towards them through the woods as Aragorn appeared at Legolas's shoulder.
"Man cenich?" he whispered.
"The white wizard approaches," Legolas breathed.
"Do not let him speak," Aragorn hissed. "He will put a spell upon us." All three of them raised their weapons, Legolas's fingers tensing on the bowstring. "We must be quick."
They attacked all at once, as a brilliant light shone from between the trees. Legolas dodged Gimli's thrown axe as it bounced off the light, and watched as his arrow shattered. Aragorn yelled in pain, and dropped his sword, which was glowing with heat.
"You are tracking the footsteps of your three young friends." The voice of the wizard boomed across the clearing.
"Where are they?" Aragorn yelled back.
"They passed this way the day before yesterday," the wizard said. Legolas felt an itch of familiarity begin in his mind. "The hobbits met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"
"Who are you?" Aragorn yelled.
"What has happened to the elf?" Legolas added, noting that Tirnel had been left out of the wizard's assurance.
"Show yourself!" Aragorn called. The light faded to reveal Gandalf, dressed all in white and smiling benignly at the three of them. "It cannot be," Aragorn whispered, stepping forwards.
Legolas knelt, placing his bow on the ground. His mind was spinning with shock and confusion. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." Gimli bowed as well.
"I am Saruman," Gandalf answered. "Rather, Saruman as he should have been.
"You fell," Aragorn muttered.
"Through fire and water," Gandalf agreed. "From the lower dungeon to the highest peak I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside.
"Darkness took me, and I strayed out thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was both the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back, until my task is done."
"Gandalf," Aragorn repeated, still seeming dazed.
"Gandalf?" Gandalf said. "Yes. That was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."
"Gandalf," Gimli said, shaking his head and grinning.
"I am Gandalf the White," the wizard said. "And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide. One stage of your journey is over. Another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed." He set off through the trees, the others quickly following him to the edge of the forest. Gandalf whistled loudly, making Legolas wince, but the elf's jaw dropped as he saw what was approaching them in response to the call.
"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell," he whispered. The horse was magnificent, pure white and free of saddle or tack.
"Shadowfax," Gandalf said. He patted the horse's nose as Hasufel and Arod followed their lord towards the three hunters. "He is the lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers. Come." Gandalf mounted Shadowfax as Aragorn swung into Hasufel's saddle.
Gimli waited as Legolas gazed back into the trees. Tirnel could be in there somewhere, he thought. He longed to go back and search further, but he could feel Gandalf growing impatient. Legolas heaved Gimli onto Arod's back, then climbed up himself. As Shadowfax galloped away, the other horses picked up speed to follow, allowing Legolas to glance behind one more time.
Okay, a lot of things just happened. We are going to get through this. My Thanksgiving break is approaching next week, so I'll have time. Between you, me, and the Internet, next chapter is in a bit of a shambles. We might have to go on hiatus. BUT DO NOT FEAR. It will be as soon as I can post it. But I got most of these tranlations from www . real elvish . net, so check them out!
Sindarin translations
Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath: Let them find peace in death
Savo hîdh nen gurth: Have peace in death
Nínion an gurth lîn: I weep for your death
Nínion an gwannad lîn: I mourn your passing