I felt as though I turned into a lump of clay. Clay that someone had worked, worn thin, stretched, and poked and prodded and rolled beneath their hands, and kneaded deeply with their elbows.
And then left in the sun to dry rock hard.
I could not feel my legs, I could not feel my lungs…there were times I doubted I could even feel anything on my face.
Stiffness, and every muscle going languid with every pause for breath, and then throbbing with the heat of overuse and sometimes seizing up on me.
Oddly, after the first day the pain of it all numbed. By the second day it was more like a persistent discomfort. Now, on the third day tracking down our kidnapped friends, I was able to block any of the cramps from my mind, just as I had the nagging of my siblings when we were younger. Aragorn had ceased his light run, and lowered himself to the ground. We were now surrounded by rock, and the only green substances on this side of the ridges were lichen and moss.
These obstacles did not deter Aragorn. He knelt down to a bare space of rock and pressed his ear against the earth. I did not question it. I knew little of tracking, apart from the immediately visible tracks of animals. I took this moment to catch my breath, body bending over in half and my hands keeping me upright by holding my knees and propping me somewhat upright.
"Can you hear anything?" I asked.
Aragorn hushed me quietly, and held a hand up, his ear still fixed to the ground.
I was quiet and looked behind me to Legolas who followed closely behind. Gimli was a few paces more behind him. The long treks and rationed food had not suited him quite well either. Unlike myself he sometimes complained of it, though we were in too much of a hurry to listen to him.
"Their pace has quickened." Aragorn suddenly lifted his head again. "They must have caught our scent."
"How did you-?" I began to ask how he gathered all that from a rock, but there was no time. Aragorn began to run again, this time much faster, for we were closing in at last.
"Hurry!" He called after me.
The elf stopped for a split second at my side. "Come on, Gimli!" He called back to the dwarf, who appeared just over the hill behind us. He followed Aragorn, glancing back to call out "Hurry, Gideon!"
Gimli approached me, his appearance more haggard from his extensive exercise. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat that traveled down into his beard, and his breathing was more laboured.
"Three day's and night's pursuit… no food, no rest, and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell." He said to me.
"Amazing we've been able to catch up, isn't it?" I asked, a bit breathless myself. A very good description of the last three days for the journal I still had tucked away in the corner of my bag.
"Well, come on then." Gimli swatted me over my shoulder and the two of us were off behind Aragorn and Legolas. "We can't fall behind now."
The two ahead of us had paused and Aragorn retrieved something from the ground that I could not make out. Whatever he found, it only made him run faster, so it must have meant good news, which after three days of running was very welcome.
"Come, Gimli!" Legolas called again. "We are gaining on them."
"I'm wasted on cross-country." Gimli shouted back. "We dwarves are natural sprinters…very dangerous over short distances."
"If I didn't know any better…" I smirked at the thought. "I'd say you two were almost becoming friends now." Merry and Pippin's situation had brought them to an even ground. Legolas had even ceased his occasional harsh look at me…though I still believed I reminded him of another dwarven prince he had not yet forgiven. Sixty years was a good part of a life time for dwarf-kind but to elves it probably felt like the blink of an eye.
The rocks stopped suddenly and gave way to a valley that dropped low and covered in grass that shone with the sun as the wind blew down on it.
"Where are we now?" I asked.
"Rohan, home of the horse-lords."
"Oh." I said. People lived here, that was a good sign at least. "Are we welcome here?"
Aragorn did not answer me. "There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us." That did not sound promising.
"I'm sure we won't be too bothersome for the villagers…" I answered my own question. "The valley stretches out far…do you think we can see them from here? Or that they may be able to see us?" The latter option was an uncomfortable one.
"Legolas, can you see anything?" Aragorn asked.
"The Uruks turn northeast, they are taking the hobbits to Isengard!"
"Saurman." Aragorn said, under his breath. "Come on, we must hurry."
When would the running and hurrying ever cease? "Keep your breath, Master Gideon, you will need it." Aragorn reminded me, and I tried to steady my breathing.
"Yes." I nodded.
In another moment I could feel excursion straining my features. Aragorn tried to keep me speaking, to encourage me to breath more. He asked of Erebor and of my mother and father's adventure. Fali had probably informed him well on the subject of both but he asked anyway.
I did not want to speak of either. Erebor and my family were too dear to my heart and it wouldn't do me any good to remember them now, so far away and unattainable. I did follow his prompts to speak however. "What are Uruks?" I asked. "I keep hearing you and Legolas speak of them, and yet I've never heard of such a thing. I've read of how orcs were made, and how they used to be elves once, long ago."
"No, you would not have read of them. They are a new and vile breed of orc." He looked at me for a moment as we rushed down into the valley. "Stronger, faster, more deadly than their predecessors."
"That explains how they out ran us in so short a time." I replied, almost laughing.
Aragorn smirked a bit at me. "Keep your breath Master Gideon." He reminded me, light in tone.
The journey continued until there was no light left for us to see by. Gimli was quick to start a fire. Legolas took his bow and went out to hunt, his hearing enough to make his arrows meet their mark. I took a length of rope and set up a snare in case there was no game for even an elf to find. My hands knew how to tie the knots even in the dark.
Aragorn examined the ground while we went about our duties, examining it for any last traces of Merry and Pippin. He pressed his ear to the ground again, and got up again looking satisfied with the result. Wherever those two hobbits were, they must have been safe.
I ventured a little farther out from the light of our fire to tie up a second snare. As I turned to go back to the little camp we had made I stumbled over a rock in the earth. I stared down at it for a moment and wondered what Aragorn could have heard. The idea of hearing anything from a stone in the ground was obscure.
Curiosity won out, seeing as I was by myself. I got on my knees and pressed my ear to the cool ground. I strained to hear something, closing my eyes to shut out the far off flicker of the fire, and steadying my breathing.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The earth was silent to me. Was it supposed to be silent now? Was that what Aragorn had hoped to hear when he did this? Really, it was as if nothing was moving in all the valley…
"What are you doing?"
My eyes flashed open and in the dimness of the moonlight I saw Legolas staring down at me, confused with my actions. I sat up immediately. "I was…" It seemed so stupid to admit it. "I was…" I tried again, but the words failed me once more.
I could hear Fali saying "Go on…go on Gideon…" in the back of my head, and Vesper shouting "Out with it, already!"
"How do you think he does that?" I asked, my question giving a clear enough hint as to what I had been doing. "Put his ear to the ground and suddenly knows where everyone is, just like that?"
"He learned it among the Rangers." Legolas answered, matter-of-factly.
"Ah." I nodded. "And…and what are you doing out here then?"
Legolas held up some sort of groundling with a dusty grey pelt, shot neatly in the back of the neck.
"Hunting, yes…of course." I rambled out phrases. "Of cour-"
"What are you doing out here?" Legolas asked, cutting my words short (which I was almost thankful for).
"Snares." I replied, quickly.
"And have you finished them?"
"Yes." I stared at the groundling with the hole in its neck. It was incredible that he had managed to shoot something so small in the dark, and right on the mark too. I finally got up from my spot on the ground.
"Do you plan to hunt as well?" He asked.
"No." I shook my head. "Snares are where I hunt best, something like archery, was more the forte of my cousins."
He said nothing for a second. I grimaced, the image of my uncle and aunt, and part-elven cousins looming over us for a second. For the first time in days Legolas's face stiffened a little. In the dim light I imagined I looked my uncle had in younger years to him. I wished more than anything to have been born with blond hair like my siblings, to look like the rest of my family.
"You should return to the others." Legolas said. "Go now, before you lose sight of the fire."
"I…" An apology lived for a fleeting second in my throat and died there promptly. What was I even trying to apologize for? For a slip of the tongue or for something that happened before I was even born, or for the simple unfair nature of the world?
He glanced back at me. "I will." I nodded.
I turned the other way instantly and began to walk directly to the fire ahead of me. Curse my wooden tongue, curse my mind that stopped working the moment I was in some mess big or small. Curse it being the smaller messes that made me look like a fool.
I burst into camp, looking like I was set on marching toward Isengard to rescue Merry and Pippin right now. "Master Gideon?" Aragorn looked over at me.
"It is nothing." I answered, and smiled a little to put his mind at ease. "I am only tired."
"That he would be." Gimli nodded. "The lad stayed ahead of me the better part of the day…and I was not running slowly either, mind you."
I lay down on my bedroll, as the two talked on. The next morning could not come fast enough.
/
I ran faster than I had the days before, if anything to avoid having to look at Legolas throughout the whole day. Cowardly as that was, I found I was able to trick my body into doing it. I was able to watch as the light spilt slowly over the horizon, filling the world ahead of me in a sharp, orange glow. The early dawn was always refreshing, a good reminder that I had managed yet another day (not without troubles, but the basic goal of survival had been met, and that was all that truly mattered).
I found myself beside Aragorn mostly, who seemed quite impressed with my newfound ability to keep up from the very start of the day. "It looks as if you are finally finding your bearings out here." He said.
"For now." I nodded, happy to see him impressed, and not promising for it to last.
"A red sun rises…blood has been spilt this night." Legolas announced as the sun, indeed very red, rose over the landscape behind us.
I frowned. "That is just a myth, isn't it?" I asked Aragorn.
His face was grim.
"Well…it could be anyone's blood, couldn't it?..." I asked again, to which there was still no reply. "Aragorn…?"
"Do not worry yourself yet, Master Gideon." Aragorn told me. My head soon began swimming with the idea of who could have died in the night. Merry and Pippin? Our journey would now be for nothing. Frodo? We were all doomed. Fali?
I would never be able to go home and face my parents with that dreadful news.
I shook my head. No, no. I could not allow myself to think like this. Not when we were drawing even closer to the hobbits. Fali was too stubborn to die this suddenly anyhow, I remarked internally. I clutched at the otter shaped pendant around my neck. No, not Fali. I would know if it were Fali.
The earth began to thunder then. Aragorn grabbed me by my sleeve and then hurried me over to a nook in the rocks. The thunder rolled closer and then I understood it to not be thunder but the sound of horses running in unison.
And horses meant riders.
Gimli and Legolas were quick to join us out of sight, and Aragorn looked over the edge of the rock to see if friend or foe was approaching. I rose a little to do the same. A cavalry of fine horses was racing past us. Men sat upon them, in armour, and with weapons and shields tied to their saddles. The men of Rohan.
"Riders of Rohan!" A small jolt went through me as Aragorn emerged from our hiding place and spoke to them. Were we not supposed to be hiding. "What news from the Mark?" The others followed him, and I
At the sound of his voice, one of the riders gave a small signal, and then the whole cavalry quickly turned and came toward us. We were encircled, and I then realised just how tall a fully grown man on a horse is compared to someone of my size. I was beginning to think I should have stayed hidden, for each rider had a pair of hard, steeled eyes under the rims of their helmets, and it felt like they were casting daggers down at you by simply staring.
A moment later, when every exit from the tight circle was blocked by the legs of horses, the real daggers were pulled out, as each man pointed a spear into the circle. Yes, we should have all stayed hidden. The blood drained from my face and I stood, small and pale before them, backed into the sides of my friends by the spear ends.
"What business does an elf, a man and dwarves have in the Riddermark?" The same rider who had given the signal came forward. His eyes were darker than the rest, his face harder. The captain no doubt. Naturally, I could not find any words. "Speak quickly!" The captain commanded us.
"Give me your name horse-master, and I shall give you mine." Gimli replied.
I stared at Gimli, wide eyed. Now was not the time to worry over formalities.
If it were even possible the man's eyes went even darker as he got down from his horse. Aragorn reached past me to place a hand on Gimli's shoulder, to protect, or maybe to even restrain him.
"I would cut off your head , dwarf" The last word being almost spit out as a sort of insult."… if it stood but a little higher from the ground." For once I felt a spark of some of my own dwarven pigheadedness coming forward, not taking kindly to the comment. The spears around me kept it subdued though.
"You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas snapped back, quickly notching an arrow and taking aim at the captain. I felt myself becoming even smaller and paler.
Aragorn was quick to intervene before it all escalated past an irreversible point. He lowered Legolas's arm himself, and calmly spoke. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn." Then he quickly introduced the rest of us. "We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden, your king." A sharp knot in my chest that had been tightening throughout this ordeal finally released some of its tension.
"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe…" The captain apologized, removing his helmet. "Not even in his own kin. Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over this land. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished." He looked at us seriously. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. They say his spies are everywhere as well…"
"We are not his spies." I shook my head, words returning to me now.
"We track a band of Uruk-hai westward across the plains." Aragorn informed him. "They have taken two of our friends captive."
"We destroyed the Uruks you are tracking." The captain said. "They were slaughtered in the night."
"All of them?" I asked, surprised.
"But there were two hobbits with them! Did you see any hobbits?" Gimli asked.
"They would be small, only children to your eyes." Aragorn went on.
The captain's eyes dropped to the ground, sincerely apologetic. "We left none alive."
"Dead?" Gimli gasped.
Merry and Pippin…I remembered them only for the tricks they pulled and the mischief they found themselves in, but now I found myself thinking of their friendship, and joy, and how pitifully young they were. The red sun had risen this morning, an omen to tell us of this news it seemed.
"We piled the carcasses and burned them." The captain pointed into the distance where a trail of smoke could be seen rising into the sky. "I am sorry." He whistled and called, and two horses without riders came forth obediently. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than the former masters. Farewell." He mounted his horse again. "Look for your friends, but do not trust any hope. It has forsaken these lands. We ride north."
They left, thundering hooves accompanying their departure.
Our gaze was transfixed upon the smoke. Aragorn took the reins of the two horses. "Come." He said, and the four of us mounted and went off, thankful we had horses to carry us now. Loss had rendered me quite incapable of moving my own legs. There was the bleakest of hopes in my chest, praying for those two young hobbits to be alive still.
At first the burning mount looked like a great, smoking, pile of pitch in the distance, but as we drew near you could see the arms and legs and faces. It was undeniably clear that it was made of burning bodies. And if you thought your eyes were deceiving you, your nose surely wasn't. The smell was inescapable and terrible enough to choke you.
I had to keep my gaze down to stop meeting the dead eyes of an orc's head impaled on a stick.
Gimli began to rummage through the pile with Aragorn, though I did not dare take another step toward it. It was overwhelming, the thoughts of Merry and Pippin, the stench, the sight…I had to keep chanting in my head "I will not be ill…I will not be ill…"
Gimli returned a moment later, his hand shaking. "It's one of their little belts.." He held up a charred elfin belt, from their gifts by the Lady Galadriel
Mahal. The reality struck suddenly and horrifically. Merry and Pippin were in that awful mess, buried in that heap with the rest of them. I kept trying to chant within my head, now more desperate. "I will not be ill…I will not be ill…I will-"
I was quite ill. Each chant was said with a great breathe that only took in more and more of the toxic smell of death and burnt flesh. My stomach could not take it and I found myself emptying out its contents behind a rock a moment later.
Aragorn yelled out in grief and frustration. We had found them, and we had been too late.
The rider had been right. We could not trust any hope.