When I wake up at dawn, I find Gandalf beating his coat with a heavy stick. Clouds of dirt, that the day before had been mud, flew in every direction. The garment is draped over a convenient tree-branch and the wizard seems to be spending all of his frustrations upon it. I watch in amusement until at last the dust ceased to fly and Gandalf cast away the branch with a cathartic huff of breath. He turns and scowls as he realizes that his efforts have not gone unnoticed. I curl my lip.

,,Do you feel better?" I ask dryly.

,,As a matter of fact, I do." The wizard grunts, stumping over to the fading fire and stirring it to hasten its death. ,,The lower half of your cloak is still wet, but at least the hood and shoulders are dry. All the rest seems wearable."

,,I am pleased to hear that." I climb to my feet and arch my back to banish the stiffness of sleeping on the hard earth. I remove my friend's cloak and hold it out. ,,Thank you for the loan of warmth."

,,Your welcome, Neuma but remember that if you get into such a state again, I wouldn't be here to scare up food and fire for you. You'll have to look out for yourself."

,,I will try to be more particular about where I hunt. And you take care as well: you are strolling off into a danger that I dare not face. As I recall Denethor is uniquely unpleasant when disgruntled."

,,Then I shall be careful to keep him in a favorable mood." Gandalf bents to pick up my boots, not stiff and rigid after their wetting. I take the boots and wrestle them on. ,,You're beginning to look almost respectable again." Gandalf observes. ,,Or what amongst your sort passes for respectable. Though there is still the matter of your hair."

,,There is little point in tending to it until I have an opportunity to wash. If you give me leave I will walk with you as far as the bridge and attend to it there."

,,Gladly," Gandalf says and watches as I buckle my belt to the third-from-last notch, tucking the tail into a loose knot. I sheathe my long knife and adjust the folds of my coat with care. ,,yes, almost respectable." I shake out my cloak, swing it around my shoulders and clasp it at the left shoulder with the silver star of the Dúnedain. Then with a practiced flick of my wrist, I draw my hood over my filthy hair. It shadows my face, leaving only the tip of my nose in the light. ,,I take back what I said. There is nothing respectable about you: you're a rogue if ever I saw one."

,,Then you would be well-advised not to cross me." I say, grinning as lazily as I can. I pick up my pack, which feels dishearteningly light and then kick away the last traces of our fire.

We set out as soon as the camp was concealed, walking in silence through the trees. Gandalf's despondency seems to be leaching back, for his head is bowed and he leans heavily upon his staff. Determined not to show any signs of frustration or despair, I walk on ahead, carefully picking a route that left as little sign of our passage as was possible. It's past midday when we reach the crest of the river valley and descend towards the broad, coiling Poros. I cannot help but stare to my right, where the high, craggy faces of the Mountains of Shadow loom against a sordid grey sky. A chill settles upon my heart. Once before I have ventured that way, passing over the ramparts of the Ephel Dûath into the poisoned wastes beyond. Memories assails me, fast and thick. Orc-voices laughing. Slaves bent low beneath dancing black whips. And above it all, the burning heights of Orodrûin, belching filth and odious malevolence into the stagnant air…

Gentle fingers touch my elbow and I turn, startle out of my reverie to find kind eyes upon me.

,,It is not too late to reconsider." Gandalf says softly. ,,What is the chance that you will find him by venturing into the mountains?"

,,Greater than the chance of finding him if I do not. I have chosen my course and I shall not waver. Now come: the river is calling to me and I am aching to bathe." I answer, while we make our way further into the valley, overgrown with wild, tangled trees and thick undergrowth. When we come near the water, it's plain that we have struck a true course: less than half a mile downstream we can see the old stone bridge at the crossing of Poros. We stand in silence, side by side with our backs to the Land of Shadow. I break the silence. ,,Many leagues lie between this place and the archives of Lord Denethor. You will accomplish nothing standing here and staring at the road you must take."

,,I would go with greater comfort if I did not feel that I was abandoning you to go into the darkness alone."

,,I have done it before and lived to make light of it. Fear not for me, I am too obstinate by far to perish in the mountains."

,,There are things far worse than death."

,,And I count inaction among them. Go, seek the evidence of which you have spoken. I shall try to complete our other errand." Gandalf nods, but still hesitates.

,,Do you wish for me to linger a while and stand guard while you bathe?"

,,No, I am quite capable of washing myself without an attendant. Quickly, now the daylight is wasting." The wizard takes two steps in the direction of the bridge, then turns and comes back. He grips my shoulders briefly before embracing me.

,,Be careful." He says as he draws back. ,,I would hate to have to explain to Elrohir how I lost you."

,,Fear not for me. If I were you, I would spend the next few days working out the words with which to woo Denethor."

,,Woo him?" Gandalf raises his eyebrows. ,,I have no intention of wooing him. I shall merely storm the Citadel demanding access to his records. He may not like it, but he can hardly deny me courtesy extended to my colleagues."

,,I shall have to remember that the next time I do Saruman a favor." I square my shoulders and dredge up a smile. ,,Goodbye, my friend. May we both find that which we seek."

,,Ever the optimist. How I admire the dauntless spirit of the young. You look a lot like your brother, Neuma." I roll my eyes, not liking that I am Aragorn's brother.

,,I am not so young anymore." I only say and then we stand unmoving. As I cast my gaze away and Gandalf, thus freed, turns and strides down through the wild grasses towards the road, I linger in the shelter of the trees, watching the grey figure grow smaller. Gandalf reaches the riverbank and strides onto the bridge, only to turn once more in the middle to look back towards me. He raises his hand in a final gesture of farewell and then resumes his journey. He vanishes swiftly into the undergrowth on the far side of Poros.