39. Crushing the Corsairs

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"He raised his hands, and seemed to grow

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"He raised his hands, and seemed to grow.
Light flared in his eye sockets. When he spoke
next, avalanches fell in the mountains.
HAVE YOU BEEN NAUGHTY...OR NICE?
HO. HO. HO."

― Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

39. Crushing the Corsairs

The sun was gone, under a dark, horrible sky, and Legolas was more tired than he could recall ever being before. Hour upon hour the Grey Company had ridden, not eating, not sleeping – barely even pausing for toilet breaks – and behind them surged the army of the dead. Chasing orcs through Rohan had been a breeze in comparison with this frantic race.

Behind Legolas Gimli dozed fitfully, leaning heavily against his back and relying on him to keep them both upright on the horse. At first it had been uncomfortable, but now it was downright painful; Legolas' legs had become weak and trembling with exhaustion. 

If he – an elf – felt this weary, what must it not be like for the humans? But nobody complained. Doggedly they continued: Halbarad staying always close to Aragorn's side, carrying his banner, and the rest of the rangers following suit in a close throng.

At the head of the company Aragorn sat tall and straight in the saddle, unbending and determined like he was made of iron. The sight of his ramrod back was comforting, and the control he had over the ghosts impressive. They looked stronger here, closer to Mordor, and their dead eyes flared with purpose.

I think the dead admire Aragorn, just like we do, he thought to Arod. Talking to the horse was a recent habit of his, and the steed was a patient listener. His replies were on the less sophisticated scale, but it was better than nothing; when Gimli slept Legolas had no one else.

I admire you more, thought Arod loyally.

Thank you. But Aragorn is very much my superior! He gives everything to fulfil our mission; neglecting his own comforts, and even forsaking sleep and food, so that we can come in time to defeat Sauron's secret weapon. That is inspiring. Just looking at him now makes my heart swell with affection, and I almost forget how tired I am. Many kings could learn from him – my father included. He smiled to himself over a vision of the Elvenking on the Woodland throne, a silver robe pooling around his elegant boots, and expensive rings crowding his fingers where they gripped a goblet of Dorwinion wine. Comparing King Thranduil with this seasoned ranger in worn clothes was like comparing day to night. In all fairness, Thranduil was a skilled fighter too, but his warriors followed him out of respect and duty rather than love.

A frightened hare drew Legolas' gaze as it crossed the path and disappeared among the rocks. The cliff walls were less sheer here, he noticed, and further ahead he glimpsed fields and homesteads. We are slowly leaving the mountains, it seems, but I still cannot see the river where we will cross into Lebennin. Lamedon is a much larger country than I expected, and yet it is only a small part of Gondor. Aragorn will have a huge kingdom to rule when he takes the throne.

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