The Shadow Walker

60. Riders of Rohan

Legolas's POV

I woke Aragorn at the first sign of sunrise. While he woke Gimli and Boromir and they ate breakfast, I checked Eda's wound again, applying the last of the Etholas supply and rebandaging. While I waited for them to pack up camp, I trickled water into Eda's mouth a few drops at a time. Finally, after putting out the fire, we continued running.

Aragorn and Boromir alternated carrying the other end of the stretcher as we continued running south.

At midday, we paused for a bite of food and some water. Eda's skin had broken out into a cold sweat, and wincing, I said to Aragorn, "She doesn't have long."

He frowned and placed his hand on her forehead, then lifted her shirt to check the wound. "We are near the boarder of Rohan," he answered finally. "We will push hard and find a settlement with a healer."

"And if it is not enough?" I questioned quietly, not daring to meet his gaze.

Aragorn clasped my shoulder for a long, silent moment. "Then we go to rescue Merry and Pippin."

I closed my eyes. Eda had one shot at living—and a long shot at that. And Valar knew I loved long shots, when they could be made with my bow. But when the bow rested in the hands of Fate...I wasn't sure I would be willing to accept the outcome.

We moved out again, and I focused my worry, my anxiety, and my anger into putting one foot in front of the other.

At about mid afternoon, a low rumble through the earth vibrated through the soles of my shoes. Frowning, I said, "Aragorn."

Since Boromir was taking his turn at the front of Eda's stretcher, Aragorn came to my side. "What is it?" he murmured in Sindarin.

"The ground trembles," I replied, also in Sindarin. "Something approaches. I cannot tell what."

Aragorn and I looked at each other, dread settling in my stomach. We had not been following the Uruk-Hai, but they'd gotten a head start and it wasn't too much of a stretch to belive they might've looped around to attack our flanks.

Aragorn's gaze broke away from mine, and he turned to scan the seemingly-endless fields and hills. He gestured to a stand of rocks at the peak of a hill. "We make for those boulders," he said in the common tongue. Relieving Boromir of his place at Eda's feet, Aragorn added, "Hurry!"

We jogged up the hill as quickly as we could, Boromir helping Gimli along up front and Aragorn and I bringing up the rear. After we reached the peak and ducked into cover, Aragorn and I set Eda's stretcher down, and I peeked between rocks to see what was coming.

Horsemen. Dozens of them galloping up the hill with an air of pride. Manes and tails flew in their self-created wind, and hundreds of hooves struck the ground in a wartime tempo.

The swarm of horseflesh reached the peak of the hill, thundering past. After the last horse passed our hiding spot, Aragorn stood.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, grabbing at his sleeve.

He dodged and trotted out of hiding. "Riders of Rohan!" He shouted, his voice carrying well over the plain. "What news from the Mark?"

I sighed and stood, moving to join Aragorn as the Riders turned their mounts back to face us. Gimli and Boromir also joined us, leaving Eda in the rock formation.

As the Riders galloped around us, forming a tight circle with us at the center, I grew increasingly apprehensive. Then, as one, their spears lowered to point at us, confirming my suspicion.

Aragorn raised his hands calmingly, but I did not. If these mortals chose to attack us...I would take as many of them with me as I possibly could.

One of the Riders spurred his mottled gray horse to the center to stand before us, and he said, "What business does an Elf, two Men, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" His dark eyes glared out from beneath his helmet, assessing us each. When none spoke, he snapped, "Speak quickly!"