𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

17| in pursuit

Nonstop.

Nonstop running.

That was all that we had done for the past three days and nights. Time became irrelevant, and above us, the sun gave way to the moon and stars, before wheeling back into the sky at the crack of dawn, a constant cycle.

We ran under sun and moon, cloud and sky, never stopping once, my footfalls steady like a beating heart. How could we rest when Merry and Pippin's lives were at stake?

How could I rest when it was I that let them go in the first place?

I tried not to dwell on what they could be experiencing at this moment. Guilt ate away at my heart, but I tried not to let it show, using it only to spur me on further. Every step I took, my worries increased.

My bow and quiver were slung over my shoulder, and my sword hung from my hips, my knives strapped to my thighs, one knife lighter.

As the skies passed above us, my mind often wandered to the events of Amon Hen. What if I had acted differently? Would Boromir have lived? Would Merry and Pippin have still been taken?

And what exactly did my gold knives do? I had always thought that they were just...knives, and that my father was just particular about only using them once. But now, I was not so sure.

What power did they hold? I needed to know.

But who do I ask?

That was the question.

Legolas and I ran beside Aragorn, my breathing setting into a rhythm alongside my footfalls. I looked back to see Gimli a small distance behind us, trying to regulate his breathing as the dwarf tried to keep up with us long-legged folk. I admired his tenacity, and how he was never too far behind us.

On the other hand, the effects of the three-day cross-country run were negligible on the elf prince, who looked like this was nothing but a casual stroll, not a single hair out of place on his blonde head.

Aragorn slowed to a halt.

Taking this moment to catch my breath, I looked around, scanning the land. The plains around us seemed to stretch on forever as the green of the grass met the endless expanse of the cerulean sky. I squinted, peering into the distance. There seemed to be nothing but grass and rock for miles and miles on end.

I could only hope that Merry and Pippin were still alive.

Beside me, Aragorn knelt onto the rocky ground , pressing his ear against the floor.

From behind, Gimli caught up to us, panting as he tried to regulate his breathing. I lightly shushed him, gesturing to my brother, who continued to listen.

"Their pace has quickened," he alerted as he stood back up. "They must have caught our scent."

He broke into a run, gesturing for us to follow. "Hurry!"

I shook my head.

When we were to find the Uruks, I made a note in my mind to kill them slowly, not only for taking Merry and Pippin, but also for making us run so far.

But first we needed to find them.

Breaking into a run, I gestured to Gimli, who still stood hunched over with his hands on his knees, his breaths fast and shallow.

"Come on Gimli!" I urged.

"Three day's and night's pursuit..." the dwarf puffed as he followed behind us, his axe swinging from side to side as he ran, "...through no food, no rest, and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell."