Ch-7 Rating: PG-13

Chapter 7 – Followers

Riding out from Helm’s Deep into the Deeping Coomb, Legolas reined in his horse and turned for a last look at the damage to the massive fortress walls. Despite the deadly accuracy of his arrows, the Uruk’s suicide mission had succeeded in delivering the explosion that shattered the solid rock of the Keep. Believing themselves safer here than in Edoras, the people of Rohan chose to remain, but the gaping hole gave testament to their vulnerability.

Looking to the high tower of Helm Hammerhand’s horn, he saw what he expected – a lone figure marking their departure.

In the moments before dawn, they had said their good-byes. There was no need for further gesture of farewell. Nodding grimly to the Dwarf riding behind as passenger, he turned away and urged his horse to a gallop, joining Aragorn on their long journey.

They traveled in silence, each reflecting on the uncertain future, but trusting in Gandalf’s lead. The wizard rode ahead with Theoden, Èomer, and a troop of Rohirrim riders, while the three members of The Fellowship followed as rear guard – never more than half a day behind. They would ride hard on the final day and join the others for the confrontation at Isengard.

The day grew unseasonably warm and the plains of Rohan offered no respite from the heat. The brief stops at water sources provided little refreshment for riders or horses.

Under the bright sun, Legolas occasionally thought he caught a glint of something at the corner of his eye. Each time he strained to spy the source of the glimmer, there was nothing to be found. It gnawed at the outer fringes of his senses. An awareness, not of danger but of anxiety, pushed at him then retreated like a pacing beast – something followed and he needed to know what tracked them.

The sky colored from rose to purple as the sun set on the western horizon. Twilight turned to dusk before a Rohirrim scout returned to advise them to make camp for the night.

The three chose a spot within a grove of trees, providing concealment from watchful eyes. It wasn’t until they established camp that Legolas shared his suspicions with the others. “Someone draws near. They have followed throughout the day.”

“Legolas, the plains are wide and open to view for a league. It is not possible that anyone may follow and not be seen.” Aragorn stated.

“Unless it be someone who knows the Riddermark well enough to set their own course,” Gimli prophesied gravely.

Legolas stared hard at Gimli, knowing what he suggested, but denying the possibility. He unslung his bow from his back, grabbed an arrow from his quiver, and headed toward the source of his unease.

Aragorn and Gimli followed him through the grove to an area that gave way to a small clearing. Weapons at the ready, they stood side-by-side, concealed by the fringes of undergrowth.

Legolas betrayed the moment he felt the pursuer’s approach. His spine stiffened and his chin came up as his Elf eyes strained to pierce the darkness and see what his senses had perceived throughout the day.

Suddenly, his arms dropped to his side, bow and arrow forgotten. It was her. The swell of his heart at the sight of Dèorwyn quickly gave way to a pounding staccato as his anger began to build.

For a moment, Legolas could hear nothing above the roar of his own blood. She was unreasonable and, worse, stubborn. Could she not see how she endangered herself?

Leaving Aragorn and Gimli staring after him, he broke from their cover to confront her. His sudden appearance startled Aredhel. As she reared in panic, Dèorwyn could do nothing more than gather her horse beneath her.

Stepping close to the pair, Legolas grasped the horse’s reins beneath her bridle. His firm grip and soothing Elvish comforts immediately calmed the skittish horse.

Their eyes locked, Elf and woman – his angry, hers challenging.

“Are you so determined to seek death?” Legolas demanded. The heat of his argument surprised her, but served only to fuel her own anger.

Dèorwyn leaped off Aredhel to stand toe-to-toe with him. “No, I do not seek it! But I shall not live my life hiding in caves waiting for death to find me!” Dèorwyn stood her ground, her blazing green eyes not wavering from the Elf’s brilliant blue.

Legolas closed his eyes and took a deep, controlled breath. As suddenly as drawing a mask over his face, his expression was impassive, his smooth Elven features revealing no emotion. “She is one of your kind, Aragorn. Counsel her.” With a cool look, he handed her the reins before turning to stride purposefully into the woods.

His comment rang as insult to her ears. An angry retort formed in her mind, and she moved to follow him, fully prepared to defend herself and the race of Men.

“Wait, Lady!” Gimli stood to block her rush after Legolas. “He meant no insult. Fear for you colors his words.” The Dwarf grasped her hand, pleading for patience on behalf of his impetuous friend. “Leave him be, Dèorwyn. His temper will cool.”

“Dèorwyn,” Aragorn’s deep, calm voice joined in, “we rest here a few hours. Join our camp; he will return.”

Reason won out over emotion, and she led her horse behind as they walked the distance to the well-concealed encampment.

~ ^^ ~

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