It is hard to believe that only hours ago I was a prince of Rohan and now I along with my cousin Eomer and his Rohirrim are banished from the kingdom that was once my home.
May the Valar thrice curse Grima Wormtounge and throw him into mount doom! He brings pain and suffering to my father and I fear that soon he will be beyond all efforts of help.
If only Mithrandir were here, he would know how to set my father right. But alas he has traveled into the East and was last the messengers hear headed to Imladris home of Lord Elrond the Half-Elven.
Last night we came upon a company of Uruk-Hai and slayed them, leaving none alive and burned their carcasses, but we lost fifteen men and twelve horses which we buried in a mound encircled with the fallen’s spears.
We were on our to somewhere north when we passed a pile of rocks not seeing anything out of the ordinary when we heard a voice call out to us “Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?”
We were all startled but hid it well and at a gesture form Eomer turned our horses at once and surrounded the group of three at spear point.
If they were fearful of us in any way they did not show it but for a shared glance between the man and elf that heightened my senses to look for any other exchange between them. As Eomer demanded them to tell us what business they had in Rohan I studied the newcomers with curiosity.
The man as tall and had stringy long light brown hair with grey eyes and an air of importance about him. He had the clothes of a ranger but carried himself as my father did once.
The dwarf stood defiant at the words of my cousin going as far as to demand his name in exchange for his own to which my cousin got off his horse to insult the dwarf saying that he would cut off his head if it stood a little higher off the ground.
This angered the elf into strung his bow as that no mortal could of seen it, saying that Eomer would die before his stroke fell, putting himself and his friends in immediate danger.
The ranger gently lowered the arrow and calmed the elf using a few words in Sindarin. The elf was very fair skinned and did not look anywhere near my age. He had long flaxen hair and had crafted some strands into braids that ran from his temple to behind his pointed ear and down.
I was in the middle of wondering where I had heard the names Legolas and Arathorn when Aragorn, for that was the rangers name said that they tracked a band of Uruk-Hai and the filth had taken two of their friend’s captive.
Unthinkingly I blurted out, “We destroyed the Uruk’s last night.”
“Did you see two hobbits with them?” Gimli the dwarf cried.
“They would be just children to your eyes.” Aragorn said earnestly, turning to facing me.
“We left none alive. I’m sorry” I said regret in my heart.
Legolas bowed his head and put a supporting hand on Gimli’s shoulder.
I was surprised when Eomer whistled and called for Arod and Hasufel two of the three horses whose owners were felled in the battle.
“May these horses bear you better fortune than their former masters. Search for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands.” Eomer said firmly.
As we gallop off towards the north I remember who Arathorn is, or was. He was the last king of Gondor. If Aragorn really is his heir, then he just may be able to turn the tide for Middle Earth.