abnormal tragedy

Chapter 38: hobbits

Rowan and Legolas quickly made their way to the others who were already on their horses. "A helping hand, my lady?" Rowan heard a voice from behind her. Smiling, she turned to face Èomer. "Of course, my Lord." She joked as he lifted her up onto the horse, seated behind him.

The small group of riders move through the forest at a fast pace: Éomer and Rowan, Théoden, Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli. They look around warily, as the low sounds of lumbering trees are heard around them. The end of the forest, followed by Isengard, comes into quickly view. Hobbit laughter is heard causing Rowan to smile.

The riders appear, and approach the crumbled gates encircling Isengard and are spotted by the riders.

"Welcome, my Lords and Lady... to Isengard!" Merry cheered as Aragorn smiled and chuckled to himself, oh how he had missed them. "You young rascals! A merry chase you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and... and smoking!" Gimli grumbled. "We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good." Pippin replied slightly inebriated and touched by the leaf. "Salted pork?" Gimli smiled. "Hobbits." Gandalf muttered impatiently. 

"We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard." Merry added cheerfully causing Rowan to let out a small laugh from behind Èomer. The group approaches Orthanc, the tower of Isengard and Rowan tightens her grasp around Èomer's waist in fright.

Merry smiles a dazed smile and then leads the way, followed by Pippin and Gimli, the dwarf leaning heavily on his axe, still weary from the battle even if he would never admit to it. The three of them are quickly engaged in an animated discussion about the qualities of the different pipe-weeds between Erebor and the Shire. Rowan trailed behind not remotely interested in smoking any kind of weed. Rowan then looked up at the tall, terrifying Isengard in which she had recently broken free from. Its presence still send chills down her spine. Her brother noticed and he put his arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, we're all here for you" Aragorn whispered as he held her closer.

"Walk warily," said Merry as they walked towards the tower at the centre of the circle of Isengard, now surrounded by water and debris. "There are loose slabs that may tilt up and throw you down into a pit, if you don't take care."

And so they all watched their step – right up until the moment when the dark orb of crystal came hurtling down from the tower window. Both Legolas and Pippin made to catch it, but where Pippin ran light-footed over the treacherous ground, and picked up the crystal. "Here, my lad, I'll take care of that," said Gandalf sharply. Pippin reluctantly hands Gandalf the orb. Gandalf covers it up, and with a sidelong glance at Pippin, turns away. Rowan places her hand into Pippin's and whispers "It's going to be okay."

They sit on the edge of ruin and talk. Rowan is as weary as she has seldom been, a pipe between her lips and the grey cloak of Lórien about her, but she sits and listens to the voices of Merry and Pippin, brave Merry and Pippin, on the ruins of Isengard. The panic too she might one day forget, still thrumming in every of her limbs, in the tips of her fingers and the lids of her eyes. The panic she first felt when she looked around and caught no sight of her friends, when she thought she may have lost them. Like she lost Merry and Pippin, Gandalf, Boromir, even Frodo and Sam, all of whom she led to their deaths.

And Rowan would have born it, the horror at her failing, but it could not be Gimli and Legolas. Not the dwarf and the elf who were supposed to live for many ages or even into all eternity. Who'd be driven to deaths by nothing but their unyielding faith in her, a grey female ranger from the North who is nothing and who's brother carries the heirloom of greatness like a burden instead of a gift.