The Sunset Princess

Reunited

I was stiff when I woke, too unsteady to open my eyes. The thundering of hooves was all I could register at first, then I thought I heard a voice shouting. It was familiar, though I had rarely heard it raised. The man who it belonged to was calm to a fault, unless in great need.

I shook myself mentally, but found I couldn't much move my head. My neck and head were aching from leaning against the man of Rohan's chainmail. Anhaga, I recalled dimly. Yes, Anhaga was his name, and he was the healer who had cleaned my wounds.

Just as I had decided my injured head was playing tricks on me, that the familiar, adored, voice was far away from me, the world seemed to spin. I screwed my eyes even more tightly shut, but I realised eventually that the entire company was turning around.

I tried to open my eyes, but the light seemed painfully bright, so I closed them again, loosely, letting it filter under my eyelids. My head, though clean, did not seem to be much better. I wondered whether I was concussed, and decided that it was nearly certain I was.

There were more hooves on the ground. Just one set. Perhaps the voice I had heard was real, not a figment of my wound-addled mind. Éomer, I guessed, as the leader of the company, was going to question someone.

I tore my eyes open at last, though for a few moments I could see nothing. Anhaga, noticing I was awake, tightened an arm around me carefully. "Legolas." I muttered. The man held me a little tighter when I moved.

"Wait. The spies of Saruman are devious, and cruel. All may not appear as it seems."

I groaned, unable to summon the words to argue, but I sat up straight, flexing my neck from side to side. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. We were sat almost at the back of the group of riders. I wondered whether this decision had been conscious, whether they were trying to protect me. I saw it from their perspective; Saruman was a master of illusion; if anyone could disguise servants of evil as innocent travellers, it would be him.

When the blurring at the edges of my eyes had faded, when I saw him, I knew the suspicion of the Rohirrim was misplaced. I craned my neck, trying to see the scene in full, to see whether Legolas was hurt, but he looked unharmed. Aragorn was there too, his face carefully devoid of emotion, staring at Éomer fearlessly, His eyes were roaming in every direction, peering through the horses and riders. I wondered whether he knew.

I certainly did. These were no spies, no cruel trick to deceive me. My fëa screamed for me to go to him, to hold him as close as possible. I tried to wriggle out of Anhaga's grip, to call out to him, but my voice was quiet, my throat parched. I swallowed down the tears when I realised, I couldn't make him hear me. The fear, which I had kept down so well over the last few days, was reaching a crescendo. What if they didn't let me go?

Anhaga only sighed. "At least have some water."

After a moment, I took the offered flask, recognising the kindness in the gesture. Turning to watch, I heard Éomer's question, and Gimli's cool answer. Hearing his voice, a spike of joy leapt through my heart; he was too short for me to see him.

"What business does an elf, a man and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine."

I shifted, Anhaga resignedly loosening his supporting arm, to see Éomer dismount and walk towards where Gimli must stand. "I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Annoyance ate at me, but before I could so much as glare, Legolas' bow was loaded, the arrow pointed directly at Éomer. "You would die before your stroke fell!"