Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 3)

Chapter 2: The Road to Rivendell

                  

Gerithor slipped out of the inn at first light, careful to make sure he was seen by the two men that attempted in vain to stay concealed behind the inn. He went to the stables where he found his chestnut steed, Esse. He had named his horse Esse much to the elves' disdain, for they had named her Earfaroth, which meant "sea hunter." Gerithor's name for her merely meant "name", and in the elves' minds it meant that the ranger didn't care about the horse enough to give her a proper name. In truth, he cared about the horse but named her Esse because it was easier to pronounce. He was a simple man, and preferred the name of his horse to reflect that.

"Easy, Esse," He whispered as she whinnied nervously. She too had noticed the two dark clad men that were lurking nearby, though they were trying to be stealthy. The ranger whispered to Esse soothingly, until she finally calmed down.

After saddling Esse, Gerithor led her out of the stables and out onto the street. The path was still muddy from the storm the night before, and Gerithor struggled to lead Esse through the deep sludge. It was still early, and few people were in the streets. Those few that were stared distrustfully as he passed, some of them muttering to themselves in distaste. Finally he reached the Greenway, which was paved with wide cobblestones for a short distance until it wound back into the country.

Still noticing the two men following at a distance, Gerithor mounted his steed and traveled forward along the road, waiting until he was out of sight of Archet. Once he was, he looked up and down the road, pretending to make sure nobody was watching him. After he had done that, he plunged into the underbrush, following alongside the road for a distance before dismounting. He tied his horse to a tree then doubled back, going back to the area where he had left the trail.

Surely enough, the two strangers were poking about in the bushes nearby, whispering quietly to themselves. Gerithor stealthily crept forward until he was within earshot.

"Why'd he go off the road?" One asked.

"Must've suspected he was being watched." The other replied.

"I wonder if he's the Ranger that we're supposed to be looking out for."

"Perhaps. If so, we'd better report back to the master. He'll wanna know that he left town."

"But he'll get away! And what if he's meeting the couriers?"

"If he's meeting them, that means the Nazgul will be following, believe me."

"Then why go back to them with news of the Ranger in the first place? And what if it's the other Ranger that is still in town?"

"Enough questions! We're going back! Hopefully they'll reward us." Gerithor heard muffled footsteps as the two men returned back to the road.

 

  Interesting... The diversion may have worked better than I thought it would, Gerithor thought to himself as he turned away and plunged ahead into the undergrowth.

 

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Rhudaur, the same day

 

Two riders traveled north along the lonely road. Aside from an occasional bird's call, the only sounds breaking the silence of the desolate landscape was the mournful strumming of a stringed instrument that one of the riders carried, and the aggravated sighs of the second rider.

 

"You've played the same song at least ten times now, Edhael," The second rider said. She was an elf, and wore armor that looked as if it belonged to an older Age. A deep scar ran down the left side of her face, from her forehead down to her jawbone. For an elf, she looked quite tough. Silver hair flowed from under her crested helm, and it blew gently in the wind.