Linger

II. Fallen Leaves

As usual, when they stopped briefly for rest or to relieve themselves, Rowan answered Boromir, Legolas, and Gimli's questions about the modern world. Aragorn listened, but since he had already gone through a Q&A session with her before, he mainly stayed quiet. They wanted to know what was different between their worlds—especially the movies she kept referencing—and, like the Ranger, had problems understanding technology.

"We don't have creatures like orcs, Nazgûl, or Balrogs," Rowan began after the elf finished asking her what evil they dealt with, if any. They sat in a circle with a campfire providing light. "We can't tell someone's character based on what we see. Evil comes in many forms there; it often hides behind smiling faces.

"In some ways, I envy living here in Middle-earth because you know who the bad guys are—you know who and what you're fighting. Back home, you don't know it. Your enemy could live next door, and you stay unaware until they slip."

"Trust seems hard to find and keep," Gimli said.

She nodded. "It has only grown worse with the advancement of technology. Someone with bad intentions can hide behind a screen. I think it's going to get worse, though."

"What despises you the most in your world?" Boromir asked. He sat beside her, attentive to every word. She's noticed he makes sure he's near her—either by running close by or resting by her side at night.

"Idiots in the law," Rowan said with a chuckle. She heaved as she brushed back some hair. "They grow more absurd and ridiculous by the day. When someone tries to change something for the good of the people they govern, others throw fits because they're used to the old way. There's constant bickering over anything. Working together isn't possible. Everyone takes hearsay and believes it as truth. No one thinks for themselves anymore, neither do they have respect for others or even themselves.

"So, I admire Middle-earth. There are no politics. Comradery seems to be stronger here. It is quiet. Once the threat of Sauron is gone, it'll be peaceful. It wouldn't be hard to live here like Lady Galadriel suggests, I think. In fact, I know it wouldn't."

***

They awoke before dawn to yet another day of endless running. Same as before and the day earlier. The routine was just as mundane as running through the treeless plains, stretching flat for miles on end or going up and down hills with treacherous rock formations.

Rowan longed to sleep longer than three or four hours a night and craved a bath. Sweat soaked her from running constantly under the sun and the rustic smell of earth clung to her from sleeping on the ground. With her aware of her body odor, she expected the others to avoid her—move away when she drew close. But they didn't. After the first two days, they all smelled the same, so her body odor didn't bother her as much anymore. She still dreamed of being clean again, though.

Like the two in the lead, she and Boromir slowed their run as they descended a hill. Beyond weary as she was, it surprised Rowan that her stiff legs didn't give way and send her rolling down. The steepness required caution to descend upright, but she almost purposely pitched herself forward. She would surely reach the bottom quicker, with some bruises and more soreness, but the embarrassment of doing such an action kept her from it. No wonder Gimli falls down a hill in the film—his tired legs probably couldn't handle it.

They both reached the bottom with dignity attached, and nothing had changed with the leaders: Legolas ran ahead, and Aragorn before him.

As she and the Gondorian captain took up chasing them, their surroundings seemed familiar. The hill they came down ended at a wall of jagged, dark rock. A flat steppe sat on top; the cliff bordered one side and the hill on the other. A mostly level path ran through the narrow ravine they trekked through. Fortunately, Rowan could still see the spotless sky, so she didn't feel claustrophobic.

When Aragorn slowed, then kneeled, familiarity clicked.

Although Rowan figured what he found, she joined him to make sure.

He stood and turned to show something glittering in his hand. It was the green-lined-with-silver leaf brooch on an Elven-cloak the elves of Lothlórien gave them.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," Aragorn said. "This did not drop by chance—they cast it away as a token to any that might follow." He looked up at her for confirmation.

She nodded. "Pippin leaves it behind in the book and the movie."

It was small, but Legolas released a relieved sigh. "Then they are still alive."

"Less than a day ahead of us. Come," Aragorn said before slipping the brooch in a pocket and shooting ahead again.

Rowan turned expectantly back toward the hill they just came down.

"What is—" Boromir began.

Rowan lifted a hand to stop his concern. "Hold on."

Grunts, metal clacking, and thuds preceded Gimli tumbling down the hill.

She looked at the Gondorian, doing her best not to burst out laughing. He shook his head.

"Is Gimli the only one to supply humor?"

"Among this part of the story, yes."

"Come on, Gimli; we are gaining on them!" Legolas called behind them.

"I'm wasted on cross-country; we dwarves are natural sprinters!" the dwarf said as he got up and continued running, as fast as his little legs could go. "Very dangerous over short distances."

Boromir scoffed.

Gimli heard as he shuffled past. "You doubt, Gondorian?"

"You exaggerate, master dwarf. I'll believe it when I see it."

"This is one thing he's not exaggerating, Boromir," Rowan said as she and the man jogged to catch up with Gimli. "Bombur does it in The Hobbit."

The dwarf looked at her. "You know of him?"

Gimli constantly forgot she wasn't from Middle-earth. "Uh... the movie one; not the real one. I'll explain him later—see if he's anything like him."

Finding the brooch meant the story was advancing as she expected. Excellent news.

Staying beside the dwarf required more work. Effortlessly outrunning Gimli, Rowan ran beside Boromir with a lighter heart. Exhaustion didn't seem to matter as much now.