Linger

III. Riders of Rohan

On the fourth day, Legolas spied smoke on the plains. When Rowan made it up the hill the elf stood on, she clearly saw it too. The depleting black smoke billowed into the sky. She guessed they had found the pile of burning Uruk-hai before meeting the Rohirrim.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Looks like Éomer and his Rohirrim have taken care of the Uruk-hai like we hoped. We can relax—Merry and Pippin should be safe in Fangorn with Treebeard by now."

"The words 'Fangorn' and 'safe' do not belong in the same sentence, lass," Gimli said.

She looked over at him. "They do this time. Treebeard will not harm them; he will watch over the hobbits."

"We are to meet this Onodrim, correct? What men call Ents." Legolas' eyes shined with an eager gleam.

"Yes, later."

"A few leagues remain between us and the carcasses," Boromir commented.

Aragorn nodded. "I would say five."

Rowan put her hands on her hips. "I was looking forward to the horses Éomer gives us, though."

"I would sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged," the dwarf grumbled.

"Yet, you don't complain about riding behind Legolas in the movies. You are even grateful for Arod in the book."

He considered her words for a while. "Perhaps I am not the same Gimli."

"You are grouchy and prideful like the one I know." The others chuckled as the dwarf headed down the hill, grumbling. It was easy to fluster him.

"Are you not coming?" he called back.

She nodded at the Ranger. "Lead on, Aragorn."

***

Even though their urgency had lessened, they easily overtook Gimli on their run to the smoke. As they followed Aragorn, it surprised Rowan not to see the borders of Fangorn Forest encroaching on them. The forest was supposed to be massive, expanding much across the Plains of Rohan. Why hadn't she seen any trees?

Coming up on the smoke answered her question.

Still-smoldering ruins of houses supplied the smoke. Clumps of bodies were scattered here and there. Slaughtered livestock also lay among the human corpses.

Rowan looked around in shock. They had followed the wrong trail of smoke. Instead of the pile of Uruk-hai, it led them to a pillaged-and-burned village—one of the Rohan villages hinted at being destroyed, but not seen in the film or mentioned in the book.

Aragorn looked at her in question.

"I don't know where we are. You don't come to a village like this in the story." She looked back as if she could spy the correct trail of smoke. "We must've wandered off too far from the original path..."

"Regardless, we need to look for survivors," Boromir said.

The five hunters cautiously entered the remains of the village, listening for any wail or cry of a wounded survivor. Crackling and popping fire continued to be the only sound. Smoke clouded Rowan's lungs and stung her eyes. Another stench lingered in the air—a rustic smell of blood mixed with a horrid, rotten scent of burnt hair and flesh, and organs spoiling in the blistering sun. She had only smelled odors like this once when she and her dad found a two-day-old dead deer, hit by an eighteen-wheeler.

Death.

Aragorn kicked over a form with a pitchfork buried in his chest. He wore filthy brown rags, had wild brown hair, and looked unclean, like he hadn't bathed in weeks.