The Lord of the Rings: The Riders of Rohan (Part Two)

 

The Tale

They wait on the bottom of the hill until even Gimli can hear them. With a thunder of hoofs they come by, riding like the wind. They call to one another in clear strong voices: ‘a long line of mail-clad men, swift, shining, fell and fair to look upon.’ Their horses are large with grey coats, flowing tails, and braided manes. The men are a good match to the steeds: long-limbed, braided flaxen long hair, and stern, keen faces. They are armed with great ashen spears, painted shields on their backs, long swords at their sides, and polished coats of mail down to their knees. They go by, two by two, and are almost passed when Aragorn stands up and calls, ‘What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?’

The Riders immediately wheel around and begin circling the man, the dwarf, and the elf in an ever-tightening ring, then without a signal stop. Aragorn waits impassively. Spears are lowered at them, and arrows are at the string. The leader, a man taller than the rest whose helm sports a white horsetail as a crest, advances on his horse until his spear is a foot from Aragorn’s chest. The ranger does not stir or show fear.

The rider questions him in the Common Speech of the West. Who is he and what is he doing in Rohan? Aragorn answers that he is called Strider, and that he is hunting Orcs. The rider dismounts and looks at them in wonder. At first he thought they were Orcs themselves, but Strider must know little about them to hunt them in this fashion. And he has a strange name and raiment for a Man. Has he sprung from the grass? How did he escape their sight? ‘Are you elvish folk?’

Aragorn replies that only one of them is an elf, but they have passed through Lothlorien and the favor of the Lady is with them. The other’s eyes harden. So, there is a sorceress in the White Woods, as old tales say. Are they also net-weavers and sorcerers? He looks at Legolas and Gimli. Why don’t they say anything? Gimli rises and grips the handle of his axe, and asks the rider’s name.

The Rider stares him down. ‘The stranger should declare himself first. Yet I am named Eomer son of Eomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark.’ Well, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin’s Son warn him about speaking foolishness about the Lady, fairer beyond his reach of thought.’ Angered, Eomer replies, ‘I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground.’ Quicker than sight Legolas draws his bow. ‘You would die before your stroke fell.’ Eomer raises his sword in answer.

Aragorn springs between them, hand raised, and asks Eomer’s pardon. When he learns more he will understand why he angered his companions. But they mean no harm to Rohan. ‘Will you not hear our tale before you strike?’ Eomer lowers his blade. Very well, but Strider must tell him his right name. Aragorn tells him that first he must know if the Rider is a friend or foe of Sauron? Eomer says that he serves only King Theoden Thengel’s Son, Lord of the mark, and that Rohan is no friend of Morder’s, though neither have they proclaimed against it. But by whose authority does Strider hunt Orcs through this land?

Aragorn says he serves no man, but he hunts the servants of Sauron wherever they go. Few men alive know more about Orcs than he. And these have stolen his friends. In such need no-one will ask leave of anyone, nor count his foes save with a sword. And he is not weaponless. He throws back his cloak and reveals Anduril and its flashing sheath. He draws it out like sudden flame and cries out ‘Elendil!’

‘I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!’

Even Gimli and Legolas look at him in amazement. They have never seen him like this. For a moment they glimpse in his living face an echo of the majesty and power of the kings of Argonath, and Legolas sees a flicker of white flame around his brows, like a shining crown. Eomer steps back, abashed. These are indeed strange times when dreams and legends spring out of the grass.

Since Aragorn is from the North and is connected to Gondor, Eomer asks him about Boromir, who passed through their lands, and did he find the answer to his riddle. ‘What doom do you bring from the North?’

The doom of choice, he answers. Open war lies before Theoden the King; no longer can anyone remain neutral. If chance allows, he will go to the King to speak of such matters. But now his need is urgent. What news of the orc-host that took their friends?

They have all been killed, says Eomer, and they need to pursue them no longer. There were none but Orcs among the slain. Aragorn describes them: no bigger than children, clad in grey as they are, and barefoot. When Gimli reveals that they were hobbits, or Halflings as the rhyme from Boromir’s dream called them, another nearby rider laughs. Halflings are only a little people in old songs and children’s tales. ‘Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?’

‘A man may do both,’ said Aragorn. ‘For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!’

The rider grumbles, but Eomer sends him off to get the Riders ready to depart. Once alone he comes down to business. He knows Aragorn isn’t lying: the Men of the Mark don’t, and therefore aren’t easily deceived. But can’t he speak more clearly of his errand? Aragorn reveals he did indeed set out from Imladris with Boromir, meaning to go to Minas Tirith with him. But the Company they journeyed with had other business. Their leader was Gandalf the Grey.

Gandalf Grayhame (hame = ‘mantle’ or cloak’)! Eomer exclaims. His name has been well-known for many years in the Mark, a herald of strange tidings, though some now say a bringer of evil. It was since he came last summer that all their troubles with Saruman and Isengard began, though he had warned them of war being prepared there. Theoden did not listen to him but told him to take a horse and begone. Gandalf further angered the King by choosing Shadowfax, the king of the mearas, which only the Lord of the Mark may ride. Shadowfax returned seven nights ago, but Theoden is still angry with the wizard, for the horse is now wild and will let no man near.

Aragorn tells him that Gandalf will ride no longer, that he fell in the Mines of Moria. Eomer finds this heavy tidings, but when Aragorn also tells that Boromir is slain, he is even more dismayed. How long ago was this? Four days ago, from the shadow of Tol Brandir and on foot. Eomer is astounded, saying Strider is too poor a name, and calls him Wingfoot. That is 45 leagues (135 miles) in four days.

But now, what is Aragorn’s counsel? He could not speak openly before the other Riders, and war is indeed approaching. As Third Marshal and warden of the East-Mark, he has withdrawn all herds and herd-folk farther into the land, with only scouts and messengers going abroad. The Rohirrim have never been allies with Mordor and never will be; indeed, Orcs have come plundering into the land, stealing black horses. The people love their steeds like their own families; now they hate Sauron worse than ever.

‘But at this time our chief concern is with Saruman. He has claimed lordship over all this land, and there has been war between us for many months. He has taken Orcs into his service, and Wolf-riders, and evil Men, and he has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to both east and west.’

It's hard dealing with such a foe, a wizard both cunning and ‘dwimmer-crafty’ (master of illusions). He roams the land, looking very like Gandalf, in fact, and his spies slip through every net. Eomer fears that Saruman even has agents in the house of the king. If the Heir of Elendil will come to the House of Eorl it will be aid indeed. Aragorn says he will come when he can, but Eomer hopes soon. Battle is even now in the Westfold.

Indeed, Eomer has left without the king’s leave, hearing that the orc-host had entered their land, some of them bearing the white badge of Saruman. Suspecting a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, he led his eored (men of his own household) out, overtook the Orcs two days ago on the borders of the Entwood, then attacked at dawn. They lost fifteen men and twelve horse, for the band they were following was joined by more Orcs from east over the river and another force from the eaves of the wood, bearing the White Hand. But now, will Aragorn join him? There are spare horses, and, if they will pardon him his rash words about the Lady of the Wood, there is work even for Gimli and Legolas to do.

Aragorn wants to go, but they must find out the fate of the hobbits. They might have escaped unseen by the Riders: they were small and wearing elven-cloaks. Eomer says it is hard to keep track of so many miracles: Halflings and Ladies and ancient swords returning. ‘How shall a man judge what to do in such times?’

‘As he has ever judged,’ said Aragorn. ‘Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear , nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house.’

He knows what he wants to do, but Eomer is not exactly free. The law is that no-one can travel through Rohan until he has seen the king and gained his leave. He’s asked Aragorn to come with him willingly; must they now fight, one hundred against three?

Aragorn says he is not unknown in Rohan, having been there before in other guise and name. He knew Theodon, and Eomund Eomer’s father as well. And if there was a fight, fewer Riders would there be to go to battle or to the king.

Eomund ponders a while, then says not only will he let them go, he will loan them horses as well. All he asks is that when their search is ended they return the horses to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras, to prove that Eomer has not misjudged him. Doing this, he puts his very life into their hands if they fail to return. Aragorn promises he will not fail.

There is some surprise when they return to the Riders and they hear Eomer’s orders. Aragorn is given a dark grey horse named Hasufel. Gimli is a little leery about getting on a horse, but Legolas says he shall ride with him on his steed, Arod. The elf has the men remove the saddle and leaps up, and to their surprise the beast is tame and willing. They lift Gimli up behind ‘and he clung to him, not much more at ease than Sam Gamgee in a boat.’

Eomer bids them return soon, and Gimli promises he certainly will come back, to teach him the better to speak of the Lady Galadriel.

‘We shall see,’ said Eomer. ‘So many strange things have chanced that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf’s axe will seem no great wonder. Farewell!’

[End of Part Two]