A/N: My thanks to recent reviewers Kittenmommy, Darlene5 & Sliven!

Um, yeah...I'm thinking Grima'll be around for this one... I mean, how could I leave such a fascinating character out??? ^_~

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The Nightmare - Part 20

by Bex

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Radagast had said earlier, with quiet pride, that Edis was stronger than one might assume at first glance.

Well, now the Mearas was going to get to prove it - by staying ahead of a huge army, launched months 'early', across the plains to Edoras, in time to warn a king enthralled to the very wizard who'd sent forth his troops to destroy the Rohrrim.

I'd tried to convince the Istar to let me off, not to burden Edis or himself. Surely they would travel faster, gain the crucial time they needed without me?

But he'd refused my suggestion, with a quiet stubbornness - in no way would he abandon me, leave me somewhere in the midst of all this. I resisted the urge to put my face in my hands. Damned Stubborn Istar. And I wanted no more part in this story.

But the story now seemed determined to drag me along in its wake.

Perhaps because I still found myself unable to shut up regarding what I 'knew' about the history of the conflict unfolding around us. For even as the narrative's shape twisted out of its 'original' form... much of the pattern still seemed to hold true.

Our only real advantage was that as large a force as Saruman had just unleashed could not move as quickly as a Mearas. (Not that much in Arda could.) It would, Radagast predicted, take at least two days for them to cross the plains.

So, after we'd circled around to give us a sufficient buffer zone, we struck out, wading into an open sea of yellow strewn with green - the winter's dead grasses, now being overtaken by new growth.

Edis now loped with apparent effortlessness over the grassland that stretched from horizon to horizon, broken by occasional boulders and small scraggly bushes. I clung to his mane, and behind me sat Radagast, his trust and ease with his steed such that he seemed lost in thought, his mind somewhere far away, leaving Edis to find his own way back home.

I hoped Radagast was thinking of what to do if King Theoden was as badly bespelled here as he'd been in Tolkien's tale, and told him so.

He surfaced with a blink and an "Eh?"

"How much did they tell you about the situation in Rohan?"

"Mithrandir sketched me a brief picture."

I nodded, then felt foolish, as he of course couldn't see my face.

"At the time, of course, what he told me was based upon the information coming from you."

What, me defensive? His tone of voice hadn't even been insinuative. That much. But. "Well, it might not be the exact story here, but if it is...what then?" I challenged.

"As I was about to say, that information that you supplied was, as it turns out, recently confirmed."

"Which part? Parts?"

"It was from Edoras that I recently returned in time to meet you," he told me and I ahhhed inwardly. "Under the guise of an errand for Saruman, I saw for myself how it goes in Medusaled, saw the forked tongue that speaks in Theoden's name."

I sighed. Yes, it was as bad as in the book. Theoden was batty, and Grima Wormtongue obviously lurked.

*****

Radagast explained that all of Rohan's settlements sat in the shadows of the White Mountains that curved protectively around one edge of the plains. Even as they and their horses roamed the grasslands freely, the Rohrrim always retreated back to the sheltering arms of the Ered Nimrais where their villages lay, usually hidden away in narrow valleys.

At the end of this day's ride, by eschewing Edoras for the moment and angling staight across the plains, we would reach the closest of those settlements, a hamlet called Durswen. Possibly we would be able to send on word, at least ensure that a warning would be carried to the other villages nearby. They would probably heed and take precautions where Theoden might balk. Raids by Orcs and Dunlanders were more common in the borderlands, the people more wary, quick to take action in their own defense.

After that, we would travel on to Edoras.

As my companion described our destination and its people, I found myself respecting such a common-sensical, practical, tough attitude.

Which was just as well, as I was about to see it nicely demonstrated against us.

*****

Hours later, as sunlight slanted low behind us and the White mountains stood arrayed before us, we'd left the plains proper and were cantering through small patches of woodland.

Slowing down to a trot, we had just begun to descend a gentle slope, had gotten about, oh, a hundred feet or so, when we were challenged. A voice sharply called out:

"Halt! Who rides abroad in the Riddermark?"

Edis stopped, alert, expectant. I say he stopped, for Radagast seldom seemed to direct him, and he didn't have any chance to 'control' him in this instance.

I saw no one in sight. And that creeped me out; we were being watched, not knowing how many there might be hidden around us. Definitely at a disadvantage.

My companion, with a glance at me as I turned to look searchingly at him, answered for us both. "Radagast the Brown, Istar of the White Council. The Lady Sarah Deccker."

Several long moments of silence. Then: "What is your purpose here?"

"To visit with the headman of your village. And warn you all of the danger following behind us, a danger to all of Rohan."

An even longer silence that somehow took on a tense, strained quality--

No, wait - that was me.

Then: "We shall escort you." And four riders of the Mark appeared. They came from behind the copse of trees and several large boulders nearby - whoever had called out to us was one heck of a projector.

They were indeed stern, and proud, tall and scruffy. Most were bearded, and all wore helms, which along with the chain-mail armor draped over various areas had seen much use. Their steeds swung their heads towards Edis, as if recognizing a seldom-seen friend. He in turn whickered softly, before settling down, moving easily between our flanking escort as we moved down into the valley.

An escort, which, I realized then, we couldn't have escaped even if we'd wanted to.

I decided not to dwell upon what they might have done to us had we not 'passed' their challenge.

*****

It was not large, this northernmost village of the Mark. A simple farming settlement, plots of various crops set alongside small wooden houses and barns, with a slightly larger cluster of buildings, including a long, thatched structure, in the center.

It was to that largest building, now slanting long early evening shadows behind it, that we made our way now. Down a lane, past a few interested villagers who paused to stare, then talk quietly among themselves.

But no one called out, no one laughed or joked; there was an air of....solemnity, of caution, even of discipline here. As if the villagers already knew that dark doings were afoot, independent of any news we brought. And had no time left for foolish merriment.

We dismounted, me again painfully stiff and sore - it would take more than a day or two for me to become toughened to hours of riding. I tried to hide a grimace, but failed, as one of our escort glanced my way.

"You are hurt?"

I almost grimaced again, out of self-consciousness. No, I just can't ride for sh*t, in a land where the people have practically grown up on horses...

I shook my head. "I'm all right. Thank you."

For asking, I meant. He looked at me a few moments longer, as if puzzled, before turning away.

Fortunately, one thing we could be sure of was that Edis would receive the finest care here. Plus, from the reverent manner in which they were treating him, they knew he was one from their finest stock. He was coaxed away, along with the rest of the horses, as our group stepped into the long-house.

For that was what it was, I saw instantly, once inside. A meeting-hall, their version of a town hall.

Wooden beams, plenty of open space, torches in brackets. A large fireplace was at the far end. Near which sat a long table, and in a chair at one far end of that...sat a man, with several others loitering around nearby, a couple seated, one standing near the fireplace as if in casual conversation.

The headman, I decided. He had an air of authority, had gotten the best seat, the others obviously deferring to him.

We drew near, as those talking noticed our approach and turned to regard us.

Arriving, we stopped. And then Radagast said, politely, 'Hail, Theodred, Theoden's Heir!"

And I blinked as the blonde, bearded man standing near the fireplace (not the one seated at the table's end) lifted his gaze slightly, acknowledging the Istar's greeting, and peered at us both quite keenly, indeed.

And I thought: Oh, yeah...he's not dead yet... is he?

~End Part 20~