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.

"A Dunlending from Dunland," he announced.

"Those people lack organization and leadership to raid villages like this," Gimli said.

"They were not alone," Legolas said as he picked up a black, wicked-looking arrow. "Orcs were with them. Orcs belonging to Saruman, I presume."

The others continued to speak but Rowan did not hear, focused on two bodies. She headed over to find remains of a woman and child. Both bodies were horribly slashed. From how they lay, their death-scene played before Rowan's eyes like a movie: his mother sent him to run while she shielded him. Hearing his mother's cries, he looked back to see her cut down. Horror paralyzed him and he watched the invader run toward him with his mother's blood dripping from a sinister, jagged blade. The boy's eyes were frozen with terror.

Her stomach turned.

She ran as far as she could before her stomach heaved and bent her over. It didn't matter that food had been little, Rowan vomited over and over. She couldn't get the sight of the mangled bodies out of her head, or stop smelling death.

Orcs, Dunlendings, Nazgûl, Uruk-hai... the Enemy was revolting. Even with what has happened so far, Rowan hadn't truly grasped the reality of living in Middle-earth—she still went through the actions, pretending this was a movie.

Well, she had gotten her wake-up call. This was real. Whomever and whatever that served Sauron had to be stopped.

A hand touched her back. She straightened as she apologized.

"I've never come across death like that," Rowan said as she grabbed the waterskin draped across her, washed her mouth out with some water, then drank a little.

"Never?" Boromir repeated in disbelief. "Your world sounds better each day."

Getting her fill, Rowan inserted the cork and let the waterskin hang back around her. "I'm sure you see dead bodies in the war-torn countries, but not where I live. The battle scenes and corpses I've seen were on movie sets; fake. They weren't real, and I knew that. Nothing smelled either."

"Still, that sounds nice."

The high-pitched whiny of a horse pierced the quiet air. All of them looked to the west; Rowan now heard the deep rumbling of approaching horses past the crackling fire.

"Rowan?" Aragorn asked.

"That should be Éomer and the Rohirrim."

A second ticked by. "You don't seem certain..."

"I'm not."

The five hunters scattered to find a hiding spot. Rowan and Boromir ducked behind a couple of unburnt barrels; Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli hid behind an overturned wagon—all within sight of the others. The rumbling grew louder as the horsemen neared; the ground vibrated under the pounding of multiple hooves.

When the noise rumbled her ribcage, the horsemen crested the hill on the west and rode into the village. While staying hidden, Rowan peered over the barrel she crouched behind to identify the riders.

The horsemen sat tall in their saddles, blond hair under the helms blew in the wind, carried long spears, and were dressed in hardened leather breastplates and dull chain mail. They certainly resembled the Horse-lords of Rohan in the movie. A white horsetail flowed from the crest of the leader's helm. Éomer.

Catching Aragorn's eye, she nodded.

The Ranger stood from his concealment and moved away from the wagon so the riders could see him. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

With astonishing speed and skill, the Rohirrim wheeled around. Rowan and Boromir moved over to stand beside the other three and wait for the riders.

As she expected, the horsemen surrounded them, pointing spears at their necks. Some men had bows with notched arrows ready to fire. Singling himself out, Éomer rode forward.

"Who are you and what business do you have in the Riddermark?" he demanded as his eyes swept over them. "Speak quickly!"

Before anyone could respond, his head lifted in recognition. "Boromir! It pleases me to see you again. When the horse we lent you returned riderless, we feared some doom had befallen you."

The Gondorian captain bowed his head in greeting. "Well met, Éomer; though I envisioned my return to be welcomed with less hostility and suspicion," he said as he glanced around.

With the raise of a hand, the surrounding Rohirrim lifted their spears and discarded their bows. Éomer dismounted, removed his helm, and Rowan met the hardy and serious Karl Urban. Was there anyone in Middle-earth that hadn't been accurately portrayed by an actor and wasn't attractive? Elf, man, dwarf... even Gimli was alluring because of his charm!

"Who are your companions?" Éomer asked.

"This is Rowan, lady of Gondor, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Gimli, son of Glóin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

His eyes landed on each as Boromir introduced them, but his gaze returned to Rowan after the Gondorian finished. She wasn't sure what his look entailed—maybe he didn't believe Boromir's title he gave her, but his eyes twinkled. Wyatt used to give her that look all the time when they started dating.

An enamored one.

Embarrassed, but flattered, Rowan cast her eyes down.

"Men, an elf, a dwarf, and a woman... Strange days these are to witness such a party." Éomer faced Boromir. "Tell me, what has become of your journey to Imladris and why have you returned to Rohan?"

Boromir stepped closer to her, like he meant to block the horseman's sight of her. "My business in Rivendell, I cannot say, but need has driven us into the Riddermark."

Irritation in his voice surprised Rowan. They had been cordial, but perhaps Éomer's hostile greeting annoyed him. His protective stance spoke differently, though. She picked up defensiveness in the Gondorian captain...

"We track a party of Uruk-hai," Aragorn finished for him. "They have taken two of our friends captive."

Éomer's brows lifted. "Uruks? On the Plains?"

His reaction scared Rowan. "You haven't encountered them?"

The Third Marshal of the Riddermark looked at her. "No, my lady. I assure you, if we had, that filth would've been destroyed."

She looked at Aragorn. Fear for Merry and Pippin shook her voice. "We need to go."

He nodded, then addressed Éomer, "Which direction is Fangorn?"

"East. Thirty leagues lay between you and the forest. Speed is needed if you wish to reach there with the light." Éomer whistled as he turned. "Nárind. Hasufel. Arod."

Three horses trotted toward them—Hasufel as the dark gray stallion given to Aragorn, the white one being Arod Legolas and Gimli ride, and Nárind was a reddish-brown horse almost like Rowan's hair. She and Boromir would probably share him. "May they bear you well and to better fortune than their late masters."

He stopped them from mounting with a raised hand. "First, were you able to search for survivors?"

Gimli answered, "We found none."

"As I feared. Days no longer favor Rohan." Éomer looked over his shoulder. "Gather the dead!" Most of the Rohirrim broke off from the group and rode into the village to do so.

The Third Marshal faced them again. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands. May we meet again. Farewell." Éomer's eyes drifted to hers before he dipped his head in parting then donned his own helm as he returned to his horse, mounted, and he and the rest of the Rohirrim headed for the village.

Legolas leaped up on Arod with the astonishing lightness of the elves, and Aragorn helped hoist Gimli up before mounting Hasufel. Rowan gestured for Boromir to mount Nárind.

"You wish to ride with me?" he asked as he put a foot in the stirrup and swung himself up.

"We Gondorians must stick together," Rowan said as she used his hand to swing up behind him. While wrapping her arms around his waist to hold on, she blushed hard. She's done this many times before with male actors. Why was she so nervous now?

Boromir chuckled as he pulled on Nárind's reins to turn and follow Aragorn.