Night was coming. On the surrounding woods, an opaque mist was falling, extending to the pale banks of the Anduin, the great river.

In the clear sky, the crescent moon gradually rose to the east.

The four companions had arrived at the foot of high rocky hills and had slowed down. The trail was getting harder.

At this point, the Emyn Muil highlands ran from north to south in two long, sharp ridges.

The west side of each ridge was steep and difficult to climb, but the slopes were gentler, with many narrow corridors and ravines.

The four companions played with their hands and feet all night on this bare ground, climbing up to the crest of the first, highest ridge, and then down the other side into the darkness of a deep valley.

There, in the silent and cold hour before dawn, they rested for a brief moment.

The moon had long since descended before them, the stars were twinkling above their heads, the first light of day had not yet appeared along the black hills they had passed.

For the time being, Aragorn was disorientated: the Orcs' trail went down into the valley, but there it had disappeared.

-Which way do you think they would go? asked Legolas. North to take a straighter path to Isengard or Fangorn, if that's their goal as you think? Or to the south to take a dip in the Gash?

-They won't head for the river, whatever their purpose, Aragorn said. And unless things are going very badly in Rohan and Saruman's power is greatly increased, they will take the shortest way through the fields of Rohirrim. Let's look north!

The valley was sinking and a stream was flowing in small nets among the pebbles at the bottom.

A cliff rose darkly to their right, on their left rose the grey slopes, fading into the shadows of the late night.

They travelled another mile or more northwards.

After a while, Aragorn found the tracks of the killer whales.

-At last! Said Aragorn. These are the tracks we are looking for! Along this bed:

...this is where the Orcs went after their deliberation.

Hurriedly, then, the pursuers turned to follow the new path. As if refreshed by a night of rest, they sprang from stone to stone.

They eventually reached the top of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew through their hair and agitated their capes: the cold wind of dawn.

Turning around, they saw the distant burning hills beyond the river.

The day glowed in the sky.

The red outline of the sun rose above the reliefs of the dark earth.

In front of them in the west, the world lay silent, grey and formless, but as they looked, the shadows of the night faded away, the colours of the earth as it woke up again:

Green flooded the vast meadows of Rohan, white mists shimmered in the watery valleys, and in the distance to the left, thirty leagues or more away, rose the White Mountains, blue and purple, with their dark peaks crowned by glistening snow, pinkish in the morning glow.

-Gondor! Gondor! Aragorn cried out. I wish to heaven I could see you again in a happier hour! It is not yet that my road goes south to your clear rivers.

Gondor! Gondor between the Mountains and the Sea!

The West Wind was blowing there, the light on the Silver Tree.

Falling like the brilliant rain in the gardens of the Kings of old.

O proud walls! White towers! O winged crown and golden throne!

O Gondor, Gondar! Shall Men see the Silver Tree!

Or will the West Wind still blow between the Mountains and the Sea?

-Come on, now! Says Elenwë. Every moment spent reduces our chances of success...

Stripping his eyes from the contemplation of the South, Aragorn looked to the West and North at the road he had to travel.

The mountain on which the companions stood was descending steeply before their feet.

Below, at about forty metres, there was a wide ledge that ended abruptly at the edge of a steep cliff: the East Wall of Rohan.

Thus ended the Emyn Muil, and the green plains of Rohirrim stretched before them as far as the eye could see.

-Look at it! said Legolas. That cloud of dust! It must be them! You were right, Aragorn! They are heading for Isengard. Saruman's Feline!

-How long have they been with us? Asked Gimli then.

-Looks like two days' march no more. What do you think, Elenwë?

-I would say the same, but the flatness of the plain distorts our estimates.

-The eyes of the elves are not infallible! Gimli laughed openly.

-My dear dwarf master," said Aragorn, "know that every race in this land has its advantages and weaknesses!

-I know that, my friend. But I think Elenwë is right. Let us leave as soon as possible.

They still ran all morning before Elenwë said suddenly:

-"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!

They stopped and the young elf ran to something on the ground.

She returned to her companions, holding an elven brooch similar to theirs in the palm of her hand.

-They are alive! Aragorn murmured. Orcs couldn't have touched this elven object without being very badly injured!

-They are only a day away from us now! Legolas exclaimed. We are shortening the distance, that's good!

-Let's not stop! Gimli said. My axe is ready to split their hideous skulls.

They set off again, with a certain amount of hope in their hearts.

They hoped to see their beloved Hobbit companions again soon.