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・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
AS WE RODE through the lands I began to wonder why I had even accepted to come to the council meeting in the first place. Being home tucked in bed sounded really nice right now.
My thoughts were suddenly cut off by Theoden's booming voice, "Grimbold, how many?" Théoden's voice echoed through the camp, cutting through the din of preparations.
"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my Lord," Grimbold's response was steady, though I could sense the weight of responsibility in his tone.
Gamling stepped forward next, his expression serious. "We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, my Lord." Théoden's concern was evident as he pressed for more information. "Where are the riders from Snowbourn?"
My heart sank at Gamling's answer. "None have come, my Lord."
Perched atop a small rise, Théoden surveyed the army below, his posture tense with worry. "Six thousand spears. Less than half of what I'd hoped for," he murmured, his frustration evident. Aragorn's words were grim, underscoring the dire situation. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor."
Théoden's resolve remained unbroken, despite the odds. "More will come," he asserted, his voice carrying a note of determination. Aragorn's gaze met Théoden's with steely resolve. "Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn. Then we must ride."
I nodded in agreement, my mind racing with the weight of our impending task. Suddenly, a horse nearby reared up, its unease mirroring the tension that permeated the camp.
"The horses are restless, and the men are quiet," Legolas observed, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings. "They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," Éomer remarked, his tone reflective of the gravity of our situation.
Gimli's attempt to lighten the mood drew a faint smile from me. "That road there, where does that lead?" Legolas's response was tinged with a sense of foreboding. "It is the road to the Dimholt; the door under the mountain."
Éomer's warning sent a shiver down my spine. "None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil."
As Aragorn's gaze followed the path, he caught sight of a shadowy profile, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.
"Aragorn, let's find some food," Gimli suggested, his gruff voice breaking the tension with a touch of humor. "As long as it's not troll food, I'm in!" I quipped, chuckling.
Gimli chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "No promises, lass. But I'll make sure it's fit for a Faerie!"
