Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 52 |
| Across the desolation |
ErinRua asked for a meeting, at any point, between a Dúnadan and one of the Rohirrim. |
| "I cannot!" the young man gasped, and staggered. Clad in someone else's ill-fitting tabard, he trembled in mail no doubt got from the funeral carts, face pale as the White Tree he wore. His neighbor in the ranks hurriedly caught him; the white-eyed look the Gondorian turned on him was only too familiar. Learned it at Isen, he thought. "Come now, friend, a few more steps. Lean on me," Céorl coaxed. And his voice must have held some trusty note, for the lad obeyed. "Good man. Now a few more..." Arm in arm, step by step, they followed Hope east. |