The Hunt

Falling to her knees in exhaustion, the young woman bent forward, wheezing with the effort. It was a chance that that her stomach was empty else she would have expelled all its content. She had gone too far, pushed her limits too much, and there was little more she could do now to get back on her feet. The strain was too great for her and for one of the first time in her life Frances surrendered, accepting defeat with a bitter heart. All her training in Interpol could not have prepared her to this.

As tough as she was, her body was failing. She could not compete with the lightness of Legolas's feet, nor the stubborn stamina of Gimli's stomping, nor even the improved resistance of a greater man like Aragorn. A reminder of how Numenor's blood was still strong and alive in the Dunedain's veins. His feet were lighter than hers, despite his hundred and eighty pounds. His ancestor being of elven kind had probably something to do with that. Stopping her spiralling thoughts for a moment, Frances lifted her head and squinted; the trio was quickly moving away from her.

Strider was the first to realise than one set of footsteps did not echo anymore on the moss, the lightest of her two companions. It was as he had feared. Being of the race of men himself, only the ranger understood the burden of a rather ineffective body. As much as Gimli complained, dwarves' stamina was still much better than the one of men. As for Legolas, he had sure showed some concern for their young companion, but he was now scouting ahead at a fair distance. Elves did not rest so much, and their weightless bodies allowed them to perform unimaginable things. Aragorn himself was exhausted, despite his many years as a ranger and wandering around with the twins. Elladan and Elrohir never got tired, and they had been the hell of teachers. How he missed them now that the fellowship had broken !

A quick glance at the young woman indicated that she was totally spent; there was no hope. She had probably pushed past her limits until the end. It was a miracle that she had not collapsed, and he could not help but salute her strength of will. The ranger turned around and retreated until he reached her. He knew that her quick mind would have understood the implications of her failure. The veil in her eyes said it all.

Frances had never looked more miserable, even after days and days of walking, nothing had been so hard on her than this hunt. Her reddish face showed great pain, and the sweat that rolled down from her damp hair quickly lost its temperature, leading her to shiver. She was slowly regaining her composure as breath came back to her. Her wildly beating heart was colouring her cheeks in a bright red crimson colour, a colour that was quite unsettling.

Aragorn kept his arms on hers, and she rested her hands upon his shoulders. Finally, Frances' eyes met his, and he was shocked to see the wisdom that laid deep down her soul. She knew, and had the strength to accept it because no other solution was possible. She would be the sacrifice to the cause, and even in her state of utter exhaustion her spirit was still clear enough to comprehend it. There was also fear in her eyes.

What her face would not show her eyes told him, and Aragorn's heart broke at the thought that he could not reassure her. He that wanted so badly to deny the difficult truth but could not. Why had this burden befallen upon him?

Heavy footsteps echoed around them, and he knew that their companions had joined them now. Both of them would have a hard time accepting what needed to be done, because none of them had considered it. Such was the privilege of not being the leader.

— "Are you hurt my lady?", came Legolas' concerned voice as he watched her, searching for potential injuries.

Had it been any other time, Frances would have smiled at this stubborn use of 'my lady'. No matter how many times she had protested, the elf still insisted on calling her by this old-fashioned title. Even Aragorn had come to call her by her name now. But today, she held no heart for laughing. And if she was being truthful, it felt like said heart would not last the day.

— "No" answered Frances shakily, hating herself for sounding so weak, "but I can go no further".

— "What is the problem?", asked Gimli, not understanding the issue.

— "I cannot keep up with this pace. I am spent…", she admitted with shame.

— "Surely we can rest for a bit then," puffed the dwarf, not willing to admit that a serious problem was at hand.

— "Rest we can for a few minutes if you need," said their leader's soft voice, "but I'm afraid that it will not be enough."

Silence met Aragorn's statement, as if they were afraid to delve further into the issue. Yet somebody had to do it. Somebody had to state the hurtful fact that they could not continue this hunt together.

— "You must leave me behind" stated Frances, her voice so even this time that it seemed casual.

But her tone did not fool Legolas whose protest came straight from the heart.

— "No! We cannot leave a companion here in the open, especially with the orcs running through the land freely!"

— "Legolas" attempted the ranger.

— "Never in a thousand years have I abandoned a friend. I cannot abide to this. We must carry her."

— "It will only exhaust you and get us killed when the battle comes," sighed Frances, feeling dizzy and pressing one palm to her throbbing forehead.

— "I can manage where you cannot," he said stubbornly. "I am an elf, I can run further or faster than any of you."

A storm was coming, dividing them, making them weaker. Frances could accept none of this, and even less a fight to tarnish such a strong friendship. This had to end.

— "Have you ever abandoned one of your friends in battle Aragorn?", she asked.

— "Never" said he, his voice gentle and eyes sincere.

She was still panting, and her chest hurt terribly after the strain, so the tirade that came next turned quite hard on her, but it was by all means necessary.

— "None of you are betrayers and cowards, but today Merry and Pippin need you. If they reach Saruman their doom is settled and my heart cannot bear the thought to have abandoned them to such a fate. I cannot go further and I am delaying you. Do not protest for I know this. I am of the tenth who swore to fulfil this mission no matter what. My body is failing me. You must go, free the hobbits and keep the knowledge of the ring hidden. This is your sacred duty. You hold the future of this world in your hands."

As she spoke, the young redhead seemed to get a bit of her fire back, and her eyes searched her three companions' gaze as she made her point. It was capital that all of them saw the necessity of what had to be done, but the elf's angry stare intimidated her enough to make her pause. The feelings pouring out of him were so strong, like steam out of a boiling kettle. Never had Frances felt such a turmoil coming from him. It distracted her for a while, and she took a deep breath before adding:

— "Do not give up, or none of this will be in vain. Gandalf and Boromir's death will be meaningless if you cannot do this. I refuse to be the cause of failure…"

As her words sunk down into the little group, Frances laid her head back against Aragorn's shoulder, letting his strength soothe her soul one last time. His hand came upon her back, like a promise to go on no matter what. That was it. Once they would be gone, Frances would be an easy prey. They all knew it. But there was so little choice. Gimli was silent, huffing and puffing nonetheless. He wanted to suggest staying, but it would be diminishing their chances to get the hobbits back. He knew that Frances was right, but it still was heartbreaking to leave her behind. Would it not be trading one problem for another if she was the one caught?

Mustering all her courage, Frances gently pushed the ranger's shoulder away from her. Standing straight and tall, she stated:

— "You must go now."

In her eyes shone an iron resolve.

"Then I will see you soon lass," concluded the dwarf with a nod as she bowed to him with a semi smile.

If there was something that she loved in the dwarf's character, it was his incredible ability to trust her judgement and abide by her decisions. He had accepted her as a full part of this fellowship, and as a warrior companion. He turned around, leaving his companions behind, but his hand passed gently across the elf's arm.

- "Come, Legolas", he said without turning back. "Our companions are depending on our aid."

This acceptation strained the elf's patience. Legolas clenched his jaws so hard that he felt his teeth would pop out. He could not accept to leave her to this impending doom. But no choice was left, and even he would have to see it at a time.

Better sooner than later, she thought. Aragorn was already shuffling into his things, making a small bundle containing food and medicine. As he worked, he explained how to get in a safe place as soon as possible.

— "Head for Edoras. I'll come back for you as soon as Merry and Pippin are safe."

Frances nodded and he gave her the bundle under the stricken blue eyes of his elven friend.

— "Be safe" he said, his arms supporting her as he plunged his guilty gaze into hers.

— "You are doing the right thing."

— "I wish it felt that way", he sighed,

— "Find them, and it will be worth it. I will take care of myself and head for Edoras".

— "I'll meet you there" he promised.

And then he did something very surprising before letting her go. Crushing her against him in a bear hug, he landed a swift kiss in her hair and whispered.

— "Please, be careful."

If Frances had had some energy left, she might have cried from such tenderness. But fortunately, she was too exhausted to realise that a ranger had just hugged her in despair.

— "Always am," she smiled sadly.

Legolas was facing her but his eyes were not seeing. The deepness of his gaze showed that he had taken refuge elsewhere. She could not blame him for resting a bit, but Frances felt nonetheless disappointed that she did not get to say goodbye. Anyway, she needed to sleep. So she took the leather purse and strapped the string above her shoulder. None of them knew if they would see each other someday, and if her instincts tended to say yes, her reason seemed to think otherwise. She would soon be an exhausted prey over a dangerous land, nothing to be really thrilled about. She addressed her friends a quick nod, a gentle dismissal to release them.