"Halt, by orders of the King. Halt, trespassers!"

Weary as they were, Merry had hoped for a better greeting as the Rohirrim approached under a bright sun. They had spied the three horsemen in the distance and hoped they might at least assure them that they walked in the proper direction.

The horses surrounded them, standing far above their heads. Warriors sat upon them silently, staring at the two as if they had changed from stone to flesh before them. One of them dismounted, removing his helm to reveal long fair braids. Like his fellow warriors, a shield hung from his back. His skirt of mail rustled as he approached them.

The tall man looked at them closely, then focused on Gimli. "You appear as a dwarf to my eyes, though I have never laid eyes upon one. So, I ask, what business has a dwarf walking across Rohan with a child?" he said sternly, yet there was caution in his voice.

Before Gimli could respond, Merry spoke. "Child? Gimli, they think me a child—of a Man!"

"Hush, Merry!" The dwarf turned back to the leader. "My friend here, if I may, is not a child of Men. He is a hobbit, full-grown, mind you. You might know his kind as halflings."

The men about them frowned and looked to one another. "Hobbit?" the captain said, carefully sounding the word. "You do not mean holbytlan? Those folk of legends?" His voice took on a note of astonishment, then promptly lost it. "I assure you this is not a time for jests." He sternly stepped over to Merry, peering at him closely.

"No one here jests, sir, I assure you," Merry said to his inspection. "Look! Surely no Men have such feet as this! These are hobbit feet!" Merry raised one hairy foot out of the tall grass. "See? Hobbits."

The Rohan warrior brought his gaze down to Merry's feet, while Merry wondered if Men had any hair on their feet at all, that he might still think him a child of Men. The man's expression changed then from suspicion to wonder as he looked upon him again. He said something in his own language, repeating the word holbytla. One of his men responded in what sounded like disbelief. He nodded, then turned to stare at Merry and Gimli.

"Out of legend walk a holbytla and a dwarf who appears to have seen better days. But now I must advise you that you wander in the land of Rohan where no strangers may walk without permission from the king."

"Yes!" Merry said, unable to wait any longer. "We've come a long way to speak to your king. We have urgent news!"

"Merry! I will tell them, if you please."

The man scowled at Gimli. "Do you not trust your friend to state your purpose? Or do you not trust him to speak the right words?" The man looked down at Merry with sharp eyes. "The holbytla will speak."

Merry's stomach fluttered suddenly under the man's gaze. He wished to correct him as to what to call him, but he feared angering the warrior. Besides, the word he used for hobbits was unusually familiar sounding, and so, oddly comforting.

"What is your name? And what is your business here?"

"Eh, I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry to my friends, of Brandy Hall in the Shire. And this is Gimli, son of Gloín. We've come—We've a message—" he faltered, suddenly unsure where to start. He knew he must not reveal Aragorn's heritage, and he was sure they wouldn't like any mention of Saruman. He looked at Gimli desperately.

"Go ahead, Merry. Tell him where we have been and what befell us. Then tell him what we have learned."

Merry took a breath and began his story. "Right. We've come from Isengard, sir—"

"Isengard?" A look of suspicion returned to the men's faces.

"Yes, Isengard, as prisoners, sir. You see, my cousin Pippin and I, we were captured by orcs on the banks of the Anduin. While orcs marched us across Rohan, our friends, Gimli here one of them, tracked us. They never gave up, for they were going to free us, no matter the danger."

Merry was dismayed to find his throat tightening and sighed to clear his mind. "But they were injured and captured by the orcs as well. We were all taken to Isengard then for Saruman to decide our fate."

"Saruman!" cried the leader of the Rohirrim. "He has claimed the western lands of Rohan, and closed the Gap to us. He would have all of Rohan as his if we did not fight for it."

"You are right on that account! Pippin, my cousin, overheard as Saruman made his hideous plans when he was forced to be his servant. He made us work if we did not wish to be tortured. Some of us were tortured all along." Merry looked at Gimli as he thought of those they'd left behind.

The man looked at Gimli for a moment, taking in his appearance and the shackles still about his wrists. "And these others that sought to free you?"

Merry lowered his head, dreading to speak of them. "They remain in Orthanc. Since I was made a servant, too, I could move around. And so I was able to find our escape and take Gimli with me. But... we had to leave behind the others—my cousin, a man, and an elf."

"A man and an elf? Strange friends you have, Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire," the tall man said, struggling over the strange name. "But loyal friends indeed, if they suffered so for you."

Merry's eyes welled with tears. He nodded and tried to regain his control.

"We did suffer," Gimli added quietly, "and we would again. These hobbits are dear to us."

The Rohirric captain turned to the dwarf. "These others, the second holbytla and those who would travel all of Rohan for their friends, you left these loyal friends at Isengard?"

"By no choice of our own!" Gimli cried. "We could not free them in time on our own. We are in need of aid to free them."

The captain's eyes narrowed in suspicion once more and he took a step toward them. "I see! You seek to bring others to Isengard, undoubtedly never to return, to serve your Master or perish. Likely, you had no doubts in accepting him as your Master. I see your trickery now!"

"No!" Merry cried, and the rest came out in a rush. "You do not understand. We did not have time to free our friends because we needed to come to Rohan and warn you. Saruman plans an attack upon Edoras. He has gathered hundreds upon hundreds of orcs and they march to Edoras even now.

"He aims to speak to the king and put forth a plan to face Sauron, but it's all trickery and lies! Three days past they began preparations, and we knew we had to escape to warn the king of Rohan. That's why we had to leave our friends. We don't even know if they'll be alive by the time we can return for them—" Merry stopped, struggling to squash the sob in his throat. Gimli patted him on the back, and he buried his face in his friend's shoulder.

The stern captain was silent. After what seemed a long time, he spoke to his men, and Merry listened without understanding. Finally, he turned to them. "Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire, and Gimli son of Gloín, I am Ealward, and my men and I shall take to you to Edoras to inform our king as you ask. Do not expect answers there. But we will decide then what to make of your words."

A warrior pulled Merry upon his horse while another did the same with Gimli. They were about to begin the journey to Edoras when Gimli cried out.

"What have you there? You," Gimli pointed with no attempt at courtesy, "where did you get that weapon? By Durin's beard, that does not belong to you!"

The man looked disgruntled by Gimli's gruff accusation, then turned to where the dwarf pointed. Merry's heart leapt as he saw what the captain's horse carried among his rider's belongings: a long, elegantly carved bow. "This bow was found discarded in the grass many leagues from here. The quiver and a traveling pack lay not far away, along with a sword made with great care. But none are weapons of Dwarves."

"Why would they be?" Gimli said, a smile growing on his bruised face. "They are the weapons of an elf and a man! My friends have used them in many a battle. The elf would be grateful to you for the rest of his immortal life if he could hold that bow once more, for it was a gift from the Lady of Lothlórien, and it is dear to him, as is that sword to the Man to whom it belongs."

The captain Ealward narrowed his eyes at Gimli, then looked at the bow. "The Lady of the Golden Wood? What business does this elf have with that sorceress?"

Gimli narrowed his eyes. "I would have a care with the words you use for what is beyond your understanding."

Ealward looked surprised at Gimli's reaction. Merry could only think him lucky that Gimli was in no condition to proffer threats. "And you have more understanding of the Lady of the Wood?"

"Aye, though none could likely understand her fully. I do know she has more beauty than your eyes could likely bear to witness and grace to match. I will not hear her maligned."

The rider looked at Gimli with a strange expression. "Very well, then. Mayhap you will share with me later your knowledge of the Lady of the Wood. For we only know that the wood is bewitched and none who pass through return unchanged, if they return at all." He turned his horse. "We return to Meduseld!"