An Ode for Cruelty

Legolas could tell that Faelwen was forcing herself to stay at the back of the group, in a vain attempt to give her ribs time to heal. Even still, he could just imagine the loss of pride, of dignity, at running slower than a Dwarf for so long. Especially when said Dwarf was huffing, puffing and rambling louder than a particular set of two drunk Hobbits. He looked back at her, an annoyed, and obviously exaggerated, frown marring her face as Gimli ranted to her about the necessity of breathing. When Faelwen noticed his eyes she smirked slightly before giving an overstated, silent groan. Legolas smiled at her, partially for the joke, mostly because she was now running without any pain. Two days after adjusting her bandage, Legolas could see the improvement in her condition; her breathing, though still gaspy when she pushed herself, had begun to even out and the bruise that he insisted on checking once a day was fading rapidly, now a mottled yellow-green instead of deep purple.

Aragorn lay, head on the ground, listening careful to the earth. His senses rivaling that of many Elves, the ranger listened intently to the rumbling of distant footsteps echoing up through the barren stone. Legolas stood close by him, eyes scanning the distance.
Aragorn's head snapped up, "Their pace has quickened. They must have caught our scent. Hurry!"
Gimli began to grumble again, "Three days and nights pursuit, no food, no rest, no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell..."
His voice trailed off in a mumbled and tired rant.
Faelwen laughed, walking beside the bearded man slowly and steadily up the sheer hill that their friends stood atop, "Of all of us here, should you not trust in rocks the most, Master Dwarf?"
Aragorn glanced back at her, a deathly seriousness in his eyes. Faelwen sighed, breaking into a brisk jog, not daring to push herself to run any faster.

Little conversation passed between the group as they pushed their bodies to their limits, each growing tired and sore; each sill straining to hunt down the beasts that held their friends. Legolas let Faelwen's condition slip to the back of his mind, knowing now that she was doing at least as well as Gimli, concentrating instead on tracking their foes. At that moment, as weariness and aching muscles and joints began to take their toll, an image of hope like no other appeared. Aragorn furrowed his brow, kneeling down to pick something broken and dirtied up off the ground. In his hand he grasped the trampled brooch of one of the Fellowships cloaks, given to them in Lothlorien.
Amazement filled his voice, "Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall."
Legolas looked back to him, then quickly to Faelwen with a joyous grin on his face, "They may yet be alive."
Faelwen opened her mouth to speak, Aragorn cut her off, "Less than a day ahead of us. Come."
Something in the command made Faelwen's blood boil. She quickly buried her anger, however, as a loud 'oof!' followed by a thud sounded behind her. She turned quickly, seeing Gimli pulling himself up off the ground slowly. Legolas kept moving to stop himself from laughing at his Dwarven friend.
"Come, Gimli. We're gaining on them!" He yelled happily, the first truly happy tone his voice had taken in many days.
Faelwen waited for Gimli to catch up to her before she continued running almost immediately regretting it. He started ranting, another nonsensical plot-line that would have served him better as air saved in his lungs.
"I'm wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinter. Very dangerous on a short distance."
Faelwen held back both a burst of laughter and a groan as she continued running.

Half a day went by. Frustration flowed thickly through the veins of every member of the party. Faelwen's body was exhausted, she could feel her breath becoming ragged and gaspy as she pushed herself to continue. Ashamed of her injury and too proud to ask for help she ran, only slightly ahead of Gimli teeth clenched together and hands coiled into tight fists. She ran along, ignoring everything around her while frustration acted like a poison, causing her to become like an angered snaked coiled and waiting to strike. As she arrived atop a long hill, she came to a stand still beside Aragorn. They had reached Rohan without catching the Uruk'Hai and it bothered her to no end. They definitely should have caught up to them by now.
He let out an aggravated sigh, "Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us."
Faelwen nodded, glad to know that someone shared her frustration. For some reason she couldn't fathom, though, she loathed that the one sharing it was Aragorn.

Aragorn turned his head to Legolas, standing a few feet ahead of them, staring out across the plains of Rohan, "Legolas! What do your Elf-eyes see?"
Without turning back to them, Legolas face became worried, his voice shaken, "The Uruk's turned north-east," His worry grew worse, his tone became urgent, "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"
Faelwen hissed the same name that Aragorn muttered thoughtfully, "Saruman."
Gimli reached the top of the hill huffing and puffing heavily. He looked between his friends, the looks on their faces ranging from worry to thought to rage.
"Guessing you figured out something important," He glanced between the three, all still and silent as statutes. He groaned and grumbled out, "Just let me catch my breath and we'll be on our way."