Far from his familiar halls of stone, among companions newly bound by peril and by oath, Gimli now hastened across the vast plains of Rohan. The Fellowship was sundered, its purpose scattered, and the fate of two young hobbits now lay in orcish hands. Grief and wrath were kindled together, and a grim resolve lay heavy upon his brow. The hour had come for pursuit; for the hunt, unrelenting, until reckoning was made.
Legolas raised his eyes and searched the plains before them, keen and far-seeing; while the Ranger stooped to the ground and studied the marks close at hand, the Elf looked beyond, striving to pierce the leagues that still lay between them and their quarry. For many days they had hunted without pause, yet still the trail ran on, and with each hour the peril of the captive hobbits grew heavier upon their hearts. But Legolas did not falter; swift and tireless, he pressed on.
