Chapter 5. Into the Storm

Arwen had felt increasingly uneasy as the day progressed. In her restlessness she could not remain confined to the coach, not even to enjoy the delightful company of hobbits, but took horse, to ride beside her husband. He smiled in greeting.

 ‘We’re making good time.’

 ‘The storm is making better time, I fear,’ she answered, flashing a look behind them at the looming clouds. Turning back to him, she said, ‘Estel, my heart is dark with foreboding. I’ve not felt such dread in the face of oncoming clouds since...’

 ‘Long years you have seen, my Lady Undomiel,’ Elessar said gravely. ‘Tell me what it is that you are remembering.’

 ‘A Winter, long and terrible,’ she replied with a shudder, ‘and a Dearth following. Many died, and great was the suffering.’

 ‘The harvests have been good these past few years; the storehouses are full to bursting to the North and South,’ Elessar said. ‘Should the winter prove long and hard, we are ready.’

Arwen glanced behind them again, and the King’s eyes followed. Towering clouds reared ever higher, dark and threatening, crowned with lightning. Heavy dark streaks reached from clouds to the earth. ‘Raining hard,’ he said, and swept the plain with his keen eyes. ‘No shelter to be seen,’ he added. ‘There’s naught for it but to ride out the storm.’

 ‘Call them in,’ Arwen said suddenly, and Elessar followed her gaze to the hobbits who’d ridden ahead, racing joyously towards the far horizon. ‘Call everyone in; there is danger in the clouds and they will catch us soon!’

 ‘What danger?’ Elessar said. ‘Hail?’ But the Queen could not answer him. Abruptly he reined his horse over to where Thain and Master rode stirrup-to-stirrup in quiet conversation.

 ‘Hullo, Strider, it seems we will get a bath sooner than later,’ Pippin said pleasantly with a nod to the looming clouds.

 ‘Can you call Ferdibrand back?’ Elessar said, lifting his hand in signal, and Pippin’s eyebrows went up. The Captain of the guard rode over, and the King said, ‘Bring everyone in close; put all who’ll fit into the coaches. If damaging hail falls the guardsmen can take cover under the coaches.’

 ‘Yes, Sire,’ the Captain said, saluting, and turning away he began to shout orders.

Merry took up the silver horn that hung at his saddle and lifted it to his lips. He blew a clear call, but the racers did not slacken or turn.

 ‘They don’t hear you,’ Pippin said. He leaned forward and squeezed with his legs; his pony moved easily into a gallop as he rode in pursuit of the distant figures.

 ‘I’m right behind you, cousin,’ Merry said, securing the horn. His pony needed little encouragement to follow at speed.

 ‘They won’t be in time,’ Arwen said. She buried her fingers in her horse’s mane, whitening knuckles betraying the depth of her apprehension. King and Queen watched the pursuit in silence until the leading figures stopped at the top of a rise, which gave the followers at last a chance to catch them.

 ‘They should reach us soon after the storm breaks over us,’ Elessar said, and then his tone changed after another look at the fast-approaching clouds. ‘But you ought to be in a coach as well.’

Arwen straightened and put on her most imperious look. ‘You’re not the only one to have ridden out a storm or two in your life,’ she said.

 ‘Evenstar...’ he began, but was distracted by the sight ahead. ‘See, they’ve reached them,’ he said, ‘and all are turning back. Soon they’ll be with us.’ All around them the caravan was a bustle of preparation. Horses were being tied to picket lines in hopes the storm would not scatter them; the coaches were driven close together and staked with ropes to resist the wind; children were being hastened into the dubious safety of the coaches and guardsmen stood ready to take cover.

All jumped at the ripping sound of a nearby lightning strike; thunder boomed deafeningly in their ears. Elessar had to raise his voice against the sudden howl of the wind. ‘Into the coach!’ he shouted, leaping down from his saddle and reaching up to take Arwen. ‘Now!’ A guardsman seized the reins of their skittering horses to lead them to one of the picket lines.

As he shoved Arwen bodily into an already-crowded coach, icy pellets suddenly assaulted them and all the world dissolved into a maelstrom of whirling white.

***

 ‘Pippin!’ Pimpernel shrieked, but the sound of her voice was swallowed in the pummelling storm.

Ferdi, who’d grabbed at the near rein of his wife’s pony, now dropped his reins completely to lunge for Merry’s. ‘No!’ he shouted. ‘We have to stay together!’

Merry tried to pull away but Ferdi clung like a bulldog. ‘Pippin!’ the Master shouted. ‘Pip!’

 ‘Sound your horn!’ Ferdi bellowed. ‘Perhaps he’ll be able to follow the sound, to find us again!’

With a deep breath of icy air that burned his lungs, Merry blew a great blast, and another.

 ‘Pippin!’ Pimpernel screamed again.

Another blast from the horn, and another, and then Merry had to stop to draw breath.

 ‘We ought to reach the caravan anytime!’ Ferdi shouted.

 ‘We ought to have reached it already!’ Merry said. ‘I’m afraid we’ve missed our mark in the storm!’ He winded the horn again, then lowered it to his lap, staring into the whiteout surrounding them. ‘Perhaps Pip’s already there!’

 ‘Undoubtedly,’ Ferdi yelled. ‘He has a knack for landing on his feet!’

 ‘Pippin!’ Pimpernel cried.

  ‘Save your breath, love!’ Ferdi yelled. ‘If he didn’t hear the horn...’

 ‘No!’ her lips formed. Tears were freezing on her cheeks, but he could not spare a hand to wipe them away. If he let go Merry’s bridle his cousin would be off into the storm in vain search, and would probably be lost as well.

 ‘We’ve got to keep riding or we’ll freeze!’ Ferdi shouted now. ‘Your pony came from Rohan! Could it lead us to shelter?’ He knew from long experience the marvellous instincts of the beasts for returning to familiar safety. ‘Give him his head!’ He let go the bridle to grasp at Merry’s sleeve.

Merry loosened the reins and the pony tossed its head, snorting, before setting off in a new direction. ‘There’s a lad!’ Ferdi cried, using his knees to guide his own pony. He pulled at Pimpernel’s reins and her pony followed.

He could only hope that he was right about Pippin.