They rode out of the Helm�s Deep valley as the sun was just coming over the mountains, exploding into a brilliant medley of vibrant golden, rose, and purple hues. Aldamir lifted his face gladly to the pure sunlight; he had not seen the sun like this since before he left L�rien for Helm�s Deep. He was clad in his L�rien garments, a warm grey tunic made of the fabric Galadriel�s maidens had woven, and his dark blue cloak which had now been repaired of the damage it suffered during the battle of Helm�s Deep. His armor he had left behind, but he had chosen a shirt of chain mail from the armoury of the Keep and taken it with; a very finely-woven shirt, not of Rohan make, but of Gondorian. It was chain mail from long ago, when the smith�s hammer and hands were a bit more gifted than they were now; such fine chain mail had not been made in a long while, the Rohirrim had told him. He did not wear it now, but carried it with him for when battle came.
Lindir too had chosen a shirt of chain mail, but it was not so fine as Aldamir�s; it was made by smiths of the Rohirrim, and the rings were slightly larger. Nevertheless it was good, strong mail, and Lindir was content with it. Both Elves carried their swords, their knives, and their bows and arrows; they had salvaged all the arrows they could from the battlefield. They were ready for battle against the Dark one.
Aldamir rode now at the head of the column, next to Halbarad. The leader of the Rangers was a tall, lithe man, with fighting skills honed to near perfection from his many years in the wild. His eyes were blue-grey and sharp; his hair, nearly black, fell to his shoulders and across his face as the wind tossed it about. He was a stern leader and a good one; but he had a merry side as well, and now and then he laughed as he spoke with Aldamir as they rode along.
"How long have you been traveling?" asked Aldamir after a while.
"Over two weeks," replied Halbarad. "Our home lies far North, and even with our hardy horses we could not be faster about it."
Aldamir nodded. "How much longer do you figure we will be riding before we catch up with Aragorn?"
Halbarad narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment. "At the most three or four days, but I think we can do it in less," he answered. "It is not far now."
"No," said Aldamir thoughtfully, "not far, in more ways than one. It is war we are riding to, and war is not far away."
Halbarad shook his head. "It is indeed close, and I know I may lose my life in it, but I for one am glad that we are challenging him at last. Do not mistake me! - I do not like war, none of us do, but I am glad at last to be striking a blow against the one who has slain so many of my kinsmen."
His companion nodded. "I did not know that one could be so full of hate and sorrow at the same time," he said quietly, stroking his mount�s withers. "I have always hated the Dark One, but never as much as since... since the battle. I lost so many I knew..."
Halbarad glanced over at him, and his grey eyes were full of understanding. "I too have lost many," he answered in an equally quiet voice. "That is why I have ridden as quickly as I can, so that we can come in time to make a difference. Whether we win or not, the blow we strike now will be all the more stronger because of those we have lost."
Aldamir said nothing, but his brow darkened as he gazed East....