The sound of Elen’s hooves continued to throb in her ears—almost painful really, though it did not disturb her concentration on the road upon, and to the skies. In front of her Shadowfax ran like the wind, seemingly incapable of halting its hooves. The winds continued to blast them mercilessly, torturing especially the exhausted Hobbit riding in front of her. They had been travelling for as long as Gandalf had predicted; three days of endless riding with no rest and only a small amount of conversation. It was no wonder that Pippin drooped like a weak child, more exhausted than the horses himself.
But the Hobbit had managed to find some sleep, albeit very little. Gandalf and Varilerin meanwhile remained awake all the time, the latter always searching the dark for enemies or even fell beas
