Grip to Salvation

Chapter 1: Ophelia


The girl stood in front of the river, disinterested, waiting for her slightly pointed ears to perk up at any sudden noise; the roar of an Uruk Hai, the snort of a horse from Edoras, but the sound did not come. Still on her guard, the girl hesitantly bent over at the shore and cupped her hands, dipping them into the clear blue water and bringing some of it up to her mouth to drink. She had not tasted fresh water for hours, and its taste invigorated her. She splashed a small amount on her face and proceeded to swiftly wipe it off with her fore-arm. All of a sudden, her body tensed up as she spotted a figure floating on the surface of the river towards the shored. She immediately grasped the silver dagger clasped on her belt, ready to strike the stranger at any moment, but something about his appearance stopped her.

It was a man, of that the girl was sure. His stringy dark brown hair floated around his face, an unruly, scratchy-looking beard rugged the bottom part of his face. He was also unconscious, his eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. The girl's keen eyesight let her see the details of his features. His suede outfit under spots of armour, a blueish-gray cloak clasped with a brooch around his neck, visible weaponry clasped around his belt. He was a soldier. The girl smirked.

When his body found its way to the rocky shore, the girl slowly walked toward him. He looked peaceful, as if seeing something pleasant in his dreams. She wondered what he might be thinking...

Without warning, the slow walk of a horse's hooves was heard to her side. She quickly glanced to her left, taking out her bow and arrow, ready to bring down its rider, but alas! The horse did not have a rider. His bridle was attached to a rope which dragged to its side. It caught sight of the girl and stopped.

"Well, you are a magnificent creature," she said softly, placing her bow back on her shoulder and the arrow back in its quiver. The horse looked over her, as if trying to see through her intentions. The girl bent on one knee, and lay her head low. "Grace of Valar," she whispered, honoring the creature's beauty. It tossed its head back in approval and moved to the unmoving man lying on the ground. When the girl looked up, she saw the horse's actions and walked over to them. The horse was gently touching the man's nose with his mouth, causing the man to tilt his head in suprise. "Brego," the girl heard him whisper.

"Brego?" She said to the horse with a smirk, squatting next to him. "So that is your name?" The horse buckled and attempted to lift the man onto it's back.

"You want me to help him, do you not?" She asked curiously. Sighing in acceptance, the girl stood up, reached her hand to the half-conscious man's chest, and lifted him onto his feet, keeping an arm around his back to hold him up steadily.

"Right. I'm going to need your help here, Brego." With that, the horse bent its front legs so that the girl could swing his slightly heavy body over the horse's back. When he was safely upon the horse, she pat Brego's nose fondly and looked up at the slouching man.

"Where are you heading?" She said to the man. He looked down at her tiredly, squinting as the sun was reflected into his eyes by the water.

"Who are you?" He asked before answering her. Looking over her body, the man noted her appearance. She was definitely a warrior. Her petite breasts were covered by a tattered brown leather shirt, tight against her skin, but revealing her entire thin mid-section. Her thighs were covered by tight leather pants, worn from use, and a belt was tied around her waist, holding several daggers and swords. Thin rawhide boots sheltered her feet. A bow and quiver were slung over her shoulder, and thongs of material were laced around her small, toned biceps. Her dark brown hair was held back by a series of intricate braids and ties and straps of cloth, one of her eyes was blue, one green, and her skin was as pale as the snow-capped mountains of Rohan. Her ears were slightly pointed...an elf perhaps? Or at least, part-elf...But it was obvious to his sight that she was indeed a warrior.

The girl looked around, making sure they were not being watched. Without looking at him, she said, "My name is Ophelia. Who are YOU?" She questioned him, crossing her arms.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I must get to Helm's Deep." His voice was extremely haggard and worn. The girl named Ophelia's ears perked up for a second, and she looked into the face of Aragorn, the man she had just helped.

"Very well, I will escort you. Don't want you to be shot down by an Orc's arrow, do I?" She said, running her hands through Brego's mane.

"I assure you, milady. I can protect myself," Aragorn said, trying to straighten himself up to full height. Ophelia looked up at him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"I was talking about the horse."


I hope you guys liked it! I'm starting this fic from that scene in The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers when Aragorn was thrown from the cliff because he was strapped to one of the wolves of Isengard. If you guys like it, I'll continue. This will probably turn out to be a Legolas/Ophelia fic. Please review!

Thank you, kind readers:D

-FilthyMudblood345-