For the love of god, please forgive spelling and timeline mistakes. I'm like a baby deer, stumbling around in the LoTR universe trying to figure out how this all works.
Steady, steady...
Her eyes steadied on the elk in the distance, her bow taut, her arrow gripped tightly between her fingers. If she took down this elk, the men in the tavern might stop making jokes at her expense. 'A woman isn't built for hunting anything but a husband,' they'd roar as they laughed at her whenever she brought her furs with her. She couldn't help but notice that they rarely brought their own furs to show, making her wonder if they'd ever hunted anything themselves.
Milandy released her breath, her arrow following, brushing over the top of the shrubberies between them and grazing over the top of the elk. She grunted under her breath, reaching back for another arrow as the elk lifted it's head, now alert. They were so quick to frighten, not like fawns or wild boar, who would scurry to the side in confusion and allow for a second shot.
Quickly and with urgency, she pulled her arrow back, not giving half as much care to where this next arrow went. Before she released it, however, she paused. Something was off. Different. As the elk bolted away, she listened carefully, a low rumble bouncing from between the trees. It wasn't the sound of wind, or at least any wind she'd ever experienced in her 21 years. No, this was different, coursing through the ground, the birds taking flight suddenly.
Slowly, Milandy rose and followed the sounds with caution. The sound became clearer as she wandered closer to the sound of water that had been so clear before, the unmistakenable clanging of metal clashing becoming apparent. A fight? No. A skirmish. The human pursed her lips together as she slowly and with great care ventured even closer. Curiousity often got the better of her, as did her desire for coin - and a good skirmish would always leave at least a few bodies unattended, laden with weapons and valuables she could sell for a good price. She'd not always been a hunter, adapting her talents to whatever could help her sustain herself. Pickpocketing, grifting, spying, even a little work as a highwayman - hunting had always been a fallback, however. It kept her skills sharp and her pockets full, and would keep her out of trouble whenever there was a loose witness.
Once the figures were clear, she crept up to a great log, crouching behind it in hiding to observe. Orcs. Of course it had to be Orcs. She kept her bow tight in her grip, an arrow poised for aim between her fingers - she may have had experience on her side, but that only accounted for so much when Orcs were concerned. Warriors were called to fight Orcs, and a warrior she was not.
Her attention settled on the Orc's adversary, an elf who was firing arrows of his own with a great speed and accuracy. In watching him, Milandy felt a little embarassed. She'd been quite proud of her own archery abilities, but watching the effortlessness he demonstrated made her think he'd probably never struggled with delivering a blow to an elk like she had. It was as though he worked automatically, not needing to think, each bow a reflex that took down an Orc with every release.
A grunt from her side caught her attention, a branch breaking. Milandy looked towards the sound from her right, her breath seizing when she realised the lumbering figure that she had not previously noticed approaching her was not elf, nor human, nor any other species she wished to deal with. The Orc gave a snarl, its hands tightening around the handle of its axe, eyes settled on her in a sneer.
Milandy had been the intended victim of enough muggings and set-ups to react quickly, her bow positioned and her arrow pulling it taut, firing it with a gasp as quickly as she could and hoping that it would hit. However, her quick reflexes did little for her unrefined skills and shaking hand, the arrow flying over the Orc's shoulder before it lunged forward at her. Milandy barely thought as she took her knife from its sheath, diving onto the ground to avoid the swing of the Orc's Axe before swiping at it's leg. Although she made the connection, it seemed to be of little difference to the Orc, serving to only make him mad. Her position below him was a poor one, and she sprung herself up, her blade dragging itself along the Orc's front. That was enough to make him drop his axe, at least, but not enough to slow him down, his fist crushing against the side of her head, it's large wrist driving into her face and throwing her to the ground.
She gave a grunt as she clutched her cheek, looking up from the ground to see the glint of the Orc's axe under the fallen leaves that had gathered on the ground. She quickly crawled towards it, reaching out for the handle and taking it as she heard a roar behind her. She rolled onto her back, axe in front of her, eyes shut, blade upwards as she prepared herself for the worst - but nothing happened.
Instead of a looming death, she opened her eyes to the sight of a collapsing orc, an arrow driven into it's jugular. Not one of hers. No, this arrow was different, not the cheap sort she'd swindled out of some poor apprentice for not even a quarter of its worth. The tail of this looked...
Elvish. She quickly sat herself up, looking around quickly, catching sight of the elf she'd seen before, who's eyes were on her as he held his position. For a very brief moment, he held her gaze before he returned to his opponants, the numbers slowly dwindling as he took them down one by one. Milandy dropped the axe, scrambling back to behind her log, her knife still in hand as she gathered her composure and peeked once more to the events in front of her. They knew she was here. She hadn't gone about this as cleverly as she thought she'd had - then again, she'd never really dared to try and take advantage of Elves or Orcs before. That was something she knew better than to do.
The Elf gave her a glance as he reached back into his quiver. "Go," he ordered her, his voice stern, not raising in volume. For a moment, Milandy almost obeyed. She listened to the Orcs, shouting their gutteral battle cries, and the rumbling of the forest floor beneath her feet, and she knew that they were signs of danger. Warnings.
Instead, as if it was given free will, her hand moved to her blades, taking them from their shieths before she lept over the log and climbed onto the back of an Orc that was attemping to flank him. Wrapping her legs around the hulking figure as it began trying to swing her off, she took a blade in each hand and drove them into it's neck. First the blade in her left hand, then her right, pulling them both hastily with the intent to cause as much damage as possible in the shortest time. The Orc gave a cry, its sharp teeth bared as its voice gargled with its own fluids as they drained into its throat and it collapsed, Milandy pushing herself off him, landing on her feet with only a slight stumble.
Her head turned with the sound of more metal clashing. Not even a stone's throw away, down the hill, more Orcs battled with others – who, exactly, she had trouble distinguishing. Now finished on the hill, the Elf turned his attention to the Orcs below. Not even turning his eyes to her this time, he spoke. "Down there," he ordered now, firing off more arrows. Not needing further explination, Milandy gave a nod before sprinting down hill, blades at the ready and caution to the wind as she threw herself into someone else's battle. What else would she do, she wondered, driving her blade into the spine of an Orc before springing herself off the figure and onto another's back. Run? Let another band of them find her? Let men in the Inns sing songs of her cowardess? A blow to the back of her head threw her forward, Milandy giving a cry as she hit the ground, the leaves crushing under her. It had been something hard. A hammer, perhaps. She clutched the back of her head, growling in pain as she slowly brought her legs up, trying to stand and gather herself despite the stars in her eyes. She was far from a battle maiden, but she knew that every second she stayed still was another second that a blade could be driven into her back.
Reaching out, her vision still floggy and dazzled, she felt along the ground for the hilt of at least one blade. As her vision came to clear and her senses returned, she realized there was a figure standing by her, his blade slashing into the Orcs surrounding her. Realizing she was now standing and aware, the man tossed one of her blades back to her. Where the other had gone was a mystery for now, but at least she was armed. Turning quickly, she drove a blade into an oncoming Orc's jugular, slicing it widely across as she ducked to dodge the swing of another's hammer.
Stumbling forward, a fist hit her in the back, throwing the blade from her hand but not quite causing her to lose balance. She crouched down, launching herself below and through the legs of the Orc that had struck her, grabbing its belt and using it to swing herself up and onto its back. Her footing sure, in a swift movement she pulled herself onto it's shoulders, her legs wrapped around its neck as she readied her bow, firing an arrow from her new vantage point into the back of one of the few remaining Orcs. She continued to ride the shoulders of the enraged beast, firing arrows into their dwindling opponents until she depleted the supply in her quiver. Placing her bow back in its position, she reached down to take the Orc's head in between her arms, giving a quick and deliberate twist. With a loud snap, the Orc's neck dislodged, the beast collapsing without a sound as she leapt off of it.
Gasping for breath, Milandy now stood still, watching as a nearby Dwarf took down the last of their adversaries. She gave a long, relieved sigh, reaching her arm out and wiping her brow with her sleeve. It was over. Good. Now all she had to do was clear the Orcs of any loot they had and take a few of their teeth to as proof for next time she visited a tavern and-
"What is your business?" A voice ordered, causing her to turn on her feet to face it. The man who'd passed her blade to her was slowly moving forward and although his face seemed more inquisitive than anything, his hand was still readied on the hilt of his weapon and his movements were still full of cautious.
"I..." Milandy paused, glancing between him and the Dwarf, who was approaching her with the same caution. "I was just... passing through and..." While Milandy usually regarded herself as a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth, the blow to her head wasn't entirely helping. Nor was the knowledge that these men had just taken down a small army of Orcs.
"She was hunting elk," a voice interjected. The Elf from before approached from the hill, his bow in his hand, not an indication on him that he'd taken a single injury from the battle.
The Dwarf spoke now, glancing between the Elf and her as the three formed a circle around her, all of them ready to strike if she somehow provoked them. "'Sit normal for 'yer womenfolk ta' hunt?" He asked. The suspicion in the air was thick already, and Milandy could feel herself becoming more and more uneasy, wishing she was armed with at least one of her blades.
"Not unheard of," the human replied, "however, I've never seen a one go into battle like a spy before." Spy? Milandy winced, stepping back from him.
"Sir," she began, a small, nervous laugh in her voice as she raised her palms in innocence. "Will we not even exchange names before you begin throwing around such grave accusations?" She looked around, and all three of the men looked to her as if they expected her to start. "I uh," she straightened herself up, trying to find the same composure she had when she was bragging in a tavern. "I am Milandy Aerlarth," she announced, giving a dramatic bow with a smile on her face. There it was. That silver spoon. Like a true Thespian. "Travelling sellsword, at your service!" She lied – but it was only a little white lie. She had been a sellsword, even if she was usually a thief or a grifter or a highway robber or a... well, Milandy had been many things, few of them good.
"Sellsword!" The Dwarf repeated. "If yer'd been a hunter, I'd want ta' know what yer' been huntin' that needs a lass ta' move like a spider."
"You know," she laughed, smiling at the Dwarf, amping up the charming exterior she'd been polishing for years, "I've been called many things, but spider? That's a first, my friend."
"And why are you here?" The man asked again, not lifting with her mood as the Dwarf had seemed to. "There are no settlements for miles, no towns or cities or villages."
"As I said," Milandy smiled, "I was passing through."
"An area perilous to Orc raiders seems an odd choice to 'pass through.'"
"What sellsword is worth their coin if they can't get through a few Orcs?" She gave a smug smile, gesturing to the Orc who's neck she snapped, and the Dwarf gave a loud singular chuckle. This caused the Elf to glare at him, and soon the Dwarf's face turned back to it's serious expression.
"You move like a spy," the Elf said, taking his turn to interrogate her now, although he seemed less suspicious than his human companion. "Or an assassin."
Milandy tried to not flinch at the accusation. To be called a spy was one thing, but an assassin? No one cared for an assassin except for the man who hired them, and although she was hardly a paragon of virtue, Milandy had never taken a life for coin. "Being a sellsword means you travel far. I've been stationed on the Eastern border before and have received training there and that, gentle sir, is what makes me the best." Another lie. She wasn't so much stationed there as she was smuggling through the border and robbing rich Easterling Sultans blind. Western maidens as fair as she was were rarely suspected of wrongdoing on the border. They were thought far too weak bodied and minded to be anything but beautiful – such was the Easterling opinion of women from the West. That was a handful of summers ago, though, well behind her, and she was not a maiden of 17 summers any longer.
There was a long pause, the Elf and the Dwarf watching the human carefully as he sized her up. Eventually, he let his hand drift off the hilt of his sword, giving a nod as he relaxed his stance, causing her much relief. "You fought well, Sellsword," he admitted, finally giving her a small smile, "an asset indeed. We owe you a gratitude."
"Perhaps I might know the names of my new-found allies?" She asked.
"Gimli, son of Gloin!" the Dwarf announced proudly, almost unable to wait for the others as he gave a bow to the woman. "Ye' stand before Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and the fine lady Legolas of the Woodland Realm." At this, the Elf shot yet a glare at the Dwarf, who's face was glowing with smugness. This seemed to be common occurrence.
Milandy eyed the human carefully, her eyes widening quickly before she dropped to one knee. "I am honoured," she gasped, realising suddenly that she might have been better suited to curtsey to him. She often forgot how to be anything but a woman trying to fit in with men, and her face flushed red at the thought of embarrassing herself in front of a living legend, one which was murmured of in every tavern across her travels.
"Off 'yer knee, Lass," Gimli laughed, stepping towards her. "Where 'yer headed?"
"Wherever there's work," she replied. Another lie. She was headed to Edoras, to clear out what was left of the loot. She'd heard there was good coin in what you could take from the throne room. "Perhaps Edoras," she suggested. "If you could point me towards the best path, I coul-"
"There'll be no work there for you," Aragorn interrupted. "All have fled to Helm's Deep, and seek refuge there."
"Helm's Deep..." she repeated, using this chance to take mental stock of what they carried. Jewellery, arms which were priceless, armour that was from noble places and history untold to her. Why, the Elvish weapons that Legolas carried alone would be worth a hearty fortune on the Eastern border. "Which way is that?" She asked.
"It is where we're headed," he replied, "but there will be war." He turned and gave a not to the others, who gave her a nod and turned their backs to her. "Head back to where you came and warn others to take refuge. Peace will not last for long," he finished, before turning his back as well to continue on. "We go no place that is for a lady."
Milandy was taken aback by this. Low expectations of her abilities and sensitivities was something she expected and even welcomed from hunters and soldiers in a tavern, but from such... noble men? From anyone else, it would have been a challenge, but from Aragorn, son of Arathorn himself? It was an insult. "You must forgive me," she called after them. "I seem to recall slaying the Orcs which thought to kill you."
"And for that, we are very grateful," Aragorn called back, turning and walking backwards so as to face her.
"Then take me with you," Milandy called, beginning to follow. "You owe me a gratitude, do you not?" She sped up to catch up to the trio, and noticed that the Elf had stopped suddenly with her words.
"She is right," Legolas called to them, the group stopping and turning to face the two. "We owe her a gratitude. You said so yourself."
Giving an exhale, Aragorn looked from Legolas to Milandy. "And what would you do there?" He asked her. "In a time of war?"
"As I am commanded," she began, "I am offering my services to your cause. Free of charge." She bowed down, lowering her head.
Her head remained lowered as she felt his eyes on her again, once again looking her over, deciding if she would be a burden or an asset. "I owe you a gratitude," he finally relented, giving a nod, her head lifting to face him. "We are meeting with an army to the North, past this forest. You may travel with us."
"I thank you," Milandy smiled.
"I cannot promise you will receive the orders you expect," he warned, "or that you'll receive them at all, but there will be women and children to defend. Perhaps they can use your services." With that, Aragorn turned once more, continuing forward.
Milandy followed this time, a small smile of relief on her face as she joined them, her eyes fixed on the bow that hung from Legolas' back. "We'll see."
