A/N: Well, here it is at long last! Once again, a lot of the dialogue is taken from the book toward the end of this chapter, in order to more closely align this story with the books. I do not claim those words as my own; they are Tolkien's and always will be! I simply decided to try and keep as much of Tolkien's dialogue as I can when I can. It just seems to give this fic more credibility, if you know what I mean. If you REALLY want to know which words are taken from the books, you can email me and I'll tell you, or you can just go read the books for yourselves and find out! Thanks also to MooKitty, my WONDERFUL beta for this chapter! Much love goes out to her, for she keeps me sane! I'm hoping Chapter 11 and 12 will be able to be posted together, just to reward you all for being so patient! But we'll see how that works out. So once more, thanks for hanging in there, and I desperately hope this chapter doesn't bore you to tears! (I promise things are about to start happening… )
Chapter 10: The Words of the Seer
Legolas stood on the wall of the Keep, looking out over the now-familiar view of the Deeping-coomb and the distant peaks of the Misty Mountains. He stared eastward, frowning deeply at the sight that met his far-seeing eyes. The darkness of Mordor was growing; the sky darkening. The Elf shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to the tall windows of the Keep and wishing this delay was not necessary. They did not have time to linger here. Every passing moment brought the danger closer to Gondor, closer to Minas Tirith... closer to Laimea.
Legolas clenched his fists at his sides, refusing the urge to pace again, and closed his eyes, attempting instead to meditate. His impatience disturbed him; it wasn't like him to feel so restless. But so much had changed since the forming of the Fellowship… the end of their journey was nearing, this much he could sense.
The final attack from Sauron would come soon. The morning now was bright, but the air reeked of evil. Things were too quiet, too still. Even the birds had gone silent. It made Legolas uneasy.
He opened his eyes again, unable to focus his mind on anything except the impending attack on Minas Tirith. Aragorn had said they would go there, but Legolas knew time was running out. He looked back to the windows of the Keep, thinking of Aragorn and Halbarad, and sighed deeply.
They had to leave soon. To stay at the fortress much longer would mean finding only ruin where Gondor's proudest city had once stood. Ruin… and death. Legolas swallowed, turning to face the graves that spread below him. So many already had died in this war, and it was still far from over…
Footsteps upon the stone interrupted his thoughts and Legolas was jolted back to the memory of the night he had first met Laimea. It seemed so long ago, but indeed it had only been a few days past. He closed his eyes again, easily recalling the sight of her face in the soft moonlight. If only he could be with her now, to ensure she was safe and would remain safe throughout the rest of this war. If only he could spend one more quiet night with her, holding her close, watching the beauty of her slumber in the fire's orange glow, letting her peacefulness calm the restlessness of his heart. He would set right whatever had gone wrong that night in Minas Tirith. He would tell her exactly how he felt for her. He would make her understand… if only…
If only he could see her again. But she was out of his reach now, like so many others. Legolas exhaled deeply, opening his eyes and looking out to the brightening sunrise. He hated this feeling of uselessness, of helplessness. Never in his life had he felt at such a loss. Frodo and Sam had been separated from the Fellowship long ago, and had passed far beyond his reach. He had left Laimea behind in Minas Tirith, and there was now little he could do to protect her. The shadow of Mordor grew with every passing day, but it was not yet time to ride against that threat. And now Aragorn had withdrawn as well, choosing Halbarad to accompany him with the palantìr instead, and Legolas was left outside, standing on the empty wall in the silent morning, staring down at the destruction left in the wake of a great battle. There was nothing he could do for any of them now... nothing he could do except wait.
Legolas recognized Gimli's heavy footfalls as the Dwarf came closer along the wall and then finally stopped beside the Elf. Legolas waited a moment in the silence, then glanced sideways to see Gimli staring at him disapprovingly. The Elf raised an eyebrow, prompting Gimli to speak at last.
"I know Elves do not sleep," the Dwarf said rather loudly, "but surely you require some type of rest! Why aren't you inside, with the others?"
Legolas took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He rested his palms on top of the wall, feeling the stone beginning to warm beneath the morning sun. "I cannot find rest, Gimli, whether I would need it or not. There are too many things that need to be done, and we are running out of time."
Gimli followed the Elf's gaze, looking out toward far away Gondor. "The East is growing darker," the Dwarf murmured after a quiet moment.
Legolas looked down to his friend briefly. "Yes. Sauron's attack will come soon."
Gimli raised his eyes to meet the Elf's. "You are worried for the Lady Laimea."
Legolas turned away from the Dwarf at the statement. He hated to think his thoughts were so obvious. But Gimli had read him well, and Legolas could not hide the truth from his friend. "I fear for her safety," the Elf admitted reluctantly. "When Sauron strikes he will spare no one, and I am too far away now to protect her."
"You do not trust the soldiers of Gondor will protect her?"
Legolas looked abruptly over his shoulder to Gimli, his gaze much sharper than he intended. "She should not even be in the City," the Elf stated, his voice harsh with condemnation. "She should have ridden south long ago, with the other women. There is no reason for her to endanger herself this way…" he fell silent, surprised at his sudden anger. He looked away from Gimli, facing the Deeping-coomb once more and trying to calm himself. But he knew what he said was true. There was no reason for her to stay in the place of greatest danger during this battle. No reason… except her own stubbornness.
He had once been afraid she would go south, and the errand rider's answer to his question had been a relief: No, no. Not her. Gondor needs all of its riders these days. Now that answer was torment. Surely the rider had meant she was needed only as an errand rider. They could not mean for her to stay as a soldier of war.
"Perhaps she has left the City by now," Gimli suggested helpfully, voicing Legolas' only hope.
Legolas frowned, knowing Laimea would want to stay in the City and fight, wondering if Lord Denethor or the Captains of Gondor's army would allow such a thing. He prayed they would not. Laimea was a fine errand rider, and she could hold her own in a fight, but Legolas did not trust her battle skills enough to believe she could survive the war that was coming.
And, in truth, he trusted no one other than himself to keep her safe. If he could not be at her side in this battle, then he wanted her as far away from the fighting as she could get. Legolas had pledged his protection to the Fellowship, and he would carry out that duty to the end, whether for good or ill. Laimea could not be allowed to fight… because if she was, there would be nothing he could do to protect her.
"Legolas?" Gimli inquired uncertainly.
The Elf blinked, forcing himself to focus on the present, and looked down to the Dwarf.
"The girl may be a fine rider," Gimli assured Legolas, "but no Captain would let her fight as a soldier."
Legolas watched Gimli for a moment, taking comfort in the Dwarf's confident tone. The Elf nodded at last and smiled slightly, grateful for such a companion as Gimli. "Perhaps you are right," he conceded.
Gimli grunted, pulling out the pipe Pippin had given him when they'd first reunited in Isengard. "Of course I am right," he said, filling the pipe with a pinch of Longbottom Leaf and lighting it. "You have no reason to worry about her, Legolas. She will be safe enough in Gondor. And we will ride to their aid soon enough… perhaps there I will have a chance to even up our score!"
Legolas smiled unexpectedly, remembering Gimli's outrage in the White Mountains at having found out a battle had taken place without him. "You shall have to kill very swiftly indeed, Gimli, if you wish to even our count. For in the time it takes your axe to kill one Orc my arrows have already killed four."
Gimli nearly choked on his smoke at the claim, and he turned his dark eyes toward Legolas quickly, their depths alight with the fire of battle. "That is a bold boast you make, friend Elf. But I'm afraid I find it lacking in truth."
"Do you?"
Gimli gave a firm nod, blowing a great ring of smoke from his mouth. "Indeed I do. In fact I should wager on it."
Legolas crossed his arms, turning to face Gimli with a look of amusement on his face. "And what wager would you make? I have already agreed to accompany you into the caves beneath this fortress."
"Aye, so you have," Gimli acknowledged. "And in return I have agreed to accompany you into Fangorn Forest. But if my axe should slay more Orcs than your arrows, then I say you must try a little of this Longbottom Leaf!"
"What?" Legolas blurted, surprised by such an unusual suggestion.
"If you cannot uphold your boasting," Gimli repeated, "then when all of this fighting is over with, you must promise to try some of this Leaf."
"Gimli, you know I cannot abide smoking."
"You have never tried it!" the Dwarf exclaimed. "It could do well for an Elf like yourself… help you relax."
"Unlikely," Legolas answered shortly.
Gimli shrugged. "That is my wager, Elf. If you admit you cannot outscore me in the end," he cast Legolas a knowing look, "even with the nine you slew behind my back, then do not take it."
He faced the front again, making a great show of smoking his pipe, but Legolas saw the hint of a smile beneath the thick red beard. The Elf smiled himself, shaking his head hopelessly. He could not disappoint the Dwarf.
"Very well, Gimli," he said at last. "I will take your wager."
Gimli glanced to the Elf from the corner of his eye.
"But," Legolas spoke up promptly, seeing the opportunity to get some answers out of this ridiculous bet, "if you lose your wager, you must tell me what murtakk or elgi-u-galaz means."
It was Gimli's turn to be surprised. He blew out another cloud of smoke hastily. "I told you before, Legolas, it would be better if the Lady Laimea told you, and not I."
Legolas stepped forward, trapping Gimli under his fervent stare. "I may never get the chance, Gimli," he said truthfully. "If I am able, then I will ask her myself. But if not, then you must promise to tell me the meaning."
Gimli looked away from the Elf's intense gaze, hesitating in his answer. "If you win the score…" he reiterated after a moment.
Legolas nodded. "Yes. If I win the score you will tell me?"
Gimli thought for another seemingly long moment, his eyes gazing off into the east. At last he took a deep breath and nodded his agreement. "If you win this wager, and you do not find out from her, then I will tell you what it means." He looked back to Legolas. "But if you lose this wager-"
"I will try your Longbottom Leaf," Legolas assured him, though he made a face of displeasure even at the thought of it.
"Good then," Gimli commented, though he did not feel quite so confident as before. He tried to shake off the feeling of unease that suddenly washed over him; walking away from Legolas before the Elf's keen eyes could notice any change.
"Come, Legolas," Gimli said abruptly. "Let us look around this place and see what they have done since we last left it!"
Legolas watched after Gimli as the Dwarf made his way toward the stairs to the Keep, trailing smoke behind him. The Elf glanced to the east one last time, then brought his eyes back to the once-broken wall, now nearly rebuilt. The wall that fell has risen again, he thought distantly. The people of Rohan have renewed themselves. He looked up to the windows where Aragorn had gone. The King of Gondor rides with us, and soon he will return to Minas Tirith. The Elf swept his eyes over the wall to the graves below. There is still hope… they did not die in vain.
Legolas' eyes stopped on Haldir's grave, and for a moment he was frozen, feeling a great resolve settle within him. He would see no more of his friends die in this war. Sauron's attack on Gondor had to fail… the rest of it was up to Frodo and Sam….
Legolas folded his right arm across his chest, dipping his head low. "Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva," Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet he whispered to the dead, and with that he turned and went swiftly after Gimli.
Laimea stood in her bedroom, fully clad in the suit of Elvish armor, and marveled at how light it all was. Although she wore several layers, she hardly felt any different than she did when dressed in her usual riding clothes. Even the helmet with its tall crest seemed weightless, and though the cheek guards pressed close to her face, the eye slit offered an unobstructed view both to the front and to the sides.
Laimea lifted Nimrunya, testing the flexibility of the armor by performing a series of sword moves. The cuirass and pauldrons moved as if they were a part of her body. Even the fauld and the long skirt did nothing to hinder her movements. Laimea lowered her sword at last, finding herself out of breath, and smiled. She was greatly impressed with this armor. Although she had never worn a suit of Gondorian armor, she had seen the way the men moved when wearing it. It was heavy and cumbersome, and would have been ill-suited for a woman.
Laimea's smile faded, her mind drifting back to her father. How had he known? Your father knew one day you would ride out to war… sometimes I think he knew it even before you were born.
Laimea shook her head in bewilderment, moving back to her bed and picking up the dagger Anya had given her. The insignia of Galadriel on the knife's haft gleamed in the sunlight, making Laimea squint. Anya's words came back to her clearly… She bade me give this to you, to help guide you home lest you ever forget yourself. Laimea removed the leather gloves from her hands and ran a finger carefully over the white and blue jewels. To help guide you home… Laimea sighed heavily, dropping the knife back to the bed and removing the helmet from her head. She set it down beside the knife gently, then went to her window and looked out on the orchard.
The morning was quiet, the leaves of the trees blowing softly in the occasional breeze. Laimea bit her lip, remembering all too well the towering beauty of the mallorn trees in Lórien. She had blocked those trees from her memory long ago… and yet now they returned to mind with surprising clarity. She longed to return to them, to walk the secluded paths of the forest and lounge in the dappled shade….
Laimea turned away from the window abruptly, beginning to unfasten the buckles of the bracers and pauldrons. She could no longer deny that Lórien called to her, but it was not her home… lest you ever forget yourself. Laimea shook her head again, trying to get rid of the voices that echoed in her mind.
Gondor had been her home for far longer than Lórien, and though she shared the blood of the Eldar, Laimea knew she did not belong with them. The words she had spoken to Legolas those few nights ago were true; she would only feel out of place among them. The forest was indeed beautiful, but it also held dark memories for her. Her mother's grave still rested there, and no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to forget her last few days with her father; spent in innocent bliss beneath the wide branches of the mallorns.
I will come back for you, and I will take you not only to Mirkwood, but to all the forests of the Elves. Laimea closed her eyes as Legolas' words came back to her. It had been a simple offer, but one that had shocked Laimea back into memories of her past; strengthening her resolve to refuse Legolas' invitation.
Legolas had not known the implications of his words… he could not have known… and Laimea knew she should never have accepted his first proposal to take her Mirkwood. But it was too late to change what had happened…
She shrugged out of the cuirass, pondering her feelings for the Prince of Mirkwood. She had told Anya she would follow Legolas to any end, but that had been in the heat of an argument. She had no doubt he cared very deeply for her; the hurt apparent on his face the night she left him could not be a lie. And though Laimea wanted desperately to believe he would not abandon her on the shore of the sea, she could not quite convince herself of it.
Anya had spoken the truth when she'd said the sea-longing was very strong, and Legolas had never promised to stay behind. He had only reassured her that his time for leaving would be past the years of her life. But how could he know? She asked herself in frustration. And even if he did promise to stay behind with me… how long could he endure here, when every day the sea beckoned?
Laimea removed the last piece of armor and sat down on her bed, a hand absently covering the old Orc wound on her thigh. I would rather never see him again than have to watch him sail away, she thought resolutely. She would not go to those shores again; not for any reason.
Laimea picked up the knife again, studying it as if it could answer all her questions. Perhaps it is better that he left without speaking to me again, she thought reluctantly. Perhaps I should stop hoping for his return to Gondor and start listening to Anya.
But her heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again. She was not yet ready to let go of Legolas. Not yet… not with murtakk or elgi-u-galaz as her goodbye to him. Not without knowing his true feelings for her… not without knowing if he would resist the sea-longing for her. No… she had to see him again, one way or another. She had to have answers to her questions; she had to know the truth. At least then she would know what to do, whether it was to walk away from Legolas for good, or to follow him, as she had said before, to whatever end.
Laimea stood from the bed, sticking Galadriel's dagger into her belt. Yes, that is what she would do. She would find him again… somehow, and find out how he really felt for her. Then she would make known her feelings for him, and she could finally have some peace from all this uncertainty and confusion.
Feeling better now that she had made up her mind, Laimea carefully gathered the pieces of armor and placed them under her bed. She put Nimrunya back in its sheath at her waist and opened her bedroom door, peering out into the kitchen for Anya. But the woman was no where in sight. Laimea slipped quickly from her room and went outside, heading for the barn to get Morsul. She wanted to ride into the City and see what she could overhear about the war.
The morning was growing old and Theoden's men were beginning to rouse from their few hours of rest. The fortress was now filling with activity again as the men began to prepare for another long ride, and Legolas and Gimli moved inside to be out of the way of things.
There they found Merry still fast asleep on the floor of the throne room, and being that it was nearly noon, they decided to wake him. Legolas smiled down at the Hobbit fondly as Merry reluctantly stirred. He had sorely missed the lively company of Merry and Pippin during the past few weeks, and he was glad to have found them again, even if they had only gotten to visit together for a short time.
"The sun is high," Legolas told the groggy Hobbit. "The others are already up and doing. Come, Master Sluggard, and look at this place while you may!"
"There was a battle here thirteen nights ago," Gimli added, though at the moment Merry looked too tired to care. "And Legolas and I played a game that I won only by a single Orc." Gimli paused, tossing a look up to Legolas only to see the Elf regarding him skeptically. "Er… well… the other nine he killed were in my absence, and therefore cannot be counted in this score."
Legolas crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow at the Dwarf doubtfully, but Gimli ignored the expression and went on.
"Come and see how it was, Merry! And there are caves… caves of wonder!" He looked back to Legolas abruptly, a childlike wonder in his eyes at the mere thought of the Glittering Caves. "Shall we go visit them, Legolas, do you think?"
Legolas smiled at Gimli's eagerness, shaking his head. "No, Gimli! There is no time. Do not spoil the wonder with haste! I have already given my word to return here with you, if a day of peace and freedom comes again. But now it is near to noon, and at that hour we eat, and then we will set out again, I hear."
Merry yawned and got up at last, seemingly roused by so much talk. But he did not seem quite himself that morning, and Legolas wondered if it was because Pippin was missing. The Elf felt a touch of guilt weigh on his heart. He had been thinking selfishly of late. He was not the only one in this war who had been separated from someone he cared about…
"Where is Aragorn?" Merry asked as he shrugged into his vest.
Legolas' face grew serious. "In a high chamber of the Burg," he answered. "He has neither rested nor slept, I think. He went there some hours ago, saying he must take thought, and only Halbarad his kinsman went with him. Some dark doubt or care sits on him, I sense."
Gimli nodded in agreement. "They are a strange company, these newcomers," the Dwarf said. "Stout and lordly they are, and the Riders of Rohan look but as boys beside them, for they are grim men of face, worn like weathered rocks for the most part, even as Aragorn himself. And they are silent."
"But even as Aragorn they are courteous, if they break their silence," Legolas added. "And did you see the brethren Elladan and Elrohir?" he asked. "Their gear is less somber than the others', and they are as fair and gallant as Elven-lords. But that is not to be wondered at in the sons of Elrond of Rivendell."
"Why have they come?" asked Merry as he flung his grey cloak about his shoulders and fastened it. "Have you heard?"
"They answered a summons, as you heard," Gimli replied, and the three of them passed together out of the fortress toward the cracked gate of the Burg. "Word came to Rivendell, they say: Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride to him in Rohan! But where this message came from they are now in doubt. Gandalf sent it, I would guess."
"No," Legolas spoke up suddenly, "it was Galadriel. Did she not speak through Gandalf of the ride of the Grey Company from the North?"
"Yes, you have it," Gimli agreed, beaming at the Elf's cleverness. "The Lady of the Wood! She read many hearts and desires."
Did she? Legolas wondered, remembering again her message to him. Was it possible she knew of his feelings for Laimea? Was Galadriel's message to him about the sea-longing some kind of warning for him? When thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, thy heart will then rest in the forest no more. Legolas swallowed, unwilling to think of it that way.
"Now why didn't we wish for some of our own kinsfolk, Legolas?" Gimli asked, and at the question Legolas' thoughts drifted back to the months before he had come to Rivendell, when he had spent many long weeks struggling to hold back the onslaught of Orcs that had attacked Mirkwood's northern borders.
The Elf halted before the gate and turned his bright eyes away north and east, his fair face troubled. He wondered if his father had been able to maintain the defenses in the months since he had left. He could only hope. "I do not think that any would come," Legolas finally answered quietly. "They have no need to ride to war; war already marches on their own lands."
For awhile the three companions walked through the Burg, talking much of the past battle, until at last they turned and went to the great hall for the midday meal, where the King waited for them. But even as they ate Aragorn remained absent, and Legolas grew more and more concerned, berating himself for not putting forth more of an argument when the man had told him to stay with the others.
At last Théoden ordered the men to make ready to ride, and the king went with Merry and his guard out through the gate to where the riders were assembling on the green. Legolas and Gimli went with Éomer to seek out Aragorn and tell him the hour of their departure grew near.
They found him shortly, coming down one long hall of the Burg, followed closely by Halbarad, carrying the tall staff wrapped with black cloth, and the twins Elladan and Elrohir. Legolas drew up short at the sight of Aragorn, for the man had changed greatly since he had last left the company of his companions. He seemed to have aged many years in only the course of hours, and his face was pale and weary.
Legolas shot a look to Halbarad, but soon his gaze was drawn to the shining grey eyes of Elladan. The older Elf nodded slightly, giving Legolas a small smile as if to reassure him. But Legolas was not convinced.
"My Lord Aragorn," Éomer spoke up hesitantly, and it was obvious he too was shocked by Aragorn's appearance. "It is nearly time to ride again. The king awaits you on the green."
Aragorn simply nodded, and as he walked by, Legolas, Gimli and Éomer fell into step behind him. The group came out from the gate to find that Merry and the king were already mounted, and a great number of green-caped Rohirrim had gathered around them. The smaller group of Rangers stood off to the side, clad in dark grey cloaks with their hoods drawn up over their heads.
Aragorn walked to the king and the others followed him, and as the man spoke with Théoden Legolas listened intently. "I am troubled in mind, lord," Aragorn told the king quietly. "I have heard strange words, and I now see new perils far off. I have labored long in thought, and now I fear I must change my purpose. Tell me, Théoden, you ride now to Dunharrow, how long will it be before you come there?"
Legolas stepped closer at the question, eager to know how long it would be before they could start toward Minas Tirith.
"It is now a full hour past noon," Éomer said. "Before the night of the third day from now we should come to the Hold. The moon will then be one night past its full, and the muster that the king commanded will be held the day after. If the strength of Rohan is to be gathered we cannot make more speed."
Legolas frowned at the estimate and Aragorn remained silent for a moment.
"Three days," the man murmured at last, "and the muster of Rohan will only be begun. But now I see that it cannot be hastened." He looked up to the king, having finally made some decision. "Then, by your leave, lord, I must take new counsel for myself and my kindred. We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For me the time of stealth has passed. I will ride by the swiftest way, and I will take the Paths of the Dead."
Legolas was not the only one surprised by Aragorn's statement. Éomer turned to stare at the man, and the Riders near to him turned pale.
"The Paths of the Dead!" cried Théoden, and Legolas saw the man tremble at the words. "Why do you speak of them? If there be truth in such paths, their gate is in Dunharrow… but no living man may pass it."
"Aragorn, my friend," Éomer spoke up sadly, "I had hoped we would ride to war together… but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our parting has come, and it is unlikely we will ever meet again."
Aragorn's face remained hard, unconvinced by the terror of those around him. "That road I will take nonetheless," he said evenly. "Though I would say to you, Éomer, that we may indeed meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor stand between us."
Legolas glanced to Aragorn curiously at the statement. He sounded so confident… the Elf wondered what the man had seen in the depths of that Seeing Stone.
"You will do as you will, my lord Aragorn," the king said at last. "It is your doom, maybe, to take such strange paths that others dare not. This parting grieves me, and my strength is lessened by it. But I must take the mountain roads, and delay no longer!" He gave a nod to Aragorn and the man's companions. "Farewell!"
"Farewell, lord," Aragorn returned. "Ride unto great renown!" Théoden managed a small smile and started off, and Aragorn went to where Merry sat on his pony. "Farewell, Merry," the man said softly. "I leave you in good hands, better than we had hoped when we hunted the Orcs to Fangorn." He smiled briefly at the memory of finding the Hobbits, safe and comfortable in Treebeard's care. "Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope," he continued, "but we shall not forget you."
"Aye, little Hobbit!" Gimli burst out. "We most certainly shall not forget you!"
Merry looked at all three of them in turn, his face drawn and worried. Legolas stepped forward, trying to give the Hobbit an encouraging look. "We shall meet again, Merry," he said reassuringly. "Have no doubt about that."
Merry lifted his eyes to the Elf's face and his lips twitched in the barest of smiles. He swallowed hard, nodding. "Goodbye," he said weakly, and then none of them could think of anything else to say.
Théoden said something to Éomer, and then the king lifted his hand and cried aloud, and the Riders went forth. Aragorn and the others mounted and rode to the Dike, watching the king's men until they were far down in the Coomb, and then at last the Riders passed back into the hills and disappeared from view.
"There go three that I love," Aragorn said once the Rohirrim had vanished among the foothills. "And the smallest not the least. He knows not to what end he rides, and yet if he knew he would still go on."
"A little people, but of great worth are the Shirefolk," Halbarad said. "Little do they know of our long labor for the safekeeping of their borders, and yet I grudge it not."
"And now our fates are woven together," Aragorn mused absently. "Yet here we must part." He shook his head. "Well, I must eat a little, and then we must also hasten away. Come, Legolas and Gimli. I must speak with you as I eat."
The three went together back into the Burg, and Aragorn ate while the others waited for him to speak. But for a long while he remained silent, until at last Legolas' restlessness demanded they stop wasting time.
"Come," Legolas spoke into the silence, "speak and be comforted, and shake off the shadow! What has happened since we came back to this grim place in the grey morning?"
Gimli also turned eagerly to Aragorn, anxious for some answers, and the man sighed deeply. "A struggle somewhat grimmer than the battle of the Hornburg, for my part," he answered. "I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc, my friends."
Legolas had already known this, but Gimli sat up straighter in his chair, his face an expression of astonishment. "You looked into that accursed stone of wizardry?" the Dwarf exclaimed. "Did you say anything to… him? Even Gandalf feared that encounter!"
"You forget to whom you speak," Aragorn said, his eyes flashing. "Did I not openly proclaim my title in Edoras? What do you fear that I would say to him? No, Gimli," he said more softly, and the harshness left his face, leaving behind only a heavy weariness. "No, my friends, I am the lawful master of the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength was enough… barely."
Legolas leaned forward on the table as Aragorn drew in a deep breath.
"It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness is slow to pass. I spoke no word to him, and in the end I wrenched the Stone to my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he saw me." Aragorn nodded at Gimli's widened eyes. "Yes, Master Gimli, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If that will aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I lived and walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I deem, for he did not know it until now. The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armor of Theoden, but Sauron has not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Isildur. And now in the very hour of his great plans the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed to him, for I showed him the blade reforged. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. No… doubt ever gnaws at him."
"But he wields great dominion nonetheless," Gimli said, "and now he will strike more swiftly."
"The hasty stroke often goes astray," Aragorn countered. "We must press our Enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the first move. See my friends, when I had mastered the Stone I learned many things. A grave peril I saw coming unlooked for upon Gondor from the South that will draw off great strength from the defense of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, I believe the City will be lost before ten days are gone."
Legolas stared at Aragorn, sitting back slowly in his chair as he processed this new information. Ten days… that was sooner than he had guessed even in his worst fears.
"Then lost it must be," Gimli said heavily, echoing Legolas' own bleak conclusion. "For what help is there to send, and how could it come there in time?"
"I have no help to send," Aragorn admitted. "Therefore I must go myself. But there is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to the coastlands before all is lost, and that is the Paths of the Dead."
"The Paths of the Dead?" asked Gimli. "It is a fell name, and little to the liking of the Men of Rohan, as I saw. Can the living use such a road and not perish? And even if you pass that way, what can so few do to counter the strokes of Mordor?"
"The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim," Aragorn said in a low voice, "for it is closed to them. But in this dark hour the heir of Isildur may use it, if he dare. Listen… the sons of Elrond bring word to me from their father in Rivendell, wisest in lore: Bid Aragorn remember the words of the seer, and the Paths of the Dead."
Legolas frowned. "And what may be the words of the seer?" he asked.
Aragorn leaned forward on his elbows, glancing first at Legolas and then to Gimli and back again. "Thus spoke Melbeth the Seer, in the days of Arvedui, the last king at Fornost:
'Over the land there lies a long shadow,
westward reaching wings of darkness.
The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
for the hour is come for the oathbreakers:
at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
From the grey twilight, the forgotten people?
The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.'"
For a moment there was silence after Aragorn's words.
"Dark ways, doubtless," Gimli spoke up slowly, "but no darker than these staves are to me."
"If you would care to understand them better, then I bid you come with me," Aragorn said, "for that way I will now take. But I do not go gladly; only need drives me. Therefore, I would not ask you to accompany me unless it is of your own free choice, for you will find both toil and great fear there, and maybe worse."
Gimli drew himself up in his chair. "I will go with you even on the Paths of the Dead, and to whatever end they may lead."
"I will also come," Legolas put in immediately, "for I do not fear the Dead."
Aragorn dipped his head appreciatively at his two companions, and shortly thereafter they went down once more to the green, where there waited the hooded Rangers, still and silent. Aragorn mounted Roheryn his horse, and Gimli and Legolas climbed upon Arod, leaving Steadyfoot to rest in the stables of Helm's Deep.
Then Halbarad lifted his horn and blew a great blast that echoed against the walls of the fortress, and with that the Grey Company charged down the Coomb like thunder, leaving all that were left on the Burg staring after them in amazement.
Laimea stood within the fifth ring of Minas Tirith, looking out over the wall into the east. The sun was in the west, slowly sinking through the Gap of Rohan and sending out a last flare of light to battle the growing gloom of Mordor. The Anduin now was dark and grey, shadowed by the coming dusk, and the chief highway that had earlier been choked with wagons now stood empty. All those who were to be moved south to safety were gone, and the City had grown deathly silent.
Laimea looked down to the Pelennor below her, to the farmsteads and fields that had been abandoned. She and Anya would have to move into the City by tomorrow, and she was not looking forward to leaving the house and the orchard behind.
A stiff breeze blew in from the east, riffling Laimea's unbraided hair and making the white flags of the Citadel flap against their posts. Far away she heard a captain shouting orders to his regiment and somewhere behind her marched the uniform sound of patrolling soldiers. All was ready for war… now they just waited for the Enemy to strike.
Laimea turned her gaze back to Mordor, wondering what kind of evil Sauron could be hiding behind his Black Gate. She could not even guess his plan, other than to know he would not rest until the kingdom of Men was utterly defeated. She looked down to the lower levels of the City and shook her head. There were too few left to defend Gondor now… and if Gondor fell, who would the rest of Men look to? What hope could they have then?
Aragorn.
Laimea bit her lip and her eyes unconsciously turned westward, looking past the bulk of the White Mountains into the direction of Isengard and Helm's Deep. Aragorn was out there somewhere… and so was Legolas. Please let him come, she prayed. Please let him come with an army behind him!
The beacons had been lit the night before, and the soldiers on the walls constantly watched the horizon for the arrival of aid. But there had been hardly an answer to Minas Tirith's cry for help. Laimea guessed most of Gondor's allies were too busy trying to fight off the evil that already infested their lands. They had no spare soldiers to send to the White City.
She had heard that Gandalf had arrived last night as well, but though she had searched the City for him, Laimea had been unable to locate the wizard. Doubtless he was busy holding council with Lord Denethor, but Laimea wished very much that she could talk to him. He would be able to give her some answers… or so she hoped. And she wanted desperately to know if he had any news of Aragorn or Legolas. She would have to wait until his other business was done. Then she would track him down and speak with him… she had to. She had to know if Aragorn would return… if Legolas would come back…
"You should have taken the way south, my lady," a voice suddenly said, and Laimea turned sharply to see Baranor, the very rider who had given her false message to Legolas, standing near to her.
Laimea managed to give him a tight smile, noticing the normally lightly dressed errand rider had now donned a full suit of armor. She supposed that was best; likely there would be little riding for them to do now. She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Baranor," she said firmly, "you have known me for years… you should know better. I would not leave this City in its time of need."
The man frowned at her, removing his helmet and tucking it under his arm. In the cool breeze his shoulder-length hair blew across his face, and Laimea was shocked at the level of concern she saw in his grim expression. "My sons also wished to stay and fight," he said. "But they are still too young. They heeded my wishes, and went south with their mother." He sighed heavily. "I will not lie to you, Laimea. I fear this battle and how it will end. I would hate to see you suffer when you could have gone to safety long ago."
Laimea shook her head, knowing his worry was misplaced. "If this battle goes ill, Baranor, there will be no place of safety anywhere in Middle-Earth." She raised her eyes to meet his, and he watched her for a long moment, as if realizing for the first time the truth in her words.
At last he exhaled a quiet breath, dropping his eyes to the stones beneath their feet. "But you will remain in the Healing House, at least, will you not?" he asked, bringing his eyes up again to judge her reaction to his words. "Please promise me you will do nothing foolish?" He had ridden out with her often enough to know that if she ever made up her mind on something, it was nearly impossible to get her to change it, even if she knew her choice was the wrong one.
Laimea looked out to the Great River again, if only so that Baranor could not see the fire in her eyes. "I will stay in the Healing House," she said reluctantly. "I am a fighter, and you know it… but I will stay and help where I am needed most."
Baranor breathed a sigh of relief, and Laimea glanced over at him to see him smiling. He put the helmet back on his head and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Then my heart is gladdened," he said. "And I for one shall not let the filth of Mordor reach you."
Despite herself Laimea smiled. Baranor had always been the one to look out for her among the riders, and though she often resented his attentions, at times they were endearing. "I do not want to see you brought in to the Healing House, Baranor," she warned him, and he nodded gravely at her.
"Then I hope I do not see you again until this war has been won," he replied bravely. He took his hand from her shoulder and bowed to her, and she returned the gesture.
"Be safe, Laimea," he said.
"Fight well, Baranor," she said, and with that he turned and was gone around the curve of the street. Laimea turned back to the east, letting out a deep breath. Baranor had been a friend of hers ever since the day he had become a Rider of Gondor, twenty two years ago. He had never questioned her skills, even though she was a woman, and Laimea had always respected him for that. She hated to lie to him, but it would be easier if no one knew her true intentions until it was too late for them to stop her.
All day she had spent trying to convince one captain after another that she should be allowed to fight alongside them, and yet despite all of her negotiating, begging, demanding, and threatening, none would give in to her.
At last she had relinquished the hope of openly fighting with the soldiers. She would have to do it in secret, and by the time they found out she wasn't in the Healing House, the heat of battle would be upon them, and none would have time to concern themselves with her. Whether it was the right thing to do or not, Laimea knew she could not waste her fighting skills in the Healing House when every last soldier was needed for the defense of the City.
Her hands balled into fists. She would not sit idly by and watch the Orcs pillage and burn the City she called home; she would not stand helplessly and see those she loved slain. Orcs had killed her mother and ultimately caused the departure of her father, and she had never forgotten it. It was the reason she had become an errand rider in the first place. They had caused her much grief, and she wanted nothing more than to repay the favor.
No, she would not stay in the Healing House for this battle, and Laimea determined there was none alive who could make her do otherwise.
Horns in the distance jolted Laimea from her thoughts and she looked southwards in surprise. Cheering rolled up on the wind from below and Laimea shielded her eyes with her hand, peering hard in the direction of the Great Gates. Dust arose from some ways off and Laimea felt a thrill go through her. Help had arrived! She made her way quickly through the streets down to the first circle, hearing the trumpet blast just as she reached the Gate.
"Forlong! Forlong!" the people were shouting, and Laimea knew then it was the Lord of Lassarnach that had arrived, bringing what little of his strength he could spare. She went quickly out of the City to stand with the crowd along the road that led through the townlands, eagerly awaiting more reinforcements from Gondor's surrounding lands.
As the sun sank slowly in the sky more arrived: three hundred men from the Ringló Vale; five hundred bowmen from the uplands of Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale; a long line of sorted men from Anfalas, the Langstrand far away; a few grim men from Lamedon; some hundred of the Fisher-folk of the Ethir; three hundred men with Hirluin the Fair of the Green Hills from Pinnath Gelin; and then at last came Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, with a company of knights in full armor and seven hundred men at arms, singing as they came.
Laimea stared after the Prince, but the grey-eyed, dark-haired people of Dol Amroth passed, and there were no more. It was less than three thousand men all together, and Laimea knew no more would come. She moved slowly back inside the Gate, grateful for the aid that had come, but knowing it was not enough. And still the most looked-for had not come; the men of Rohan… and Aragorn and Legolas with them.
She turned to look behind her as the trumpet sounded for the closing of the Gate. She saw the road stretching out before her, the townlands beyond hazy in the dust-clouded air. The sun slipped at last behind the horizon, alighting the sky in a last blaze of fire. Laimea turned her back on the sight as the Gate slowly creaked shut and closed with a thump behind her. She made her way along the street with the rest of the crowd, but she could not shake the feeling of doom that suddenly closed around her.