CHAPTER 12
All will have blood on their hands
So moments and hours came to pass as they left the land of Romen behind. Ar carried his queen steadfast as the far-reaching caravan of people slowly meandered southward over the sweeping plains of Rohan. The mounted soldiers rode in the front lines followed by the queen and her escort. Up head, coming over small hill to the southeast she laid eyes on two riders coming towards them at great speed. Indeed it did not seem like they were bringers of good news. As they reached Éomer and the other officers in the front the procession came to an abrupt halt. She noticed an immediate commotion in the front lines and suddenly the orders reached them.
'ORCS! TURN AROUND! RUN! RUN!' The officers were shouting, riding up and down the line of people to spread the word. With a slight delay she could se the mass of people starting to break out in chaos, trying to make it back the way they had come. Guards of Romen on horseback, edging the people as if they were herding cattle. Aema turned Ar around and cried to Alise;
'We must run, do not delay Alise!' As she bore her heals into Ar's flanks she looked over her shoulder and saw the black mass of orcs making it over the crest of the hill and the moving blackness seem to be without end. The men were forming a defense as she turned back and urged Ar forward. She could barely make out the clamor and clashes of steal over her pounding heart. She skillfully steered Ar around any obstacle they encountered on the ground. Regretfully most of them were her own people struggling to flee for their lives. She took in the scenery with increasing fear. As most men with arms at hand had turned around to strengthen the defense most people she saw were women and children. The shouts behind her seemed to be getting closer and she once again looked over her shoulder. What she saw made her blood freeze. Orcs had broken through the front lines and were now rushing after the people in flight. Soldiers pursuing and showing them no mercy when they reached them. Suddenly she spotted a women, no older than herself with a babe in her arms overcome with terror calling out as if she was seeking to find someone. Aema hesitated for only a moment before she once again turned Ar, now to face the threat and rode back towards the woman. The orcs had advanced and was not far from surrounding the woman when she arrived. The queen dismounted as quickly as she could, unsheathing her sword before doing so;
'Take my horse!' she shouted to be heard over the deafening noise of battle. The woman stared at her, unable to fathom what was happening. 'Take my horse, save your child!'
'But what of you, your highness?' the woman cried.
'GO!'
'Your Highness, my boy, my Waldmar, I cannot find him!' the women cried with terror.
'I will find your boy, now GO!' When the woman and scrambled atop Ar and Aema had settled the babe in front of her she set Ar off at a gallop with a smack of her hand.
She found herself in the outskirts of the battle. Focused on finding the little boy, she searched the surrounding areas with her gaze. Further away she saw a large Uruk-Hai with a burden on his back and quickly did she make out a little boy dangling from his shoulders. Sword in hand she ran in their direction, coming closer she gave an outcry to gain the beasts attention. She succeeded and with a snarl he turned right at her. Violently he hurled the boy to the ground but Aema had no time to see to him. Breath caught in her throat she prepared to meet her enemy. He raised his sword and howled right before the first stroke fell. She evaded it by quickly throwing herself on the ground with a roll and just as quickly she was back on her feet. He slashed at her and for a time she could do nothing but stay clear of his black blade. She rose to her feet once more and planted them firmly in the ground, she would meet him or else she had no way of conquering this creature. As he lifted his sword and plunged it toward her, she let out a cry and thrashed her own blade to hinder the blow. She summoned all her strength, yet failed to stand fast, for his power was far too great for her. Her arm twisted as the blow brought it down to the ground. In an instant the stinking creature was on her, crushing her throat with one hand alone. He was growling at her in a guttural tongue she did not understand as she was clawing at his gauntlet-clad hand, fighting for air. The pressure on her throat would not ease and she could feel her consciousness slowly slipping away. Frantic, she thrashed in his grip as her feet were no longer touching the ground.
Suddenly there was a loud thump and the Uruk-Hai froze for only a moment before loosing his grip and staggered before falling to the ground with a long spear piercing the side of his already deformed body. Aema fell to the ground and repeatedly gasped for air. She rubbed at her throat to sooth the burning. Ignoring the blazing pains in her body she wasted no time before determinately stumbling over to the little boy lying still on the ground. Every time her feet failed her she got back up and kept moving. His little body was utterly contorted and she knelt beside him and gently caressed him. When she regarded him she saw the gashing wound in his abdomen. The boy had been too easy a prey for the Uruk, it was as if the orc had just driven his filthy claws in and ripped the little boy apart.
Éomer reined in his steed to choose his next target and as soon as he laid eyes on it he was off with speed. He came up from behind and swung his sword and in that one swing sent the head of the beast rolling. With great ability he rode Firefoot through the battleground, easily evading obstacles such as fighting men on the ground. Strategically attacking Uruk-Hais within his reach or those of them that seemed to overthrow his fellow riders. It would take more than a simple ambush even of this magnitude to disturb his calm confidence. Again he his eyes scanned his surroundings to find a target to pursuit and then he saw her. Aema was sending Ar off with another rider. He did not have time to dwell on it before he was attacked from the side. Firefoot cried as he sidestepped the enemy. Éomer used his shield to smash the orc's teeth in and as it stumbled, he drove his sword home leaving the orc behind before it could draw its last breath. From a distance he watched Aema charge against a rather broad shouldered Uruk-Hai. Pressing forward he tried to evade attacking orcs as he went. He needed to get to her and she was not too far away now. Suddenly he saw the scene play out. She lost her hold and the Uruk-Hai now held the advantage. With growing horror he saw him lift her off the ground, her small body thrashing in vain attempts to get loose. He took hold of his spear and thrust it as hard as he could against the creature. Only had he let go when he was yet again under attack. The swords met with loud clashes before Éomer was given the opening he needed to pierce his foe. The path to Aema lay open. He watched her as she made her way to something that he could not make out. She was clutching her arm and more than once did she stumble to the ground. He spurred Firefoot forward and he did not slow until he was but a few steps from her and there he dismounted. She was holding a little boy. Lifting her delicate hand from a gut wrenching wound, simply staring at it as the blood ran down her arm. He walked up and put a hand on her shoulder.
'I… I was too late…' she whispered. He squeezed her shoulder.
Quivering she inhaled and relieved herself of her every pain, her every fear and let out a heart breaking cry of agony. She screamed from the very bottom of her heart. Again and again she wailed. Éomer could do nothing but kneel beside her and embrace her. She collapsed in his arms, her body shaking. He knew the horrors of battle far too well, he had seen men twice her size break from it.
'I was to late,' she stammered. 'I could not save him.'
Éomer stroked her hair, hushing her and leaned his cheek against her head.
'I cannot see them safe,' She touched the blood on her hand. 'This is his blood, their blood.. It is their blood on my hands' She buried her face in the crease of his arm and sobbed uncontrollably.
So they stayed until the very last sound of battle had gone silent and afternoon had turned into evening. As the first stars studded the deep blue sky Éomer was approached by one of his men holding the reins of Firefoot. Aema's tears had eventually ceased and she was now sleeping in his arms. In a silent voice the Rohìr told him that the people were once more gathering and they were making camp only a short distance away. Éomer gave him leave and told him he wouldn't be far behind. Ever so slowly did he untangle his arm and got up. He repositioned and carefully lifted Aema. She weighed nothing in his arms and her numbness had him concerned. With slight difficulty he manage to mount Firefoot and he trotted back to the camp area.
