"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity." ― Gilda Radner
Chapter 14
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
That's what we did down there. All we could do, really.
May Bema and God bless Fion. May Bema and God bless Eomer.
I never prayed. Not since my mother had died. God became lost to me then. What use was He if He constantly abandoned me? What use was this Bema, the Great Rider when I had made no progress on my journey home? But down here, more helpless and useless than I had ever been in my life, I prayed. I had to. It was all I could do. Send Eomer the good will he had asked for. I wished that he had never shared his secrets before the battle. I wished that Fion was nowhere near whatever that crash was. The rocks in the ceiling fell more frequently now. We had pulled the blankets over our heads in hopes to shield us from the falling. The little girls clung to my skirts. Arton was wrapped in my arms. Vanesse begged for Lia to join us under the blankets, but she refused. She had made a promise to Gamling.
May Bema and God bless Gamling. May Bema and God bless Theoden. Bless Elfhelm. Bless Aragorn. Bless Gimli. Bless the Elf whose name I still did not know.
May Bema and God bless the Rohirrim.
Slowly but surely, the rocks fell less frequently. The faint sounds of feet above quieted down. It had been hours since the crash. Surely it was morning now. Eomer had said this would be over in the morrow. Peace would be here soon.
The sound of a horn began to reverberate through the stone walls. I could feel it cascade through my whole body.
"The Horn of Helm Hammerhead," Vanesse whispered, looking at me for the first time in hours. "Eorlingas move to make a stand."
The rocks soon ceased falling altogether. Mothers around us pulled the blankets from their children's heads.
More waiting.
A sound at the door. All of the doors. The boardlocks being removed. I gripped Arton tighter. No more fighting. Please God. Please Bema. No more fighting.
It was a Rider, his chainmail covered in the thick, black blood I had seen Frieda clean off of the skins of men back in the healer's quarters of Aldburg. Orc blood.
"Victory!" he shouted. My arms let loose of Fion for the first time in hours. "Victory to Rohan!"
It was over. The waiting was over.
Vanesse had no one to find, save Fion. And since we couldn't both go, I elected myself. Eomer and Gamling had both promised to keep him safe. I had to see those promises fulfilled.
Our group was one nearest to the north doors. I jumped and sprinted back up the uneven stairs, past the soldiers who were descending to find their families below.
Morning sunlight, a sunlight as golden as the hairs of Eorlingas shown when I reached the open air. But while the sight of sun was beautiful, the stench of the air was too foul. I fell, coughing and retching as it reached my nostrils. She smell of shit and death mixed with the acid of the Orc blood filled me and I had to adjust. What little was left in my stomach found its way to the cobbled stones beneath me.
"Miss, you shouldn't be here." I felt a hand on my back, gently patting me as i dry heaved, the smell never leaving. "The sight and smell is too foul."
My eyes had adjusted to the brightness and I composed myself, bringing my head back up. The blue eyes of a young soldier met mine. And I made the mistake of looking away.
The once grande sight of Helm's Deep was now littered with the dead. Rohirrim bodies scattered, their chainmail soaked with blood. But there were more than just Eorlingas. Bodies of...creatures littered the corridors. Creatures of blackness. Moldy skin and rotted, pointed teeth. Ears similar to the Elf from Gandalf's party, but while his unearthly beauty had scared me, their faces sent pure terror to my very core, even in death. Their armor was painted with the White Hand Eomer had shown me before riding to Edoras.
The forest to the east and south moved like a fierce wind was blowing, but I could not feel a morning breeze here. Here, everything was too still. Too dead.
"Let's get you back inside, Miss," the soldier spoke again. But I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. He continued to tug at me, but he was small. Probably one of the boys Gamling had recruited. Little muscle, no fierceness.
"Let me take it from here, lad," a deep voice said. Its face knelt down in front of my own, blocking the view of death. "Mallory Gilmore?" he asked. It was the old man from Edoras. The one with the blue eyes full of years. No, not Man. Wizard. Gandalf.
My eyes blurred with tears as sobs escaped my mouth. He placed his long staff on the ground beside us and pulled me into his arms. "Weep, child," he whispered. "It is alright. Weep."
And I did. I don't know for how long. I stained his white robes with tears. And he held me like I had held Arton moments ago. "You have been strong down in the caves for others, I imagine," he said. "Let someone be strong for you now."
Eventually I calmed. The stench around me faded. The sunlight was taken away. Gandalf had picked me up and was carrying me through the halls of the Hornburg. He placed me on a bench in an unoccupied corridor. I wiped my eyes clean to see him better.
Gandalf sat beside me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Why run to the battlements?" he asked.
"Fion," I muttered horsley. "Had to find Fion."
"A friend of yours?"
"I'm his caretaker. One of his caretakers. He was drafted by the king."
"Do not fret, child," he said, taking my hand in his. "Lord Eomer kept the youngest lads in the towers to defend with bows and rocks. None of the youth parished."
I looked up, back into those blue eyes. "He did?"
He nodded and stood. "This Fion will find you soon enough. No more tears need be shed."
"But what about everyone else?" I argued.
"Their souls will find peace now. The time for mourning will be upon us soon enough. There are many alive that need attention."
I nodded. "I should get back to the other kids."
"Actually, if you'll permit me. Legolas wishes to speak to you."
"Who?" I asked.
Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "He said that you had met briefly on the travels."
"I'm sorry. I don't know anyone by that name."
He grinned. "I find it hard to believe an Elf would lie to me, Mallory."
"Elf?" I asked. "You mean the Elf of your traveling party?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"We were never introduced." I stood up beside him. "What does he want with me?"
"I believe he has a message to deliver."
What message could an Elf possible had for me? I started to ask, but Gandalf motioned for me to follow him and he led me through the corridors to the nobles' halls.
He gestured me inside a large room. Gimli, Aragorn, and the Elf, Legolas, were there. Aragorn was cleaning his face, he and Gimli still covered in the remains of the battle. Legolas was clean, however and he wore fresh clothes. His hair was braided out of his face once more, but it was still wet.
"Maiden Mallory!" Gimli exclaimed, walking to me and kissing my hand, burying it in his dirty beard. He pulled it back and saw the dirt there. "Oh, forgive me," he said, trying to brush it off with his hand, but that only seemed to make it dirtier.
"How fair the women and children?" Aragorn asked me.
"I left them as soon as the victory had been called," I said. Aragorn put down his washcloth and gestured me over to a chair.
"She ran straight up to the battlements after," Gandalf said. "Vomited when she saw the ruin."
"You must be hungry," Legolas said, reaching into a pack by his feet and pulling out a small piece of white bread wrapped in a leaf. "It is not much," he offered. "But it will fill you."
I looked at his outstretched hand, then back at that unnaturally beautiful face of his. I still didn't like it.
A strange mix of sounds came out of Aragorn's mouth when I did not accept the bread. A musical language I had never heard. Legolas retreated, his handsome features looking somewhat pained. Gandalf knelt down beside me. "He did not mean to startle you, child."
"I'm-I'm okay," I said, but no one in this group saw through the lie.
"The Elves are strange creatures," Gimli chuckled. "Don't much care for them myself. But Legolas would never harm you, sweet maiden. He is the best of his kind."
I looked back at the Elf, this strange creature I had never encountered. "I'm sorry. I've just never met an Elf before. They don't exist in my world."
"Of course," Legolas said. "That is what I wished to talk to you about."
"My world?" I asked.
"No, that would be what I wish to discuss," Gandalf said.
"I was bid to deliver a message to you," Legolas said, offering me the bread again. I took it this time. It seemed weightless, not at all like the dense breads I had been taught to make in the Mark.
"What is this?" I asked, taking a bite. It tasted of sweet flour. Very plain, but my stomach seemed to fill instantly, a feeling I had not had since departing Aldburg.
"Elvish waybread," he answered.
I made to take another bite, but found I didn't really need it. I was full. So I set it down beside me. "What message could you possibly have for me?"
"A message from Boromir of Gondor."
I nearly jumped out of my seat. "You know Boromir? Where is he? Did he make it to um...Imladris he called it."
Their faces all turned solemn. "Boromir is dead," Aragorn said. "Slain by Orcs protecting our companions."
"He fought valiantly," Legolas said. "Were it not for him, the smallest of our companions would have perished. Three arrows to the chest it took to take him down."
"How did this happen?" I asked.
"He was part of our band of travelers," Legolas said.
"The Fellowship. Broken when he fell," Gimli said, a tear slipping from his eye.
"He spoke of you to me," Legolas said. "Spoke of a strange but beautiful girl making a new home for herself in the Riddermark, though against her wishes. He told me of your past and how you came to be here. Or rather how you do not know how you came to be here."
"When Eomer spoke of you to Gandalf, we could not believe our ears," Aragorn said. "We thought tracking you down to deliver this message would be much more difficult."
"Why didn't you give me the message back in Edoras?" I asked him.
"It was not mine to give. Boromir passed the message between Legolas."
"I tried to deliver it on the road. We were interrupted by the child with her scraped knee," Legolas said.
"What is it then? The message?"
Legolas bowed his head. "Boromir was unable to find time to speak to Lord Elrond as he had promised. My kinsmen found themselves distracted by Frodo, our Halfling companion. He was gravely injured and frequently attended to by Elrond. When he had recovered, the meeting of the free folk had commenced and he never found the time."
I leaned back in the chair. Why did every friend I made here have to die? I assumed Eomer was fine. They would have mentioned his death by now, but it hardly mattered anyway. Whatever friendship we had, he killed it with his kiss before the battle.
"How fair you with this news?" Legolas asked. "I know it is not what you wish to hear."
I shook my head. "I'm growing more used to disappointment by the day. I only wish I could have seen Boromir one last time. We only met once, but he was kind to me. He didn't treat me like an outsider." I turned to Gandalf. "What do you wish to discuss about my world, exactly?"
"I only wish to hear your tale," he said. "And then I will see if I can help you."
I looked around the room, wondering how they would handle it. Everyone knew at this point, at least the basics. And since magic was a natural part of this world, I assumed that was the only reason I hadn't been thrown in the loony bin. So I layed out my story for them. All of it leading up until the arrival at Helm's Deep. The rescue on the plains, Eothain and his death, my new job as a caretaker of the orphanage, and my journey to Edoras. I told them what I had told Boromir those few months ago about my homeworld. A world of no magic and its futuristic setting to the comparison of this world.
"Well, child that is quite the tale," Gandalf said. But I could see the disappointment in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. Finally, I could read someone in this world.
"And you can't help me." It wasn't a question.
He shook his head solemnly. "Alas, in my many years, I have never encountered magic of this sort. I am sorry, Mallory."
I shook my head. "Like I said, I'm growing used to the disappointment."
A knock sounded on the door, bringing us all out of our states. "Enter," Gandalf said.
The very last person in this world I wanted to see right now came through the door. "Theoden King requests your presence," Eomer said. Then his eyes landed on me. "Mallory?"
I stood up, breaking the sudden tension that had formed in the room. "Go," I said to the travelers. "If the king bids you, I won't keep you. I should return to the orphans. See if Fion has made his way back to them."
Gandalf coughed and stood up. "When does the king wish to depart?"
"On the morrow," Eomer answered. "He wishes to debrief the battle tonight, however."
"Very well." Gandalf turned back to me. "Thank you for your story, Mallory."
"Thank you for listening," I said, turning to the other three. "All of you." With that, I bolted from the room and back down the hall before Eomer could stop me. Avoidance. For now, that would be my tactic. Even though the battle was over and won, I still couldn't bear to break his heart.