Author's Note: First to Samuel La Flame: I love it when people review, so of course I'm going to reply! I love that you take the time to let me know what you think. And I really appreciate that you keep coming back for more! Second, to Trudy: Aw, thanks!
Lastly, can anyone draw? Or digitally create a picture? I'd really, really love to have like fan art, or a cover I can use, but I can't draw at ALL. Like, no, not happening. So if you can, and have time, I'd love that! Let me know!
Chapter 14
"Bring your men down to the riverbank but stay out of sight. Wait for my orders, then board their ships. Kill the mercenaries; do not mark the ships," Aragorn ordered. The Ghost King nodded and vanished back into the mountain as Aragorn began to pick his way down the hillside. The other three followed as he headed around the bend to cut off the Corsairs.
The three men moved down to the very edge of the water, where they stood in a relaxed line. Maelith waited behind them, perched on the rocks, her bow in hand as she watched further down the river. Against the hazy backdrop of smoke and gray skies, the sharp Corsair ships were menacing and barbaric as they sailed closer and closer to her friends. "Do you see them?" she called down.
"Only the first of the fleet," Aragorn replied calmly.
"That is the one to aim at. The captain sits upon that ship," she told him, slowly sinking into a crouch.
They fell silent as the head of the fleet approached, flanked on either side by smaller ships. "You may go no further!" Aragorn called across the water. Maelith watched as the men on the ship turned, and the captain rose from his ebony chair to look to the shore. "You will not enter Gondor," the Heir of Elendil told them.
The sailors, pirates really, laughed cruelly. Striding to the side of the deck, the captain demanded, "Who are you to deny us passage?"
Hidden beneath her cloak, Maelith smirked and called, "He is the heir of Elendil, the King of Gondor!" The pirates aboard the ships were of Black Numenorean and Southron descent, they knew well the name of their hated enemy, and so it had the perfect effect upon them. They all moved to look, searching for the voice that had spoken and muttering about the king of Gondor.
"Legolas, fire a warning shot passed the bosun's ear," Aragorn ordered quietly. Eagerly Legolas drew an arrow from his quiver and knocked it.
"Mind your aim," Gimli told him as he drew the bow. Maelith watched, keeping perfectly still, as Legolas took aim, only for Gimli to whack the bottom of the bow with his axe handle. Her jaw dropped as the arrow struck and killed the first mate standing beside the captain. Legolas whirled to Gimli, disbelief and anger marring his face as the Dwarf covered his mouth. "That's right. We warned you. Prepare to be boarded!" Gimli snarled to the men of Umbar.
The pirates and brigands laugh, and one man called, "Boarded? By you and whose army?" The ship was as close to shore as it was going to get and yet they still could not see the woman who'd called out.
"This army," Aragorn hissed. Maelith watched from her perch as the King of the Undead roared and charged straight through Aragorn. Behind him, the ghost army materialized out of the rocks and charged forward, running straight across the water. On the ships, the sailors reeled back, yelling in fear and horror and disgust before the ship was swarmed by the green fog.
"Maelith?" Legolas called up the rocks once he was free of the ghosts.
"They've taken three ships. The others are trying to turn around," she told him, standing to look down the river.
"They'll never make it," Gimli crowed and Maelith nodded.
"They've taken the last ship," she told them. "Which ship shall we take gentlemen?" she asked, sliding down the rocks from her perch. Legolas steadied her as she landed beside him and they shared a small smirk.
"Come. We must sail through the night if we are to save Minas Tirith," Aragorn told them. The Undead King brought the lead ship up to the shore, and the four were hasty in their climb aboard. "Sail, with all haste, to Gondor and battle," Aragorn ordered the undead. Maelith stood at the prow of the ship, balancing easily on the deck, and watched through the night as they sailed.
Dawn found her seated in the prow, unfocused eyes fixed on the water. Legolas was seated beside her, hands resting lightly on the bow across his lap. 'Turn around, Daughter of Gil-galad,' a soft voice ordered her, and she stood smoothly. Her eyes widened, and she reached down to shake Legolas awake.
"A red sun rises," she murmured to him, amazed that the sun rose at all.
"Théoden must have reached the battle field. The clouds retreat from the North," he said as he took in the sight before them. The closer they sailed to Gondor the darker the skies had grown, but far off in the North, the skies were clearer, shining golden with sunlight.
"Battle is not far now," she added, and he nodded. She started to turn away, but a sound caught her ears, faint and carried only by the wind. It was deep and lilting, a sound of the plains and horses and broad men and strong women. She whipped back around, her hair a dark halo around her and leaped up onto the side of the ship. "Listen!" she gasped. "The horns of Rohan sound in battle!"
One of his hands brushed her hip, ensuring that she did not topple into the river below, but there was a smile on his face. "I hear them," he assured her. "They herald in the sunrise," he mused, and she grinned down at him.
"The light rides on the horses of Rohan," she decided, nodding. She liked the sound of that. It reminded her that not all hope was lost. "I will wake Aragorn. He must know," she realized.
"I am awake," Aragorn's voice from behind them made her look over her shoulder and she grinned. "Prepare for battle. Gondor is just ahead," he told her grimly. She drew her bow from her quiver, her grin falling into a determined line. Legolas touched her shoulder, but he moved away with Aragorn.
Maelith turned to face the sun once more and whispered, "We are coming, my friends. Do not lose heart." Then she pulled her hood up and drew her cloak around her, crouching as Aragorn had ordered. He intended to take the orcs by surprise and maybe by fear if the Undead had anything to do with it. She shared a devious grin with Gimli, who was hidden between Aragorn and Legolas and he winked.
It took all her willpower not to break her position when she heard the harsh, higher horn of the sand and scorching sun and painted warriors. "Harad," she breathed, her voice too soft for any to hear.
Her eyes flew open when she felt the ship draw to a stop. "Late, as usual!" an orc yelled from her left. "Pirate scum!" "There's knife-work here that needs doing. Come on, ya sea rats! Get off your ships!"
In reply, Aragorn leaped over the side of the pirate ship with a yell. Gimli thudded to the pier beside him as Maelith and Legolas landed neatly on either end, weapons at the ready. The orcs stepped back as Aragorn straightened and Maelith grinned. In the front of the mutilated force, their captain readied a scythe and Aragorn strode forward, lifting Andurin. "There's plenty for the both of us. May the best Dwarf win!" Gimli said to Legolas as they charged to Aragorn's right. On his left, Maelith knocked an arrow, moving forward but keeping behind him. She was determined to watch his back as the Army of the Undead swarmed from the ships.
The orcs fell before the ghosts with barely noticed resistance. They charged through the docks towards the Pelennor fields, the four winding around each other as they fought. No orc could stand before Andurin and the might of the warrior who wielded the blade. But none could escape the duet of the Elven bows or the count following the Dwarven axe.
As she whirled around Legolas, Maelith looked desperately for Eowyn, Merry, or Eomer. She could see nor hear any of them, only Aragorn and Gimli as they smote down a particularly deformed orc. "Legolas!" Aragorn yelled. The Elves turned to see an Oliphaunt bearing down on them, and Legolas shoved Maelith aside as he ran to meet it.
She watched in horror as he leaped up onto a tusk, neatly dodging the spikes tied to it. He jumped onto the bottom of one front leg and she darted to the side, avoiding the swinging tusks. Putting on a burst of Elven speed, she darted after the Oliphaunt, shooting down an orc who escaped the Undead in her path. His count was easy for her to hear, but a second of the mammoth creatures distracted her.
Veering off to the side, she was relieved to see that this one did not have the chain strung between its tusks as she darted underneath it. Leaping over the body of an orc, she fired two arrows simultaneously into the weak point where the leg met the body and watched as the beast stumbled. Two more arrows into the other side made it stumble again and she whipped a knife free. Leaping up, she sprang onto the right hind leg, slashed her blade across the thigh muscle and pushed off. Elven strength drove the blade up to the hilt in the left leg and the Oliphaunt trumpeted a wail of pain. Smirking triumphantly, she yanked her blade free of the flesh as blood bubbled from the wound and sprang clear. As she caught the tail of the beast, it collapsed, and one last flick propelled her to land a little ways ahead of Legolas.
A Harad arrow whizzed past her ear and she ducked, whirling, her knife spinning out of her hand. But she was not fast enough. White hot pain erupted in her shoulder, just below the edge of her cloak even as her blade buried itself in the throat of the archer who'd survived the fall of his Oliphaunt. A startled scream of pain was drawn from her throat and she stumbled. Refusing to fall, she lashed out at the last Haradrim charging her, scoring him across the face with her bow. Her right arm fell limp at her side as she spun and slammed her foot into the back of his head. He crumpled and she reached up, snapping the arrow shaft sticking out of her shoulder.
She cried out as pain laced down her arm and across her shoulders, but stood strong anyway. It was discerning to feel warm, sticky blood running down her chest, but the wound was not enough to stop her. She had to get back to Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas. She had to find Eowyn and Eomer and Merry. She had to get to Gandalf and Pippin. So she forced herself to retrieve her knife and slowly move up behind Legolas, relived to see him unharmed. Gimli and Aragorn too were fine, standing before the King of the Dead.
"Release us," the King snarled.
"Bad idea," Gimli told Aragorn. "Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead."
The King of the Dead glared at the Dwarf, then snapped at Aragorn, "You gave us your word."
Aragorn nodded and said, "I hold your oath fulfilled. Go. Be at peace." Maelith watched from a distance as the Ghost king sighed, closing his eyes. Behind him, the soldiers wavered and shimmered faintly before they vanished, swept away by the wind as their souls finally found rest. Aragorn turned back to the battlefield then, taking in the carnage around him. Soldiers walked randomly across the field, checking for life within both friend and foe.
Maelith turned, keeping her injured shoulder from view, and saw Gandalf bow his head to Aragorn. Then her attention was caught by a heart wrenching wail of despair and she whipped around, gasping as she jarred her shoulder. Eomer ran across the grass, dropping both sword and helm before he dropped to his knees and picked up the limp form of Eowyn. "No," Maelith murmured, starting forward. She wove her way between corpses, stumbling twice, before she reached Eomer's side. Then all she could do was kneel beside him as he cradled his sister's limp body. But something did not feel right. There was darkness here, not death, so Maelith reached her good hand out and pressed it to Eowyn's neck.
There she found the faintest of pulses, weak but steady. "Eomer," she gasped, drawing her hand away. "Eomer, she's alive," she realized. With a sharp breath, the Marshal of the Riddermark yanked his gloves off and pressed two fingers to his sister's throat. When he found her pulse, he bolted to his feet, lifting her easily. "Go, get her help," Maelith ordered, remaining kneeling on the grass. He did not think twice but took off, covering great ground as he ran for Minas Tirith.
Hissing in pain, Maelith slid her bow back into her quiver and pushed herself slowly to her feet. Eomer's helm and sword still lay in the grass, so she collected them. Sticking the blade through her belt, she reached down to lift the horse-tailed helmet and straightened. But to her confusion, the helm slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. "Lass?" Gimli's voice made her look up, but she could only see the hazy outline of her friend.
"Gimli, I think," she managed to say, "I think…" Then to the horror of both the girl and the red-haired warrior, she fell, her legs giving way beneath her.
Blinking rapidly, she felt the stout form of the Dwarf catch her before she face-planted into the blood-soaked grass. "Legolas!" he bellowed, but the sound was muted in Maelith's ear.
The silver haired Elf looked up at the bellow, and turned, scanning the field for the Dwarf. When he saw Gimli holding Maelith, the Elf felt his blood run cold. Weaving his way through the carnage strewn across the field he knelt beside them, quickly taking Maelith's limp form. "What happened?" he demanded, pressing two fingers to her throat to feel for a pulse. It was there, strong but rapid. Too rapid.
"She's hurt, lad," the Dwarf pointed out as he took a step back. Legolas's eyes instantly found the broken arrow in her shoulder and he winced. Dark crimson blood was spreading down the front of her shirt and jerkin, but the wound didn't seem to be fatal. So why had she collapsed?
"Get Aragorn," he ordered Gimli, glancing up. Once the Dwarf hurried away, he turned back to the girl held against his chest. "Maelith? Maelith can you hear me?" he asked, gently brushing her hair from her face.
Her eye lids fluttered, long eyelashes brushing her cheek before he saw the slit of blue. "Legolas?" she murmured, wincing as her voice rasped.
"I am here. Aragorn is coming," he replied. She nodded and sighed, closing her eyes again, and alarm flared in Legolas. "No, Maelith, do not close your eyes. Stay with me," he ordered, lifting a hand to her cheek.
"I do not plan on going anywhere," she assured him, but her eyes fluttered open obediently. She smiled tiredly up at him, but he noticed that her face was losing color quickly. "I am not in pain, Legolas, do not look so worried. The pain released a number of memories. I was overwhelmed. The wound is not serious," she said. Clearly she could read the expression on his face.
"But it is still a wound that must be checked," Aragorn told her as he joined them. Relief washed over his face to see Maelith awake and mostly well. He knelt beside her and used gentle, trained hands to rip open the shoulder of her shirt down to the arrow. After a moment of examination, he nodded and assured her, "You're right, Maelith. The arrow did not go deep. It will only require stitches and a bandage once we get the arrow out." She nodded, having known that already, but Legolas seemed reassured now. "Are you well enough to walk?" Aragorn asked, pulling her cloak over her bare white shoulder.
Before she could reply, Legolas shifted his arms beneath her and lifted her smoothly. Then he set her on her feet, having seen the look she'd turned on him. She found her legs strong once more and nodded confidently. But both Elf and Numenorean escorted her to Minas Tirith, both keeping a careful eye on her.
But Maelith was able to laugh when the healer woman shoved the two men out of the infirmary. "Go," Maelith laughed at them as they tried to argue. "It is only a few stitches, Legolas, I will be fine," she assured the affronted Elf. He sighed, meeting her eyes, but nodded reluctantly. Aragorn drew him away, and she knew they would return to help in the city. Then she sat on a short stool and let the healer strip her of her quiver and cloak. Her shirt and jerkin had to be cut off, leaving her only in a breast-band, her leggings, and boots.
"This will hurt," the woman told her, examining the broken shaft she would have to pull from the Elf's shoulder. She was surprised when all the girl did was nod and pull her hair over her other shoulder, out of the way. With practice earned from many years of living so close to Mordor, the woman pulled the arrow free and threw it in a rubbish bin. Fresh blood pumped up out of the wound, only to be met by thick bandages. Maelith kept perfectly still while she waited for the bleeding to stop, and barely reacted when the woman stuck a needle through her skin. The needle was hot, having been sitting in a candle flame to sterilize it, and she actually welcomed the burn.
She didn't realize she'd dozed off until the woman gently shook her awake. She looked down to see that her shoulder had been wrapped in bandages and her arm hung in a sling. But the startling thing was the finely made dark blue shirt she had been dressed in. Clearly meant for a broad-shouldered man, it hung loose on her lithe form. "Captain Faramir brought clothes for you," the healer told her quietly.
"Faramir?" Maelith murmured, not knowing the name.
"Son of Lord Denethor," the woman explained.
"Boromir had a brother?" Maelith realized, slightly worried. He must know by now that his elder brother was never going to return to the White City. The healer nodded and draped her cloak over her shoulders once more. There was a noise at the door, and Maelith looked up to see Legolas waiting for her, her quiver and bow in his hand. His face was blank, which set off a warning bell in her head before she'd even reached his side. She followed him up the pathway until they were in the very upper level of the city. The sun was rising again, and she realized she'd slept through the night. "Legolas?" she murmured.
But he did not answer as he led her to stand beneath the White Tree of Gondor. Aragorn sat on a bench around the white marble pool, but it was the man sitting next to him that spoke at Maelith's approach. "I was afraid it would fit poorly," he said, observing the loose shirt she wore.
"Still, the gesture is appreciated," she assured him, realizing that this young man was Captain Faramir. She looked him over, taking in the bandages she could see beneath his shirt and the sling that held his arm. But what she really saw was a leaner, younger Boromir with sad, heavy eyes. His hair was lighter and curly, cut short over his forehead in bangs brushed back away from his face. His blue eyes were lighter, but she could see the weight of grief in them. "You look so much like your brother," she murmured, standing before him. He did not move as she touched pale fingers to his heart, though Aragorn and Legolas watched with apprehension. "But you are more like him here than you realize, Faramir," she murmured to him.
His good hand came up to cover her own, and he met her eyes. "There is a legend among the Rangers of the South of a fair woman who never ages. Her eyes are bluer than the sky, and she wears a ring of silver vines," he told her, touching the ring on her finger. "They say her voice is so beautiful that she could charm the weight from a man's shoulders with just a sentence." At this, Aragorn and Legolas shared a look of knowing. "It is good to know that you have returned to Gondor, Lady Nariel," he added, standing slowly.
"Maelith!" a familiar voice called from behind the girl and she turned curiously. Sandy curls bounced as Pippin hurried across the grass towards them, helping a tired looking Merry. They both wore only their white shirts and tan pants; they were free of their borrowed armor.
Maelith turned and knelt as the Hobbits reached her, and they both threw their small arms around her. Her good arm wrapped around Merry as she leaned her head against Pippin's curls, and for once, the two were quiet. Pippin's hug was a lot stronger than Merry's, so she was gentle as she hugged him back. "Thank the Valar," she whispered, glancing up as Gandalf, Eomer, and Gimli joined them. The wizard's hand brushed the top of her head, where her braids should have been, and he offered her a small smile. She saw him nod and pulled back from the Hobbits clinging to her. They looked at her with relieved eyes, and she stood, letting Merry lean against her hip. Pippin stood protectively at his best friend's side, watching him carefully for signs of weakness.
"How is Eowyn?" Merry asked Aragorn.
"She is well on the way to recovery," the heir assured him. "Speaking of recovery, you ought to still be in bed," he added, turning to Faramir.
"I wanted to thank Master Pippin for saving my life yesterday," the young captain replied. He knelt before the smaller Hobbit as the others looked on proudly, and Maelith looked to Gandalf curiously. "You Hobbits truly are the bravest of people. Your people will always be welcome in Gondor," he told Pippin. The little Hobbit blushed, ducking his head, then shook Faramir's hand. Maelith set her hand on his shoulder, and he smiled up at her as Faramir stood.
"Come. There is much to discuss," Gandalf told them.
"Go, get something to eat. You have earned your rest," Aragorn ordered the Hobbits and Faramir. The son of the Steward nodded and led the two Halflings back across the grass, disappearing into the white marble buildings.
Gandalf led the way into the Hall of Kings, where the group spread out around the white throne and the black seat. Gimli sat on the black seat of the Steward, leaving Eomer and Legolas to stand beside him. Maelith sat gracefully on the bottom step to the White Throne, watching Aragorn as he turned away from the chair that belonged to him. "Frodo has passed beyond my sight," the wizard sighed. "The darkness is deepening," he told Aragorn.
"If Sauron had the ring we would know it," Aragorn replied. He stood looking up at the statue of Elendil, and Maelith noticed how similar they looked. Aragorn had the same proud, strong stance and powerful build as the High king of Old.
"It is only a matter of time." Gandalf told him. "He suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."
"Let him stay there," Gimli let a puff of smoke out, pulling the pipe from his mouth. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"
"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf pointed out. Then he turned away and sighed, "I've sent him to his death."
Aragorn turned to him and said quietly, "No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."
Gimli was suspicious as he asked, "How?"
"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands," Aragorn suggested. "Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."
Gimli coughed out a puff of smoke in shock, and Maelith straightened curiously. Eomer took a step towards Aragorn and reminded him, "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."
"Not for ourselves," Aragorn told him. "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." Then he turned to Gandalf and said, "Keep him blind to all else that moves."
"A diversion," Legolas realized.
"Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?" Gimli mused.
"Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait," Gandalf said quietly to the heir.
"Oh, I think he will," Aragorn replied with a smirk. "He will not be able to resist the heir of Elendil and Isildur," he added.
"Aragorn, the Palantir is dangerous," Maelith reminded him. She was a little worried now. She'd seen the effects the seeing stone had on Pippin, and she'd felt it herself. Aragorn risked much by handling the stone. But he simply turned to her and nodded as Gandalf hurried from the throne room to fetch the Palantir.
When the wizard returned, Maelith stood and moved aside as Gandalf set the wrapped stone at the base of the stairs. "Come," the wizard sighed to the rest of them. He handed Andurin to Aragorn at the door, and the others slipped out of the hall.
As Maelith went to move passed Aragorn, he reached out and caught her good arm. "Stay," he requested quietly. She glanced at Legolas, who simply nodded, and she followed Aragorn back through the darkened room. "Do not let me fall," he requested.
"As I promised," she assured him, standing off to the side as he approached the Palantir. Then she added silently, 'As I promised Boromir.'