Hello, all my lovely readers! This chapter holds some of my favorite scenes - Peter's grand introduction to Middle Earth! Hope you all like reading it as much as I liked writing it!
Peter walked slowly toward the village. People gave him curious looks, but he paid no attention. The people he saw actually made him think of the few humans in Narnia.
Suddenly shouts started at the other end of the village, and a man rode into the village center on a heavily lathered horse, shouting incoherently and pointing back in the direction he had come from. People immediately began running about, gathering possessions, and running toward Peter's end of the village. He saw smoke rising in the distance, beyond the village, and wondered what was going on. Glancing down, he saw that he was wearing his armor from Narnia, and his cherished sword, Rhindon. Whatever was going on, he was apparently going to need weapons.
Rushing forward, he helped an old woman who was leading a small child. She was trying to run, but was too old and frail. The woman looked up into his eyes and passed the little boy into his hands.
She said in a pleading voice. "Please, sir, take my grandson… You are a warrior, protect him, please!"
"I will protect him, lady, and you as well. Come, let me help you."
He put the child on his back, where he clung like a monkey, and took the woman's arm, helping her along. Screams started in the village behind them, and the woman began to weep and sob.
"What is happening?" He asked quickly.
"They are coming! They kill and burn, they destroy."
"But who are they?"
She raised her head, confusion on her face. "How can you not know? Saruman's Uruk-hai, and the Wildmen."
Peter heard hoofbeats. Glancing about, he saw a horse running free, riderless. But it was wearing tack. Quickly he put the boy in the woman's arms, and leapt for the trailing reins. As Aslan would have it, he caught them and was able to bring the horse under his control. Turning to the woman, he took the child from her and set him on the horse's back. Then he lifted the woman up as well, and gave her the reins.
"Go, my lady. Ride to safety. May Aslan's blessing go with you."
"Thank you, sir… Thank you so much…" She was unable to say anything else through her tears.
He smiled gently, patted the child's head, and slapped the horse. They were off. Peter turned back to the village behind him.
People were fleeing, on horseback and on foot. As he ran back to help someone else, a dark shape hurtled out of a burning house and threw itself at a man with a terrible roar. The man was weaponless. Peter leapt forward, drawing Rhindon.
The man fought back with his hands, delaying the creature long enough for Peter to reach him. With a quick slash of his blade, the High King ended the thing's life. He pulled the man to his feet, and shoved him toward the open plain.
"Run!"
The man didn't have to be told twice. He ran. Peter glanced down at the thing he had just killed, and saw that it was a huge orc, such as he had never seen before.
More of the orcs came barreling into the fleeing people. With a grim laugh, Peter raised his blade and jumped in front of a mother and her child who were about to be attacked by one of the vile creatures.
He saved many people from the great orcs and the terrible Wildmen, but many lives were still lost. He was the only one in the whole village who even tried to fight back – the others all just ran. Eventually he was forced to abandon the village. Anyone who might be left among the burning huts would be dead long before he might be able to reach them.
Peter was being hunted by the wildmen, stalked among the flaming huts. He was carrying a child; the little girl was the only reason he was still in the village. He had seen her trapped by flames as the watching orcs and wildmen laughed, and received several burns and cuts in rescuing her. She clung to him with all the strength in her tiny arms.
Slipping between the huts and evading the wildmen was actually much easier than it sounded – but still not terribly easy. Peter had his eye on the leader of the wildmen, who was mounted. He knew that soon the burning huts would begin to collapse, leaving him with nowhere to hide, and he also knew that if he tried to make a break for it on foot, the orcs would quickly catch up with him. But if he was mounted…
Ducking behind a burning hut, Peter carefully set the girl on the ground. He removed his shield from his back, and slipped her arms through the straps. They were designed for much larger arms, and so were loose enough on her that they slipped up to her shoulders. Now she was wearing the shield on her back, like half of a turtle shell. She was small enough that when she wrapped her arms and legs around his torso, the shield completely hid her from behind. She would be protected from stray blades. Peter slipped as close to the Wildman leader as he could while still remaining undercover. Taking a deep breath, he darted out from his hiding place and into the open space between him and his means of escape.
The Wildman spotted him and yelled, drawing the attention of every enemy in the vicinity. But the leader was alone, away from the others, and Peter was a fast runner. He just might make it in time.
Peter reached the horse and rider just before the orcs reached him. He dove under the belly of the horse – not at all what anyone had been expecting – causing it to rear and throw its rider. In the same move he swung about and leapt on its back, kicking it into instant motion.
As the horse plunged through the ranks of Wildmen and orcs, Peter plied his sword with all his skill. Until they made it through their enemies, he and the girl were not safe. When they at last broke through and galloped into the plain, Peter imagined he heard the roar of a Lion.
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Theodred was dead. He had died of wounds received in battle with Saruman's orcs. A funeral service was held for him, all the people grieved alongside their King. So great had been Saruman's hold on his mind that he had not even known his son had died.
After the funeral, when everyone had returned to the city, an old woman and her young grandson were brought to Theoden. They were refugees from the Westfold, fleeing the massacre of their families and friends. They had only just arrived at Edoras to bring word to the King.
"They were unarmed, and had no real warning." Eowyn said sadly to Theoden, standing from her place beside the little boy. "Now the Wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go."
"This is but a taste of the horror Saruman will unleash." Gandalf said grimly, leaning forward to look the King in the eye. "Ride out. Meet him head on!" He advised.
"I know what you would have me do, Gandalf, but I will not bring more death to my people. I will not risk open war."
Aragorn spoke up sharply. "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not."
Theoden whirled on him. "When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan."
Aragorn looked ready to try to knock some sense into the stubborn King, but Adara laid a hand on his arm. He glanced up at her, and she shook her head slightly. He could not see her face because of her mask, but he didn't have to in order to know what she meant. He nodded slightly.
Theoden watched the exchange closely, waiting for his authority to be challenged. When no challenge came, he turned back to Gandalf. The wizard asked quietly, "Then what is the King's decision?"
Theoden decided that they would make for Helm's Deep, an ancient fortress of Rohan. After he sent the decree out Eowyn asked, "But what is to be done about the Westfold? The people cannot face this alone. Who will fight for them? They are alone and helpless!"
"No. No, we aren't alone." The woman said softly, speaking up in the King's presence for the first time.
Everyone present turned to her with the same question on all of their faces that Eowyn then asked. "What do you mean?"
"We are not alone in the fight. There is a man, a warrior, who came the day they attacked. He helped my grandson and me; he caught a horse that was running wild and set us on it, sending us to safety while he stayed and fought."
"Who was he?" The King asked.
"I do not know, my King, nor do I know where he came from. He was fair and blue eyed, even as most of the my countrymen. But his armor was different from ours, and he wore fine mail such as nothing I have ever seen or heard of."
Adara stood up abruptly, jerking to look at the woman. The sudden movement grabbed the attention of all present. She stared at the woman for a moment, only her bright eyes visible behind her mask. Her hood had fallen with her sudden motion.
After a moment she bent and whispered in Aragorn's ear. They waited for him to say the words she put in his mouth.
"His gear – what was it? What sort of weapon did he bear?"
"Only a sword, sir. And he had a shield as well."
"Describe the sword if you can."
"It was in a red sheath – I was not close enough when he drew it to know anything else. Except, I saw the hilt was gold, and fashioned in the form of a lion's head. I believe there may have been writing on the blade, but I was too far away to be sure."
Aragorn glanced up at Adara, who had become very still.
"It is he?" He asked softly.
She hesitated, then bent and whispered something else. Aragorn nodded and turned to the woman again.
"Did you see the device on his shield?"
"Yes, my lord."
"What was it?"
"It was a red lion. The same device was on his armor, only there the lion was golden on a background of red."
Adara suppressed a soft cry. Aragorn looked at her sharply. "Is it he?"
She nodded. It could be no one else.
"Then you must go to him."
Adara hesitated then shook her head. Bending, she whispered in her brother's ear again. Aragorn stood, and bowed slightly to the King.
"If you would excuse us, sir, my brother and I will go where we may talk more freely."
Theoden nodded, but asked, "Who is the man?"
Aragorn glanced at Adara. "One who is dear to the heart of my brother."
The two Rangers took their leave.
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Peter slowed the horse to a stop. They were far beyond reach of the Wildmen and orcs, which had stopped chasing them after only a few minutes. Evidently one man on horseback was of too little worth for the amount of trouble necessary to catch him. Peter didn't think they knew he had the little girl with him, but he also didn't think it would have made a difference if they had.
Carefully, he dismounted. Then he knelt on the ground, allowing the child to get down from his back. He removed her arms from the shield straps, and replaced the shield on his back. Then he carefully took the girl in his arms and mounted the horse once more. He urged the animal on, but at a more sustainable pace.
The girl stared up at him as they rode. He smiled and talked kindly to her, but she wouldn't respond. He didn't allow it to alarm him. After all, she had gone through significant trauma today and wasn't likely to open up to a total stranger, even if he had saved her.
He continued to talk to her for a while but eventually fell silent, lost in his thoughts. Five minutes later, he felt her stir in his arms. When he looked down she whispered, "I'm Sermetta. Who are you?"
"My name is Peter." He said softly.
"Where's Mama?"
"I don't know, Sermetta. When we find the others, I will try to find her."
She began to cry. "Papa died. The evil men hurt him with an arrow, and he died."
"Sh." Peter soothed. "Aslan was with you, little one. He protected you, and led me to you. Sh, don't cry."
Eventually she quieted. For a long time they rode in silence. Then she whispered, "What if we don't find Mama?" She raised her big blue eyes to his – they were shimmering with unshed tears. "What will happen if we don't find Mama?"
"I will take care of you, Sermetta. If we can't find your Mama, we will find my sister. She will help me take care of you."
She rubbed at her eyes, and then settled against his chest with a sigh. "My head hurts. And my eyes."
"Sleep." He said softly. "The fire was very bright, and it hurt your eyes. That is why it hurts. Sleep, and it will go away."
She nodded seriously, and buried her face in his chest. Then she peeked up at him and whispered, "Will I fall off?"
"No, Sermetta. I will not let you fall." He shifted the arm that was around her so that he could brush her hair out of her face. "Now sleep. I will wake you up later." She nodded again and burrowed back into his chest. Within moments she was asleep.
Peter reined the horse down to a slow canter, to jostle her less. As he rode, he thought about the child sleeping in the crook of his arm. She didn't seem too troubled by what had happened to her, except that her Papa died, of course. But even that she seemed to be getting over very quickly. He knew, however, that it wasn't so simple. Small children have a way of pretending that everything is alright, even when they know it is not. Sometimes they can convince themselves that things they saw didn't really happen – it's their way of protecting themselves. Peter knew that Sermetta was hurting far more than she let on.
About ten minutes later, they began to overtake the fleeing villagers. Their faces filled with wonder when they saw the man who had stayed in the burning village to defend them riding up behind them with a child in his arms. They had assumed that he would die when he didn't leave with them.
Peter rode over to a small clump of fleeing townsfolk and addressed the man who was clearly leading the group.
"I have a child called Sermetta here with me. She tells me that her father is dead, but she does not know where her mother is. Do you know the child? And do you have any idea of the mother's whereabouts?"
"Sermetta?" One of the women asked. "She is safe?"
Peter nodded, turning the horse so that she could see the sleeping girl's face.
"Oh, thanks be to Illuvatar!" The woman cried. "I saw her father fall with an orc arrow in his chest, and feared the worst for the child. But her mother… I do not know. I think that she is among the living, but I do not know."
Peter thanked her; he took some dried fruit out of the saddlebags – he had investigated those when he stopped – and gave it to her.
"For your children. Try to come up with the rest of the people if you can; it will be safer for you to be close together, and will give me less of an area to defend if we run into more trouble."
"May Illuvatar bless you, young man." The man said softly.
This was the second time someone had said the name Illuvatar. Peter remembered Adara saying something about Illuvatar being Aslan's name in Arda. He smiled at the proof that he was in the same world as his nuka.
"May he bless us all in these times." Peter responded. "I have a feeling we're going to need it."
He made to ride away, but was stopped by a call from the man.
"Who are you, my lord?"
"No one of consequence." Peter said over his shoulder with a smile. "A simple warrior who happened to be in the right place at the right time."
With that, he rode on to the next major group, and began his inquiries after Sermetta's mother. He rode through the whole group of refugees, slowly gathering them together so that they travelled in a group instead of being spread out so much. He distributed all the edible food in the saddlebags, and all the water in the skin that hung from his saddle.
He gathered the village leaders to determine where they should lead the people, who till now had simply been putting as much distance as possible between themselves and their destroyed village. It was decided that they should make for Helm's Deep, an old fortress of Rohan (apparently that's where he was). There was a small garrison there – it would be enough to protect them for now.
Sermetta woke after about an hour. Not long after, a woman came running toward his horse.
Peter hadn't been able to speak to each individual in the group, but the people had said they would circulate that Sermetta was safe. That way if her mother was anywhere among the refugees, she would hear of it.
The woman who was now running toward him was not one he had seen before. As Peter was about to ride toward her, however, screams came from the back of the group. He wheeled his horse and urged it into a gallop. As he neared the back of the group, Peter saw that the people were being attacked by a small group of orcs. He slid his shield off his back again, and helped Sermetta put it on like it had been before. Then he turned her around as if she was riding piggyback, only she was clinging to his chest. She would actually be safer with him than anywhere else, even if he was fighting.
"Hold tight to me." He told her quietly. "Look at the Lion, and don't look anywhere else."
Peter hoped that if she looked at the design of the Lion on his armor she wouldn't see the orcs at all.
He galloped straight into the middle of the orc pack. There weren't very many of them, maybe fifteen. Enough to decimate unorganized, terrified, and unarmed villagers – but not enough to faze Peter. He could take them even if he was on the ground, but he was on horseback. Barring accidents, they didn't stand a chance.
The orcs scattered, giving way before the pounding hooves of Peter's horse. He killed two on the first sweep, and then he wheeled about and rounded them, forcing them together again. He kept on like that, driving them slowly farther and farther away from the fleeing people as he scattered them and bunched them up again. Each time, Peter killed several more.
Honestly, he could have done it much faster and more efficiently, but there was less risk this way of a stray blade felling his horse. Because he was carrying Sermetta, Peter took extra precautions. Still, it didn't take him very long to finish them off. After the last of the attackers was dead, Peter swung out from the group.
"Keep them going the right direction!" He shouted to one of the leading men, before he was out of earshot. For the next half-hour he scoured the country around the group and on the path ahead, looking for more orcs. When he was satisfied that there was no more immediate threat, he returned to the group.
"Can I get down and walk?" Sermetta asked. Peter smiled down at her.
"I think that is a very good idea. Here, let's take your armor off."
She giggled, and slid her arms out of the straps. Peter put the shield back on his back and jumped off the horse, holding Sermetta in his arms. He wrapped the reins around his arm, and set the girl on the ground.
She stretched her arms above her head, and then happily started picking the tiny flowers hidden in the grass. Peter kept a close eye on her as she skipped about, and made sure that he was close enough to protect her at a moment's notice.
After a little while, he saw the same woman coming toward him. She stopped a long way off, looking scared and angry. He glanced down at Sermetta and realized that the woman couldn't see her from where she was standing. Was she looking for Sermetta? He hoped that the woman was her Mama.
"Sermetta? Come here." Peter said quietly, and she happily skipped to his side.
"Do you want to ride the horse all by yourself?" He asked, having decided not to say anything about the woman to the child. He didn't want to get her hopes up, in case it wasn't her mother.
"All by myself?" She asked, her eyes huge.
"Yes."
She squealed, and held her arms up. "Yes, please!"
Peter smiled and swung her up on the horse's back. "Alright, here." He reached up and she grabbed his hand.
"I think I'm going to fall." She whispered.
"I won't let you fall. Just hold my hand."
"But how do I hold the reins?"
He laughed. "I'll hold them this time."
"You said all by myself!"
He laughed again. "You are on the horse all by yourself. Maybe next time you can hold the reins too."
She considered this for a minute, then nodded. "Ok."
Peter glanced toward the woman. She was coming toward him again, running now. He carefully turned the horse, steadying Sermetta as he did so, and led it toward the woman.
Sermetta was petting the horse's neck with one hand, and didn't look up until the woman had almost reached them.
"Sermetta!" The woman called desperately. She was crying. "Sermetta!"
The girl looked up. "Mama?" She whispered, her voice tremulous.
Peter reached up and scooped her off the horse. "Go on." He said softly, kneeling beside her. "Go to your Mama."
Sermetta beamed up at him, and kissed his cheek. "You told me we'd find Mama." She said happily, then turned and jumped into her mother's arms.
Peter smiled at the reunion. He mounted and turned to ride away, but a cry from his young friend stopped him.
"Peter!"
He looked down. "Yes, Serm?" He had taken to calling her that in the past two-ish hours. She liked the nickname.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to make sure there are no more evil people nearby."
Sermetta perked up slightly. "Can I go with you?"
Peter laughed. "You'd better ask your Mama that, not me."
"No, Sermetta." The woman said. "I want you to stay with me, where you are safe."
Sermetta crinkled her brow. "But Peter keeps me safe, Mama. He saved me from the fire, and the evil people. And he got the horse, and we went away from the village. And he made me armor, so that I don't get hurt when he has to fight. Can I wear my armor, Peter?" She asked hopefully.
"No, Sermetta." The woman said firmly. "You are going to stay right here with me." She raised her head and looked at Peter. "Thank you for caring for her – I cannot say how thankful I am. She is all I have left… But why did you take her with you when you went to fight?!"
Peter bowed his head respectfully. "I believed that she would actually be safer with me than anywhere else. I would have left her at the head of the column, but I did not know if there were more orcs waiting in ambush. When she is with me, I am able to protect her. And when she's wearing her 'armor', as she calls it, nothing can touch her. I did not mean to cause you concern, my lady. But as she was in my charge until I was able to give her back into yours, I had to do what I deemed best for her safety."
The woman said nothing for a moment, digesting his words. Finally, she thanked him again for saving her daughter, and took Sermetta away. Peter watched them go with sorrow – he had come to love the child, even in such a short time. Almost the entire time since she had woken up she had been talking happily, as if nothing had ever happened to her. He had talked with her happily as she had engaged him just as happily, and much more enthusiastically. Sermetta had certainly grown on him.
He shook himself, and set his horse off in a trot, beginning to circle the group again, scouting for danger. It was another four hours before they reached Helm's Deep, and once it became dark Peter was extra careful in his patrols around the people. By the time they reached the fortress, both he and his horse were exhausted.
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Lucy held back tears as her brother and the grassy plain he had just stepped onto disappeared. All three of them stared soberly at the doorway, which now only revealed the usual set of stairs.
Eustace put a hand on each of his cousins' shoulders. "He'll come back – he's not gone for good. Aslan wouldn't take him away forever. He'll probably be there for several years, and it'll only have been a couple days here when he gets back."
Lucy smiled slightly; blinking back tears, she nodded. "Of course. Whenever we go, we always come back almost right away. Maybe the time will be a little different since he's going to Arda, not Narnia, but it still shouldn't be very long. Right Edmund?"
Her brother looked hopeful. "That seems reasonable."
"I have another question…" Eustace said. He paused, waiting for someone to cut him off again.
"What is it?" Lucy asked.
Her cousin smiled, happy that someone was paying attention to him this time. "You said that Meital is Adara's Amator name. What is an Amator?"
Lucy and Edmund exchanged a glance and a smile, and then proceeded to explain to Eustace about Adara's people.
So there you are. Peter's grand introduction to Middle Earth. Specifically the nation of Rohan. And Adara knows that he's come! *hushed whisper* What will she do next?
Yeah, ok, so the whole "dramatic author's note" thing didn't really work. Sue me. (That was sarcasm, people! If I get any lawsuits, I will NOT update! Consider yourselves warned!)