Disclaimer: I do not own anything in Arda.
"Men are fools." The Witch King's remark drew Vrasari's attention, which had been previously drawn to the men who hopelessly charged at their legions. "They have realised their vain hope in this battle, yet they still sent men to regain this city. Only heads without bodies shall return to their homes, earning them the lesson they needed."
"One of the riders escaped, unfortunately," Vrasari added grimly. If he was given the chance to shoot down the riders, none should have survived. Yet, the Witch King had chosen to entrust killing them to Gothmog and his low-lives, remarking snidely that Vrasari was 'too honourable' to slay foot soldiers. "The man called Faramir. His horse is clever."
"One man cannot change the tide of battle," the Witch King argued. "Not even a skilled ranger like Daefaroth nor the White Wizard can change their fates. They all shall die in their vanity and ignorance."
"Of course they will," Vrasari added with a frown, now gazing at the defenceless White City. "It is time we strike. We cannot give them the time for reinforcements. The beacons are lit and at least Rohan will come to their aid. We should destroy the city before then."
"Send forth all the legions," the Witch King ordered Gothmog and Vrasari. "Do not stop the attack until the city is taken." The Witch King paused and turned to Vrasari, who immediately bowed in waiting. "I want you to be the commander of the forces infiltrating the city, leaving Gothmog here to raid them with stones and arrows."
"Yes, My Lord," Vrasari said.
"And while you're there, find this Daefaroth as swiftly as you can," the Witch King added. "Word has it that she played a part in Helm's Deep. We do not want any ranger commanding the city along with a Wizard." Vrasari nodded in understanding, his blood boiling to seek Daefaroth's soul. He had never encountered a warrior equalling her skills, and one who could respond his dreaded eyes with equal determination and conviction. If he was to end their rivalry, a battle spanning from Edoras, it would be the appropriate time.
"And what about the Wizard?" Gothmog asked. Vrasari stole a glance from the Witch King, who was filled with the same thirst as him.
"I will break him."
It was when the gate opened did Varilerin stop praying, for the gates should not have been opened after Gandalf ordered the guards to lock the city. It had almost been an hour since then, since Faramir rode out with the remaining garrison to meet their inevitable demise. She and Pippin moved from the walls to the ground level, pushing through endless crowd of citizens and soldiers. It was only when people shouted his name did she realise what was happening.
Varilerin and Pippin were greeted with the sight of a wounded Faramir, paralysed by several arrows hitting his abdomen, pulled by his surviving horse. "Faramir," she whispered as she knelt beside the man, unmounting him from his steed and lying him on the floor. He was cold like ice and pale as the moon, yet still breathing. "He is still alive but not for long. We must get him to the healing houses," she told the nearest guard. She swiftly lifted Faramir and placed him on his horse before she disappeared to the higher levels without asking the consent of the others. Pippin and Irolas followed behind.
Before she reached the Houses of Healing, however, she was confronted by Denethor. Her steed immediately halted upon the sight and Denethor could only do so much when he saw Faramir within her grasp. "Faramir! Say not that he has fallen!"
Before Varilerin could answer suddenly exclamations came from the people below. She glanced down to see dozens of heads flying over the walls, one landing on the level below them. Denethor whimpered as he took a step back, losing the control over his own mind. "My sons are spent! My line has ended!" he stammered.
"Denethor, your son is still alive—"
"Rohan has deserted us!" Theoden screamed, rendering Varilerin silent and startled. More ruckus came from the city below, this time a response to large stones crashing the walls of Minas Tirith. The buildings crumbled and the citizens shouted in panic, leaving their houses almost immediately as another round of stones flew towards them. "Theoden betrayed me!" Denethor continued, walking to the edge of the level. Varilerin could not prevent what happened next, the dying Faramir breathing heavily in her arms. Denethor grumbled angrily as he screamed to the rest of his men. "ABANDON YOUR POSTS! FLEE! FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES!"
Gandalf suddenly appeared behind him, smacking his maddened mind with his white staff and forcing him to a slumber. Beside him awaited Pippin, Irolas, and tailing soldiers. Varilerin looked at Gandalf incredulously and gratefully. "Prepare for battle," Gandalf rapped as he nodded at her. He turned around and left her to tend Faramir, for he had direr matters to be attended to. "Hurry men! To the wall! Defend the wall! Return to your posts!"
Varilerin drew a deep breath before she unmounted her steed. "Healers! Give me a hand!" she shouted as she carried Faramir inside the building. The healers greeted her with bemused looks when they saw the dying Faramir on the bed. Varilerin pulled down her scarf and immediately opened the man's armour and tunic, seeing blood all over his skin. "Get me water, cloth, and the herbs! Get the antidotes as well! Quick!" she ordered, turning to an elder healer, the most skilful of all available. "Ioreth, help me."
They instantly obeyed, scattering like mice and leaving her alone with the elderly Ioreth. Varilerin studied the arrows piercing Faramir—fortunately hitting him clean and evading the organs, though still causing him to bleed profusely. His breathing was faint, but still enduring. His wound was certainly not created by Vrasari, for that man would certainly kill him instantly. "Help me pressure the wounds after I remove the arrow," Varilerin told the healer as she placed her hand on one of the weapons. With trained precision and caution she pulled the arrows free so that the man would not lose more blood. By the time she did, the healers had returned with herbs and medicines she had prepared with them just hours earlier.
"Stop his bleeding and apply the antidote to the wound while I remove other arrows. Bind it when you're finished," she further instructed Ioreth, whom she had trusted after she witnessed her tending the wounds of the rangers of Osgiliath. Varilerin could only hope the antidote could cure the poison inflicting Faramir. "The rest of you, boil the antidote and force Faramir to drink it. It will help fight the poison internally," she added without leaving her eyes from the arrows.
Varilerin noticed the healers disappearing from the corners of her eyes as she pulled out another arrow. Unconsciously she muttered Elvish prayers to Faramir, to numb his pain or to ask help from the Vala she did not know. Her mind was quickly drowned by her concentration over his treatment, the sounds of rocks hitting the White City and the soldiers shouting dissipating from her ears. Ioreth worked faster than her age should have allowed her, now binding Faramir's first wound before she applied herbs on the second. Her experience was really evident with her unmatched calm, her hands not even affected by elderly weakness.
Faramir's brows twitched in pain when Varilerin removed the last arrow, a good sign if the supposed. She aided Ioreth in treating the last wound, her eyes careful for any shrapnel left inside his flesh before she bound the wound tight. The bleeding stopped quickly as a result of the remedy, only smearing the bandages with small red splotches.
After Ioreth finished with her own, she finally stepped back and drew a deep breath, examining Faramir. "Thank the Valar," she muttered to herself when she saw Faramir, although still pale, breathing calmer than before—her breaths were even way more erratic than his. She silently chanted gratitude for Lord Elrond, who had taught her everything which saved Faramir now. She looked at Ioreth, who shared the same look of fascination with her. "Thank you," Varilerin murmured to her. "You are a great healer."
"I can say the same as you, dear," Ioreth remarked before the other healers arrived with the boiled herbs. Ioreth forced the liquid into Faramir's mouth, and jolted him slightly with the remedy. Outside drums could be heard, alongside with walls constantly being crushed by the raiding boulders.
"I must go now," Varilerin said, taking her bow which she had put aside. It was only then did Ioreth remember that Varilerin was also a warrior, not a mere healer. "Please take care of Faramir whilst I defend the city…" She trailed off and took a step closer to Ioreth. Placing her hand on Ioreth's shoulder, she leant to one of her ear and whispered, "Do not let anyone pass this door, not even the Lord Steward."
Ioreth shuddered, glaring at her questioningly. Varilerin did not speak further and rushed out of the healing chambers, leaving Faramir to the lady's care. She was greeted with the sight of boulders being thrown to and from the city. Large catapults were stationed along the walls with men operating it with incredible discipline, using city rubbles as their projectiles and arrows to accompany them. Varilerin scurried down the levels, eyes up ahead for any incoming boulders and voice constantly alerting the citizens to take refuge to the upper levels. The walls had not been broken through, that's a relief, but the enemies had taken considerable amount of men with their mere artilleries alone.
Varilerin finally found Gandalf commanding the soldiers at the walls, his voice booming with courage and wisdom as he directed the forces of Gondor. "Gandalf!" she shouted, climbing the stairs to the top. Gandalf turned around, his eyes glittering with hope when he saw her figure moving amongst the Men. She arrived before him, panting, before she studied the enemies' forces. There were numerous columns lining to the horizon, consisting of armed Orcs and Trolls, machineries which should have not been within the enemies' knowledge, and a handful of Nazguls capable of destroying the defences on the walls entirely. Varilerin drew a deep breath, never seeing such amount of opponents before—not considering Vrasari somewhere leading the legions along with the Witch King.
"How is Faramir?" Gandalf immediately asked.
"He is alive, barely," Varilerin murmured," though considering our circumstances, he might as well die anyway…" She pursed her lips and looked at Gandalf hopelessly. "We can only hope Aragorn and the others arrive in time."
"They will," Gandalf assured her grimly before he heard screams coming from below. Varilerin skipped to the edge of the wall and peered past the legions, noticing the fell beasts and their riders taking flight. There were many of them, ready to prey on the Men, and coming to city with great speed. Gandalf widened his eyes in horror and so did Varilerin. Even with the full force of Rohirrims, they would not stand a chance against such foes. Furthermore, there were the Haradrims to count, with their oliphaunts and archers as precise as the Elves. If Aragorn were to arrive with the forces of the undead, he better did it quickly. "Take care of this level," Gandalf commanded to Varilerin.
"You can trust me," Varilerin muttered before Gandalf left her. She drew a deep breath of assurance and snatched three arrows from her quiver. There were not many soldiers on her level to begin with, which gave her the chance to direct the forces for killing the fell beasts. "Soldiers on this level, hear my orders!" she boomed, her voice almost echoing throughout the city. The soldiers immediately realised the change of command and dared not question it, for her voice had stated that she would not tolerate any disobedience. "Look to the skies! Aim your arrows at the fell beasts! Aim at their wings! Do not stop for your lives!"
"How can we aim such agile beings?" a nearby soldier asked. "We are no master archer like you, Daefaroth. They will prey on us like eagles hunting rabbits."
Varilerin narrowed her eyes. Back in the plains, her aim at a fell beast was mostly coincidental, but still true. Even then, she had the sight of the Elves and the skill of a hundred-year bowman. These Men deserved their worries and doubts, but their circumstances required none of the two. "You need not the greatest eyes to aim an enemy… and you are Men, not coward rabbits," Varilerin explained sharply, nocking three arrows to her bowstring. "READY YOUR ARROWS! DO NOT LET FEAR DEFEAT YOU! FIGHT FOR YOUR LIVES AND FOR YOUR PEOPLE!"
The Men were only spared a second to swallow her encouragement before they drew their weapons. Screeches from the Nazguls grew louder and closer, bursting their ears with ringing pain. Varilerin suffered worse, hearing deadly whispers from beneath their hoods, of curses against the race of Men. Yet she did not waver as she took her aim at the closest Nazgul, awaiting it to get close. The Nazgul took notice of her distinguishing appearance and chose her as its first victim. The beast threw its mouth wide open as it descended to Varilerin, who remained firm on her ground as she greeted her enemy… with a wry smile.
Varilerin shifted her footing and evaded the beast just in time to avoid its fangs gashing her flesh, allowing its head to pass her line of sight before she switched her bow's direction. Instantly she released her arrows, piercing the creature's neck as it flew past the walls. It screeched in agony, blood flowing from its wounds, but it still maintained its dominance in the air. "Aim the others!" she ordered as she sprinted along the walls following the direction where the fell beast had decided to turn. She drew another three arrows in a single breath, her eyes following the beast which decided to run to her once more. This time its manoeuvres were unpredictable, giving Varilerin difficulty in aiming its head. It moved faster than before and now its rider readied its sword to decapitate its enemies as they rallied them.
Varilerin bit her lip when suddenly the beast swayed in the air and swept the soldiers from the side, causing her to miss her line of fire. She ducked to avoid the beast's claws, yet she did not cower under its threat. She rolled her body so her visage would face the beast passing over her, and she shot arrows altogether to its stomach. Instantly it lowered down, almost grazing her chest with its claws if it wasn't for her protecting it with her bracers—an act which produced two scratches on her lower arm. She grimaced and smile when she saw the fell beast finally giving in to its wounds and crashing the ground just outside the city. She panted, her mind realising she had just taken a second fell beast in the same day, before she returned to her wobbly feet.
On the other parts of the wall, the fell beasts continued to rally on the soldiers and constantly threw several of them at once to the ground. There had been none taken down by the Men, and perhaps it would remain so in the current chaos. Despite whatever training they had—which, considering Denethor's rule, must have been minute—the defences were thrown panic with the never-before-seen enemies raging them. At this point perhaps only Varilerin, Pippin, and Gandalf who could come against the enemies.
Just when she thought of the Hobbit, Varilerin noticed a small figure running amongst the crowd. Certainly, no child would run amok in this current circumstance. "Peregrin Took! What are you doing?" Varilerin demanded as she leapt off the wall, landing just before Pippin. Pippin did not answer, his eyes fixed to the fell beasts around. Varilerin took his shoulders and shook them with outmost strength. "Pippin!"
"The-they call us out to fight!" Pippin stammered, receiving an incredulous glare from her. "De-Denethor ordered us to do so."
"You cannot help us here, Pippin," Varilerin said surely. "You might, if we fight together as the Fellowship, but we don't. Staying here might as well mark you as a pleasant prey for the fell beasts—" Varilerin was interrupted by a deafening shriek coming from above, more deadly than the others. She lifted her head and caught a Nazgul with its visage emblazoned by a steel mask, passing them just then. She immediately recognised the Nazgul as the Witch King once she felt the heavier presence it wielded.
"Return to the Citadel," Varilerin murmured without looking at the Hobbit. "You'll be of more use there. Go!"
Pippin nodded brokenly before he ran uphill, leaving Varilerin again in the dreaded battlefield. The Nazguls continued to strike, their powers unyielding. They smashed the catapults to pieces and threw Men off the walls mercilessly. The soldiers could not stay on their ground now. "Soldiers! Move to the lower level!" Varilerin ordered to the ones surviving the beasts' attacks as she herself ran downhill, towards where Gandalf was stationed. Above, the Nazguls had started retreating, now proving that their attacks were only to divert their attentions and to destroy the catapults.
Varilerin skidded to a halt behind Gandalf and huffed. "The catapults are down. We can only depend of the Men," Varilerin rasped. She looked down, seeing siege engines travelling towards the wall. Large trolls operated each, with numerous Orcs readying on top of it. They functioned as ladders, clearly, though it required a hard effort to take those trolls down. It took almost all the Fellowship to take down a cave troll back in Moria, and this time it was not only a cave troll. "Towers! Towers!" Varilerin screamed, rushing along the walls. "Aim for the trolls! Aim the mouths!"
Varilerin moved to the front column and drew her arrows, convincing herself mentally. If in darkness it required several trained warriors to take down a cave troll, in the daylight it would only take on Elf archer. She swiftly released her arrows to a cave troll and struck its head dead on, igniting a shriek which shook the enemies with surprise. The Men joined her action, firing the other trolls with imperfect yet still inflicting precision. Varilerin shifted her aim to the next troll of the same tower, killing it instantly by firing at its mouth. The tower instantly halted not too close, but the others were still moving. Varilerin just wished she had the aid of Legolas and the Elves right now. If they were here, the trolls would not be their greatest worries.
Varilerin's concentration shattered when she caught movement near the gates. Lines of Orcs sneaked in the midst of chaos, carrying with them a battering ram large enough to take down the gates of Helm's Deep. "Gandalf! The gates!" Varilerin informed when the Wizard sprinted past her. He nodded and she returned her eyes on the towers, ever-going closer to the walls despite many of its trolls taken down, for the enemies apparently brought reserves of such creatures with them. The Orcs on top of the siege machines also sieged on the soldiers with their arrows, further pushing the tower's speed.
At last the enemies reached the top of the walls, the doors of the towers landing on the city and smashing the stones. "Move back! Draw your swords! Leave the trolls!" the elleth commanded as she too draw her swords. Never had she clutched their hilt so tightly, and never had she seen opponents so many. She and the Men were given several seconds to pray before Orcs emerged from the towers, baring teeth and snares at them.
"FIGHT TILL THE LAST MAN!" she boomed, responded with the soldiers' battle cries. They confronted the enemies head on, not hesitating a single second as they put their lives on the line. Soon the air was filled with cries and screams of both Men and Orcs clashing. It was Helm's Deep all over once more, and again this time they merely needed more time. Unbeknownst to her, however, her presence became a fuel to the other soldiers. Her dark figure, dancing among the enemies, became their motivation to survive through the battle. And with every relentless slash she made, every move she made, the soldiers looked upon her. They fought behind her, a warrior who unbeknownst to them had gone so far and had experienced so much pain. A warrior who did not cower to fear and instead struck fear to the foul creatures behind her.
And one more time Varilerin's mind drowned in the heat of battle. Her body carried her like water moving amongst stones in the mountain, her movements connected one another. Time passed like it was nothing, and only the enemies which mattered. She might even think herself as nothing more than a weapon right now, which was rather accurate. She was Daefaroth, the Shadow Hunter, yet she was no longer a frightened child dwelling in the shadow. No, she now had something which waited her in the light. Someone who, at the other side of the battle, was coming towards her.
Varilerin finished an Orc's head before she truly looked at her enemies in the eye. She just realised she had been fighting alone in the frontlines, dark blood marring her face and her swords. She drew a deep breath and for the first time since the battle had started looked at her enemies. They staggered back upon her gaze, even whimpering. The Men behind her almost thought of her as an enemy.
The elleth merely smirked as she raised her sword to challenge her opponents. She was now the Hunter of Shadows, and she would survive the night to see her love once more.
"Come at me, beasts."
There were now strangely more screeches of Orcs than the cries of Men. Vrasari looked up and narrowed his keen eyes. The battle had dragged until after the shadow of Mordor veiled fully the city, much to his dismay and bemusement. With the amount of force they had, it should not have been long for them to breach the city, especially with the siege towers in their advantage. Yet, somehow the Orcs breaching the walls could not get past it further. Something was burning the Men's spirits and obstructing the Orcs' rage.
A dark figure moved among the Men, light and swift like the wind and clear despite the darkness. Vrasari immediately recognised the stranger by her moves, flowing like water and relentless.
"Daefaroth," he hissed. Clearly, he and Sauron had underestimated the elleth's capabilities. Whatever Sauron had said turned out false. She was not a mere ranger nor a follower of the King. Truly, they had underwhelmed her skills. She was a leader, and such skill had been concealed from Sauron's eye for hundreds of ears because of her hiding in the shadows. Vrasari gritted his teeth. The elleth sure knew the best time to emerge from the shadows and use her powers.
Vrasari turned to the Orcs under his command, who continued to struggle against the reinforced gates of the City. He frowned, seeing their efforts bearing no fruit. Minas Tirith indeed had been built by better architects of Men, and they took upon the liberty to reinforce the gates well for battles like this. Vrasari growled as he walked to his second-in-command, who—like all Orcs serving under him—seemed amused by the others' difficulty in penetrating the entrance.
"The door cannot be taken down by mere, filthy rams," Vrasari hissed. "Take out the Hammer of the Underworld. You shall take command of the breaching of the gates."
The Orc was flustered as the assassin ended his orders, walking away from it. "And what of you? Where are you going?"
"I'm going to climb a wall," Vrasari grumbled under his breath before leapt to one of the siege towers, the door of which he saw Daefaroth fighting at. He would certainly accomplish his mission this time, for the battle had just begun, and the blood of an elleth shall soon be spilt on the ground.
A/N: Hello guys! Finally another chapter done with some Varilerin bad assery in battle! She also displays her medical skills which will not change the course of Faramir's story sadly. I just want to insert things like that, you know? And speaking of which, Ioreth is indeed a character from the book, which I coincidentally discovered while browsing the wiki and decided to throw into the story. A wise old woman won't hurt, will it?
Also, I am proud to announce you that the IMAGE of VARILERIN has been released on my tumblr (fishellya). It is a drawing of my own and I am certainly not my best, but it is what I think Varilerin would look like after the Fellowship left Lothlorien. So if you are interested, don't mind checking it out!
Anyways, get ready for the next chapter which will be released five days from now, considering I am now slightly busy. It is going to be action-packed (speaking of, action scenes are difficult to write) and slightly emotional for Varilerin's part. Again, thank you for reading and reviews are appreciated!