XXIV- Required Respite
"Lord Aragorn... where is he?"
Mirren ducked her head at the question and dismounted Hausfel swiftly, unbuckling his saddle and removing Aragorn's pack from the horses side. As she turned she caught Eowyn's distraught gaze and faultered, seeing her own pain mirrored in the woman's eyes.
Gimli stepped between them and removed his helm, clutching it to his chest tightly as he explained, "My lady…He fell."
The breath was stolen from Eowyn's lungs and she felt as though she could not speak as she watched her Uncle walk towards the deepling's walls. Her eyes fell wide with tears and Théoden failed to hold her gaze.
Watching this, Aragorn's things weighed heavily in Mirren's hands. She did not realize she had been staring at them until Legolas gripped her shoulder lightly, plucking the pack from beneath her fingers.
"Mirren." He murmured softly, his warm palm pressing into the small of her back "... Let's go inside."
Steadily, Mirren let the ellon guide her. "I didn't dream it Legolas... it can't be true." She denied, blue eyes meeting blue in a wave of unspoken emotion.
The Prince's eyebrows creased in pain.
"Get the women, children and wounded into the caves." Théoden ordered from above them. Mirren glanced around and the sight of so many needing faces instantly sobered her. "Draw all our forces behind the wall. Bar the gate. And set a watch on the surround."
Gamling nodded strongly, rushing off to fulfill the King's wishes.
"Saruman's arm will have grown long indeed if he thinks he can reach us here." Théoden finished lowly.
Uncertain, Legolas found Mirren's gaze once more, the two elves doubting the confidence of the man's words.
"Saruman has us trapped here like fish in a barrel." Mirren spat darkly under her breath turning from the King. She let Legolas direct her inside, stopping only when a familiar voice called out her name.
"Mirren!"
Gimli called her towards the caves, nodding his head around the corner and down into the darkness.
A little ways inside, Breaca knelt, her dress and tanned hands blood stained, next to a line of wounded members of Théoden's Rohirrim. The girl held a bloody rag to a young man's head and the she-elf rushed to their side.
"Do you think you can help, lass?" Gimli asked.
The elleth grimaced but brushed her long curls over her shoulders, kneeling by the warrior her eyes already assessing the damage from a mild distance. "Help me…" He pleaded, eyes dull but filled still with young tears, "Help me please!"
The young man reached out his bloodied hand and grabbed her arm, leaving a bloodstain that showed the extent of his blood loss. Mirren patted his shoulder gently.
"Fetch me some water and some clean bandages… And I'll see what I can do." She offered seeing more keenly the fact that even if Aragorn was gone, these people's struggles waged on. The elleth knew the time for mourning would come but for now they had to keep going. The man's eyes pleaded for her help weakly and Mirren could see that the truth of the matter was that they had no choice.
As the sun began to rise over the isolated mountain fortress, clouds littered the grainy sky above; threatening more than rain. Despite the silence of the new light, within the Deep, noise rattled around the thick walls continually. Théoden's soldiers had worked through the night, shifting supplies to the relative safety of the Glittering Caves; uncovering the old armoury and the equipment it held; reinforcing the Deepling wall and the great gates as efficiently as they could.
Metal clashed and clanked throughout the Deep as they moved, only the increased guards and watch on the walls stood silent.
Within the caves Mirren worked furiously, pushing herself beyond measure, tending to the wounded and ill through the sun's set and rise.
The people of Rohan were wary of the strangers of the fellowship. Many women thought the two elves looked severe in the dim light of the caves, with their pointed ears and angular features. The woman's eyes flashed an eerie silver and the male's blue ones caught each of their movements through the dark as he ferried women and children into the caves for safety. Their strange language echoed around the caverns as the elleth treated their wounded. The sight of the healed both heightened and soothed their suspicions of witchcraft.
The dwarf was much shorter and less fascinating, although still strange. He stood in wonder of the Glittering Caves, clearly wishing to delve deeper into the mountainside. Instead of exploring, he became a sentry for the elleth throughout the night. Gimli only moved once, with the blond elf, to fetch the she-elf food and water when she fell exhausted but refused to stop.
Mirren was oblivious to their fretting. Healing the wounded was the least she could do to distract her mind. Breaca and her never ran out of patients. Helm's deep had been a refuge for many in the Westfold and their wounds spoke of the violent nature of the Wild-men who had forced them from their homes. Even Mirren's own joints were beginning to ache from the strain of the battle with the Wargs.
By dawn-light her mind also begged for relief but she did not stop, her eyes drooping with every attempt to manipulate the healing the Water of the Rohirrim could provide.
"Mirren you need to rest." Legolas intervened when an old soldiers bandages had been replaced and the elleth hadn't moved from his side. Kneeling next to her, he gripped her shoulders fondly, surprised when her body seemed to collapse into his arms.
She looked at him and her eyes shone a bright silver. For what seemed like an eternity, Mirren saw through him and they walked together, in another world. And then her eyes fell shut and for the ellon it was like all light had been sucked from the cave.
"You have exhausted yourself." He scolded quietly as she leaned heavily into his arms.
"Just ten more minutes," She muttered, delirious.
Picking her up carefully, Legolas lifted the elleth from the ground and removed her swiftly from the caves. Whilst Gimli felt at home in the half-darkness, the ellon felt like he could breathe cleanly again only when he had carried Mirren to the steps of the Keep and the land of Rohan could be seen plainly in front of them, spilling out beyond the horizon.
Mirren made no protest and seemed to sleep on as he carried her into the keep, finding a small room, flooded with moonlight, in which she could lay down for a more comfortable rest.
Setting her down he studied the melancholy peace on her face that he had not read there for hundreds of years.
"Is she alright laddie?" Gimli asked from behind him, an unusual amount of worry and care in his tone.
"…Just tired." Legolas explained, unconsciously reaching out to push some hair out of her face.
The dwarf audibly sighed with relief and Legolas smiled slightly. It was good to see the strength of Gimli's attachment to the she-elf, it mirrored his own and he was glad of the company of it after the loss of Aragorn.
"I'll stay with her till she wakes." Legolas muttered, watching as the she-elf breathed softly, her eyebrows scrunching at an unknowable dream. "It will do us all good to get some rest if what I think is coming approaches us."
"Aye." Gimli agreed, settling down in the room himself, eager for a nap. "Rest would be good."
So…for a while, they rested.
In her dream she floated in a realm of twilight, only able to watch as bright flames reached up to touch the sky; fingering the inky blackness above with burning red hands. Sparks of gold, they ignited other signals in the distance, each one reaching higher, shining brighter on top of the striking mountains.
The elf knew they carried a message over the peaks, isolated and powerful, holding no words and yet heard for miles.
The string of fires burned beneath her until they met the light of a White City, once magnificent, carved into a great mountainside with polished rock.
In her dream, Mirren could only watch as the city crumbled and burned.
...
With a start the elleth woke up, gasping for breath. Her head was heavy and clouded. The beacons, she thought, struggling to sit up, The beacons were lit!Behind her eyes she could still see the chain of fires and she blinked multiple times to be rid of them, her heart pounding unusually in her chest.
Heaving in air with ragged breaths, her eyes were like a startled deer's as she looked around at her surroundings, wildly.
Across from her she could see Gimli's axes and helmet piled against the thick wall and looked for the form of the elf she had started relating to safety. She smelt pine and grass and nature and calmed at the feel of Legolas pulling her to his chest.
"Mirren." The sound of him murmuring her name soothed her frantic thoughts and she realised that she had been striking out around her in her confusion.
"Mirren, it's me." Legolas held her, firm but steadily, as her breathes slowly calmed. "It was just a dream...It's alright. Just breathe."
Tenderly he held her face, his eyes searching her own for something she couldn't focus on.
"Just breathe."
Legolas dragged his palm across her back gently and she began to relax, curling into him as if she was an elfling, looking for safety and love. His thumbs traced patterns across her back, slowly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She repeated, pushing herself away from his embrace slightly. Mirren lifted a palm to her face and it came away wet. She had not noticed that she had started to weep, but the sight of Aragorn's pack, stacked in the corner of the small room with their own, sent tears tumbling down her face anew.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise, Mirren." Legolas shook his head, pulling her closer to him again as if by sheer proximity he could take her hurt away. "There is much to be troubled by."
Uncaring of the consequences, Mirren spoke aloud what she had seen, knowing the signs of her foresight and the glimpses of the future it could show. "I saw Gondor burn, and beacons, fiery beacons across great plains, fields and mountains."
Legolas listened, maintaining his hold of her. Exhausted still, Mirren rested her forehead on his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his Galahdrim cloak fiercely in her hands.
"I could not stop it, only watch…" She continued, wiping her eyes still.
A while later, when Mirren had shaken the grips of her dream from her mind she sat up slowly, Legolas' arms still wrapped loosely around her.
"Rohan must respond to Gondor's call for aid." She concluded firmly, her blue eyes damp and shining from the tears. "…or the city will fall."
Legolas read through her words immediately, "Helm's Deep cannot be overrun… Rohan must not fail."
When Gimli returned to the room, holding a platter of food, the two elves sat quietly talking, their heads snapped up at his entrance, as they had done before back in the halls of Edoras.
The dwarf was beginning to think he was always interrupting them and felt a little glee at the thought of annoying the pointy-eared elvish Princeling as he tried to woo his lady. Nevertheless, they always acted stoic in his company and Gimli didn't call either of them out in the presence of the other.
"Tis a shame the woman and children have had to retreat into the caves." The dwarf huffed, "If only I could have explored their beauty and seen their wonder at my leisure."
"When this is over, Gimli, we will return and explore the caves." Mirren promised, accepting the share of food he offered thankfully.
"…I'm glad to see you better, lass."
Mirren smiled at the heart of the Dwarf, blushing a little under his gaze.
"I must check on the wounded… I fear we have only a little time before Saruman's armies will bear down upon us." She grimaced, looking out of the small window that faced the rock-face to the East.
It was only a little before noon, but outside the clouds had grown ever more ominous, looming like the threat of war that clung to each day.
Standing, Mirren refastened her cloak about her shoulders, "Thank you.. For looking after me." Carefully, she knelt and placed a light kiss on each of their brows before leaving the room. As she closed the door behind her, she could still feel
the warmth of Legolas' embrace as she made for the caves once more.
Alone in the room with Legolas, Gimli let out a loud breath towards the elf,
"Making progress I see." He grumbled, ignoring the roll of the elf's eyes as he too stood and collected his weapons from the floor.
"Just saying…if you need any advice lad-"
"-I'm fine Gimli." He huffed, glaring at the joy he could see spreading in the eyes of the dwarf. "I'm fine."
"Lady Elf! Lady Elf…Lady Elf!" Young Freda ran up to the woman, unafraid of the she-elf, unlike so many if the Rohirrim older than her. The child had an almost carefree face after being reunited with her mother but Mirren could still clearly see how the raiding of her home had dampened the girls spirits.
Leaving Breaca to finish cleaning an old mans head wound at the call of her name, the she-elf crouched next to the panting Freda as she caught her small breaths,
"What is it Freda?" She asked calmly,
"He has returned from the dead!" She panted, her eyes blown wide from the obvious exertion of her sprint to the caves. "Mama said he's lucky to be alive and that I should find you!"
Mirren dropped the bandages she'd been holding, barely daring to hope,
"Who?" She asked, "Who is it?"
"Your friend, my lady…Lord Aragorn-"
"Aragorn?" she breathed, standing on unsteady feet.
With wide eyes, Mirren turned to Breaca, "Go! Go!" The young healer encouraged, pushing the elf towards the entrance to the cave. "If he's returned from the dead, he'll need your help more than we do…"
"…He was spotted out on the plains," Freda called after her, "He's going to enter through the Eastern gate!"
Mirren was running now, into the dim light of the day. Aragorn was alive! The thought lit up her eyes and gave her energy.
Pushing past man and woman alike, she could hear the calls of Gimli as she curled her way around the pathways of the Keep.
"Where is he?" Gimli growled, "Where is he! Get out of my way-ah! I'm going to kill him!"
Reaching the tired Ranger, Gimli curled his hands into fists and shook them at the lad, "You are the luckiest, the canniest…and the most reckless man I ever knew." Mirren pushed through the growing crowd to see the dwarf launch himself at Aragorn with a fierce hug. "Bless you, laddie!"
Following Gimli's lead, Mirren jumped on the man, careful to mind his wounds when she felt him tense underneath the weight of her arms.
"You had me worried for a minute there, my friend." She muttered in elvish, squeezing him tightly. Aragorn smiled and patted both of their backs affectionately,
Pulling back, Mirren studied the haggard man. He looked worn, dirty and tired; that is, a little more so than usual. The healer in her read the severity of his wounds and winced at the red raw and bleeding cuts on his arms. But what worried the elleth the most was that she could easily read the fear behind his eyes.
"Where is the King?" He asked, clasping Gimli's shoulder and filtering his gaze to avoid the questions in hers.
The dwarf nodded towards the main keep, where Théoden and his war captains had gathered over the night and the trio set off up the stairs, Gimli and Mirren trailing after their friend - still elated at his sudden appearance.
At the top of the steps, Legolas stood waiting, feet planted firmly in Aragorn's way so that the ranger walked into him on his mission to speak with the King.
Pivoting to stand next to the elf, Mirren couldn't help but frowned at their friend.
"You're late."
For a moment Aragorn's eyes darkened and he raised his eyebrows questioningly as the ellon studied his bedraggled state. At the torn shirt, damp hair and grimy features of the ranger, Legolas raised a single eyebrow and added:
"You look terrible."
Aragorn cracked a knowing smile and laughed, clasping Legolas' shoulder. Glancing towards Mirren briefly, the elf reached into his pocket and pulled out the shining silver pendant he had pulled from the carcass of a warg-rider the day before, offering it to the ranger silently. Aragorn held out an unsteady, mud stained hand to accept it, holding the Evenstar lightly as if he could break by simply touching it the wrong way.
"Thank you." He breathed.
Legolas offered him a small smile and stepped aside so that Aragorn had clear access to the large double doors of the Keep.
Standing back, the elves watched smugly as Aragorn pushed them open dramatically.
For a moment, there was complete silence in the great room and then Théoden dropped the papers he was holding in disbelief,
"Lord Aragorn! You're alive!"
Wasting no time on formalities, Aragorn strode into the room. Mirren, Legolas and Gimli followed a little ways behind, shutting the doors after them quietly.
"Saruman has unleashed a great host of Orcs and Uruk-hai. They march upon Helm's Deep as we speak." He announced loudly, taking in the shocked faces of the Rohirrim.
"A great host, you say?" Théoden asked, falling back into his chair.
"All Isengard is emptied."
Mirren tensed at this, her eyes surveying the hall uncomfortably, feeling already the chill of the thick, cold stone walls.
"How many?" Théoden dared to ask,
"Ten thousand strong at least." Aragorn's answer was strong and echoed around the chamber.
"Ten thousand?" Théoden gasped, speaking in complete disbelief.
"Those are not good odds." Mirren muttered to Legolas, furrowing her eyebrows. The ellon met her gaze in agreement.
"It is an army bred for a single purpose: To destroy the world of men." Aragorn explained, "They will be here by nightfall."
Mirren shuddered, but the King only paused before turning back to them with a steely look in his eye.
He walk towards them, heading towards the doors that Aragorn had shoved open, "Let them come!" He explained, trusting them to follow him as he strode out of the Keep.
Aragorn's shoulders sagged at the King's decision, looking to his friends for hope.
Mirren stepped forward hesitantly, weighing her words before she spoke them. "Helm's Deep cannot fall, Aragorn. We have to hold the wall."
The Ranger nodded surely, falling into step behind the King.
"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall." Théoden ordered curtly, Gamling simply nodded, leaving to prepare the King's wishes.
Making their way past crowds of people to the curling ramp outside the gate, each of them beheld the strengths of the Deepling wall and weighed their chances in their minds.
"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall...or set foot inside the Hornburg!" The King decided, but his word were more optimistic than any of the remainders of the Fellowship wished for him to be.
Gimli scoffed, leaning heavily on his axe behind Mirren. The she-elf stepped aside so the King could look towards him as the dwarf contradicted his orders,
"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs... These are Uruk-hai. Their armour is thick and their shields broad."
Mirren remembered The Falls of Rauros once more, and the towering, strong beasts that had brought down the Steward's son.
"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf." Théoden rebuked his warning, "I know how to defend my own keep."
Gimli huffed, obviously disgruntled. As the group walked back into the Deep, Aragorn placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock." Théoden refused, walking up the inner ramparts, flicking his red-lined cloak behind him as he went,
"Or they will rise like a winter tide, spilling over the walls to drown us all!" Mirren protested.
The King huffed, ignoring her.
"Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn….We've seen it before. Crops can be resewn...homes rebuilt. Within these walls...we will outlast them."
Mirren shook her head, Théoden was a childish fool if he thought that could be true. Did he not see the darkness overrunning his land? Or the growing power of his enemies? They were already cowering in a trap, ready for Saruman to merely reach out and crush all traces of their lives in Rohan.
Aragorn narrowed his eyes and then snapped, "They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages! They come to destroy its people...down to the last child!"
Théoden turned at the rangers tone, breaking his façade and seizing Aragorn's arm with his own. "What would you have me do?" He asked, lowly. "Look at my men… Their courage hangs by a thread! If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end...as to be worthy of remembrance."
Aragorn met his gaze, fiercely. "Send out riders, my lord. You must call for aid!"
"And who will come?" Théoden peered behind the man and gestured towards Mirren and Legolas distastefully, "Elves? Dwarves?..." He spat, "We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."
Mirren saw his gaze fall upon her and scowled,
"Gondor will answer." The ranger argued.
" Gondor?!" The King doubted, "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell?! Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us?! Where was Gon-?" he forced himself to pause, lowering his voice to a calmer level. "No, my Lord Aragorn...we are alone." Turning he lifted his hand and pointed to the refugees sat around them all, "Get the women and children into the caves."
Reappearing, Gamling protested, 'We need more time to lay provisions-"
"There is no time." Théoden called urgently, "War is upon us. Secure the gate!"
At his words, the gates were clamped and closed. Mirren watched as the last view of the empty plains was shut to them. That could have been their last chance to leave, she thought against her better judgement. Legolas hovered beside her and she shook her head minutely at his mute worrying, turning with him to follow Aragorn and Gimli up the hill.
Over their heads, Crebain from Duneland circled and crowed loudly, spying faithfully for their master before returning to Isengard with news of their movement.
Walking against the flow of the women and children entering the caves, Mirren and Legolas chased Aragorn down.
"We'll place reserves along the wall. They can support the archers from above the gate." He was dictating, Théoden had placed him in charge of the defense of the Deepling wall and he studied the structures now as if his life depended on it. Which, Mirren supposed, it did.
"Aragorn, you must rest." Legolas protested, grapping his shoulder when he could get near enough to the Ranger. "You're no use to us half-alive!"
Ignoring the ellon's concerns, Aragorn helped to carry a stretcher into the opening of the caves.
"Aragorn! At least let me look at your wounds." Mirren told him, helping Legolas to pick up the weight of an aging woman as her legs collapsed beneath her in all the crowded shuffling to relative safety.
As they turned, Aragorn moved to make his escape from their chiding, walking into the path of the Lady of Rohan. Seeing the determination in the woman's gaze, Mirren sighed, feeling the end of that particular battle.
Gently she tugged Legolas' arm away from their friend. "It's no use. I'll see to him later."
"..If you get the chance." Legolas muttered darkly, scrunching his eyebrows at the sheer numbers of incapacitated citizens that were being ferried into the mountainside.
Mirren frowned but didn't contradict him. "If I get the chance." She agreed, directing more women and children into the caves.
Moving from the passages of the Hornburg to the armoury as dusk fell, the Fellowship inspected Rohan's fighters. Mirren was sickened to see the masses of children and old men that had been recruited straight into chainmail. With each new child given a shield to protect themselves, she felt more dismal about their chances of success.
Feeling out of place despite her familiarity with the eve of battle, Mirren collected a few more arrows for her quiver and held her horn tightly in her hands, willing it to give her strength against all the adversities she was about to face.
"Farmers, farriers, stable boys… These are no soldiers." Aragorn breathed, speaking the truth of what they were all thinking. He dropped a poorly made blade amongst a pile of others and turned back towards them all.
"Most have seen too many winters." Gimli concluded,
"Or too few."
Legolas was right. Turning, Mirren caught the eye of a small boy, who stared at her through a giant battle axe, with large innocent eyes filled with nothing but fear and determination.
The elleth had to look away first. "No child so young should see the horrors of battle."
Despite her words, she knew Théoden had no choice but to mobilize every abled arm, no matter how small. Ten thousand Uruks, she thought, there had been no such army before.
"Look at them-" Legolas continued, his voice raising slightly. "-They're frightened… I can see it in their eyes."
Silence fell suddenly around the bustling room and Legolas realised the affect of his words on those around him. The elf narrowed his gaze and spoke in elvish instead to cover his doubts. "And they should be... Three hundred against ten thousand!"
Mirren winced, folding her arms in on herself.
" They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras." Aragorn argued,
"Aragorn, they cannot win this fight…." Legolas denied and it was the loudest she had heard him talk in months, facing the heir of Gondor directly, "…They are all going to die!"
"Then I shall die as one of them!"
Aragorn's words, spoken in common tongue, hung in the air heavily. The sound of them snapped Legolas from his train of thought and Mirren could read the self-disappointment in the sigh of his expression.
With a strong glare the ranger marched off without looking behind him and Legolas shoulders dropped.
"Let him go laddie." Gimli muttered, holding Legolas back, but Mirren sighed deeply rolling her eyes at the dwarfs words.
"Men." She scoffed, passing her horn to Legolas before following the heir of Gondor from the room.
Rushing after the Ranger, Mirren slowed once she understood where he was heading. They'd been given a room to prepare in, bigger than the one Legolas had brought her to rest in the night before, but smaller than the room of his war council. The main asset to it was that it was bright and airy so, despite its essential design flaw in the fact that it trapped them in stone, Mirren didn't dislike the air inside.
Walking half a step for each of his strides, Mirren allowed the ranger a little time to brood before he disturbed him, leaning on the doorframe before she entered,
"Do not linger on his words... he regretted them before they were even spoken." She started, causing the Ranger to spin at the unexpected sound of her voice.
Aragorn sighed and shook his head, fingering the chain-mail that had been set aside for him in the center of the room.
"But he was right…in many ways." He huffed,
"And wrong in many others." Mirren countered, entering the room silently.
Aragorn shrugged, "I will fight with them as if they are my own people, as if they were my own lands."
"I fear someday, it will be your own lands under attack." Mirren murmured, studying him properly for the first time since his dramatic reemergence from the dead.
"Will you let me take a look at your wounds at least?" She asked once he had retreated into his thoughts.
Aragorn cracked a small smile, leaning on a waist height table where his long sword and elvish daggers had been lain. "If you're quick."
Mirren stepped forward, addressing the wound just below his shoulder first. Accepting there was little she could do for his ripped and dirtied shirt, she found a few clean bandages from her medicine pouch and wrapped it tightly around his arm, smiling when he winced. "I could have looked at this sooner, and it would have hurt less."
Aragorn ignored her, until she poked an extremely painful scrape on his leg. Passing her hand across it, the she-elf muttered a few words in elvish, her eyes flashed a brilliant silver, like the shine of a newly polished blade and then the immediate pain was gone.
Grimacing as she continued her ministrations, Aragorn spoke his thoughts aloud to distract himself.
"Rohan must not fall… The best we can do here is hope for Gandalf." Mirren hummed in agreement at this and pulled another fresh bandage around his leg. "Théoden has thousands of capable riders and Eomer will ride to aid of his Uncle if he can... Yet, I fear that Legolas' doubts will come to pass.. That they will not come and the deep will be breached." Aragorn looked at her as she addressed that last of his major scrapes along his ribs and once she was finished, he found her gaze and kept it, "There is little hope we make it out of here alive, Mirren."
The elleth was reminded uncomfortably of his words in Lorien, most notably the three, little, meaningful ones he had told her when she'd been arguing with Legolas. That felt like an age ago now, and yet if it was possible she thought she might feel more for the ellon now than she had then.
"All we can do is hope." Mirren offered, lifting her hand to The Evenstar at his neck, "No more can be asked of us… And all hope is not yet lost."
Aragorn nodded and Mirren dropped her hand, stepping back to her work. The ranger knew her thoughts had returned to Legolas and he tried to hide his smile.
"You need to rest." She said, stubbornly securing a last small bandage tightly around the now healing wound on his arm. "It has been proven already that even I cannot heal exhaustion… "
Aragorn raised his eyebrows at her and the elleth tired not to blush as she repacked her herb pouch and moved towards the door.
"Rest." She repeated, "War will soon be upon us."
Mirren looked towards Aragorn one last time, feeling a little happier that he looked less ragged. But she shook her head of his health and focussed on other things. Other, blonde haired, pointed eared things, that so often occupied her thoughts.
Walking back into the crowded halls of the darkening fortress, she tried to find Legolas.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I didnt mean for almost a week to pass without updating especially when i've got the next chapters planned out! Have you got any hopes for the future of our fellowship? Mirren's definitely determined to talk to Legolas now :D - Stay safe and happy! J x