Sorry if this update was a (more than a) little late. School work to do. Covid-19 to survive, you know, the usual.
PrettyRecklessLaura, chapter 9 - Can't wait for more!
I'm glad you can't! And thank you (again) for the consistent reviews.
lydiavip, chapter 9 - Love this!
Good, it's always nice to know that people enjoy my fanfic!
draconisnoire43 chapter 9 . - It has been a while since I have read a new LotR fiction that has captured me the way your story has. Please keep writing and update soon. I'm sure I'm not the only one that will be waiting!
Thank you so much for the review! You have no clue how much these things mean to me, it's like the food of my brain to keep writing. As you can tell this chapter took a little while to write. That might have to do with the slight writer's block I got during this chapter, though it's not a filler; it kinda felt like I was writing one.
Now, I won't keep you!
Eowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan, daughter of Éomund and Théodwyn, sister of the brave warrior Éomer, niece of Théoden's sister and raised in the royal household of the king as Théoden's own daughter stared at the lifeless body of Theodred. A man -a cousin- she had called brother since the day her parents were killed at the age of seven. She did not try to quell the tears as they streamed down her face. Did not try to brush her pale gold hair from her face as she hung her head.
Théoden, their once brave, now wasted king had not even bothered to come to his only son's death bed. Too far in the pocket of the vile snake wormtongue. Still weeping freely she leaned forward and kissed the dead hand of her brother.
"Oh, he must have died sometime in the night. What a tragedy for the king to lose his only son and heir." She shuddered as the oily voice of Grima Wormtongue washed over the room, raising unholy goosebumps on her flesh. The snake of a man moved from the doorway and put his hand on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to gag. For though she hated the vile man with every fiber of her being she was still a lady. And would not deface her cousin's deathbed in such a fashion. "I understand his passing is hard to accept, especially now that your brother has deserted you."
That was the last straw. Her blood brother -Éomer- was many things, but a coward, a man who would desert his own kin he was not. She jumped back, throwing the snakes hand off her shoulder in the process. "Leave me alone, snake!"
Grima Wormtongue was in no means pleasant on the eyes, blind or otherwise. His spider black hair was oily and greasy, plastered to the roots of his scalp. The more generous could say he had a wizened figure of a man, with a pale wise face, and heavy lidded eyes. Though she, and many others in Rohan who were not so easily bought by the schemes of cowardly men, would describe him as a bent, curled, evil figure, with a sickly, pale, milky face and the eyes of a snake. His longue pale, disgusting, tongue was something both fool and warrior could agree on. The tongue of a worm. His greasy black outfits did nothing to help his already pale face, the tent like robes dwarf what she assumed to be a rather scrawny figure.
"Grima rose from the bed and moved ever closer to her. "Oh but you are alone! Who knows what you have spoken to the darkness. In the bitter watches of the night , when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you, like a hutch to trammel some wild thing in." He put a sweaty, clammy on her cheek and moved it down to her throat. "So fair, so cold, like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill."
She met the vile creature's gaze definitely and held the stare until she could take the evil pits no longer. "Your words are poison!"
And with that she fled from the room, leaving the gloom of death and Grima Wormtongue behind. She ran through the vast, once great halls of Rohan, only stopping once she reached the grand stair, leading down from the palace to the city -village more like. The clear, cerulean blue sky went on forever above her head. The sun shining like the most rare jewel in the sky. She did not stop the fresh flow of her tears, nor stifle her sobs, as she stood, back straight staring into the distance, trying to salvage what was left of her courage. A strung gust of wind blew from behind her, blowing her golden locks forward. A flag of Rohan came off it's pole and was carried away by the breeze.
And with it the small bits of hope she had amassed cracked, leaving her spinning in what was left of her ruined country.
As Jackie passed nigh on the entrances of Edoras, she watched as a flag of Rohan floated down and landed near the company of five, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf and herself. The city of Edoras was silent and somber. Every human they passed on their journey through the city was dressed in black, the high class women wore shawls over their hair, the men had their swords sheathed in the blackest of scabbards. And all stared at the newcomers in wary silence.
Looking up to the great hall that served as not only the palace but the household of the king and his kin she could see a woman dressed in white, golden hair flapping in the breeze, white dress billowing around her legs. Jackie looked again at the grieving people, quickly putting two and two together.
"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli grumbled as they walked past a bent crone.
Jackie glanced up at the hall of Rohan once more as the company began to climb the stairs, but the lady in white had disappeared. At the entrance of the hall they were met with guards who stood at attention, weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Do they truly think they alon could stop us if we truly wished to enter?
Gandalf hummed in understanding as his eyes fell on one of the guards. The same one who began to speak. "I cannot allow you before Theoden-King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue."
Grima? Wormtongue? Great. I can already tell this man will be trouble. Who names their child Grima Wormtogue?
The grey -now white- wizard nodded his head in understanding and signaled to the others to surrender their weapons to the men. She watched as Aragorn handed over his sword and knives. Legolas gave a little twirl to his daggers before handing them over. Legolas- Followed by Gimli who handed over his axes reluctantly. She scowled at the men as they reached for her, then handed her bow -Valkyrie- and quiver, then the extra two she had brang from her home in Fangorn. Then proceed to fish out a few of the many knives and daggers she had hidden in her midnight black suit. After pulling out ten she left it at that, leaving at least another 12 hidden in various places. And the two mini swords that would flick out of the wrist should need be. You can never be too careful if you're dealing with someone named wormtongue.
"Touch them and I shall shoot my name into your corpse." The man holding her weapons paled visibly. "All of you." The others shifted on their feet.
The guard gestured to Gandalf. "Your staff."
"Hmm?" The wizard glanced at his staff. "Oh. You would not part an old man from his walking stick." He looked at the man innocently.
The fool of a guard hesitated a second and then gestured that they may follow him into the hall. Gandalf gave her a small wink as he passed by, leaning on the prince of Mirkwoods arm. She had not had the time to think about their most recent kiss. And would -if the name wormtongue was any indication- not have any for the time being.
As she entered the vast hall she had to admire the structure of the grand building. Meduseld, the golden hall. It was a large hall with a straw thatching roof, which made the whole building appear to be made of gold, especially when seen from afar. Its walls were richly decorated with tapestries depicting the history and legends of the Rohirrim. It served as a house for the king and his kin, a meeting hall for the king and his advisers, and a party hall. The inside was artfully designed, with arches of stone, designs carved into them with an expert hand. When the light came in through the room she was sure, in normal times, it would have cast a warm glow over the room. Now the light looked sickly and dim as her eyes fell upon the renowned king of Rohan.
The man was weak with age and sorrow, and though she was sure he was a good, strong man -or had been- he now looked older than Gandalf. His face held the wrinkles of a sea, and she had seen crows pick at eyes less dead then the ones she surveyed now. His skin was a pasty white, his robes dwarfing and engulfing him in every way. She doubted he could make it to the end of the hall, much less rule his kingdom.
Jackie observed in silence as a greasy man -Grima Wormtongue she supposed- lent down and whispered into the wasted king's ear. "My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming. He's a herald of woe."
Gandalf smiled grimly. "The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." As The old wizard approached the husk of a man they called king Legolas, Herself, Aragorn and Gimli pulled back to survey the hall and its hostile occupants. She fingered the tiny, nigh impossible to see unless one had elven vision, slit in her suit where the small swords would come whipping out should they be needed as a group of armed men started to follow their steps with hostility.
Grima began whispering to Théoden again, and she glanced at Legolas, knowing he could hear exactly what the man was saying just as well as she. "He's not welcome."
It was the king who spoke next, his voice weak. "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" He looked to his oily adviser as if for confirmation. That snake has got the King in his pocket.
"A just question my liege." She scoffed under her breath as the crooked adviser walked over the Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."
"Be silent!" The wizard snapped. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He raised his staff against Grima.
"His staff!" Wormtongue shouted, backing away from Gandalf whilst addressing the guards. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"
The hostile guards moved to attack. Within an instant the twin blades whipped out of her suit. Some of the men balked, and looked at each other dubiously, while other took one look at her, her hair, her breast, her sex and scoffed. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli engaged in a fistfight while she deftly moved through the blundering humans, careful not to do any permanent harm. A nick with her blades to distract them as she took their legs out from beneath their feet with a sweep of her own. She had no intention of killing anyone, except maybe that snake of an adviser wormtongue. The men of Rohan didn't need to know that however. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gandalf continue to approach Théoden. A guard attempted to move forward but what she assumed to be his leader -the same man who met them at the doors and allowed Gandalf to enter with his staff- stopped him.
Oh, he knew what he was doing when he let the Wizard inside. The smart fool.
"Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the shadows." Gandalf spoke calmly, the tip of his staff glowing softly.
Grima attempted to crawly away unnoticed, and she smirked when Gimli caught up to him and pinned him to the floor. "I would stay still, if I were you." The dwarf growled.
"Hearken to me! I release you from the spell." Gandalf continued, he gestured with his hand.
The King laughed menacingly, his voice stronger than it was moments before. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!"
The wizard widened his eyes in surprise. He threw back his grey cloak, exuding blinding white light. They all paused their fighting to watch as the king was thrown back against his seat. The wizard pointed his glowing staff at the howling Théoden. "I draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Saruman.
In the corner of her eyes she watched the lady in white rush in. Seeing the king threatened, the woman attempted to move to him but was held back by Aragorn. "Wait." Was all the ranger said.
The next time Théoden spoke it was in the voice of Saruman. If I go… Théoden dies." The lady in white sagged.
Gandalf moved his staff forward sharply and the wasted body of the king flew back against the throne again. "You did not kill me, you will not kill him!"
Théoden -in Saruman's voice- growled. "Rohan is mine!"
"Be gone!" The grey wizard smote Théoden as he lunged toward the king. Théoden was thrown back into the chair as the mighty blow washed over him. The king thrashed and moaned before slumping forward in his throne defeatedly, head hanging. The Lady in white rushed to Théoden's side as the king fell. When the king lifted his head his face began to change gradually into that of a much younger-looking man. Clarity and recognition returned to Théoden's eyes.
Théoden looked closely at the lady. "I know your face. Eowyn! Eowyn, Eowyn." The lady -Eowyn- wept with joy as the king shifted his gaze to Gandalf. "Gandalf?"
"Breathe the free air again, my friend." The wizard smiled.
The light that filled the hall -once pale and sickly- quickly turned to warm sunny rays, casting it's golden hues throughout the hall. The sounds of laughter and shouts of joy echoed through the hall's majesty as everyone marveled at the rejuvenation of their king. Théoden stood up and looked around him, grinning. "Dark have been my dreams of late." He looked down at his trembling hands.
"Your fingers would remember their old strength better… if they grasped your sword." The wizard said.
The guard from before ran towards his king with Théoden's sword. And as the king of Rohan reached for it with trembling hands, wrapped his fingers around the pommel and drew it slowly, gazing upon the shining steel Jackie saw Grima Wormtongue out of the corner of her eye where he trembled. She narrowed her eyes, and didn't even blink before she sprang into action, leaping after the man as he attempted to flee.
She wrapped her hands around his collar, yanking him backwards none to gently. When the snake's eyes raked up her figure and took in who held him captive he grinned. I swear if this scum- I have had enough of sexist, self absorbed, pleasure digging pigs. "Hello pretty lady…"
She knew the king had his eyes on her, on Grima. Knew that the hall now stood in silence. Knew that there were murmurings among the men. Knew that justice was Rohans to give. But that did not stop her from throwing the bastard out of the shining hall and down the stone stairs with enough force to rival a horse.
Legolas watched with faint amusement as the greasy adviser -Grima Wormtongue- begged at the King of Rohan's feet, kneeling and cowering like a dog on the steps in the bright sunlight. "Argh! I've only ever served you, my lord!"
Théoden advanced, anger radiating off him in waves, orange cloak billowing behind him in the wind, toward the cringing man holding his sword firmly in his hand, the earlier shakiness gone, replaced by the sure footing and grip of a warrior. "Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!"
Wormtongue continued to grovel, sliding backwards, as if he truly believed he stood a chance at redemption. "Send me not from your side."
The King of Rohan raised his sword to kill the pathetic excuse of a man but Aragorn ran forward. Taking the few steps between himself and the king at a run and held Théoden back with a firm arm. "No, my lord! Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."
The ranger smiled warmly at the oily man, stretching out his hand. Grima's attitude changed in an instant, he scrambled to his feet, spitting on Aragorn outstretched hand, sneering at Dornessiti as he pushed through the crowd, she just raised a silver eyebrow at his antics and crossed her arms over her chest, content to watch him struggle through a city of angry Rohan's "Get out of my way!" Was heard as he shoved a young boy to the ground. Aragorns face curled in disgust as he wiped his hand on his thigh.
"Hail, Théoden king!" One of the guards called.
The crowd kneeled in homage before their king. He was willing to admit he was a little shocked when Aragorn kneeled also. From where he, the Lady Eowyn, and Gimli stood at the top of stairs he could see Wormtongue as he rode a black steed out of Edoras. As the King walked slowly up the stairs, as Aragorn caught up to the monarch, Théoden asked the question that brang the mood down drastically.
"Where is Theodred?" Théoden asked, confused. Legolas glanced at Jackie, catching her gaze. "Where is my son?"
Legolas watched from a window of the great hall as The grey- white- wizard left the king to grieve in peace. And was standing up with Dornessiti when the two children on horseback rode into view. The horse looking nigh on collapse, the children looking even worse. From where he stood and his elven eyesight he could see the dirt, grime and tears stains that covered the small faces. Dornessiti was already out of the hall when the boy collapsed, falling off the horse with a dull thud.
Inside the Golden Hall of Rohan Legolas watched Dornessiti as she sat with the two children and Eowyn at a table as they ate, conversing quietly. She smiled at something the girl said, and rumpled the boy's head. Eowyn rose and made her way over to where her uncle sat with himself and the others at a table not far from hers, a grim look on her face. Jackie continued to entertain the children.
"They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."
"Where's mama?" The little girl asked, having moved her way silently over to them. He smiled at the child as Dornessiti moved to pick her up, rising from the table in a swift, smooth motion.
"Shh, Freda, come with me, I shall braid your hair, would you like that?" The little human child nodded her head viciously as Jackie picked her up.
Dornessiti had changed from her battle suit, thinking it unwise to wear such a thing around children who might set off the hidden blades of her suit. And because -and she had said so herself- she was 'tired of the catcalls of sex deprieved men.' He had to agree. Her suit hugged her figure closely and though the majority of the men of Rohan had honor, there were some who did not.
So instead she wore a free flowing dress that pooled around her feet, much like the white one Lady Eowyn wore. Though hers was in a pale, mint green colour that set off the grey of her eyes and the silver of her nicely. The neckline rested along her collarbones, dipping into a slight 'V', a silver amulet he never noticed before, the shape of a crescent moon lay there. He knew it was not new for it was of elven make, she could have owned it for centuries and it would look as new as the day it was made. The fabric of the dress was loose and soft, comfortable for walking around and spending a day in. It billowed around her legs where she walked. An undecorated silver belt hung from her hips in the fashion that all Ladies of court liked to wear, and the sleeves, loose bell sleeves that were held in place at her fingers, were detailed with smell designs at the cuffs in thread as white as fresh snow. Silk slippers of a matching design adorned her feet. Her leather wristbands with the elven and dwarven designs etched into them were ever present, the one he now knew she used to hide the scar that traveled the two inches along her forearm, close to her wrist. Her long, lower back length hair was pulled up in a half up half down braid, the silver terraces artfully placed to conceal the scar along her neck. An elegant silk cloak of dove grey material rested on her shoulders.
She picked the little girl up, carrying her to the fire, and pulling the little boy along as they passed the table. Then Jackie sat the child down and kneeled down behind her, beginning to weave the chestnut locks into an intricate elven braid.
"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron." Gandalf said quietly, eyeing the children. "Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children." The wizard leaned forward and put a hand on Théoden's chair. The king looked at the wrinkled hand warily. "You must fight."
"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king." Aragorn reminded them.
"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us. I know what it is that you want from me. But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war." Théoden said dejectedly, shooting down Aragorn's statement with a stern look.
Gimli took a bite of his bread as the dwarf watched the exchange between Aragorn and the king. Legolas watched in faint amusement as their strong wills clashed. Jackie came back from the fire, the two children sleeping on a nearby sift, her silk cloak draped over their comatose bodies like a blanket.
"I agree with Aragorn, Lord Théoden. Open war is nigh, and you may not have a choice. Do not waste time, supplies and energy fleeing." Dornessiti said. "Think of the children." He caught the look she cast in the sleeping youths.
"It is for the children I do this!" Théoden cried, bringing his hands down on the table. "And I do not recall seeking counsel from a girl."
"Woman." Jackie said, any warmth gone from her voice as she narrowed her eyes on the king and put her hand on her hips. "I have seen more wars and death than the age of your years. You do not get to rebuff me, boy." The king bristled but Dornessiti wasn't finished. "I assumed you may have an evolved enough brain to see past my sex but appears I was mistaken. You are just as pig headed as the lowest grunts in your army. If you will not listen to the counsel of a woman then at least listen to one of a man. Aragorn is correct! You will do nothing but exhaust your men and strike fear into the hearts of your people if you flee now."
"You care much for the children, my Lady." Eowyn called from her place by the fire. Jackie bristled at the title. Lips pursing. He had kissed those lips, then trailed his own down the column of her neck- "Were you ever a mother?"
Dornessiti went shock still, as did everyone else in the room. Her eyes darted to Gimli, then to the children laying on the comforter. "Now is not the time, nor the place for such conversation." Was it just him or did she appear… sad? "Though if you must know, I was one, once. In a way."
His mind went silent.
What.
She had a child. Had conceived, had laid with a man- male-
The thought made him want to punch something. Want to find whoever sired the child and murder him for- for being with her.
But-
Where is the child now? Where is the man who sired it? Did he abandon her? Take the child and leave her like dirt?
From the look on their faces Aragorn, Théoden, even Gandalf were puzzling over the same series of questions. Only Gimli seemed to be unshaken by the information, in fact if anything he looked sad, pitying even. He knew something.
Aragorn was the first to recover, whirling to Théoden. "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not. Jackie-" He paused glancing at her. But she seemed lost in her own thoughts, a single tear escaped her eye but she paid it no heed. "Lady Dornessiti is correct."
"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." The king growled. Anger and annoyance clear in his posture and voice as he glared at the ranger.
Gimli took a slip from his flask and burped. Jackie made her way over to the dwarfs table and grabbed his mug. Downing it all before slamming it down on the table with a gasp.
Gandalf glanced with concern at Jackie. "Then what is the king's decision?"
Jackie could hear Legolas follow her as she made her way to her room.
So many emotions wheeled through her brain. She was angry- furious at the king. The fool had refused their counsel. She was happy with the children. Confused about Legolas. He had kissed her for the second time. Yet he had yet to remember her, she could see it in his eyes. Could she be happy, be with, even if he never truly remembered her. Never knew or achieved the depth of connection they had over weeks of travel and bonding. Or would she just break her own heart every time the prince looked at her, thinking that he first met her in Rivendell. Elves feel everything they feel to extremes. Anger is fury. Sadness is anguish. And her, well her father, her true father, Thrain, had always said she felt everything far more deeply, far more quickly than any elf he ever met. Maybe it was the trauma or the way that she was raised but she did. That was why she had loved Fangorn. There was truly nothing there to grow attached to save for the trees and their shepherds. Nothing to hurt her. And what Eowyn had said-
She fingered her cresnet amulet. Sadness, anguish, grief, heartache, heartbreak, hopelessness, sorrow, misery- all of it came crashing down on her ten fold. She had never had a child in the sense of giving birth. Laying with someone from the opposite sex to consieve a baby. But she had experienced the role of motherhood- at least to some degree. A hundred times over. Thrain's sons, his grandsons, their children, and their children, and their children. On many occasions she had been there for the birth of the babe. She did not know if she would ever bear a child. Did not want to bring an innocent infant into a world so plagued with darkness. Have them bare the shame of a mother so deformed and did not mean she could not care for children. Maybe it was her own past, her parents had been raped and murdered before her eyes. When she was four. She was raised to be a dwarf in an elven body, and her adoptive family loved her as their own. Maybe it was that she wanted to forward that same kindness to others. And maybe- just maybe she wanted to have- one day. When- if she ever- she ran into the archway of her doorway before she could finish her own thought.
"Dornessiti- Jackie." Legolas said softly from behind her. A firm hand rested on her back, just below the neckline of her dress. "Are tye ilya foraime? (Elvish: Are you all right?)"
"Lala. (Elvish: No)"
"Do you wish to speak of it?"
"Lala. (Elvish: No)"
And with that she shut the wooden door of her chamber in the prince's face.
Her rooms were simple, the bed wooden, the mattress stuffed with feather down. A single window looked out over the sleeping city, the pale, soft salt white duvet rested over the pristine white sheets. She had barely slipped out of her dress before she fell into the soft bed, and was asleep before her head hit the stuffed pillow.
Outside of Meduseld, on the grand steps leading up to the golden hall Jackie could hear a guard calling to the people from where she stood in the courtyard. Going through her motions by herself, both dark breeches and a white tunic soaked with sweat after hours of practise. She had risen hours before sunrise, and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
"By order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourselves with treasures. Take only what provisions you need.
She growled low in her throat and swung her blade with more force than needed, sending the straw stuffed head of the practise dummy tumbling to the ground rolling down the hill. The king was a fool. An arrogant, prideful fool. She watched with unseeing eyes as the straw dummies head got lost and trampled by the moving crowd. Humans moved about their city, gathering their belongings and preparing for the journey to the keep.
She would go with them, to try to save them from the inevitable fate that would follow them if they hid like cornered prey in the keep. Though she doubted one maimed she-elf would do much if they truly were trapped within the walls of helm's deep.
Walking up to the great hall she watched as Lady Eowyn opened a heavy looking chest and pulled out a fine crafted sword. The woman ensheathed the blade and began to practise, swinging around only to be blocked by Aragorn, who met her parry with a sword of his own.
"You have some skill with the blade." Aragorn said in conversation.
With one swift and elegant move, Eowyn swung her sword and rendered Aragorn vulnerable, gaining the upper hand. I knew there was a reason I liked her.
Eowyn stepped back and sheathed her sword. "Women of this country learned long ago: Those without swords may still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain." Jackie was happily surprised. But a grim happy all the same. She was correct of course, just because one did not partake in a war did not mean one could not die by it's hand. Though- if she was being truly honest with herself- women usually suffered a fate far worse than death.
"What do you fear, my lady?" Aragorn asked.
Realizing she was intruding on an increasingly private moment- despite the fact it was taking place in an open hall- quickly left, leaving the two behind. Eowyn was quite obviously falling swiftly for the ranger, though Aragorn's heart already belonged to another. Grand. Just what they all needed. A lover's quarrel between the heir to the throne of Gondor, a shieldmaiden of Rohan -who just so happens to be the niece of the king- and the daughter of Lord Elrond.
Things are going to get complicated.
Aragorn watched his friend and companion Jackie Dornessiti walk away from the Golden Hall of Rohan, going over the conversation he had had hours prior with Gandalf as the white wizard fled from the stables, swearing to return on the third day, and blissfully unaware of the heated gaze Eowyn now watched him with as she put her sword back into its place in the trunk. What he did see however was an even older friend and companion of his watch the she-elf enter the masses of bustling humans.
Legolas watched Dornessiti's retreating figure with the expression one has when one is trying to solve the most complex of puzzles. Aragorn sighed. Excellent, just what they required at the moment. A lover's dilemma between his oldest friend -who just so happens to be the crown prince of Mirkwood- and his newest friend -who has a secret she refuses to share with anyone.
Things are going to get complicated.
Jackie stared at her hands as she passed Eowyn, her heart hardening to stone once again as she finished telling the shieldmaiden the dreadful news.
"Lord Aragorn, where is he?"
"He fell." Was all Jackie said before leaving the distraught woman behind.
All the refugees now resided in helms deep, she watched from the corner of her eye as the children she had comforted before the hearth in Rohan ran to their crying mothers arms. But even the happy sight couldn't stop the fracturing that was occurring beneath her skin. It was times like these that she thanked her time as a Mirkwood sentry. Keeping one's face impassive and unfeeling, even if you feel the very opposite in your heart.
Legolas approached her silently as a single tear escaped her eye. They had all fought bravely. The warg attack had come out of nowhere, surprising them all. Eowyn had been ordered to take the refugees to Helms Deep, though she had attempted to join the fight. She had given the king a glare so fierce even Gimli flinched when Théoden turned to her, the same order forming on his lips.
The prince of mirkwood said nothing as he wrapped his arms around her shaking figure.
And That's all folks! Thanks again to all who read, review and favorite! I have no clue when the next chapter will come out but I hope you enjoy it when it does.
Remember- reviews are like food for the fingers that write this fanfiction!
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