AN: The reference was to Insidious: Part II when a malevolent spirit possessing the husband tries to strangle his wife and as she's running out of air, she sees the face of the spirit possessing him. A super jarring scene in my opinion, especially the soundtrack.
Chapter 37: The Chase
Now that I was safe and had relayed my message, I let myself fall back against the ground bonelessly. Everything hurt. Parts I forgot I had were in exhausted agony. The skin of my left breast tingled but sharply bit at the same time.
A nap sounded really good, I thought half-deliriously. My eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds and I shivered with how tired I was.
Suddenly gentle hands were on my face.
I jumped out of my skin and suddenly my heart was pounding again. There was no more adrenaline left, I had already used up every bit of it my body could wring out of itself. "Hey, Aragorn," I greeted my dirty, smelly friend with a loopy smile.
His brows were furrowed as his eyes darted from my face to my neck. "Where are you injured?" he demanded, but in a nice soft voice.
"I can deal with it myself," I said, waving him off. Ow, that hurt.
He glared at me and raised an eyebrow.
I really didn't have the stamina for another argument, so I let out a big breath. Which I regretted even as I did it. "Do you really want to deal with my chest, considering the mood Boromir's been in?" I asked, half-joking.
"If he doesn't like it, then too bad," Aragorn replied. There was a bit of a sparkle in his grey eyes as he added, "It wouldn't be the first time I've dealt with your chest and somehow I doubt it'll be the last."
We shared a little chuckle.
"Considering that's where people tend to aim, you're probably right," I admitted. It took a moment of willing my body to cooperate with me before I was able to get my tunic off, then my undershirt, and pop the left breast out. "Fuckers ruined my new bra," I muttered, glaring at the nearest corpse.
"When we reach Rohan, your clothing can be repaired," Aragorn assured me as he examined the shallow slice across the top of my breast.
"Rohan?" I asked, a bit bewildered.
He nodded. "After we rescue Merry and Pippin, we need to go to Rohan. To warn them that war is here," he explained grimly.
I scoffed out a laugh. "If Andy, Mackey, and Matt aren't already preparing for that, I'll be shocked," I said, "We know what war looks like."
As Aragorn got out the bandages, he tried to smile but it turned out as a grimace. "I hope that you are right," he murmured.
When he held out the bandages, I remembered Lady Galadriel's words again. But these made me feel hopeful. "Wait, before anything, Lady Galadriel gave me something that she said was for injuries," I told him before he possibly wasted good clean linen.
"Legolas," Aragorn called to the elf, who had politely faced away from my topless body, "Would you bring us Cass's pack?"
"Of course," Legolas agreed and like he hadn't been through a battle went running off effortlessly. I couldn't say how jealous I was of his ability to always look perfect. Maybe those braids weren't so dumb after all.
The February chill was getting to me, so for the moment I put my breast back where it belonged and huddled under my cloak.
My nose was set with a minimum of fuss. Then gently but firmly Aragorn lifted my chin to take a look at my neck. "Can you breathe alright?" he asked as he examined what must have been some severe bruising.
"Yeah," I answered, making a face.
"You're having trouble speaking," Aragorn observed.
I smiled awkwardly. "Mhm," I hummed out in confirmation.
So lightly that I barely felt it, Aragorn traced the outlines of the bruising. "The uruk-hai didn't do this," he stated. An unspoken demand for information was in his tone.
"How would you know?" I challenged.
"Their claws would have pierced your skin," Aragorn replied sensibly.
Oh dear. "Uh, promise that murder isn't on the horizon? Cause, uh, it was actually Sauron, even if it was, uh-" How do I say that Sauron used my husband's body to choke me out? Is this how abused women feel, so ashamed and anxious and anguished?
Movement caught my attention from several yards away. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw Boromir shamble over a hillock, looking so very distressed and despairing. Blood was caked on the right side of his face but otherwise he looked unhurt, just dirty.
Then his eyes met mine and horror dawned. "Eru, it wasn't a nightmare," he breathed.
It hurt to shake my head, so I gave him a tight smile.
There are plenty of things I could have envisioned Boromir doing when he 'woke up' so to speak. Dropping to his knees and throwing up was not on that list. Maybe it was his head injury, I thought.
Unfortunately Aragorn and Gimli weren't completely stupid and knew instantly what happened. The growl that Gimli gave was frightening, tapping the handle of his axe against one palm rhythmically. "What did you do?" he demanded.
Aragorn's eyes were hard as he looked from my bruising to my husband. "What happened?" he questioned in a quiet tone that was more threatening than any shout.
"The goddamned ring got to him, and I got in between him and Frodo. I think Boromir might have been possessed- I saw him," I said with special emphasis on the last word. Horror crept into my words as I added, "Sauron makes me look like Miss Universe."
Closing his eyes, Aragorn let out a hard breath. "We are unspeakably fortunate," he said, "That no one has died-" He cut off his words and determination shaped his expression, blazed from his grey eyes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Legolas arrive. He was carrying my bag like it was empty, despite that I knew it was at least twenty pounds. "We must hurry," he urged, "Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore."
I grinned.
"You told him to go," Legolas surmised.
As confirmation, I let my grin widen.
"Frodo and Sam can and must carry on this quest alone," Aragorn decided with a soft sigh.
"The fellowship has failed," Gimli grumbled, finally setting his axe down.
Aragorn was regrouping, regaining his spirit. "Not if we hold true to each other," he stated. He looked at me, then Boromir, who was recovering from being sick. "All of us," he said firmly.
I began to dig in my bag as Aragorn filled in Legolas and Boromir. Wooden oval, wooden oval- Ah ha! Triumphantly I pulled out the beautifully carved gift and automatically twisted it, half surprised as it popped open. The little bit of cream inside smelled like honey and apples.
Very carefully I got as little on my fingers as I could and shoved them down my shirt to take care of the breast wound. Instantly the pain was relieved. "This stuff is better than dragon balm," I said, impressed, and lathered my nose and jaw in it. A few teeth were loose, but not terribly so; they'd anchor back in by themselves given time.
I handed the balm to Aragorn, who smeared just enough on my neck to cover the affected skin. Icy relief rushed into my veins and I was delighted that my sigh didn't hurt at all. "How's it look?" I asked, gleeful when it barely hurt to speak. It was like I was at the back end of a bad cold.
"The bruising is gone," Aragorn replied, smiling, as he handed the half-full container back.
Now with very little pain, I shook my head in amazement. "Elvish medicine is the best," I declared.
I was exhausted, but there was still something I needed to do. "Help me up," I demanded of Aragorn.
Not quite effortlessly he pulled me up.
My legs shook slightly but they consented to bear me over to where Boromir was muttering to himself, hands running through his hair in clear distress. Kneeling was more like a controlled fall. "Let me see your head," I told him firmly.
Unusually docile, Boromir let me handle his chin to see the wound I had caused. He wouldn't look me in the eye even after I splashed a little water onto the wound site.
"Hm," I hummed to myself as I probed the area around the small cut with gentle fingers, "Nothing broken, looks like it's just the cut and bruise." Again I opened the tub of healing cream and smeared a bit on my fingers.
Before I could touch Boromir's face, he gently caught my wrist. Could he feel how hard that made my heart beat? "You shouldn't waste such a precious thing on me," he murmured.
Finally he met my eyes and the guilt, the self-hatred, made me want to cry for him. He looked on the verge of tears.
For him, I smiled. "Don't tell me what to do with my own belongings," I told him in a gentle tone. I felt horribly guilty for hurting him, even in self defense.
His grip on my wrist loosened and he allowed me to smear the cream on his face. Feeling it is one thing, but seeing the cut ease closed and the bruise speed through its healing process was just like magic. "Any other injuries?" I asked expectantly.
"No. I only woke minutes ago," Boromir denied. He again looked away, drawing away from me.
I wasn't about to have that. The moment the container was closed again, I stuffed it in my pocket and threw my arms around his shoulders.
Boromir went stiff for a long moment. Then he slumped into my hold and set his forehead against my shoulder. "How did you know, even back in Rivendell?" he whispered as he wound his arms around me.
"Hm?" I refused to let go of him long enough to see his expression. I was too busy breathing in against his neck, not even minding the sweaty smell in the relief that he was alive and himself again.
"I am no man of honor, my guilt runs dark and deep," Boromir recited, "My oaths betray each other 'til there's nothing left to keep." Ah, from our duet.
"That song is about fictional characters. It has nothing to do with you," I told him fiercely and kissed his newly healed temple, "You were put up against something stronger than any being alive. It's nothing to be ashamed of that a maiar got one over on you."
He pulled back just enough to look me in the face. "I hurt you," he said hoarsely. Barely he touched the hollow of my throat with his fingertips.
Automatically I pulled in a little gasp.
The guilt welled up again and he ducked his head.
I let out a huff. "Your hands were used by someone else to hurt me, yes," I confirmed impatiently, "If you feel guilty, then make it up to me."
The chance of redemption put a little hope in his eyes. "How?" he whispered desperately.
"You can start by helping us get Merry and Pippin back," I answered, letting go of him to stretch my overused limbs, "Then help us defeat Sauron. I think that'll more than make up for being used as an instrument of destruction."
A short, sharp nod. "Where are the hobbits? I must apologize to Frodo," Boromir said, looking around but finding only Gimli.
"Gone. We don't have to worry about that anymore," I replied.
Regret and relief are a strange combination and I think we both felt them, to varying degrees. I hadn't failed my test and Boromir could no longer be tempted. "I need to say sorry to Merry and Pippin," I said to let him know I hadn't exactly been an angel, "I wasn't able to stop them being taken."
"Both of you are feeling guilty for things that can't possibly be your fault," Gimli told us sternly, "Rest while you can. Aragorn said that once he and the elf find their arrows, we're to go after the uruks." He spat out the last word as if its mere existence in his mouth tasted bad.
I grimaced. "On foot?" I asked.
"Aye," Gimli confirmed, clearly looking forward to this as much as I did.
The mere idea of running made me slump over onto the ground. "Yeah, no," I said, mostly to myself, "Nap time." Louder, I requested of Gimli, "Would you wake me up when we're ready to go?"
With his agreement I curled myself around Boromir to take the edge off the chill, put an arm under my head, and fell asleep so fast it made me dizzy.
It seemed to be only seconds before my shoulder was being shaken. "Mrrr!" I grumbled, squinting my eyes open. Everything hurt and I was so tired, I could probably sleep for a week.
"Wake up, Cass," Aragorn told me, "It is time to search for our friends."
Everything came back and reluctantly I sat up. "Right, Merry and Pippin." Briefly I stretched, gasping when my spine cracked from top to bottom. With a little help I stumbled to my feet.
"I lightened your pack for you. We will need all possible speed to catch up," Aragorn said as I got my bearings.
"As long as the little pink bag stays, fine," I agreed.
A hasty nod.
I looked through my bag and found it empty of everything except lembas, water, and my menstrual cup. Talk about traveling light. If we were going to be running, this was for the better, I told myself as I set my precious wound balm inside my pack. (I already missed my spare undershirt.)
With a bit of the elvish rope we jury-rigged a harness so that I could carry my halberd against my back; my hammer was put on my belt where it belonged. "Onward?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the woodland.
"We will not abandon our friends to torment and death," Aragorn announced, sheathing his dagger. Shoulders light like I haven't seen since Bree, he told us, "Let us hunt orc." He then ran off in exactly the opposite direction of where I had gestured.
Legolas smiled mischievously at Gimli, then me, and bounded off after our intrepid leader, light and agile as a deer. With a cackle the dwarf began the sprint.
"Come on, let's find our hobbits!" I said to Boromir much more cheerfully than I felt.
He nodded, determination in his face.
We broke into a sprint long enough to catch Gimli at the edge of the woods. With the dwarf at my side, I acknowledged that there was no blaming my short legs if I fell behind. I just couldn't fall behind, I told myself; every minute lost meant a minute more that the hobbits were in grave danger.
Yes, I'm a tough old bitch, but this was something I'd never had to even think of doing. There was always a humvee or helicopter or it wasn't a huge rush to get back to base. The one time Liam asked if I wanted to train with him for a marathon, my expression had been so alarmed and disgusted that he never brought it up again.
Yet here I was, covering mile after mile without break. I found it pretty amazing the few times I thought about it over the evening and night; the rest of the time was spent encouraging myself to breathe and keep going.
Only in the darkest part of the night did we stop for a few hours. I was so tired that only water and using the non-existent bathroom were done before I decided it was nap time. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if I fell asleep before I even hit the ground.
We started running again just a few hours later. Lembas was all the food we crammed into our mouths, and that was while we shouldered our packs in preparation for more running.
That day Aragorn found a sign that anybody else would have missed: a brooch from the cloaks we had all been given in Lothlorien. "Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he stated, hope flaring brightly in his eyes, "They may be alive yet."
Our revelation spurred us onward. Much of the day I spent fighting nausea and fatigue, telling myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Several times I stumbled but I always caught myself before I could fall; I was afraid that if I got off my feet for even a moment, I wouldn't be able to get back up.
Several times Boromir asked if I was alright, but I could only nod. I didn't have the breath to give him an actual answer. Even if I did, the pain in my sides would have prevented it being audible.
That night the moon was shrouded and Aragorn had a good old debate with everybody about whether we should chance going on "while we had strength". Strength? What fucking strength? I asked myself, nearly hysterically, except that I was too tired for it. Legolas, Boromir, and Gimli put their pieces into the conversation, while I just tried to make the burning in my lungs stop.
I almost hated myself for being grateful that they decided to stop. Our friends were captive, possibly being tortured, maybe even dead, and here I was complaining.
Again I did the most basic of self-care before I threw myself into unconsciousness for a few more precious hours. This time when Boromir woke me, I almost felt rested.
The bad part was that our stop allowed the uruk-hai to get further ahead. Legolas seemed pretty pessimistic about the whole thing and honestly, I had to agree with him. If not even the elf could see our foes, they must have been ridiculously far ahead. Still we continued.
The night following that was the third since we started this mad chase and I more than happily tripped over my own feet to land on the ground beside where Aragorn stood. I was too tired to move much more, so I barely turned my head to look at his ankle when he spoke.
"There is something strange in this land. I am weary as I have seldom been before, as no ranger should be with a clear path to follow," he said, voice troubled, "Some will is set against us, a weariness that is in the heart more than the limb."
Oh good, it wasn't only me that felt like I'd never have energy again.
"That will is not behind us, but before us," said Legolas, voice troubled.
"Saruman!" Aragorn hissed like it was a particularly vile swear, "We must halt, clouds cover the moon again, but he will not turn us back!"
I nodded a bit. "That's the spirit," I mumbled at the ground.
Footsteps I recognized as Boromir's came up on my other side and he knelt down. "Are you alright, Cass?" he asked yet again.
Nope, not going there. I definitely wasn't alright, but that wasn't an option. "When we eventually get to Rohan, I'm sleeping for a week," I declared instead.
He chuckled, a dry cracked sound that said he was badly dehydrated. "At least take your pack off," he told me and began to pull it off himself.
I let my arms go floppy so he could move them easier. "Thanks," I muttered, "Drink some water."
On my other side, Aragorn knelt down. It must have been awkward bending so that he could look me in the eye. "Are you able to continue the chase? Or have you reached your limit?" he questioned without blame or expectation in his voice, just concern.
"Not right now, right?" I groaned, half-begging.
"No, we must wait for more light," Aragorn answered grimly.
Relief flooded through me. "Yeah," I replied, ignoring that my throat was so parched that it felt wet, "Just give me a few hours and I can get going again."
Aragorn looked like he wasn't sure he believed me, but nodded anyways before he straightened back up. "We will rest for a few hours," he declared.
Almost as soon as he said those words, my body spasmed frighteningly on its way to unconsciousness.
The fourth day the sun rose into a crimson sky. "A red dawn," Legolas observed, "Blood has been spilt this night."
Despite that it was probably just superstition, my stomach dropped.
"Well, let us go on," Gimli grumbled, "My legs must forget the miles. They would be more willing, if my heart were less heavy."
"Hear, hear," I muttered as I again began to put one foot in front of the other.
This time it was only a light jog that made me think I was starting to get used to this. I supposed I owed evolution a lot of credit for building the human body to be so efficient at running; it was bewildering to think that this was how early man had originally hunted, by simply walking and running after their prey until it was exhausted. Those cavemen were tough as hell.
The fourth night was cold, the wind coming from the snowy mountains, disturbing everyone else's rest. I dropped off as easily as ever and didn't notice a thing until I heard Boromir and Gimli's unhappy mutterings in the morning. Legolas was as unbothered as usual, having spent the night in that strange elvish form of sleep that was more day-dreaming than anything.
The fifth day came cool and clear but the soil was still soft, what Liam would have called perfect running weather. We took advantage and did just that, yet again. But this time Fangorn was within sight and Lagolas could barely see the pinnacles of Isengard. That we were reaching the end of our journey, for good or not, put a little pep in my step.
Near noon there was a pause so that Aragorn could listen to the ground for directions. I thought that was a bit bizarre, but took the opportunity for a bathroom and water break.
"Riders!" Aragorn exclaimed, jumping up.
Welp, at least I managed to get my trousers up before a run-in with the neighbors, I thought, noticing a moving blob in the distance.
A smile grew slowly on Boromir's face as he recognized the company coming toward us. "The Rohirrim!" he said, "They come from where we are going. Perhaps they bear news?"
I hoped so. Running further didn't catch my fancy.
"What of the rumors that they pay tribute to Sauron?" Gimli asked apprehensively.
Boromir and I both scoffed, while Aragorn shook his head. "No way in hell," I answered, not quite insulted on my sisters' behalf, "Andy and Mackey wouldn't stand for that." Or at the very least they would have written about something so big and important, then likely come home.
"You will soon learn the truth. They approach," Legolas stated.
We hurried behind a large boulder where we could observe from without being seen. Just in case something was wrong.
The first horses galloped past within minutes. Nothing seemed different or amiss to me as several rows of riders passed us by, some looking straight ahead and others uneasily looking about. They knew they were not alone.
Aragorn caught my eye and slightly tilted his head toward the Riders, a question in his eyes.
I nodded.
Right as the last of the group was leaving us in the dust, Aragorn hurried out from cover. In a booming voice that a theater teacher would be proud of, he called out, "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark!"