Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters and places are not mine. (Aioch,
Cofen, Joshul, and Laina are my characters, though)
Emmithar: Ow! **rubs head** I'll put myself down as much as I want to! And if I think I'm a bad writer, then, well, then it's my choice!! Anyway, I do tend to run myself down, just ask Smeagol, she'll tell you. Ohh, that's a nasty illness. Hope you're feeling better! Yay! Little Estel! And even more yay, Little Estel torture! IllegalSmugglers was actually Smeagol's idea for a name. . .anyway, thank you and can't wait for yours and Carrie's new stories!
Smeagol: Vaguely. . . Don't want a ring. No, no, no! Ring is evil, and must be DESTROYED! Don't tempt me with evil, I fear I might not resist, and unlike you I lust not after corruption.
Starfleet Hobbit: Thanks. Yeah, Hama's pretty cool, but he has such a short role! It kinda sucks.
*****
"Come on, Aioch," Haleth said, pulling his friend to his feet. "Come on, let's go explore a bit." Aioch protested weakly, then complied halfheartedly. Cofen's death had taken a toll on all of them, even Joshul who hardly understood, but Aioch was worst. Haleth found a task in looking out for Aioch, a distraction in diverting his friend's attention from Cofen.
"We've already explored," Aioch protested as he followed after Haleth, Joshul trotted at Haleth's side.
"Not everywhere," Haleth told him. "There's got to be somewhere we haven't been yet."
"I have an idea," Joshul said. Haleth was surprised in the least, he had forgotten Joshul's sharp memory, but now he remembered.
"Lead on," Haleth said playfully. Joshul took the lead, circling about. Finally the other two declared themselves lost, but Joshul insisted that he knew where they were. They were descending a widely curving staircase-like ramp, when suddenly a rider came through. The three jumped back, plastering themselves against the wall. Aioch's eyes lit up. "It's him, isn't it?" Haleth asked. Aioch nodded.
"Come on!" Aioch said, taking Joshul's hand and pulling him after the rider. The three followed until the crowds became too thick for them, then they slipped back to Haleth's and Joshul's mamas. "He's still alive! Can you believe it?"
"Aye, tis a miracle," Joshul said.
"It truly is," Haleth agreed. "Men do not come back from the dead." Aioch's face fell, and Haleth realized just how dumb that comment had been. "He is real, Aioch! Let us watch him for a while, you will see." With that the three were off again, ducking through crowds until they were closer to the keep than they had thought they ever would come. Aioch's hands shot out and stopped Joshul and Haleth from rushing out right in front of King Theoden and the dark rider who was back from the dead.
"Get the women and children to the caves," Theoden ordered.
Haleth's breath caught in his throat, and he choked for more air. That could mean only one thing: a battle. A battle here at Helm's Deep? Could it be? It must be only a precaution, no one could penetrated the thick wall of their fortress. "Haleth," Joshul whispered. "It's real."
*****
The caves were damp, but surprisingly large and open. Somewhere a baby cried. Aioch had stayed with Joshul and Haleth. Now they huddled together in unspeakable fear. While they did not wish to believe that any of it was for real, they had not been left much of a choice: guards circulated, separating the stronger boys from the children. It was a battle, a war. And it was real.
"They'll take us," Joshul whispered.
"No," Haleth told him firmly. "At the very least, not you, Joshul. You are too young." While it was said that serving and even dying for one's country was a great honour, none of the boys wished to do so. They would forgo honour. "We're only children."
"Do they see it that way?" Aioch asked with a nod at the approaching guard. Joshul's mama intercepted him.
"They are only children," she cried, not about to let her son go out to battle and die. "These are no soldiers!"
"I'm sorry," the guard said. By the look in his eyes it was clear that he was indeed sorry, but that there was nothing he could do. "I can't lead you, but follow that crowd to the armory," he instructed the three. They nodded and helped each other to their feet.
Numbly they made their way into the stream of young men heading out of the caves. We are all going to die, Haleth thought grimly. It's all over. He closed his eyes lightly, and an image flashed before him of Joshul, younger than he was now, smiling, revealing the gap where his front teeth had been knocked out in a scuffle with Haleth only days before. "Not him," Haleth begged. "No." He turned, seeing that they were no longer being watched, then he shoved Joshul out of line. "Go on, back to your mama."
Joshul's jaw dropped in surprise. Disobey the King? Did Haleth dare risk his neck by sending Joshul back, to safety? "Go," Haleth repeated, tipping his head forward. Joshul nodded, tearing up, then ducked off. He was small and no one would notice him, with any luck. Haleth turned forward, not even daring to watch as if that would jinx Joshul's chances.
"Let's hurry," Aioch said, taking Haleth's hand and pulling him forward. "Then there will be no chance of us looking back." The two quickened their pace, cutting through a mass of flesh to the armory.
The armory was so packed with people, the boys could not see the walls, only the gray stones of the floor. Around them, men seemed to be simply milling. Aioch and Haleth, being small and lithe, twisted and slipped through the gaps in the bodies, reaching the table of chain mail and plate mail. Aioch decided to take plate mail, believing it to be strongest, and Haleth took chain mail, not knowing either way.
The boys hurried out to don their mail. "This weighs a ton!" Haleth exclaimed as he pulled the mail shirt over his head. It fell to his knees. Aioch struggled with his plate armor.
"Will you help me with this?" he asked.
"I don't know how," Haleth said, yet he moved behind Aioch and fastened the mail as best he could. Both boys managed their helmets on their own, then they headed back for swords. The men hardly seemed to have moved since the last time, and the boys could not duck through with their mail on. Haleth pulled Aioch back outside, after a quarter hour of standing about. "I'll leave my mail here and you watch it, then you leave yours and I'll watch it," he suggested.
"All right," Aioch agreed. Haleth managed to get the shirt over his head, and the helmet off, and piled them both at Aioch's feet.
"Half a minute," Haleth promised, then he ducked into the armory. Without the mail, he enjoyed his returned sense of freedom, ducking through the crowds the long way, just to enjoy being free. Remembering Aioch, Haleth was forced to curb his enthusiasm and make his way to a table piled with swords. He was just leaving when he heard a shout that set all his nerves off.
"I shall die as one of them!" someone shouted.
Haleth ran back to Aioch, shaking. Realization had dawned on him: there was a good chance that every one of them would die. "What's wrong?" Aioch asked, but Haleth only shook his head. With a shrug Aioch took off, already having piled his armor by Haleth's. Haleth numbly knelt by the wall, rubbing his hand over Aioch's armor. Aioch was quicker, back in a matter of seconds, and donning his armor again. Haleth also pulled on his armor shirt, and he felt as if he was dressing for his funeral.
Haleth and Aioch moved over to a fire burning in a metal cauldron. They soaked up the warmth, each weakly trying to keep the conversation going as they both tried to keep from despairing. Debatably, they realized that to despair completely, to admit the likelihood of their doom, would destroy them, or at least their sanity.
"Give me your sword."
It was a request, from a voice Haleth had heard earlier. He could not recall where, but whoever it was, he turned to them and handed over his sword, properly as his father had shown him, tip pointing towards him. "What is your name?"
"Haleth, son of Hama, my lord," Haleth said. Looking up, he drew in a breath. It was Aioch's rider, who showed no shame, and Haleth realized then that it was also the man who said he would die as one of them, one of the Rohirrim. He understood suddenly what Aioch had seen in this man, and trusted him. "The men are saying that we will not live out the night," he confided. "They say that there is no hope."
Haleth leapt back as the man stood, twisting the sword this way and that, cutting through the air with the grace of an expert swordsman. At first Haleth had been frightened that the man would accidentally skewer him, but he understood that this man knew what he was doing. Finally he stopped, halting the blade directly in front of him. "This is a good sword, Haleth, son of Hama."
The man knelt, and returned Haleth's sword. "There is always hope," he said, and Haleth believed him. With renewed courage, Haleth swallowed, and prepared to face the long hours ahead of him.
Emmithar: Ow! **rubs head** I'll put myself down as much as I want to! And if I think I'm a bad writer, then, well, then it's my choice!! Anyway, I do tend to run myself down, just ask Smeagol, she'll tell you. Ohh, that's a nasty illness. Hope you're feeling better! Yay! Little Estel! And even more yay, Little Estel torture! IllegalSmugglers was actually Smeagol's idea for a name. . .anyway, thank you and can't wait for yours and Carrie's new stories!
Smeagol: Vaguely. . . Don't want a ring. No, no, no! Ring is evil, and must be DESTROYED! Don't tempt me with evil, I fear I might not resist, and unlike you I lust not after corruption.
Starfleet Hobbit: Thanks. Yeah, Hama's pretty cool, but he has such a short role! It kinda sucks.
*****
"Come on, Aioch," Haleth said, pulling his friend to his feet. "Come on, let's go explore a bit." Aioch protested weakly, then complied halfheartedly. Cofen's death had taken a toll on all of them, even Joshul who hardly understood, but Aioch was worst. Haleth found a task in looking out for Aioch, a distraction in diverting his friend's attention from Cofen.
"We've already explored," Aioch protested as he followed after Haleth, Joshul trotted at Haleth's side.
"Not everywhere," Haleth told him. "There's got to be somewhere we haven't been yet."
"I have an idea," Joshul said. Haleth was surprised in the least, he had forgotten Joshul's sharp memory, but now he remembered.
"Lead on," Haleth said playfully. Joshul took the lead, circling about. Finally the other two declared themselves lost, but Joshul insisted that he knew where they were. They were descending a widely curving staircase-like ramp, when suddenly a rider came through. The three jumped back, plastering themselves against the wall. Aioch's eyes lit up. "It's him, isn't it?" Haleth asked. Aioch nodded.
"Come on!" Aioch said, taking Joshul's hand and pulling him after the rider. The three followed until the crowds became too thick for them, then they slipped back to Haleth's and Joshul's mamas. "He's still alive! Can you believe it?"
"Aye, tis a miracle," Joshul said.
"It truly is," Haleth agreed. "Men do not come back from the dead." Aioch's face fell, and Haleth realized just how dumb that comment had been. "He is real, Aioch! Let us watch him for a while, you will see." With that the three were off again, ducking through crowds until they were closer to the keep than they had thought they ever would come. Aioch's hands shot out and stopped Joshul and Haleth from rushing out right in front of King Theoden and the dark rider who was back from the dead.
"Get the women and children to the caves," Theoden ordered.
Haleth's breath caught in his throat, and he choked for more air. That could mean only one thing: a battle. A battle here at Helm's Deep? Could it be? It must be only a precaution, no one could penetrated the thick wall of their fortress. "Haleth," Joshul whispered. "It's real."
*****
The caves were damp, but surprisingly large and open. Somewhere a baby cried. Aioch had stayed with Joshul and Haleth. Now they huddled together in unspeakable fear. While they did not wish to believe that any of it was for real, they had not been left much of a choice: guards circulated, separating the stronger boys from the children. It was a battle, a war. And it was real.
"They'll take us," Joshul whispered.
"No," Haleth told him firmly. "At the very least, not you, Joshul. You are too young." While it was said that serving and even dying for one's country was a great honour, none of the boys wished to do so. They would forgo honour. "We're only children."
"Do they see it that way?" Aioch asked with a nod at the approaching guard. Joshul's mama intercepted him.
"They are only children," she cried, not about to let her son go out to battle and die. "These are no soldiers!"
"I'm sorry," the guard said. By the look in his eyes it was clear that he was indeed sorry, but that there was nothing he could do. "I can't lead you, but follow that crowd to the armory," he instructed the three. They nodded and helped each other to their feet.
Numbly they made their way into the stream of young men heading out of the caves. We are all going to die, Haleth thought grimly. It's all over. He closed his eyes lightly, and an image flashed before him of Joshul, younger than he was now, smiling, revealing the gap where his front teeth had been knocked out in a scuffle with Haleth only days before. "Not him," Haleth begged. "No." He turned, seeing that they were no longer being watched, then he shoved Joshul out of line. "Go on, back to your mama."
Joshul's jaw dropped in surprise. Disobey the King? Did Haleth dare risk his neck by sending Joshul back, to safety? "Go," Haleth repeated, tipping his head forward. Joshul nodded, tearing up, then ducked off. He was small and no one would notice him, with any luck. Haleth turned forward, not even daring to watch as if that would jinx Joshul's chances.
"Let's hurry," Aioch said, taking Haleth's hand and pulling him forward. "Then there will be no chance of us looking back." The two quickened their pace, cutting through a mass of flesh to the armory.
The armory was so packed with people, the boys could not see the walls, only the gray stones of the floor. Around them, men seemed to be simply milling. Aioch and Haleth, being small and lithe, twisted and slipped through the gaps in the bodies, reaching the table of chain mail and plate mail. Aioch decided to take plate mail, believing it to be strongest, and Haleth took chain mail, not knowing either way.
The boys hurried out to don their mail. "This weighs a ton!" Haleth exclaimed as he pulled the mail shirt over his head. It fell to his knees. Aioch struggled with his plate armor.
"Will you help me with this?" he asked.
"I don't know how," Haleth said, yet he moved behind Aioch and fastened the mail as best he could. Both boys managed their helmets on their own, then they headed back for swords. The men hardly seemed to have moved since the last time, and the boys could not duck through with their mail on. Haleth pulled Aioch back outside, after a quarter hour of standing about. "I'll leave my mail here and you watch it, then you leave yours and I'll watch it," he suggested.
"All right," Aioch agreed. Haleth managed to get the shirt over his head, and the helmet off, and piled them both at Aioch's feet.
"Half a minute," Haleth promised, then he ducked into the armory. Without the mail, he enjoyed his returned sense of freedom, ducking through the crowds the long way, just to enjoy being free. Remembering Aioch, Haleth was forced to curb his enthusiasm and make his way to a table piled with swords. He was just leaving when he heard a shout that set all his nerves off.
"I shall die as one of them!" someone shouted.
Haleth ran back to Aioch, shaking. Realization had dawned on him: there was a good chance that every one of them would die. "What's wrong?" Aioch asked, but Haleth only shook his head. With a shrug Aioch took off, already having piled his armor by Haleth's. Haleth numbly knelt by the wall, rubbing his hand over Aioch's armor. Aioch was quicker, back in a matter of seconds, and donning his armor again. Haleth also pulled on his armor shirt, and he felt as if he was dressing for his funeral.
Haleth and Aioch moved over to a fire burning in a metal cauldron. They soaked up the warmth, each weakly trying to keep the conversation going as they both tried to keep from despairing. Debatably, they realized that to despair completely, to admit the likelihood of their doom, would destroy them, or at least their sanity.
"Give me your sword."
It was a request, from a voice Haleth had heard earlier. He could not recall where, but whoever it was, he turned to them and handed over his sword, properly as his father had shown him, tip pointing towards him. "What is your name?"
"Haleth, son of Hama, my lord," Haleth said. Looking up, he drew in a breath. It was Aioch's rider, who showed no shame, and Haleth realized then that it was also the man who said he would die as one of them, one of the Rohirrim. He understood suddenly what Aioch had seen in this man, and trusted him. "The men are saying that we will not live out the night," he confided. "They say that there is no hope."
Haleth leapt back as the man stood, twisting the sword this way and that, cutting through the air with the grace of an expert swordsman. At first Haleth had been frightened that the man would accidentally skewer him, but he understood that this man knew what he was doing. Finally he stopped, halting the blade directly in front of him. "This is a good sword, Haleth, son of Hama."
The man knelt, and returned Haleth's sword. "There is always hope," he said, and Haleth believed him. With renewed courage, Haleth swallowed, and prepared to face the long hours ahead of him.
