See part one for disclaimers and such.
Chapter 5
The road the Wild Men led them on was not an easy one. Many parts of it were overgrown with trees, their massive roots buckling the stone and making it impossible to pass except by foot. Low hanging branches made it difficult to make any speed, and the Rohirrim and elves were spread out, each leading his horse, as they navigated the obstacles before them. It was dark as well, and though they had been assured that the sun had risen, they could see no sign of it as they made their way down the forgotten road.
Erin had lost sight of Éowyn during the trek, though she knew her friend walked somewhere ahead, with Merry still perched precariously on Windfola's back. His small stature made it easy for him to duck the low branches, an option the rest of the riders did not have. Erin wished she were so fortunate, for her legs were tired from walking, and her feet hurt as well.
They stopped long enough to give the horses water and to eat, before pressing onward once more, and Erin caught quick flashes of brown forms amidst the greenery that surrounded them. The Wild Men flanked them on all sides, making sure their progress was not discovered by the enemy as they drew closer to their destination. She had caught up with Éowyn as well, and made a determined effort not to lose sight of her friend again, come what may.
The wind brought occasional whiffs of smoke that grew stronger as they drew closer to the city, and Erin's thoughts turned to the battle ahead. Struggling alongside Éowyn and Merry, she couldn't help but think that she was more than a little over her head, and that perhaps wanting to go along wasn't such a great idea.
What can I do, she thought miserably, biting back a curse when her boot caught the edge of a root and nearly sent her sprawling. I can't fight, can't ride, hell, I can hardly walk. She had been so filled with the need to do something - anything to help. She still wanted to help; she just didn't know what she - a lone woman from another age and time - could honestly do against the forces that faced them.
Éowyn had little time to work with her on her weapons skills; their need for swiftness had made it difficult to find any time for it. When they weren't moving, they were sleeping or keeping watch. There was little time for anything else. Now Erin found herself with the prospect of facing an entire army, larger than the one at Helm's Deep, with only the knife skills Elladan and Elrohir had taught her.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed her worries aside. They weren't helping. In fact, they were only making her feel worse. Instead, she tried to think more positively about her situation.
Well, if I die, at least it's for a good cause. How many people in my world can say that? The thought wasn't as reassuring as she'd hoped, but it was something to work with. Éowyn said that every arm that could wield a blade counted. Even if I only manage to kill one orc, that is one less orc for Sauron. She straightened her shoulders, lifting her head slightly. I'm not going to go out whining.
They drew to a halt, and Erin saw several of the Wild Men emerge from the trees, converging on where Théoden and Éomer waited.
"Where are we?" she asked quietly, glancing at Éowyn.
"I am not wholly certain," her friend replied in a low voice. "Though we cannot be far from Minas Tirith."
"Look," Merry said excitedly. "Lord Celeborn and Haldir are going to the front, to meet with the King."
"Hush, Merry," Éowyn said. "You do not wish them to make note of your presence here and mention it to the King."
Erin turned her head and saw that Merry spoke truly, for Lord Celeborn was indeed making his way gracefully past the riders, with Haldir following close behind. She saw that the elves had closed in as well, their lithe forms mingling with the Rohirrim, while they waited for their Lord's command. A familiar face caught her eye and she quickly looked away, busying herself with adjusting Ared's stirrup, hoping that she had not been seen.
Strong fingers clamped down on her shoulders and spun her around, bringing her face to face with handsome, but rather angry looking elf.
"What are you doing here?" Rúmil demanded, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. "Does Orophin know you are here? Was this his idea?"
Erin tried to shake his hands off her, but failed. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin so she could look him in the eye. "No, Rúmil. I have not spoken to Orophin since we met Lord Celeborn on the fields of Rohan. As for what I'm doing here, it should be fairly obvious. I'm here to fight."
Gray-blue eyes stared at her unbelievingly, and he shook his head. "You should not be here! This is no game, Erin. Many of us will not live to see another day." He took a deep breath, his anger returning. "I should take my bow to your backside, woman," he growled, giving her a shake.
"You wouldn't dare," Erin said. "And stop shaking me. I'm not some naughty child. I'm free to do as I will, and I want to help. I can't just stand back and not do anything."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You can, Erin. And you will. Once Lord Celeborn knows you are here, he will send you somewhere safe, where your foolishness cannot get you into trouble."
She poked him in the chest with her finger. "And where would he send me that would be safe? And who would he send me with, for I'm sure he wouldn't send me alone. Who will this army lose - when every sword is needed?"
Rúmil's anger faded, and he shook his head again. "Hêneb ûn," he growled softly. "You will be killed."
Erin nodded, her chin lifting slightly. "I may very well be. But I can't just stand aside and do nothing, Rúmil." She looked at him pleadingly. "I just can't."
He held her gaze for a moment, and finally nodded. "Though this is folly beyond any reckoning, I can understand your need." He dropped his gaze for a moment, before looking up once more. "But you will stay with Orophin and myself. I will not let you out of my sight, and you will explain to both my brothers and Lord Celeborn why it is you are here."
"I cannot leave…Dernhelm and Merry," Erin said, nearly biting her tongue - she had almost said Éowyn's name instead.
"Go with him, Erin," Éowyn's voice was carefully pitched. "I would feel safer knowing your elf-friends protect you. They can look after you better than I could in the midst of battle."
Erin wavered, stubbornly clinging to the thought of staying by Éowyn.
"This is not a choice, Erin," Rúmil said quietly. "You either come with me willingly, or I pack you over my shoulder."
She glared at him a moment. "I thought Haldir was the bossy one," she groused.
The corner of Rúmil's mouth lifted a fraction. "He is my brother. It runs in our family."
Heaving a sigh, she nodded in defeat. He was right, she supposed, though she hated to admit it. She did stand a better chance of coming out alive with them to protect her.
Rúmil's hands dropped from her shoulders and he gestured for her to follow him.
"Just a minute," she said, and turned to Éowyn and Merry. "You be careful, both of you. I wish I was staying with you, but," she cast a glare over her shoulder at Rúmil, "apparently that isn't an option."
Merry nodded earnestly. "We will, Erin. You watch yourself." He gave Rúmil a fierce look. "Keep her safe."
Rúmil touched his hand to his heart and gave a brief bow. "I will," he replied seriously.
Erin bit her lip, looking at Éowyn, wishing she could see her friend's face beneath the helmet.
"Do not worry, my friend," Éowyn said softly. "I will take care." Erin could almost see her smile. "I have much to live for."
Nodding, Erin turned and followed Rúmil. She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye as she walked beside him. "Where have you been?" she asked finally. "I didn't see you with the others when we met Lord Celeborn."
"Missed me, did you?" he asked, giving her a ghost of his usual smile. "I was late in arriving. We passed orc sign on our way, and Lord Celeborn sent Galen and myself to investigate." His expression turned serious. "A force is headed for Lothlórien, even as we speak, though they are several days away. Someone had to warn the Lady, though perhaps she knows already. Galen left for Lórien, and I went onward to Edoras."
Erin's eyes widened. "An attack on Lothlórien?" she said with dismay. "But all the elves who can fight are here? Aren't they?"
Rúmil shook his head. "No, Erin. We would not leave our homeland unguarded, any more than King Théoden would leave Rohan undefended. Only those who could be spared left with Lord Celeborn." He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing, and Erin turned, following his gaze.
Lord Celeborn and Haldir were returning, and by their expressions, they bore news of great importance.
Erin tried not to hide behind Rúmil as Haldir's keen gaze fell briefly on her and she saw him look at her curiously. His eyes widened in recognition, clearly startled at seeing her there beside his brother, before his face resumed its normally serious expression, though even from the distance she could see his jaw was set.
"What news do the Wild Men bring, my Lord?" Rúmil asked.
Lord Celeborn acknowledged Erin's presence with a brief glance, before he turned his attention to Rúmil. "Minas Tirith burns in many places, yet holds still. The outer wall has been breached. Yet this news is not as dire as it seems, for it was thought that it would be held against us. King Théoden believes we can sweep through, if we succeed in winning the field before it."
Rúmil nodded. "Good news, indeed."
Lord Celeborn glanced at Erin, and she felt suddenly quite small under the sternness of his gaze.
"I am not surprised to see you here, Erin Smith," he said with a small frown. "I do not agree with your being here, but there is little I can do about it at the moment."
Erin found her voice. "Why aren't you surprised to see me?" she asked.
Celeborn's eyebrows lifted for a moment. "My Lady gave a message to me for you, but I was only to give it if I saw you with Rúmil."
Goosebumps prickled her arms at his words. The thought of someone knowing that she was going to do something before she even knew it was spooky beyond words. "What is the message?" she asked, rubbing her arms.
He looked at her. "The Lady will fall. Bring Elessar to the Houses of Healing. He will know what to do for her."
"Elessar is Aragorn, right?" she asked, paling.
Celeborn nodded. "Do you understand her message?"
Erin bit her lip and nodded. "I do. Mostly." She turned to Rúmil and looked at him pleadingly. "I need to go back and stay with Dernhelm."
Rúmil arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, glancing at Haldir. "I do not think so, meldis. But what does my brother think?"
"I think she should be tied up and left behind in the trees until the battle is over," Haldir said, scowling at Erin. "I cannot believe you would be so foolish."
Erin frowned, opening her mouth to retort, but Lord Celeborn silenced her protests with a calming gesture.
"Foolhardy though your actions may seem to us, your heart is brave and your motives pure, pen-neth. My Lady's words to you give me some comfort," Celeborn said quietly. "However I agree with Rúmil. You should not return to young Dernhelm's side. He will not be able to keep you in safety."
"But how will I…" she began, trailing off when she saw his look. "Oh, all right. Fine." She leveled her gaze at Haldir. "But no leaving me tied up in a tree."
Haldir's lips twitched briefly, but he nodded. "Tempting though the thought may be, I will not. However, we must find you something that will give you more protection than what you wear." He eyed her leather cap critically. "This will not suffice." He shook his head, glancing at Lord Celeborn. "She is much too small for any of our armor to fit her."
"That is something I can help with," Celeborn said with a faint smile. "Having been forewarned of your possible presence here, I have carried with me several items given to me by my Lady. I believe you will find all that you need has been provided for." He glanced at Rúmil. "King Théoden wishes for us to wait until the cover of full darkness before mounting our attack," he said. "We have a few hours yet before then. Take Erin and help her prepare for what awaits." He looked at Erin, his stern expression softening somewhat. "She will most certainly be in need of it."
The sound of the water lapping against the sides of the boat was soothing, and would have lulled Elladan to rest, had it not been for the state of his unsettled mind. Above him, fluttering with the wind, was the banner Halbarad had carried with him. In the dim light of the hidden sun, he could now see the design worked upon the fabric: a great white tree on a field of black.
He lifted his head, his hair streaming behind him as he stood beside Elrohir, watching the fires of Pelargir fade to distant specks of light behind their boats. The cold chill of memory caressed his neck, making him shiver slightly, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him.
The Grey Company had reached Pelargir and found it in the possession of the Umbar. Their mighty ships were anchored in the harbor, prepared to set sail and carry the foes of Gondor and of all free men to the shores of that city.
The Umbar were not alone. The Haradrim, who had been driven forth from Lamedon by the arrival of the Grey Company and the Shadow Host, had joined them. Their combined forces were more than a match for the men and elves of the Grey Company, though their numbers had been slightly increased by Lord Angbor of Lamedon and his men, who had joined with their company when the Haradrim had fled in terror before the sight of the Shadow Host.
Aragorn had called to the Dead, and they had answered his command. Ghostly horns blew a challenge to their enemy as the Shadow Host swept past the Grey Company and into the harbor below. Screams of fright and terror came from the Umbar and Haradrim as they tried to flee from the dread Host that crashed down upon them in a cold wave. None could withstand the Dead, and those that were able, abandoned their ships for the icy water below. Many were drowned, and those that did make it to the shore quickly met their fate at the hands of the Grey Company. Only a few made good their escape, fleeing as fast as their legs could carry them to the south, towards their homelands.
When all the enemy had been driven from the ships and shores of Pelargir, Aragorn had called to the Dead to him once more.
Elladan shivered again, remembering the icy chill that had descended upon them when the Dead had assembled before them, their forms silent and pale, save for the red gleam of their eyes.
Aragorn had stood bravely before them, with regal grace and bearing so different from his usual mien of a humble ranger.
"Hear now the words of Isildur's Heir," he had said in his great, strong voice. "Your oath is fulfilled. Go back and trouble not the valleys ever again! Depart, and be at rest!"
The King of the Dead had broken his spear before Aragorn and cast it aside, before bowing low before him. As swiftly as they had come, the Shadow Host departed, vanishing in the darkened night like the last vestiges of an evil dream.
Now, on the ships of their enemy, they raced against the wind and tide in hopes of reaching the shores of Gondor before it was too late.
Leaving Ared with the other horses, Erin followed Rúmil, or rather, was pulled along behind him as he made his way through the temporary camp that had been established while the company waited for nightfall. His long fingers gripped her wrist tightly, as if he was worried she would bolt if he didn't hang onto her. He needn't have worried, she thought morosely. Where would she run?
"Rúmil, slow down," she huffed, after nearly tripping over an exposed tree root. "Please. My legs can't keep up with yours."
Glancing down at her, Rúmil slowed his pace slightly, until she walked beside him instead of behind him. They reached the end of the line - where the supplies were kept, and only then did he release his grip on her. Searching through the packs and packages, he quickly found the bundle Lord Celeborn had described to him, and lifted it in his arms. Carrying it over to where she waited, he set it down on the ground, crouching down to open the tightly wrapped bundle.
"What is in it?" Erin asked, dropping to her knees beside him, her mouth dropping open in surprise when he unrolled the bundle and revealed its contents.
A chain mail shirt, finely wrought and small in size, caught her attention first. Its metal rings gleamed, even in the fading light of the day. Beside it was a pair of thick, leather breeches, much thicker than the cloth pair she currently wore. Next to the breeches, though, was something that made her gasp in delight.
A small helmet, crafted in the same fashion as the helms the elves wore into battle, lay gleaming against the dark cloth that had held the items bundled together. Her fingers touched the metal reverently as she glanced up at Rúmil.
He shook his head. "Utter foolishness," he muttered, his fingers tracing the delicate links of mail. "You are fortunate in the Lady's foresight. This gift is more than I could have hoped for."
Erin nodded, feeling lost for words.
"Come, then. This will do you little good if you do not put it on," Rúmil said, reaching up to snatch the leather cap off her head. His expression of surprise would have made her laugh, if it hadn't so quickly changed to dismay.
"You cut your hair," he accused, running his fingers over the ragged ends. "Why?" His eyes met hers, and she looked away from his gaze.
"To help my disguise," she said finally. "Since I wasn't wearing a helmet that would hide it, I thought it would be better if I cut it short."
"What is this?" a new voice asked, and Erin recognized it as Orophin's. "Haldir sent me here with some story that…" he trailed off, coming to a stop and looking down at Erin's bowed head. "I see it is no story, then," he finished flatly.
Erin dared to look up, and flinched at the disapproval on Orophin's face.
"Did you know of this?" he asked Rúmil.
Rúmil shook his head. "I only just discovered her presence less than an hour ago." He picked up the chain mail shirt and held it up in front of him. "Apparently, the Lady knew Erin would be here."
Orophin frowned. "I do not like this, muindor. This is no place for someone like Erin to be."
Erin took the chain mail from Rúmil and stood up, tilting her head so she could look Orophin in the eye. "I already got the lecture from both your brothers, and Lord Celeborn. There's nothing you can say that I haven't already heard."
Orophin scowled, leaning over her. "If you survive the night, I will have more to say than what my brothers and my Lord have said."
She nodded, holding the chain mail shirt to her chest protectively. "If I survive the night, you can yell at me all you want. I'll even listen."
He glowered a moment longer, before shaking his head, looking pointedly at the chain mail she held in her trembling fingers. "That serves no purpose unless you put it on."
Rúmil rose gracefully to his feet, taking the shirt from her. With his help, she managed to get it over her head and push her arms through the sleeves. It fit her perfectly, as if it had been made for her.
Which, considering Lady Galadriel's message, it probably was, she thought, smoothing it over her tunic.
The leather breeches were a bit trickier, as she had to take her leggings and boots off first, and had no desire to do it with an audience. Orophin solved the problem of the lack of privacy by holding up the large cloth that her gift had been bundled in like a curtain. Making sure there was no one behind her, she changed as quickly as she could, her fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar ties at the waist. After a few moments of struggling, she managed to get them tied.
They felt weirdly heavy against her skin; the leather did not move like cloth, and she moved about experimentally, trying to get used to the feel of them. Like the mail, they fit her like they were made for her.
Silently, Orophin handed her the helmet, his eyes resting briefly on her shorn hair. Like Rúmil, he seemed to disapprove of her new haircut, if his frown was any indication.
Erin put the helmet on, surprised at how light it was. It covered her head completely, the sides sweeping forward to partially protect her face. She reached up and ran her fingers over the crest, feeling the delicate scrolling pattern beneath her fingertips.
"Do you have a weapon?" Rúmil asked, watching her fasten her cloak around her shoulders.
"I have the knife that Haldir gave me when we left Lothlórien," she answered, pulling her cloak back to show him.
Orophin held his hand out and she drew it from its sheath, handing it to him carefully. He held it up and looked at it, nodding in approval. "'Tis a good blade," he said with a faint smile. "As should be expected, for one of Elvish make." He handed it back to her, hilt first. "Can you wield it with any skill?"
"A little," she admitted. "You know that Elladan and Elrohir worked with me while we traveled to Edoras. They taught me a few things. Basically how to avoid getting hit until help came."
Orophin glanced at Rúmil, who gave him a slight nod. "Show us."
Erin's eyes widened. "Now?"
"We have time. It will be at least another hour before full dark," Rúmil answered her, moving away from the baggage area.
Erin followed him, Orophin walking beside her, until they reached an area that was more open, although she could see there were several tree roots and low growing bushes that might pose a problem. Still, it was more realistic than a perfectly clear and level spot would be; she doubted that the enemy would be picky about the landscape.
Rúmil faced her, sweeping his cloak back away from his armor in a fluid gesture. "Orc armor is very thick and will be impossible to penetrate with your knife," he began. "Aim for the eyes and neck, if you can. Or, the upper thigh." He gestured to the area where the leg joined the hip. "Their armor is minimal there. The same is also true with men."
"M-men?" she repeated, swallowing uneasily. "I didn't think there would be men." The brothers regarded her steadily, and she flushed, feeling more than stupid. "Of course. Not every human is going to fight for the good guys."
Orophin nodded. "The Wild Men have also told us that a black rider leads the enemy against the forces of Gondor. If it is one of the Nazgûl, as Lord Celeborn fears, it may make its presence known on the battlefield. If you see it, run, and do not look back. It cannot be killed by any man or elf."
Erin nodded numbly, and took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife. "I will."
"Now," Rúmil said, adopting a defensive posture. "Show us what you know."
Her body was aching by the time the call went out for them to resume their journey towards the city. Rúmil and Orophin had both worked with her with seemingly endless patience, correcting her strikes, improving her defensive skills, until she felt at least confident enough that she could defend herself to some extent. The thought of actually killing a human bothered her a lot more than the thought of killing orcs, though she realized that it was a stupid distinction. The enemy was the enemy, regardless of race. Any of them would kill her if given the chance.
She led Ared as she walked beside Orophin, keeping her eyes fixed ahead of her. Rúmil walked just ahead, leading his horse, and she caught his glance as he looked back over his shoulder. She knew both of them were unhappy to find her here, and honestly, she couldn't really blame them. Of all the decisions she'd made in her short life, this, perhaps, wasn't the brightest. Yet there was no way she was going to stay behind in Edoras, and let Éowyn and Merry ride off without her.
Lord Celeborn's message from Galadriel was upsetting, to say the least. If she interpreted it correctly, Éowyn was going to get hurt, possibly quite badly, and it was going to be her responsibility to track down Aragorn and bring him to the houses of healing. How she was supposed to manage that, without knowing where Aragorn was, and in the midst of a battle, was something she was going to have to figure out. Rather quickly, too, if the rising smell of smoke and the distant pounding of drums was any indication.
The road they had been traveling on finally widened, and it had cleared enough for the riders to mount their horses once more. When the call came to mount up, Erin realized her knees were shaking quite badly, and it took her two tries to climb on Ared's back.
Orophin's horse nudged hers, and she glanced over at him, hoping she didn't look as terrified as she felt.
"Stay with Rúmil and myself," Orophin said quietly. "You will do fine."
If I can keep from throwing up, that is, she thought, her fingers tightening on the reins. She took a deep breath, and nodded gamely.
She saw the standards rise, and heard King Théoden's shout. Horses whinnied as their riders wheeled them about, forming into éoreds, and she saw the familiar flash of Éomer's cloak as he led the third éored forward. Elfhelm led the second éored behind him, and she saw, to her surprise, that Éowyn had moved her horse forward so that she was closer to the King.
The elves formed their own group behind the éoreds, and Erin quickly lost sight of Éowyn in the shuffle. Clutching the reins tightly, she tensed, waiting for the signal to charge, and prayed to whatever deity above that she would come out of the battle ahead alive and intact.
King Théoden wheeled his horse as he raised his sword above him. "Forth Éorlingas!" he shouted.
Lord Celeborn's clear voice echoed him as he raised his sword high in the air. "Gurth a chyth vín!"
The horns of battle blew loudly, and the Rohirrim and elves rode forth to face the enemy.
Read Chapter 6
