Disclaimer- I don't own it...WHY MUST LIFE BE SO CRUEL?
Rhoswen looked at the closed door of her room, pacing.
"We must help them." She said, gazing at the arrow slit, her voice sounding lost and small. Aerwyn looked at her in fear-Was her brother's betrothed mad?
"I have already lost both brothers to this war...I will not lose my sister for the sake of Gondor's men! You heard my uncle; Please, do not venture from this place...There is only death beyond those doors." Aerwyn pleaded with the younger woman, who looked at her, half disgusted.
"I had thought that the Raven of Gondor would not be so adverse to a good fight! No, she is content to sit and be slaughtered in her chambers while her city burns around her! I will not stand by and watch men die when I can do something."
Aerwyn, who had been looking out the window, turned to her, snarling.
"You do not realize, I think, what you desire to walk into. Do you know what war brings? Perhaps I shall explain! When you are attacked, your instinct tells you to fight back But when you feel your sword bit the soft flesh of your enemy. When you feel it penetrate into his being. When you watch him slide off your blade, then you will know what it means to take a life. There will be bodies of men strewn in the streets-some will be missing an arm, others will be in pools of blood, still others will be headless, even."
"I care not!" cried Rhoswen, resisting the urge to retch.
"It is gruesome, this business of battling." Airy finished, her face smug at the hastily hidden revulsion on Rhoswen's face. But the younger woman's resolve stiffened, and she snarled back.
"I know what lies beyond that door-DEATH, and nothing more! And if I should die, then so be it! I've lost everything else in this war....if Darkness is to rule, let him rule my grave...Now let me go." Rhoswen looked at her dangerously, that certain fire of passionate fervor in her eyes.
Aerwyn blinked. That fire in her eyes, so dangerous, so passionate for her people...the same fire that had once burned in her eyes.
"That used to be me," Airy thought. "The reality of death has put out my flame. How then am I to rekindle that which has lost it's light?" Immediately, she knew.
"You will not go alone, Rhoswen. I would not send you out to the city without protection. Let me be your guard."
Rhoswen smiled, her anger falling away. "At last, my sister sees sense."
Putting on her helmet, Aerwyn shook her head. "Sense is no longer existent. All I see a girl who cannot defend herself."
Rhoswen tied her hair back, and gathered her skirts. Aerwyn loosened her sword and strode alongside her sister to be. How stark the difference between them was, how plain the lines that separated them! The one wore the gown of womanhood, proper and beautiful; the other, fitted in the bright armor of war, cold and wielding unforgiving steel-one cold, the other warm, one life, the other death.
Making for the houses of healing, the two women nearly passed out from the burning stench of flesh, wood, and blood. Raising a gauntleted hand, Aerwyn hailed a healer. "Beleg!" she cried.
The tired looking man looked up from the wound he was binding at her voice, and strode over after knotting the bandage. He put a bloodied hand to his chest, bowing.
"My lady," he said, wiping his eyes. "Tell me not that you need my services."
"Nay, good friend. I have no wound. But the Lady Rhoswen and I seek to bring the wounded from the city. Will you come with us?" Aerwyn asked.
"I would, lady. Let me tell the warden I have gone, and then we shall be off."
Aerwyn nodded, turning to Rhoswen. "Steel your heart, Rhoswen. The sights you are bound to see are sure to break your heart."
"My heart is already broken, sister....a few more cracks cannot hurt it." The younger woman said, adamantly trying not to cry at the memory she called up. Aerwyn laid a hand gently on her shoulder, and they shared a silent moment before Beleg returned, fastening the brooch of his cloak.
Rhos picked up the satchel next to him, shouldering the bag. Passing into the circle where there were skirmishes, Aerwyn grimly turned to her companions. "Be quick, if you can. The enemy pushes us farther back with every step we take."
Rhos and Beleg nodded, and spying a fallen soldier, they rushed over just as an orc strode up. It bent over, with a mind to tear the soldier's throat out.
Airy strode over, running the orc cleanly through, and shoving the corpse over before it fell on the helpless man. She looked at the fallen man, who had an arrow in his thigh. Aerwyn pursed her lips. "He won't make it to the Houses."
Beleg appraised the man's condition, his voice dismal. "The arrow has shattered the bone; even if he did make it...there is nothing anyone can do for him." Beleg shook his head. "We can do nothing for this one." He looked at the dying soldier. "I am sorry."
Rhos knelt down beside him, wiping a stray hair aside and uncorking the wineskin at her side.
"Drink," she said, raising it to his lips, "You've earned it."
The soldier weakly shook his head. "Don't waste your time on me. There are others who need your help."
"You have fought well, son of Gondor-be proud for it." Rhos said with a smile, and the man's lips tried to rearrange themselves in a smile. She clasped his hand, and there Aerwyn watched as Rhoswen held the dying man's hand until with one last rattling breath, he let his spirit go.
Rhoswen got up, and looked at her sister. "If they die, at least let it be with honor...and without further pain."
Suddenly a wail pierced the air, and Aerwyn looked up, fear written over her face. She threw her sister to the ground as a giant beast flew overhead, its wail piercing and shrill.
"Black riders," she said breathlessly.
"Nazgul!" An echoed shout from far away was heard. A few soldiers on the wall were taken up in the beast's claws, carried away a while before they were mercilessly dropped, Rhoswen wincing at their falling screams.
When it passed, Aerwyn stood. "Come, there are others that may yet have time."
Rhoswen and Beleg rushed over to soldiers gasping for a healer, Aerwyn hovering behind them like a vengeful ghost. The sharp gray eyes of the Númenorean made sure that the dying were not tormented, and the healers were given protection. Some they saved...others were not so fortunate, but all were reminded before the end that they had served their country well.
Once Aerwyn was nearly shoved aside; the armored maiden did not take kindly to being greeted so.
"Take care, Val, and step light! The dying litter this street!" she snarled at him, tired and weary.
The man nearly tripped on the dead man behind him. "Aerwyn?" he asked, question in his eyes.
Beleg looked up. Val and he had been friends since children. Now, in the days of war, he helped to preserve life, while his friend sought to take it.
"Valar preserve us...I thought when the reserves said there was a Valkyrie waiting to take any orc that got up this far that they were mad with the battle heat! Now I see they weren't joking...you looked ready to run me through." Val said jokingly.
Aerwyn smiled wryly. "I grow weary of my countrymen dying. But tell me, why doest thou run from the battle? Tell me not that they advance!"
Val nodded hopelessly, and her look became concerned. "How far away are they now?" she asked, her voice ringing with worry.
An arrow whizzed by Val's head. "Not too far!" he cried.
Aerwyn's eyes grew wide. "Rhoswen, hurry! Go back! Go back!"
Rhoswen shook her head. "There is nothing there for me!"
Aerwyn turned, her eyes smoldering, threatening to burn with the same fire Rhoswen had. "You'll go if I say!" she growled. Rhoswen looked to rebel, but Beleg laid a hand on her shoulder, and Rhoswen slumped.
"So be it." she said, her voice defeated.
Roughly, Aerwyn took Rhoswen's arm just as another arrow sped by. Shoving the younger woman in front, Aerwyn ran, calling Val and Beleg to follow. The young woman had just enough time to pick up her now stained skirts and run behind her war-goddess of a sister. Soldiers joined them, surrounding them. The gate to the fourth circle clanged shut behind them.
One soldier looked closer at the healers and their escort, and his eyes widened. When the shock of the retreat had disappeared, the soldiers spoke among themselves of the healers. Whispers flickered through their crowded ranks, and some pressed closer to have a better look at the Raven and Rose of Gondor.
The men were weary. There was a lifelessness in their gaze. It made Aerwyn shiver. They looked as though they were already defeated. "Where is their courage?" she said, half to herself. "Have they already given up?"
"Men of Gondor, the battle is not yet lost, yet you look as though Sauron's chains already oppress you!"
Removing her helmet, she held it at her hip. Those closest enough to see grew wide-eyed. Her hair issued forth in it's raven streams, making her look even more the Death Maiden that bards oft told of.
Aerwyn climbed upon the front porch of an abandoned house. "Soldiers of Gondor, hearken to me! I see your weariness. I know what it is to be disheartened! I know you are wounded, broken, and bleeding. I know your hope is shattered, and all good and green things lost to memory. But let not the enemy think that it will be an easy conquest! We are of Númenor, of Gondor...and the race of Men does not give in with out a fight!" She gazed around at the men; in some of their eyes she saw the stirring of courage.
"Defend the city! Defend this gate! Pour forth all your honor. All your power. All your bravery!"
"Look there!" She pointed at Rhoswen. "Look upon her fair face! It is this that you must fight for; Remember your women, who are in Lebennin! They wait, and wonder. 'Will there be a city for me to come home to? Remember your children! It is for them...the future of this city, that you must now hold your ground." Her eyes narrowed, becoming dark, death bringing slits.
"Let these streets run with black blood."
Aerwyn's voice escalated as she became more and more convicted with her intense speech. Rhoswen saw that she believed this with every fiber of her being. "Just like her brother..." Rhoswen thought with a sad smile. Now all the memories of Osgiliath came flooding back, of Boromir, so proud, so strong, standing on that rampart with that flag, shouting, as his sister was now, that they would triumph.
"If this is to our end, then make it such an end as will be sung for the AGES! Are you with me, Men of Gondor?" she raised her sword.
Their shout was deafening and Aerwyn smiled coldly. Any orc who dared pass the third level would get a good taste of Gondorian steel.
"For Gondor!" she cried.
"FOR GONDOR!" they cried back, voices loud and proud and full of long forgotten courage.
Leaping off the front step, Aerwyn returned to Rhoswen and Beleg, sudden weariness taking hold. The sound of hooves on cobblestone drew their attention.
"Gandalf!" Beleg hailed the wizard.
The two women nodded at the old man dressed in white. He acknowledged them, and dismounted, swinging the halfling from his seat behind him. The little man looked around, spotting the women. His eyes lingered on Rhoswen, turning to fear.
"Lady? Should you be here?"
Rhoswen could only smile. "Is there anywhere else for me to be, Peregrin? My place is with my people...not hidden away."
Aerwyn smirked, taking a deep breath. She had been told about this little one who had been named Prince of Halflings. He caught Aerwyn's eye and they spoke with each other with a gaze only, it seemed. She smiled a little-this Prince of Halflings would serve the city very well.
"Lady Rhoswen...I would ask you please get back to the seventh level...there is nothing you can do here." Gandalf said.
A distant shout brought on the wind made Aerwyn close her eyes and stifle a sob. "Corsairs! The Corsairs have come!" The city was lost. The doom of defeat had come.
Rhoswen made to protest, but her sister glared at her again, and Rhos conceded defeat, trudging back through the city to the top of the citadel. Looking back, Rhoswen saw her sister casting a last look upon the soldiers she would never see again. Reluctantly, she too headed back to the safety of the seventh circle
The sound of splintering wood made them all spin around. "They've broken through," Beleg whispered.
Cries of both men and orcs mingled, the snarls of brutality heard above all. Aerwyn drew her sword again. Footsteps could be heard. "Run!" she cried above the shattering of the city walls.
Orcish battle cries came closer, and the clattering of drawing swords echoed off the stone walls. As she gestured with her sword, herding the soldiers up to higher ground, an arrow from the advancing rank flew by, striking the Raven in the shoulder, near the junction of her shoulder pauldrons and breastplate.
Rhoswen turned just in time to see her fall, crying out in pain. Disregarding reason and her sister's wishes for her to retreat to the top tier of the city, Rhoswen rushed back into the battle fray.
Aerwyn's sword clattered to the ground as she reached for the arrow. The arrowhead had gone through her shoulder, and the ugly feathered shaft protruded from behind. By the time she had reached her fallen friend, a huge orc stood over her, an evil looking claw of a sword clutched in it's stained fingers. Aerwyn looked up, breathing heavily.
Rhoswen looked around for something to draw the beast's attention away, settling on the nearest dropped weapon, a spear. She yelled at the creature, who turned with a troll-stupid look at the sound. Rhoswen jabbed, launching her fury at the world into the point.
After it had fallen with a grunt and a groan, Rhoswen looked at the spear in her hands, not believing what she had just done, letting the spear fall to the street.
Aerwyn, who had thought to knock the legs from under the orc, looked up at Rhoswen. "You make...a good warrior," she panted. Rhoswen pulled her up, leaning her against the wall.
"We have to get you to the houses...quickly."
Aerwyn shook her head. "Not with this thorn in my flesh. Break off the arrowhead." Gritting her teeth Aerwyn tried to steady her breath. Rhoswen bit her lip, and with a wrench, broke off the point; Airy held back a cry.
"Now...pull the shaft from my back."
Rhoswen was close to tears, Airy gritting her teeth. The younger woman hesitated, and Airy's patience snapped.
"Valar, woman...PULL IT FROM MY BACK! Or must I do it myself?" Airy shouted, wriggling to her side in pain and offering her shoulder.
Rhoswen steeled her self and yanked, casting the black shaft aside.
"We have to hurry. I'm bleeding freely until I can get it bound," Aerwyn said, pushing her back against the wall to lift herself. Placing her left hand over the wound, she tried to press on the pressure point as best she could.
"Who is the healer here, you or I, sister?" Rhoswen asked good naturedly, frowning at the blood on her sister's hand.
"It might be me...you make a very good fighter, it seems," she returned, trying to lighten the mood.
Rhoswen held back a laugh. "Never again a warrior."
Aerwyn leaned heavily upon the younger woman, hoping she was strong enough to support her weight. Aerwyn felt so tired and weak all of a sudden. She became afraid to close her eyes, as if in shutting them she would never open them again. Her breathing became increasingly labored.
"You must keep living, sister! You must!" Rhoswen pleaded as she walked.
"But I am so tired..." Airy answered, her head lolling on her shoulder. Finally, Rhoswen caught sight of Beleg in the crowd ahead of them.
"Beleg, help me! She was hit...and I cannot carry her." Rhoswen finished helplessly.
His head spun around and a soundless cry made his mouth hang open. "Her armor weighs her down! Help me get off her breastplate!" he cried. Rhoswen hastily unlaced the heavy plates, throwing them aside while Beleg worked on the knee guards and tossed aside the shoulder pauldrons and the gauntlets.
Rhoswen ran a hand along her face, and her expression turned fearful. "Her skin is going cold!"
He worked quickly until she was free of all the armor. Picking her up as though she weighed no more than a feather, Beleg fairly raced through the streets, crying out as he went.
"Make way! Make way for the Raven!"
The soldiers who heard his cry looked about and when they saw the limp form of the woman he carried, they shouted in remorse. Some cursed the horde that drove them back, specifically, the orc who had dared attack their lady; others shouted at Rhoswen, urging her to safety.
She shook her head wordlessly, lost and feeling very, very alone. Looking back at the burning city, she began again her climb to the houses of healing.
--
Beleg pushed through the crowded hallways of the houses of healing, Aerwyn's prone body flopping in his arms like a rag doll. Carefully, he laid her on the first empty bed he saw, letting a page run for herbs and a pan of water to clean her wound. Rhoswen fought her way through the crowds, kneeling by Aerwyn's bedside and grasping her cold hand hard, her cheeks streaked with tears.
"No, no, no...no, Aerwyn...you cannot leave me here. Aerwyn, you must not die, you must not!" the young woman cried wildly into Airy's sweat soaked clothes as Beleg anointed Aerwyn's wound with warm water, pressing a clean bandage to the wound. Eventually, when the wound was clean and the bleeding staunched, Beleg looked up from his work, wiping his weary hands on a towel. Rhoswen still knelt by the Raven's side, her tears silent now as she wept into the sheets.
Beleg shook his head. Another healer came by, glancing at Rhoswen and whispering in the healer's ear. He shook his head with a disheartened glance at the White Rose.
"Do not tell her of it," he whispered to the concerned healer, "She is not ready for such news. Let her stay by the Lady's side; I think it would only make her heartache worse. She loved the lord Faramir like a brother, and from what you say, there is not hope for him."
The healer nodded sagely, going back to the room that housed the son of the steward, lying in bed, tossing in his fever, branded by the black breath.
Several hours later, Rhoswen had finished her crying and know knelt among the sick, feeding several a thin broth so they could recover their strength. One of the younger maids ran up, her face excited and breathless.
"Lady Rhoswen, he is in the city! I have seen him!"
Rhos pushed a hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. "Who? Who is in the city?"
"The Lord Boromir...He has returned my lady, with many fair folk besides!"
Rhoswen nearly dropped the cloth she was holding. "You speak truly?" The maid nodded vigorously, smiling exuberantly. "Where is he? I must see him!"
"The hall of kings... He sits with the King in council." Rhoswen was confused.
"The...the king? He has returned, at last! What a glorious day for the Tower of Guard! The King is Returned!" Rhoswen nearly sang, smiling even wider. But the maid could not finish saying that he had best not be disturbed as he was in council, because the Rose of Gondor had taken off running down the hallway crying tears of joy.
There was a cry from the back of the hall, and the men turned. A raven- haired young woman ran up, and threw herself into Boromir's arms, spinning around.
"They told me you were dead...and then the king was in the city with you...and I had to give you this before you left! And...Oh, Boromir, it has been too long! " She was weeping. Boromir looked at her, smiled, relieved, and turned to face his comrades, all of who had varying degrees of bewilderment and, in more than one case, mirth, written in their faces.
"May I introduce to you the lady Rhoswen, my bride to be. Rhoswen, this is Gimli, son of Glóin, King Éomer of the Riddermark, you know Mithrandir, and Aragorn...Isildur's heir." He seemed to stumble over the last name, but smiled at his friend. Each man acknowledged her in his turn, Gimli and Éomer bowed, Gandalf nodded, and Aragorn stepped forward, and kissed her hand.
"We have heard much of you, milady. All of it in the highest of reverences." The young woman looked at him in amazement, and then dropped low into a curtsey.
"It is an honor to meet my king, and a joy that he thinks well of me." She withdrew a carefully folded piece of cloth from its package, which she had been carrying.
"Allow me to present your majesty with a standard. It has seen many battles, and has been flying over Osgiliath these few weeks past. I apologize for the plainness- the king should have much better- but it is all I have to offer, such as it is." Aragorn unfurled the banner, a little weather worn, but still white and proud, the tree riding in full force in the middle.
"It will be my pleasure to carry this, along with another made by one who holds me in high regards. I thank you, milady, from the depths of my heart."
The italicized bit there at the end was in 'Journey through the Dark'.
Hope you all liked Rhoswen's kick ass moment there...Angoliel was the chief inspiration for this, because she said that Rhos needed to kick ONE orc arse- so here it is, finally finished.
Now review!