Disclaimer: 'Gorny's got the muscles, Frodo's got the Ring, Gimli's got the attitude, and I don't own anything! Yeah!
A/N: Sorry about that. Cheerleader moment. Which is amazing, since I've never been a cheerleader…whoa…anyway…
Well, it's time for my little explanation regarding my whereabouts for the past month or so. It is a moving story, which I will summarize as briefly as possible. School's a bitch and I had Tech Week for the play, which made things more complicated. Then I got food poisoning, threw up fourteen times in one day, and missed all of my performances. Then Thanksgiving rolled around and we had to clean up the house and cook. And then I had a big Madrigal Dinner thingy. And I've got major stories involving the former—regarding hot guys too! Involves me tripping as well, but…hot guys make it semi-okay. And then Christmas rolled around. Or is in the process of rolling around. And I've got the flu and my mom won't let me go see RotK tonight because I had a fever this morning, dammit. Yes. Quite a profound story, isn't it? Well, I'm typing now so…anyway…
SWEET SASSY MOLASSES! 533 REVIEWS! YOU GUYS TOTALLY ROCK! YEE HAW!
I have in my possession the new extended version of Two Towers. *cue insane laughter* New material! Yes! Anyway, it's quite good—lots of new scenes and more Legolas lines and Gimli comedy. Can't get much better than that. And the cast commentary is quite amusing…Dom and Billy are hilarious. I recommend listening to it, as well as the one from FotR. I will be using the new material, so if you don't recognize something from the movie, it's probably from the extended version. Or I made it up. Ah, well, if you're confused feel free to ask for clarification.
Special shout-outs for my reviews from some LOTR characters (Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and Haldir), which totally made my day.
Speaking of Haldir…it's that time. Yup. It's time to reveal the results of my poll.
Yes! Let Haldir live!—14
Yes! Let me live! I don't want to die!—1 (Guess…)
NO! Let him die!—0
You could go either way—1
I could care less—1
Hey! I ordered a cheeseburger!—1
(Two days of eating only Jell-O and broth takes its toll…)
So it looks like Haldir lives! Yay. Thank you to all those who participated, fictional or not (Haldir, I'm looking at you…)
If you asked to be on the mailing list and did not get an email informing you of an update, please email me at bluekat103@yahoo.com (put TTAE Mailing List in the subject line) with your email address and pen name and I will add you to the list. If anyone else would like to be added, please email me and let me know. I think it will be less confusing than putting it in reviews.
What th—what's this? *BEEP BEEP* ANGST WARNING! Okay, this chapter will also be a little angsty as well…not severely so (like "Oh, life is not worth living…doom, doom…I see dead people…oops, wrong movie…) but it's not as upbeat as previous chapters. But fear not! 'Gorny returns soon, bringing the morale with him!
HA HA! I finally saw Pirates of the Caribbean! Yippee!
Correction of a Correction: Oops. Wind Elf is STILL Wind Elf…she just has more than one pen name. Okay, I get it now. Sorry about that!
Chapter Thirty-Four
The final stage of our journey to Helm's Deep was completely uneventful. A glum, melancholy silence fell upon the remaining soldiers as we turned from the corpse-littered battlefield, leaving our departed comrades to rot on the grassy plain, their remains to mingle with horses, Orcs, and Wargs forevermore*. But the cruelest burial of them all was at the bottom of the river, apart from his departed countrymen on the plain, instead bound to eternal isolation in the cold, unfeeling depths of the rushing river below. I half-expected the heavens to burst open and cry out at the wrong that had been committed against Aragorn—first his death and then the watery grave to which he fell. Another part expected that the man himself would rise up out of the river and run after our procession, yelling at us to stop and wait for him.
But only the steady beat of hooves on the ground greeted my ears as we rode away from the battlefield and toward an uncertain future.
***
My first thoughts on the fortress were something along the lines of: "What the hell?" Despite the fact that its atmosphere was slightly foreboding, Helm's Deep was quite intriguing. From far away, it looked as though the architectural styles of both the Elves and the Dwarves had been combined to create this looming fortress that had seemingly sprung forth from the mountain itself. Like the other Elven structures I had seen, the building itself appeared to be part of the surrounding landscape—in some places, it was difficult to tell where the walls ended and the mountain began. Whether or not this was actually part of the intended effect, I'll never know. However, the architects paid less attention to detail than the Elves, favoring simple geometric shapes with very little embellishment, which was slightly reminiscent of the Dwarven structures that loomed threateningly in Moria. As we drew closer, the observations I had first made seemed less and less accurate—the battle-scarred walls were a striking contrast to the immaculate and polished perfection of Rivendell and Lorien and the crumbling stonework was an extremely different from the beautifully crafted interior of Moria, which had remained more or less intact even in abandonment. But the most disconcerting part of the entire edifice, with its chipped and weather-beaten walls and dismal atmosphere, was the way it cuddled up against the mountain, leaving only one visible way of escape.
This was our big defense against Saruman. A miserable, claustrophobia-inducing, crumbling piece of rock. There was no way. It was like arming bunnies with sporks and expecting them to launch a successful invasion of Russia.
Smiles broke out on the mud and blood spattered faces of the men as we drew closer to Helm's Deep; they obviously had more faith in this hunk of rock than I did at the moment. A few even let forth jubilant shouts as we galloped across the rock-strewn turf. The knot in my stomach tightened and I found myself looking for a pair of familiar (and comforting) eyes for reassurance. I suddenly recalled the events of the past few hours and slumped sadly in my saddle, fighting back tears. For once, I was left to console myself: for the loss of Aragorn and for the dark fortress that loomed ever closer on the horizon.
***
The large and heavy wooden doors had already been opened by the time we reached the top of the gently inclining stone ramp at the entrance, which I would like to note, lacked handrails, or any other sort of barrier to prevent us from falling to the ground below. I gripped the reins nervously and urged Larien forward, hoping that she would not suddenly decide to take an alternate route.
Thankfully, we crossed over the threshold without any close calls, and I felt much less nervous until I realized that I was still in a fort made out of crumbling rock and no visible routes of escape.
Peachy.
"Make way for the King!" someone shouted over the clatter of hooves on the stone floor. The people gathered at the entrance parted down the middle and we rode through onto another ramp that coiled upward. It was kind of thrilling, in an odd way. It sort of reminded me of the guilty delight I had always experienced when roller skating or riding my bike through the house (which was strictly forbidden, but as a young child, I needed to be constantly reminded of this fact, which I conveniently "forgot" at least once a week.)
People swept by in a long, steady blur as we glided through at a steady gait. The ramp suddenly ended, flattening into level stone, which was where Théoden stopped his horse. I pulled back on the reins and Larien slowly came to a stop when she felt she was ready. Unfortunately, this was about ten feet away from the rest of the procession. I fiddled with the reins, ignoring the odd looks I was getting from some of the people congregated nearby.
Éowyn suddenly burst out of nowhere, face flushed and hair streaming gently behind her. Her eyes quickly flickered over the remainder of our party, quietly searching for some unknown sign of reassurance.
"So few!" she exclaimed in greeting, her face bearing a mixed expression of hope and uneasiness. I slowly slid from the saddle, landing heavily on the ground. Keeping a firm grip on the reins, I cast my eyes downward, not quite able to look Éowyn in the face. "So few of you have returned!" One of the guardsmen approached me and offered to take Larien to the stables. I nodded absentmindedly, handing him the reins.
Théoden looked at his niece with an unreadable expression, hesitating slightly before his regal posture returned. "Our people are safe," he replied clearly and confidently, before turning to help a guardsman dismount. "We have paid for it with many lives." My eyes fell downward again as I tried to blink back the tears brimming in my eyes. I felt a gentle hand fall softly on my shoulder. I didn't need to look to know who it was, but I did anyway, taking momentary comfort in deep blue eyes that met my gaze.
"My lady," Gimli said quietly. I reluctantly pulled my eyes away from Legolas, instead focusing my gaze on the Dwarf. He had approached Éowyn with his helmet in hand and wearing a somber expression. Éowyn regarded him carefully before speaking.
"Lord Aragorn," she replied quietly. She paused for a moment, seeming to search for the right words, "where is he?"
"He fell," Gimli responded, his voice thick with unshed tears.
The fact that a Dwarf, was merely contemplating tears was enough to make me realize the true sorrow of the situation. Dwarves don't cry. The display of another emotion aside from anger or general irritability is something to comment on alone (at least according to my experiences). It would have been more likely for Gimli to put on a pink tutu, declare himself the Good Fairy, and run around granting wishes.
Actually, now that I think about it, that might have been quite interesting.
But the expression on Éowyn's face was truly heartbreaking. For the brief time that I had known her, I had come to think of her as one of the bravest women in the world. It wasn't necessarily because of something she had done, but because of what she was as a person—cool, calm, poised, and strong. But somehow, Aragorn's death had struck her in her most vulnerable part, completely crumbling her defenses.
It was in that moment that I realized two things. One, tears were forming in Éowyn's eyes. Like Gimli, I did not think her capable of tears—not because she was an uncaring person, but because she seemed so strong that nothing seemed capable of causing her so much grief. It was because of this first observation that I came to the following realization: Éowyn was in love with Aragorn.
How I managed to not pick up on this before is beyond me.
I had several thoughts regarding this shocking insight, the first being somewhere along the lines of: "Why does Aragorn have all of these women falling all over him?" I quickly dismissed it as unimportant, despite the fact that the possible explanations could generate some amusement. The next thought that entered my mind was mostly regarding what was to be done about Arwen. I had always liked Arwen—she was very kind and hospitable toward me when I was in Rivendell. However, I also thought Éowyn was as cool as heck. I felt a certain loyalty to both women—they both seemed to equally deserve Aragorn and I did want the very best for all three of the parties involved, but…
Reality suddenly smacked me in the face with the bitter reminder that Aragorn was dead. I choked back a sob as I reflected on what would happen as a result. So many people would be affected by his death. It didn't seem right for him to die like this. There was no getting on without him.
"Come," Legolas murmured softly, slipping his arm around my shoulders, a gesture that meant more than the world to me. Blinded by the tears lingering in my eyes, I let him lead me away, Gimli bringing up the rear.
***
Several hours passed, and before I knew it, evening was upon us, the shadows lengthening as the sun sank into the west. We had sat down to dinner in a small alcove that had been pretty well ignored by the other civilians, our faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight and the last dying rays of sunlight. Our meal was frugal; cold meat leftovers from who knows when, an apple, a hunk of staling bread, and a canteen of lukewarm water. I poked hesitantly at the meat with a fork. I didn't feel like eating; the very thought of food was enough to make me want to throw up. I set my plate down on the uneven floor, and carefully folded my hands over my empty stomach.
"Haley, please eat something," Legolas asked quietly, taking a bite out of his apple. I stared back at him blankly.
"Have some ale," suggested Gimli. I raised an eyebrow at the extended flask (which he somehow managed to keep full throughout the duration of our journey). "No? Ah…well…all the more for me." He took a rather large gulp as he said this, the liquid streaming out the sides of his mouth and running in little rivulets down his beard. I came to the conclusion that Dwarves seriously needed to work on their coping skills. While I suppose inebriation generally would help ease the pain, the end result of such behavior (a hung-over and melancholy Dwarf) was not entirely pleasant. Gimli did not seem too bothered by this fact.
"Haley, may I have a word with you?" Legolas asked, setting his half-eaten apple down on his plate. I nodded mutely. Gimli took a rather large bite out of his bread, washing it down with another mouthful of ale, crumbs clinging to his beard and spilling down his front. Legolas gave him a rather pointed look. Gimli frowned for a moment.
"Oh..." he said, as sudden realization dawned on him. He rose from the rock he had been sitting on, and flask in hand, slowly and deliberately exited the alcove, sneaking a peek over his shoulder as he rounded the bend.
I rolled my eyes. Nice going, Mr. Subtle.
"Haley," Legolas began once the Dwarf had meandered out of sight (and hopefully earshot), "you have not spoken since midday and you will accept neither food nor drink." He paused, seeming to wait for a confirmation on my part. After a moment I opened my mouth.
"It's not like I made a conscious decision to not speak or anything," I replied quietly. "It's just kind of how I react, I guess." I paused for a moment, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. "And…I…I felt it would be…selfish of me to allow myself to grieve when so many others would be affected by this…like Arwen and…others." I had nearly said 'Éowyn', which would have been pretty stupid, but I managed to check myself before I caused any damage. I inhaled sharply and bit back more tears. "I don't really have a right."
Legolas regarded me pensively, his expression unreadable. But it was his eyes that undid me in the end. I know it sounds horribly cliché, like something you might expect to find in some cheap romance novel in the checkout line at the grocery store (minus the hot sex and impassioned declarations of love, as well as those ridiculous gowns the women were always wearing on the cover, but other than that, it was rather similar), but I looked into his eyes and all my defenses came tumbling down.
It is also worth mentioning that it was also at this point that I broke down completely and starting bawling like a baby. Aragorn's death coupled with the whole Legolas situation had wreaked havoc on my poor nerves and I suppose it was only a matter of time before I succumbed to tears. That and I also had my period and was experiencing severe chocolate and Midol deprivation. It was bound to happen at some point.
However, at that particular point in time I was less concerned with why I was crying, instead focusing on the fact that life was miserable and there was nothing I could do to cease this seemingly endless cycle of pain. I cried for Aragorn. I cried for Arwen. I cried for Éowyn. I cried for Gandalf, despite the fact that he was currently alive and well and off on some secret wizard mission. I cried for Boromir. I cried for Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam. I cried for Aunt Kate. I cried for Legolas. Hell, at one point I might have cried for Gimli. I was enough of a mess to make it possible.
The magnitude of my tears was so great that I scarcely noticed when a pair of warm arms enveloped me, my cheek coming to rest on a broad chest. And when I did notice, I cried even harder. I'm not entirely sure why, but as mentioned before, I was not very concerned with reason at this point.
It seemed like hours had passed when my tears were finally reduced to sniffling hiccups, and by that time, there was a particularly large teary spot on Legolas' right shoulder. I reluctantly removed myself from his arms, dabbing at my swollen eyes with a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry," I said after a moment, partly for going all emotional on him and partly for sobbing all over his tunic. First there was the whole deal with me barfing on him and now this. One can't do much but hope for something significant to happen on the romance front when she keeps expelling bodily fluids on the tunic of the guy in question.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Legolas replied with a slight smile. I shrugged and blew my nose, which sounded rather like a foghorn, but the alternative was not entirely pleasant and also giving me a sinus headache.
"Have we got anything to eat?" I asked after a moment.
***
I suspect that the miruvor Legolas forced me to drink was enhanced by some of Gimli's secret stash of Dwarven ale because nearly ten minutes after ingesting it, I began to feel rather warm and I fell asleep within three minutes.
One thing I learned about Helm's Deep was that it never really sleeps. Consequently, I fluttered in and out of consciousness, constantly awakened by the various conversations that all seemed to be taking place within a fifty foot radius. All of the children also seemed to be close by, as a baby cried at least every fifteen minutes on the clock. Luckily, I was too tired to really care and simply plugged my ears until sleep reclaimed me.
"Why are you still up?" I heard Gimli ask sometime later. Legolas mumbled that he wasn't feeling tired. "You don't need to worry about that one…she sleeps like a rock," Gimli replied, poking me in the back with what felt like the handle of his axe. I twitched and contemplated throwing some large, blunt, and heavy object at him, but concluded that I was too tired. Legolas said something about being concerned and Gimli replied with some long speech that I didn't really feel like listening to. I shifted slightly on the floor and slowly fell back to sleep.
*= Lenore! Lost Lenore! Sorry…this is what happens when you read "The Raven" for lit class. Rather odd poem…but I felt inclined to mention Lenore…it must be the cold medicine.
Too Mary Sue? I'm not sure…I'm a little nervous about this chapter. Let me know what you think!