Disclaimer: A gypsy read my palm today. Apparently I was not J.R.R. Tolkien in any of my past lives, nor is Peter Jackson a projection of my spirit, so I guess I still don't own anything.
A/N: Oh my God. I saw RotK and…wow. Talk about one amazing movie. Amazing doesn't even begin to describe it. It was the perfect ending of an amazing trilogy. It's quite sad though…but wow. What acting. What vision. What hotness…I mean…great battle scenes. If this doesn't get Best Picture (in addition to every other applicable Oscar), then the people at the Academy have problems. Or drugs, depending on how much their eyes are twitching. Sigh…it's so sad it's over though. But it was one hell of a finish. If you're reading this instead of seeing the movie, I want you to turn off your computer right now and go see it. And bring Kleenex. Lots of it.
Hope everyone had a good holiday!
Special thanks to Wind Elf who found me a Human Name Generator. Thank you! This makes my life SO much easier! Have another life-size solid milk chocolate Legolas! Shouts also go to Legolas and Haldir who both left reviews. Although, apparently part of Haldir's got cut off. Also, the aforementioned elf now thinks all the women who read this fic are in love with him. He also thinks he's a handsome rogue-of-a-devil and he ate my cheeseburger. (pouts) I wanted that.
I should do a shout-out section in one chapter…maybe. I dunno.
My gosh…you guys are so nice…thank you for all the reviews…600! WOW! I've said it before and I'll say it again: you all ROCK. I'm really going to try and update more now that things have calmed down slightly. While I didn't really fulfill one reviewer's request to update for Christmas, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve, and her grandmother's birthday, hopefully this will suffice, LoL. Thank you all again!
Chapter Thirty-Five
I woke the next morning to something being jabbed repeatedly into my back. I muttered a few curses, yanked my sleeping roll far over my head, and rolled over. Despite the fact that I had gotten more than enough sleep, I was still feeling rather fatigued and desperately wanted to retreat into the dark warmth of my sleeping roll and forget about the numerous problems that had arisen as of yesterday.
Gimli had other ideas.
"Wake up!" he bellowed, prodding me in the back with what I assumed was the handle of his axe. I mumbled unintelligibly, drawing the blankets more tightly around me. I was poked sharply in the ribs in response.
"Dammit, Gimli!" I bellowed, clutching my side as I quickly sat up, glaring fiercely at the Dwarf, who was standing with his arms crossed smugly over his chest.
"You've had more than enough sleep," he informed me, looking just a little too haughty for his own good. "There is much work to be done."
"That doesn't give you the right to physically assault me!" I countered angrily, massaging my stinging side. I had an uncanny feeling that I would develop a rather nasty bruise later. Gimli simply turned on his heel, calling for me to hurry up over his shoulder. I eyed a quarter-sized rock that was conveniently placed right next to my right hand.
The clanging sound it made when it struck Gimli's helmet as well as the resulting yelp of surprise from the Dwarf was very satisfying.
*
Gimli avenged himself by yelling at me for a good ten minutes. I'm not sure if this one-sided conversation had an actual point, but Gimli apparently thought it was a good way to start off the morning. However, I've learned through experience that Gimli often holds some…ideals that the rest of us do not appreciate. Such as not bathing. Needless to say, I ignored him and spent most of this time gathering up my possessions, occasionally rolling my eyes or snorting sarcastically. It was during this time that I noticed the cloak that had been carefully spread over my sleeping roll.
"…And another thing…" Gimli articulated as my hand came to rest at the leaf-shaped brooch at my neck. It certainly wasn't my cloak. I picked up the wrap, feeling the familiar soft fabric roll over my fingertips. The identical brooch confirmed my theory. Well, that and the fact that it was well over four feet long and therefore, could not belong to Gimli (thank God). A large and rather goofy grin spread across my face and I felt that "My Little Pony" sappy, happy feeling stirring within my heart, as cliché as that may sound.
"And you can stop that obnoxious smiling! It wasn't that amusing!" Gimli shouted. I rolled my eyes in response, quickly floating back to reality and placing the cloak gently on the ground. I gathered up the rest of my things as Gimli continued on his seemingly endless rant, finally sliding my pack on over my shoulders and stooping down to retrieve the cloak from the stone floor. Gimli followed me out of the alcove, still grumbling, until we both realized that I had no idea where I was going, meaning he had to take the lead. He then proceeded to complain about that for approximately seven minutes, which was the amount of time it took for us to locate Legolas.
"Thank you," I said once we found him, handing him his folded cloak. He nodded, accepting the bundle, his lips curving up in a slight smile.
"…incompetence!" finished Gimli, whose face was now rather flushed with anger. Legolas looked at him strangely before looking at me for an explanation.
"I threw a rock at him and he didn't like it," I replied, shrugging my shoulders slightly. He didn't look too surprised. Gimli let out a snort of exasperation and muttered something about finding a decent meal as he shuffled off in the opposite direction. My stomach growled. It wasn't a half-bad idea. I slid my pack off my shoulders and fumbled around, searching for the solitary lembas packet I had on my person (which, as I mentioned before, I had borrowed (without permission) from Aragorn). The thought of the Ranger forced me into a quiet reverie as I broke off a piece of the wafer.
"We are to meet with the King in an hour's time," Legolas informed me as I chewed contemplatively.
"What for?" I asked once I had swallowed. "Want any?" I extended the packet. He shook his head.
"Discussion of defense tactics, I imagine," he replied as I placed the nearly empty packet back in my pack.
"Oh." I would have to find some way to preoccupy myself during that time. These little chats with Théoden had a fun factor of zero. It was like painting grass and then sitting down to watch the paint dry as the grass grows, while listening to two people of equally dull personalities discuss taxes and life insurance. "What time is it?" I asked to change the subject. I had to wake up more before I could devote any further thought to Théoden. Legolas stared at the sun for a moment (which was still rather low in the eastern sky, but Gimli had made it seem like I had overslept for at least an hour) before replying:
"It's about seven hours before midday."
I wish I could tell time by looking at the…hey wait a minute… it's five o-friggin'-clock in the morning!
With that revelation, I decided that the very least Gimli deserved was another one of my special singing performances.
"That damn Dwarf…" I muttered, scowling at the sun. The way I see it, it should be illegal to get up (or force anyone else to get up) before seven o'clock in the morning.
Legolas looked at me oddly for a moment and opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by a great amount of shouting. From the sounds of it, Gimli was somehow involved.
"Where is he? Where is he? Get out of my way! I'm going to kill him!" I heard the Dwarf shout over the clamor. I raised an eyebrow at Legolas. The only person I could think of at the moment that would provoke such an outburst from Gimli was me, and I was certainly not a 'him'. That alone would have been cause for a completely different argument. I was really confused. If Wormtongue had returned, there would have been more of a commotion and I sincerely doubt Gimli would have hesitated in trying to kill him. Invisible foes? Could be. Gimli had enough "comfort ale" last night to make it possible. I shut my pack and slid it back on my shoulders, planning on having to go intercede on Gimli's behalf. Or at least stand back and laugh while Legolas did the actual work. I bent down to tie my boot, which had somehow come undone during my trek from the alcove.
"Le ab-dollen," I heard Legolas say as I struggled with the laces. I clumsily translated: You're late. I frowned in puzzlement. Either Legolas had gone off the deep end or…my breath caught in my throat as a possibility took shape in my mind and the faintest glimmer of hope flickered in my heart. "You look terrible," he continued. My fingers fumbled with the worn cords as I knotted them together, my heart beating faster with every passing second. I stood up quickly, hoping for the impossible and fearing that I would be disappointed.
He was standing right in front of me, looking a little worse for wear, his clothing torn and dirty (or more so than usual), his hands and face covered in a thin layer of dirt and blood. But, despite the fact that his existence seemed to defy all logic and possibility, Aragorn was alive, and currently laughing because Legolas had just told him he looked terrible.
It was all too unreal, even for Middle-earth.
"Oh my God," I finally managed to choke out, wanting to laugh and cry all at once. All the fear and despair I had felt in the past twelve hours dissolved with the giddying realization that Aragorn was alive and that our small hope of victory could be given new life. He turned his familiar green eyes to me with a small smile upon his face. I blinked back the tears that were forming in my eyes before hugging him tightly, noting that he smelled like a rather disgusting combination of fish, dirt, blood, sweat, and horse. If I hadn't been incredibly happy and relieved, I would have gagged.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" I commanded after a moment of incoherent whimpering (from me, not Aragorn), pulling away so I could see him properly. "We thought you were DEAD! Do you have any idea how upset and frightened we all were?" I'd have to say that this was one of the more confusing moments of my life. I wanted to both hug and throttle the man at the same time. I settled for going back and for between emotions, like some sort of weird personality disorder. "But I'm so glad you're back," I continued in a softer voice. "Just don't ever pull something like that ever again or you WILL be dead." He smiled at that last part and patted me gently on the shoulder, probably to encourage my silence. I'm guessing the last thing he needed at that point was to have to listen to me rant.
"It's good to see you, Haley," he replied, sounding wearier than usual. Legolas took this opportunity to remove something from his pocket, gently placing it in Aragorn's hand. The Ranger opened his fingers and looked quietly at his outstretched palm. Arwen's pendant rested gently on his hand, seeming comically out of place amongst the blood, dirt, and bruises. He looked up in disbelief at Legolas, who smiled his quiet, knowing smile.
"Hannon le," Aragorn replied after a moment of shocked silence. That was easy enough: "Thank you." Amid this incredibly emotional scene, I felt that familiar sense of pride that often popped up when I successfully translated a Sindarin sentence, despite the fact that it was two words long and one of the first phrases I learned. "Where is the king?" he asked after slipping the pendant into his own pocket.
"More importantly, where the hell were you?" I demanded, folding my arms over my chest. Just because he was missing for a day and probably injured does NOT get him off the hook.
"All will be explained in due time," he replied tiredly, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. "I bring ill tidings—our situation is grimmer than expected." I frowned in confusion and worry.
"He is just beyond that door," Legolas said, gesturing to one of the large double doors on the far wall. Aragorn nodded.
"Find Gimli and stay close by. I expect the king will grant you audience as well." Legolas nodded and Aragorn left us, limping slightly as he approached the large doors. I shook my head slightly as I watched him make what was no doubt a very dramatic entrance that would have been even more complete with a fantastic soundtrack. But as far as I knew, no one had a boom box, so we had to do without it.
What is it with people coming back from the dead all the time? I thought quietly to myself as Aragorn disappeared behind the doors. It's not that I wasn't happy to see Aragorn (or Gandalf, for that matter), but it was really starting to creep me out. I half-expected a drenched Boromir to pop out from behind a wall and demand to know what the hell we were thinking sending him over a waterfall when he was only taking a well-deserved nap.
Hey, it could happen.
Legolas gently nudged me, snapping me out of my trance, jerking his head in the direction Gimli had wandered off in.
I trailed after him, pondering life and death in Middle-earth (while still on the lookout for any sign of Boromir) when I noticed Éowyn and my thoughts were quickly diverted by her expression. She was standing with her hands hanging limply at her sides, appearing happy, upset, and confused all at the same time, which I could sympathize with, seeing I had just been changing emotions like socks a few minutes ago, if that makes any sense. But then I started to wonder if she had seen both Aragorn AND the pendant, which definitely had "Another Woman" written all over it. Or "I'm A Rugged Guy Who Likes Jewelry" or "Check Out This Bling". Or maybe even "Very In Touch With My Feminine Side." However you want to interpret it.
Unfortunately, I had very little time to contemplate the whole Aragorn-Arwen-Éowyn situation because while I was mulling it all over, I had managed to lose track of where I was going, and thus failing to notice the stone wall inconveniently placed right in the middle of the course I had unwittingly chosen to take. Consequently, I walked right into the wall, which like everything else at Helm's Deep, was made out of stone, which is very solid, which produces a painful result if you walk right into it. So, my thoughts were quickly diverted to the pain in my face (particularly my nose and chin) as well as the odd looks I was receiving from pretty much everyone in the room. I was also concerned with the fact that Legolas found all of this amusing.
The moral of the story is: never get lost in thought when there are very solid objects (especially walls) anywhere in the vicinity and if you expect sympathy for walking into said object, don't hang around Legolas.
*
We found Gimli without too much trouble. Actually, let me rephrase that. Legolas found Gimli without too much trouble. I was rather preoccupied with my nose, which was hurting like hell as result of my previous collision with the wall. I also had to periodically deliver a slap to Legolas' arm, as he continued to find this all incredibly entertaining.
Cheeky Elf.
Unfortunately, Gimli also shared this sentiment and proceeded to laugh rather obnoxiously when Legolas explained what had happened. I tried to kick them both in the shins, but Legolas' reflexes made it nearly impossible and Gimli threatened me with a very slow and painful death if I so much as touched him.
So I resorted to pouting, whining, and complaining. The usual deal.
We returned about fifteen minutes later with Gimli and Legolas both wearing amused expressions (Gimli more so than Legolas) and me sulking behind them, my right hand covering my smarting nose. Then we had to hang around outside what I assumed was Helm's Deep's equivalent of the Great Hall for another ten minutes before the guard outside the door would let us in.
We finally entered a rather large room, small in comparison to the Great Hall at Edoras, but significantly less smoky which, in the words of Martha Stewart, is a good thing. It was built of stone with a high ceiling supported by many grand arches. Sunlight streamed in through the windows in long white shafts, illuminating the room so that it appeared we had stepped into some holy house of worship rather than a throne room in a poorly constructed fortress. Several wooden tables and benches had been set out upon the floor and an intricately carved throne was nestled in the large alcove at the end of the room, flags and banners decorating the space behind it. Aragorn, Théoden, and the Royal Homeboys (which I had renamed his attendants, as no one had really bothered to mention their names. Théoden didn't seem capable of going anywhere (including the bathroom, as far as I know) without at least one of them, so I figured I had to call them something) were all standing around the throne, with the exception of Théoden, who was sitting. I suppose it's one of the perks of being a king. They had apparently gone through the whole "where the hell were you and how the hell did you get back here?" process while we had been waiting outside. I was slightly disappointed. It would've been kind of funny to see Théoden freak out.
Aragorn paused in the middle of his sentence to greet the three of us with a nod of his head, giving me rather strange look. I can't really blame him, seeing as I still had my hand poised protectively over my nose, which probably looked odd, or at least like I smelled something foul.
"I walked into a wall," I explained from behind my hand. Théoden and the Royal Homeboys looked slightly disturbed; Aragorn nodded knowingly and continued on like I had commented on the weather or something normal like that.
"…as I rode to return to Helm's Deep, I encountered a great host of Uruk-Hai marching southward. They make for Helm's Deep. I returned as quickly as I could," said Aragorn, quietly. My chest tightened. That couldn't be good.
Théoden rose from his seat as Aragorn spoke, taking slow, kingly strides forward, staring quietly at the door. I don't really see how that helped our situation any, but I suppose it was more for a dramatic effect rather than practicality.
"A great host, you say?" he said after a moment of silence.
"All of Isengard is emptied," Aragorn replied.
"How many?"
"Ten-thousand strong at least." My first reaction to this statement was to wonder if he actually sat down and counted. That would explain his lateness. Then the meaning of his words hit me. Ten-thousand Uruk-Hai.
Shit.
"Ten-thousand?" Théoden asked incredulously.
"Heavens to Murgatroyd," was all I could manage.
"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men," Aragorn explained quietly. "They will be here by nightfall." His voice was barely above a whisper. A chill went up my spine. Victory did not seem so certain as it had a half an hour ago when Aragorn returned.
Théoden turned slowly crossing the entire length of the hall before snapping "Let them come!"
I sighed as I watched him exit the hall, the door slamming shut behind him. Ten-thousand Uruk-Hai were coming to attack us and the king had just gone insane.
Great.
*
I have to give Théoden some credit: he can move quickly. By the time Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and I had followed him out of the throne room, he had already started giving orders, shouting at every available guard to begin making preparations for battle. It was rather easy to get lost in all the shouting that was going on—it took about a minute or so for me to realize that Aragorn was not-so-gently tugging on my sleeve and telling me to hurry up.
I quickly came to my senses and darted after Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, all of whom were following Théoden, who was still shouting. His multitasking was pretty amazing. I mostly concerned myself with desperately tying to avoid running into people and not do further damage to my nose, which was no easy task, considering the large amount of people who seemed to have surfaced just to hear Théoden shout.
We followed Théoden for a long time before he took any real notice to us. Why we had to trail after him like a bunch of ducklings made no sense to me, especially since he didn't particularly need for us to be there.
"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall," he informed one of the Homeboys. The man nodded respectfully before departing from us. We had somehow managed to arrive at the entrance of the fortress—I had gotten so turned around that I had given up any hope of actually figuring out where I was. People seemed to have reacted quickly to Théoden's orders—men were busy nailing large wooden planks to the entrance doors. I didn't see how it would help much—if there was a battering ram, the only thing that would really prevent them from breaking down the door would be a solid wall of concrete. Apparently, Théoden had a different opinion, as he seemed perfectly happy with the progress being made on the door.
I followed Théoden and the others out onto the stone ramp beyond the doors, peering cautiously over the edge and retreating with a shudder. The fact that I was no longer on a horse failed to make that drop seem any less frightening.
"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above," Théoden explained, gesturing wildly. I blinked, not quite understanding what he was talking about. My battle strategies boiled down to: "Hack at the bad guys. And try not to get killed or horribly injured." I had very little patience or understanding for plans containing words like 'causeway'. "No army has ever breeched the Deeping Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg!" he continued, dramatically sweeping his arms in the direction of the walls. I remember thinking that the name 'Hornburg' was more comical than impressive. It was incredibly difficult not to laugh, but I managed to restrain myself.
"This is not a rabble of mindless Orcs," Gimli informed Théoden, sounding slightly exasperated, even for Gimli. "These are Uruk-Hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad."
"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf," returned the King (A/N: No pun intended…heh…had to mention that…anywho…back to the story), slight irritation creeping into his normally stable tone. "I know how to defend my own keep." With that, he strode briskly back into the fortress Whoa. Two points to Théoden. I trailed in after Aragorn and Legolas, trying to shut my mind's eye, which was currently picturing Gimli and Théoden getting into a catfight/bitch slapping contest. It wasn't pretty, but it was highly amusing.
"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock," Théoden continued proudly as he led us quickly through the fortress (at that point I became certain even he didn't know where the hell he was going or what he was going to do when he got there. I suppose it looked kingly and manly, but lacked a large element of common sense). I raised an eyebrow—he was also getting a little too carried away with those similes. "Saruman's hordes will plunge and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be resown, homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them."
I don't think I've ever seen anyone so confident in the face of what seemed to be inevitable doom. However, that did not make me want to keep my opinion to myself, even in the slightest.
"And now it's time for a healthy dose of reality!" I chimed in sarcastically. "Hate to burst your bubble, Your Majesty but—"Aragorn firmly jabbed me in the stomach with his elbow, his subtle hint for me to shut up.
Just like old times.
"Be quiet," he hissed under his breath, just in case I hadn't completely understood. I narrowed my eyes at him and folded my arms protectively over my stomach. "They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages," Aragorn explained, looking slightly peeved (I'm not sure if that sentiment was directed at me or the King). "They come to destroy its people—down to the last child!" I grumbled quietly to myself. I was planning on saying something like that…just with a more generous distribution of the phrase "you idiot". But then again, it probably showed sagacity on Aragorn's part to promptly shut me up. Either that or experience. I'm guessing the latter.
Théoden turned abruptly, nearly standing nose-to-nose with Aragorn. "What would you have me do?" he snapped under his breath. "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread." I raised an eyebrow. There he goes with the literary devices again… "If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance!" While that was a good point, I still wanted to smack some sense into Théoden.
"Send out riders, my lord," Aragorn suggested as Théoden turned away. "You must call for aide." Théoden doubled back, visibly irritated this time.
And Aragorn tells me to keep my big mouth shut…
"And who would come?" Théoden replied, almost mockingly. "Elves? Dwarves?" He nodded to the three of us respectively (at least I hope so. The last thing I need is to be mistaken for a Dwarf). "We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead." His blue eyes narrowed sharply as he said this and I really, really, really wanted to slap him. However, I was not entirely keen on being remembered as "The Sarcastic Girl Who Slapped the King and Was Promptly Executed by the Royal Homeboys All Within Five Minutes".
Fortunately, Aragorn has absolutely no reservations about saying whatever the hell he's thinking, especially with Théoden. I guess that's the kind of attitude you get from being Isildur's Heir, but I like to think he picked it up from me. I've got to have credit for something other than being annoying and sarcastic…
"Gondor will answer," he replied regally, squaring his shoulders with that familiar quiet pride. Théoden's eyes flashed with anger, his eyebrows knitting together in a terrible frown.
"Gondor?" he spat. I was slightly taken aback. Apparently Aragorn had struck a nerve. "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies close in around us?" I desperately wanted to point out that they were probably in…surprise! Gondor! But apparently, Théoden had not had his morning nap and was more grouchy than usual (or maybe Gimli woke him up) and I didn't want to try his patience more than was necessary. Besides, Aragorn was doing a pretty good job on his own. "Where was Gon…" Théoden quickly checked himself, as though a little alarm had gone off in his head and said something to the degree of "Hey! Kings aren't supposed get snappish and petulant! Where were you when we watched Be a Great King in Just Twelve Easy Steps?" "No, my lord Aragorn, we are alone." The angry flush had receded from his cheeks, but that bitter, despairing tone had not completely left his voice. He turned on his heel, leaving the four of us standing there rather bewildered.
Or in my case, bewildered, with a sore nose, and wondering where the hell I was and when I'd actually figure out how to navigate properly.
A/N: I hate finals. Which explains why this chapter was also a tad slow in coming…I've had it partially written for a while…just haven't had a lot of time to finish it and go over it. Let me know about this one—I'm a little nervous about it. The next chapter will probably be more eventful—it includes the scene where Legolas gets all depressing and such. I'm looking forward to writing that…I have ideas…bwa ha ha. This was nine pages. Long enough? I hope so. Anyway…R/R.