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~ The Great Siege ~
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"Wait, wait, Prince Imrahil!" she cried as she removed her helmet and tucked it away into a saddlebag, pulling her horse alongside his once they had passed into the city. She saw Faramir in the prince's arms already convulsing violently and sweating profusely from a deadly high fever. Elraen laid her hand on his brow. Sharply and immediately she perceived a dark veil of grief and struggle against despair hanging heavy over his heart.
She took his hand and leaned down toward his face, thinking on the grace and majesty of her people. "Sleep," she said softly, "and dream of what I have seen."
His shaking calmed to a shiver. The prince looked at her amazed. "Have you healed him, Lady?" he asked.
"Nay, my good Prince," she replied gravely, "he is touched by an ill greater than my skill to heal. I have bought a few hours, maybe, but he is not yet out of danger."
As Captain Faramir was borne up to the heights and laid down in the Citadel, Elraen returned to her quarters, for she at last felt very weary, having taken only an hour's rest in the two days spent away on the fields. She took a long fitful while to drift off, and even then again could not stay asleep for more than another few hours. So she got back up and fetched Sunstreak from the stables, and made her way to the top of the second wall and stood watching the siege unfold. She stood there like a statue gazing on the field calm and grave, focused on the weather, but she still could not summon enough rain to quench the fires. So she pushed out her hands toward the scene, wand in hand, trying to form cones of high winds as she once did back in ages long forgotten. It was difficult enough just to get them to form. She managed to create two small ones together, but could not steer them nor keep them formed long. They did inflict some damage but little of consequence.
After a few hours of failed attempts to wield the weather as she desired, she threw up her hands in frustration, and bolts of lightning struck down in many dozens of places across the fields at once. This at least had the effect of startling all around to see, friend and foe alike.
Elraen put away the wand and looked out across the field, packed overflowing with a tireless sea of enemy forces, and noticed feelings of helplessness and defeat begin to overwhelm her. The beset princess leaned onto her hands upon the wall and hung her head. Just then Gandalf came trotting up, and dismounted a moment amid his bustling about the city.
"Good work with the southerly winds at the ford, those will be quite useful. Keep it up if you can. But be careful not to get carried away with that," he said, nodding toward the field, for the show of whirlwind and lightning had not escaped his notice. "Remember we are not to fight this war for them. And besides we cannot have the Dark Lord so injured he retreats his focus to within his borders."
The young enchantress sighed. She was curious about his first remark but too weary to bother asking about it, and assumed he simply meant her slowing the enemies at the river crossing. "Don't worry," she replied, looking glum at the fields and still leaning on her hands. "I clearly have restraints placed on me, by design of my brother no doubt, or perhaps the One rather, to keep me from doing just that."
The wizard placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a sympathetic smile. "Then remain as you are. Do what you can if any Nazgul fly down too close."
She looked up at him. "I can see how Mortals make easy prey for despair and false hopes."
"It is a hard test, indeed, even among the wisest and most powerful of beings," replied Gandalf, and with that he was off again.
By the hour the night was waning toward dawn. Elraen stood back up, and though weary and dispirited, straightened herself up, gazing out at the hopeless scene, and made another attempt with the rain. But under the blackness, with the heat of the choked air, she couldn't manage more than a stinging drizzle. She also thought back to the river, and renewed the southerly wind as Gandalf asked. It now came all the stronger from deep across the expanse of the Sea, for she thought upon her home, and to there her heart went. She did not bother with the wand, but stood simply staring out onto the field yet not quite focusing on anything in particular.
Then suddenly she saw it: the great mumakil of the south, bearing Grond the great bespelled battering ram. They were making their way toward the gate, with the Dark Captain of Despair trotting up from behind by horse. Elraen hurried down the stairs racing for the city entrance, her white and gold armor catching the firelight in the street and flashing an orange and yellow glow as she ran. More than once she had to use her shield to get through a barrier of fire. She reached the great doors with not a moment to spare. Not quite sure what to do now, for she knew no proper spells, she heard the great creaking of heavy wheels grow close and suddenly stop. Unable to think of anything else she simply threw her hands against the thick iron doors and closed her eyes. Her mind raced with thoughts of the ancient and enduring lives of the metal as she touched it, channeling as much of her own energy into the doors as she could muster. "Hold!" she cried out this time in Andunaic.
She opened her eyes, her hands still against the gate. The entirety of the doors lit up with a barely visible white glow for a brief moment. A few of the knights who remained nearby scattered not far off upon the walls did indeed notice this, gasping in alarm. The blackness of the bewitching terror left their minds a moment, and they looked on to watch in hope.
Grond knocked. It shook the breath out of her and rattled deep her mortal bones, and she let out a cry. Elraen then took a moment and a deep breath, and leaned against the door. "Hold!" she repeated. Again the door lit faintly, and this repeated a few more times. Gandalf who was at the far north end of the third level came bearing down to the gate himself with all speed. The Black Captain grew wrathful with impatience. Elraen was very weary now, and gathered herself up again. "Hold!" she called again as the ram met the door once more.
The clash of her weakened powers against the evil enchantments of the battering ram released a great flash of light and force of energy and at last caused the great doors to burst asunder into a thousand pieces in a tremendous explosion. Elraen was thrown off her feet by the blast, and there she lay, unconscious and partly under a pile of shattered bits of iron and stone.
When she woke a few moments later, she caught her breath, seeing that just a few feet before her stood the Witch King. His hood was cast back to reveal the menacing red blaze in his eyes. He did not seem to notice her. He was speaking to one who stood nearby almost just over her: she looked up and there was Gandalf. Only at that moment she fell did he arrive at the Gate.
It was a long moment before she could even move. At last she did, just as the Horns of Eorl cut through the thick air, and the leader of the Nazgul vanished from sight.
Pippin came running up begging for Gandalf's help. Elraen pushed herself up off the ground, coughing and catching her breath, brushing off bits of metal and rubble as she listened to his story. She shook her head in dismay. "I should have stayed with him," she said as she stood herself up. "I might have been of more use there."
"None could have guessed the greater danger lay where we thought was safer," said the wizard. He sighed and turned to Pippin. "I can help if I hurry."
"I will go after him as I can," Elraen stammered out, holding herself steady with a hand against the broken frame of the gateway, and another on her knee. Gandalf looked at her, seeing she was far too weakened to do anything of the sort with the swiftness needed.
"You are weary," he said. "Remain here at least and guard the entrance if you would." She gave a whistle for her horse, and the wizard and the hobbit took off toward the heights of the city.
Elraen whistled again and walked slowly out through the archway of the destroyed gate, waiting for her energy and senses to fully return. Most of the Orcs and enemy Men had fled with the Nazgul Captain, and at the sight of Gandalf in his fury, but some remained not far from the archway, gathering to avail themselves of the destroyed and unguarded entrance. And there she appeared, weary but grim, her cloak at her back and her armor, sword, and garments glimmering like white and red and yellow stars in the remains of the fires, now looking in cool wrath and bitter grief upon the tragedy of the battlefield. She tightened her grip around the hilt of her sword, the wand strengthening around her the air of one high and otherworldly and dangerous, and any remaining enemies nearby that saw her then also fled.
Her mood then calmed again, and she saw the great beasts that bore Grond remained abandoned where they were, tied to the heavy thing. Elraen walked up to one, and quietly pulled out her dagger and slashed the bridle and the ropes and chains tying it to the great ram. "Be free!" she said, and did the same to the others. At first the hapless creatures stood there confused and bewildered, until the knights of Dol Amroth came barreling out through the gate, followed by the other soldiers of Gondor from within the city, and frightened them, and they fled across the field to their doom.
At last Elraen felt sufficiently recovered to at least climb up onto her horse, and whistled again. Finally Sunstreak came trotting out from inside the walls. Elraen pulled herself up, and donned her helm and gauntlets. There she sat at the entrance to the gateway, watching the fresh supply of Rohirrim soldiers spill across the fields.
Looking to the skies she saw now five winged beasts when there had been four earlier. The Nazgul Captain had returned to flight. But which one? With the arrival of Rohan the blackness was breaking up and fading, and the light of dawn was at last shining through. Elraen was at last able to summon sufficient wind to help clear the foul air and rain to quench the enemy fires.
The Princess watched intently one of the flying beasts descend to the field off to the east a few miles away, but could not let herself dash away toward it. Eventually the gate wardens who had fled or cowered in blind terror during the height of the attack slowly began to emerge. There before the doorway they found the young maiden upon her grand horse, sitting straight and grave as the great statues of the kingdom, the golden plumage of her helmet glinting in the few faint rays of the new morning sun through the clouds, guarding the entrance to the city alone. They were at last able to remaster themselves after the disappearance of the Witch King and the breaking of the overwhelmingly force of terror that he wielded, and came forward. Elraen had as yet taken no notice of them, for now she was growing anxious to go forth. From behind her came the voice of one young man among them who was overcome by all that he had seen and heard from his station by the Gate over the past few days.
"Good enchantress!" he found himself crying out, "Go! Help Gondor as you can! We will guard the Gate."
She looked back at him. "It has been a grievous day," she said. "But keep hope! The winds have changed."
Elraen was just turning her horse toward the creature's landing site when a deafening shriek rent the air before weakening quickly and dying away. Suddenly the stifling dread sitting so heavy over the city felt as if it began to lift and clear like the early morning fogs as the sun waxes. Elraen sat still as stone in her surprise, her breath lost a moment. She furrowed her brow, then the gravity on her face lightened: she understood what had befallen.
Now Elraen was not entirely sure what to do next. She started off toward the site of the clamor, thinking perhaps she might start a search for the lieutenant, when in her mind came a voice unlooked for.
'Lady, please go and seek out Aragorn. Assist him as you can and ask him to come to the Houses of Healing. Faramir's need grows, but not for him only.'
'Aragorn? He's here?' she thought to herself. 'Where upon this far flung spattering of fire and fighting could he possibly be?'
'And if you could,' it added, 'send up another of your good winds from the south.'
Among the soldiers of Gondor she heard the cries rumoring that fresh forces of Corsairs arrived, followed by some confusion over what was occurring at the quay. As she thought of Aragorn she suddenly remembered both the Lady's and Elrond's messages to him about the Paths of the Dead, the pass through the White Mountains to southern Gondor. If he had gone that way how then would he have arrived here?
The river! Of course. Elraen set about the second task first, and a warm breeze carrying mists of seawater wafted up the great vale. Then she cantered Sunstreak off toward the quay. She heard the Horns of the Rohirrim again and a din of great cheering rise up, this time off to the south. Elraen continued on toward it, heartened by the renewed spirits of the Rohirrim and keeping an eye out for the Lieutenant of Mordor. At last in the distance the Princess saw the standard of the white tree flying high over the river and her heart was lifted and she smiled in rejoicing.
She passed many forces both friend and foe fighting long and wearily. The princes of Dol Amroth and other valiant soldiers of Gondor were making good work of pushing back the Haradrim. So she closed her cloak about her again, and few among those busy fighting even noticed her. After a while she was catching up to Eomer and his company of knights as the tide of their onslaught met the forces of the fleet landing at Harlond. Elraen finally came up to the main concentration of what was left of the fighting, and spurred Sunstreak onward. At length she dismounted when she at last found Legolas and Gimli.
"Greetings, good lady!" called the dwarf in surprise. "Have you come to join our tally?"
"Only as need warrants, my friend," she replied, "for I have a pressing errand. I must find Aragorn. He is needed."
"Isn't it all pressing, lass?" replied Gimli gingerly, "Aragorn is not far off, but engaged with the Lord Eomer in ending this battle. The fighting is yet thick and these men of the East and South are very fierce and well trained. But come! As you are here perhaps you shall aid us, and the three of us may work together wielding such weapons as befit us. Then the sooner perhaps you can complete your task."
And so for some time longer they fought together, at times Gimli calling out some tactical idea that sprang to his mind, the others obliging; not a few times did Elraen make use of wind and rain and lightning as best she could; at other times they strayed far apart, making their way toward the great banner of the Kingdoms in Exile.
Soft rains now fell and crisp breezes blew over the fields, clearing the humid dusty air. At last the fighting slowed, and the enemies scattered like the clouds and darkness above. The sun was waning again when the three companions at last found the chance to seek out their leader, and they did not catch up to him until they found men erecting his tents outside Gate, where Imrahil and Eomer had recently parted with him.
"Hail, Aragorn!" she called, "at last I find you." She dismounted and bowed her head.
The Dunedain chieftain looked at her and bowed in reply. He was grieved and weary but still his eyes brightened, being glad of the reunion. "Hail, Lady Elraen! Well met again!"
"Gandalf asks me to beg of you a boon for the healing of the city. The Steward's new heir lies at the Houses of Healing yet in danger. The slayer of the Witch King also. Will you come?"
Aragorn paused and looked at her with some hesitation, reluctant to enter the city before the war was decidedly over. "I will come," he replied at last. The two heirs returned to the cover of their Elven cloaks and mounting their horses rode up to the city. They were nearing the level of the citadel they came upon Gandalf on Shadowfax coming forth to find them. Then Elraen parted with them, taking all their horses to the stables.
*.*.*
At the Houses of Healing, Elraen rejoined her companions after the nurse had left to find athelas for the patients. As they stood waiting for her and the herb master to return she fretted. For the wizard's young apprentice (as she had now also come to be known in Minas Tirith as well as Edoras) had spent days of labor consumed with the task of seeing to the new Steward's survival, and now he stood at death's door. As Aragorn called softly to him she grasped Gandalf's arm anxiously, with grief and fear heavy on her face. The wizard looked at her. 'Do not fear!' she heard a whisper call in her mind, 'the king's time has come'.
The scent of the broken athelas filled the room, and Elraen's heart lightened alongside the rest. In her mind came fair thoughts of the Spring of Arda in the lost beauty of the lights of the Lamps, and of Yavanna who first reared up the plants herself, on and all about that fair isle. Her heart moved and spirit lifted, and a feeling of comfort and ease touched all in the room. A salty sea breeze seemed to enter through the window on a pleasant little wind, bearing with it scents of fair forests and gardens of a long lost land, mixed with the wholesome air of the athelas vapors, and making the candle flames dance high.
"Who could lie idle when the King has returned?" said the son of the Steward after he woke at last.
He looked about the room. "And you, Lady!" Faramir exclaimed softly after his brief words with the Ranger, wonder on his face. Elraen stepped forward, as the new steward thought of all the strange things he had seen in his fevered sleep, adventures that were not his own, leading all the way up to gazing out from the walls of the city as his brother was wont to do through the dark years, looking over a sea of foes upon the fields under a black sky. He felt humbled, for he knew there was an enchantment about her that was beyond the reach of his understanding. "In my dreams I have seen much," he said to her, "dangers endured, and enemies fought, and many things done to help me and my brother and others." He took her hand and pressed it to his forehead. "I am in your debt also, Princess Elraen."
Prince Imrahil looked over at the lost princess wondering, and thought of her curious words when she calmed the young Steward's shaking fever the night before. She seemed to live up to the strange rumors swirling about the city, however wild and strange they may have sounded to him at first.
Elraen took up his hand and smiled. "You are safe for now, my friend," she said softly. She clasped her hands around his, closed her eyes a moment, and in her mind she blessed his dreams with fair visions of ancient Numenor as she remembered seeing it long ago. "Now get some rest," she said, "as the King has bid!"
She followed along with the wizard to visit and watch the progress of the next two patients. Elraen could see the grief heavy on the lady Eowyn's face, and hear the bitter hopelessness in her voice.
"But to hope? I do not know," Eowyn replied to Gandalf.
Before they stepped out of the room, Elraen added a last word. "I hope that you may find something to help ease your burdens, Lady. For I have swam such seas of grief and despair, and know well the perils that lurk therein."
Eowyn looked at her, and for a brief moment she perceived that in spite of her short years there lay a hidden story of great loss and woe. Wonder and curiosity peered through the veil of the Lady of Rohan's sadness, and a drop of hope, still frozen but not lost, stirred deep within her heart where it lay, and yearned to find such relief of which the princess spoke. But the lady was proud, and yet sure of only one from whom she cared to receive such a gift. This did not reach her waking thought however, and she simply sighed as her gaze drifted back down toward the floor.
After Aragorn revived Merry, they all left into the throng of people seeking help. Aragon turned to her. "You bear some skill in healing, I hear," he said, weary but still glad of heart. "Would you be so good as to help me with this crowd? And to first fetch the sons of Elrond to assist also? There are many, so many."
Elraen turned to him. "One turn deserves another," she replied and bowed her head. "You came to help when I called, and saved Faramir when I could not. If you believe I can help, then so I shall."
And so she labored with the king and his companions long into the night, along with several women of the Houses of Healing. In truth she did little more than to either attend to some of the milder hurts, or ease the suffering of those who lay dying, and for those she could but help usher their spirits onward to their next destination. At length she finally retired to the sparse guest house that had been provided by Lord Denethor several days earlier, and slept for a long while.