Author's recommended listening: Poulenc, Stabat Mater
This chapter was originally uploaded in conjunction the last chapter. Only minor, superficial changes have been made for editorial purposes.
CHAPTER XVII: THE SHADOW
Another week passed, always the same pattern of rising early only to halt early and spend the evening instructing the Hidlanders. The further the company travelled, the more comfortable the fighters became with their mounts; their progress grew faster, and they pressed on increasingly late into the night. Desperate to reunite with the forces that mustered in the Mark, the pace Aragorn set made his unease apparent to all, and that unease proved infectious.
It was thus with relief that Truva watched the Glanduin draw into view, for their nearing the Gap of Rohan eased the worry Aragorn had planted in her mind. The company's crossing of the river was followed not long after by the dawning of an exceptionally radiant morning, when tittering birds descended from the mountains to signal a transition from the barren heathlands of the Enedwaith into the fertile regions fed by the River Isen.
A buoyant mood filtered through the company as they broke a simple fast and set out in the early light, yet even as the sun slowly approached its zenith, the subtle signs of life gradually began to dissipate rather than increase. More than a few of the riders' typically steadfast mounts became restless, tossing their heads and spooking – in turn disturbing their more even-tempered neighbours. Several of the Hidlanders, already struggling with the unfamiliar creatures, were nearly thrown from the saddle.
The company did not stop for lunch; indeed, it did not seem as though the horses would allow them to, for they continued on at a breakneck pace, leaving their riders to grab a mouthful of nourishment where they could. The afternoon dragged on eternally, and Aragorn drove them deep, deep into the night, riding far longer than they ever had.
Truva had initially assumed the tenseness in Aragorn's face was due to his anxiety to reach the Gap of Rohan as quickly as possible, yet as the night wore on she grew more certain that was not the case – or at least not the sole reason. She guided Bron close to Hasufel, though she was still forced to shout above the thunder of horses' hooves and the chill night wind that whistled over the Misty Mountains from the east.
"Why have we not stopped?" Truva cried. "The fighters are exhausted!"
"Something ill is afoot," said Aragorn, his low voice nearly inaudible.
Truva was about to respond when a faint sound lingered almost imperceptible upon the wind. She thought she might have imagined it at first until it started again, louder, suddenly clear and distinct from the gale: the long howl of Wolves.
Nor was Truva the only one to hear their cry. The Hidlanders' heads whipped around when they caught the sound, frantic chatter passing through their ranks. Halbarad rode up from his position along the flank, drawing parallel with Aragorn.
"Do you hear that?" he called.
"I hear it," Aragorn replied, the muscles of his jaw tight. He drew two stones from his saddlebags, and after a brief struggle, brought them close to the staff the Elves had provided him. A flame quickly erupted at one end.
"Hold out your staff!" he demanded of Halbarad. When their staves met, the flame leaped to Halbarad's as well, and he in turn passed the fire to Truva.
Even as they rode on, Truva spun in her saddle and addressed the mass of fighters. "Pass the fire along!" she shouted, extending her staff to the foremost riders behind her, and soon the entire company was awash in flame. The Dúnedain manoeuvred into positions that formed an even barrier around the Hidlanders, and the company pressed on with a renewed vigour bordering on desperation.
Without warning, Truva detected the lumbering shape of a Wolf in the darkness. It approached from the company's left flank, musculature undulating beneath a silvery coat of fur that glistened in the light of their staves. Truva reached for the bow Arwen had gifted her, quickly selecting an arrow and nocking it to the string. She drew and released in one swift motion, sending the Wolf tumbling into a second that appeared behind it.
Truva looked to Aragorn, who was searching frantically ahead for any location they might be able to defend; yet only open, exposed grassland was visible in the darkness. Outrunning the Wolves would not be possible – not with those as unfamiliar with riding as the Hidlanders were. As their limited options raced through her mind, Truva nocked the next arrow to her bow and dispatched another Wolf, though the creatures' numbers multiplied even as she did so.
An unexpected chill washed over the company then, striking dread into the hearts of each rider. Truva knew not what instinct drove her to do so, yet she turned her face skyward just as a swath of darkness even deeper than the night swept overhead.
"What is that?" she cried to Aragorn. He did not respond, only looked on with eyes wide as the inky figure banked around and plummeted toward the company.
The Wolves scattered when it struck, riders and horses rising up in talons the utter blackness of which defied perception. Elladan and Elrohir sent volley after volley into the sky, yet all their arrows clattered harmlessly off its hide. Aragorn was the first to inflict any damage, lodging an arrow in the black mass and causing it to release the victims in its claws, though it soon swooped down again to exact its revenge.
A sudden idea struck Truva, and she turned to her packs in a frenzied search for what she knew to be contained there: scraps of cloth soaked in resin, used for starting campfires. She quickly tied several about the head of an arrow, and after nocking the shaft to her bow she held its tip to the fire of Aragorn's torch, for hers had gone out.
The arrow burst into flame. Slowly, deliberately, Truva drew her bow and brought the murky swath of darkness into her sight, though it floated before her eyes like some black enigma of the night sky itself. She resisted the trembling that threatened to spread through her arms as she held her bow locked in place, determined not to miss, waiting for the beast to make another pass. Seconds dragged on into perpetuity as the dark shape banked once again and drifted back into range.
Truva locked on, waiting until the beast hung directly overhead before firing.
"Aiya Eärendil Elenion Encalima!" she cried as she released the arrow, her clear voice piercing the air as surely as the arrow she sent skyward. Truva knew not why she spoke these words, nor did she know their meaning, yet the flaming arrow burst into an inferno and its speed increased even as it raced toward the shadow.
The arrow exploded upon impact, its flames roiling along blackened scales of a serpentine creature. The beast thrashed in the air momentarily before winging off over the Misty Mountains, its blackness gradually melting into the ordinary dark of the night sky, leaving only a chill behind.
The company found itself at a halt, breathless and senseless. Truva turned to Aragorn and saw her feelings of befuddlement and horror reflected in his own expression. The Elves stared at her in astonishment, though she ignored their scrutiny and turned once more to the Hidlanders. Some towered over the carcasses of Wolves they had struck down, and Truva's heart swelled with pride.
"Are there any among our number lost or injured this night?" Aragorn called out.
"None!" they answered as one, and a brief nod from the Dúnadan healer confirmed the accuracy of this response.
"We found ourselves endangered far earlier than we ever thought possible," said Truva, "Yet we have beaten back the enemy and stand victorious!"
Her words were met with a rousing chorus of cheers, though Aragorn knew bad news must follow the good. "Our battle does not end here, however," he said. "We are far too exposed in this place, and must continue on even now."
"Dig deep to where the determination I know you to possess lies!" Truva cried. "Tonight, we ride!"
She expected a disgruntled response; instead, her words were met with vigorous shouts. Perhaps the battle spirit still coursed through the veins of the fighters, yet it was to a series of enthusiastic whoops that Aragorn resumed the company's southward progress, at a pace that far outstripped any they had set since their departure from the Hidlands.
It was not until late into the night, or perhaps early the next morning, that the company halted at the very foot of the Misty Mountains, beneath a natural overhang that shielded them from view. A strong watch was set, and fires forbidden. Truva went from group to group to ascertain the fighters' condition, thanking them for their bravery and reassuring them their ultimate destination lay not far ahead.
When she came upon Chaya and her brother Eilif, who were just sitting down to a light dinner of lembas with Blackbramble, she took a place amongst them and said, "It is good fortune to see you all unharmed."
Eilif took her hands in his, and Truva was amused to see their size dwarfed her own. "How many times must you perform the work of a legend before you accept the title?" he asked.
"I did only what was expected of me, as did we all," said Truva. "I know not what drove the beast off, though I fear it was not our own actions."
"Whatever the case may be," said Chaya, "I hope we never encounter such a terror again."
"That is a hope I am sure we all share," said Truva, withdrawing her hands from Eilif's and patting him on the shoulder before wishing them a good night.
After having seen to each of the Hidlanders and found them surprisingly level-headed in the wake of such frightful events, Truva returned at last to Bron. She desired nothing more than to present him with one of his favourite treats in thanks for his steadfast heroics that day, and the knowledge that she had not a morsel to offer saddened her. He nuzzled her neck gently in understanding and lent her strength instead of demanding it.
Truva put him to graze, settling down into a grassy hollow nearby and wrapping her cloak about her to ward off the chill that still lingered on the air. A second horse came along shortly to graze beside Bron; Truva recognised it as Hasufel, and only a few moments elapsed before the rider himself joined his horse.
Without a word, Aragorn took a seat beside Truva. They passed a while in silence as they watched their horses, who seemed content to feed leisurely upon the vegetation that ticked their twitching noses. Truva mulled over her thoughts until she could contain her curiosity no longer.
"What was it that attacked us today?" she asked.
"It is impossible to know," said Aragorn. "I can only hazard a guess."
"You grow more close than the Wizard Gandalf," remarked Truva. "If you can but guess, then what would you suppose?"
Aragorn did not answer for quite some time. "A fellbeast," he said at last. "Sauron has a talent for turning even the purest of creatures to his evil intentions. It was with heavy heart I saw the fell horses he had stolen from the Rohirrim swept away in the Bruinen, and I suspect this new being has likewise been corrupted – though if it was once a dragon, I am certain it took little effort.
"In truth, I had hoped the threat of armies that muster in Rohan and in Gondor would keep our enemy preoccupied, so that we might slip southward undetected, but I was mistaken."
"Perhaps it was in travelling alone that we evaded notice on our way northward," said Truva. "And it is our numbers that now draw the enemy's eye."
"That is possible," said Aragorn, "Though little is clear to me, save that we must make all haste to rejoin the Rohirrim."
"I do long to see a friendly face," admitted Truva, but upon seeing Aragorn's expression she realised she had misspoken. "Not that your face is not friendly…" she trailed off. There was no recovering from her blunder. Aragorn allowed Truva to stew in her discomfort for a while before he spoke again.
"That is a fine bow you wield."
Truva froze, yet while she suspected the topic was one of a sensitive nature to Aragorn, she did not think it would behove her to lie to him, for he always seemed to know more than he revealed. "It was given to me by the Lady Arwen," she admitted.
"And how is it that you knew such magic?" he asked.
"What magic?" asked Truva, confused.
"When you released your arrow." At her blank expression, Aragorn added, "Aiya Eärendil Elenion Encalima."
"I do not know," said Truva, comprehension dawning on her at last. "It was more a feeling that came over me, and recognising it as helpful rather than harmful, I simply allowed the words to be spoken."
Aragorn peered into her eyes, prying for any contradiction, yet seemed ultimately content with her answer. They settled into a comfortable silence then, and Truva allowed a brief spell to pass before she finally gathered sufficient courage to ask about the topic that had mystified her ever since their departure from Rivendell.
"The Stone of Eärendil," she said suddenly, watching as Aragorn subconsciously raised his hand to his neckline, only to grasp at nothing. "What became of it?"
He was clearly reluctant to speak on the subject, and Truva instantly regretted having broached it. "Its story is long and complicated," he said at last.
"'One shall come who is to receive it, and his name shall be that of the stone: Elessar he shall be called,'" said Truva.
"How do you know of this prophecy?" Aragorn questioned, his words sharp and quick.
"Halbarad spoke of it to me," said Truva.
"It was not his story to tell," he murmured.
"I apologise for having caused you distress," said Truva, "You needn't answer if you do not wish to."
Aragorn did not respond for a time, then turned and faced her squarely. "It was intended to foretell my marriage to Arwen, and my succession as King Elessar to the people of Gondor; for Lord Elrond stipulated that I must first become king of both Gondor and Arnor if I wished to wed his daughter – as a mortal, only such a king would be worthy of Arwen's hand."
He stared at his hands then, fingers interwoven, palms up; the scars they bore shone in the wan light that filtered down from the moon. "Yet she now departs for the Immortal Lands, having chosen for herself that fate, and it matters not whether I ascend to kingship."
Truva gaped at Aragorn as she struggled to collect her thoughts. "To say it matters naught suggests that all those who gather now behind you fight for nothing – a sentiment which I cannot accept as true," she said.
She reached out as if to take his hand, then reconsidered and withdrew. Aragorn's gaze remained fixed upon the ground, and so she felt the freedom to study his face intently: every feature, every scar, every wrinkle of concern, and the frown that pulled at the corners of his mouth.
"My lord Aragorn," she said, "The burden of responsibility lies heavy upon your shoulders. I cannot speak on your romantic intentions with regard to the Lady Arwen, yet there is a field of newly emancipated fighters here before you, who rely upon your every decision for their very survival. I know also that once we rejoin the Eorlingas, it will be your expertise that shall lead them through the terrible conflict that is sure to come."
Aragorn glanced at her then – albeit briefly – and so she pushed on. "As for me, I cannot lead without you. It was never the jewel about your neck that granted you significance in my eyes; it was from your knowledge that I wished to learn, and it was your spirit that unwaveringly guided and reassured me. Your power is not gained from some insignificant bauble, my lord; it is internal and immutable."
Truva stuttered into silence; it had been a huge task for her to voice the sentiments steeped deep within her heart, yet she felt justified upon seeing Aragorn's attitude revived at her words. The frown passed from his lips, and he seemed to shake free of the restraint that had haunted him of late.
"And yet it was you who drove the fellbeast from our ranks," he said.
"I would not have the confidence to act with such bravery, were you not our leader," said Truva. "I cannot pretend to know of the significance entwined with the Elves' departure, nor of the danger that lies before us; all I know is that it takes great courage to proceed into the unknown, and should you commit yourself to this fate, we shall follow. If we follow, so shall the rest of Middle Earth."
Aragorn considered her words for a moment before returning suddenly to their original topic of discussion. "So what then was your purpose in inquiring about the Elfstone?"
Truva panicked, for she thought she had evaded further interrogation on the subject. "What little Halbarad told me birthed a curiosity regarding the political implications of wearing the Stone of Eärendil," said Truva at length, more excuse than truth.
She paused, contemplating how much to reveal; feeling obliged to plead Éowyn's case, however, she continued, "And— I know there are those who would dare to dream of attaining your affections, who would be upset at the knowledge of the Stone's origin."
Aragorn turned to observe Truva's face so intently she began to grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"Simply that you made quite the impression in Edoras," she said. "Accusing me of treason at the Hornburg certainly did not endear you to any Riders who had been present there, yet our women had already taken refuge in Dunharrow and therefore know nothing of such events."
Truva's voice grew increasingly timid as she faltered under Aragorn's gaze, which had turned more to a glare. "Not that I would ever have the audacity to interfere in your affairs!" she hastily added. "It is merely to suggest that what is perceived as a conclusion might in actuality be but a new beginning."
When her voice trailed off, Truva knew not how to interpret Aragorn's expression; was it fury, or perhaps sorrow? Contrary to expectation, he appeared far less despondent than but a short while earlier.
"I never know what to make of you," he said, his tone inscrutable as he wrapped himself tightly in his cloak and turned his back to her as if to sleep. Truva likewise pulled her cloak close against the cold, which had abated somewhat but still curled painfully around her bones. She wished for even the feeblest of fires as she crossed her arms over her chest and settled in for a quick rest.
She awoke as the silhouette of bristling mountain peaks gradually became visible, backlit by the purple haze of early dawn. As the indistinct border between gloom and day rolled down from the slopes, Truva thought it strange how serene the landscape felt, the chaos of the previous night wholly scrubbed from the scenery.
It seemed the entire camp had spent a rather sleepless night, for more than half the Hidlanders were already about, and it did not take much coaxing to rouse the rest. Soon the entire company was packed and ready to depart, shifting restlessly in their saddles.
They set off in the dim morning light, and Aragorn drove them at a hard pace. By midmorning, the tightly clustered riders had strung out, forming a fragile line that hugged the foothills. It took all the effort of Truva and the Dúnedain to ensure that no Hidlander fell behind, and the horses struggled to accommodate their inexperienced riders, though they remained indefatigable even as noontide came and passed.
Their breakneck pace continued deep into the night, which was blessedly free of any aggressors, then they rose again early the next morning. This pattern repeated until the company came at last upon the tip of the Misty Mountain range and the Gap of Rohan, just as the sun of the third day began to descend in the western sky.
As their mounts splashed through the now roiling currents of the River Isen, its waters sending the crimson and orange light of sunset southward to the sea, Truva once more spotted the eyot with its crown of spears. She fell to the back of the company and halted, dismounting in front of the central barrow. Halbarad and a few of the straggling riders looked back in concern, though Truva waved them on, indicating that she would soon catch up.
She knelt in the sand before Théodred's grave, laying a hand upon the smooth river rocks that had been piled high to demarcate the last resting place of the glorious son of Eorl. Bron sensed Truva's despondency and nuzzled her shoulder gently, and she rubbed his nose in return.
After a few moments' quiet reflection – or perhaps it was a great deal longer, for the sun had fallen much closer to the horizon – Truva was roused from her reverie by a too-familiar chill that spilled down the mountainside. She tilted her head back, but the sky was overcast and obscured her view; nevertheless, she thought she perceived a black shape drift faintly beyond the clouds, breaking southeastward.
"Whoa, boy," she said, patting Bron heartily as he grew uncharacteristically frenzied, rolling his eyes and threatening to buck, "Steady, steady."
She threw herself into the saddle and raced toward the opposite bank in pursuit of the company, though upon breaching the embankment they were nowhere in sight. Truva spurred Bron on, and he streaked forward like a minnow evading the hunting heron, darting this way and that before Truva brought him under rein.
The others must also have sensed the fellbeast, for it took far longer for them to appear upon the horizon than Truva had anticipated. She had just begun to gain on the distant black smudge of the company when a single figure slowly grew distinct from the rest: Halbarad, riding back toward her. As soon as he was within earshot, the Ranger stopped and called out to her.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, fine," Truva shouted back. "And the others?"
"Making with all speed for Hornburg."
"As expected," said Truva as she pulled even with Halbarad, who spun his mount around and matched her pace.
"I thought you had eliminated the beast," he said.
"It is no surprise that such a creature could survive a mere arrow," said Truva. "Or perhaps there is a second one. My far greater concern is that it is out in daytime."
"As you see, 'daytime' has become an altered state," said Halbarad, gesturing to his left. From the eastern horizon spilled a jet black inkiness that swallowed up the very sky and earth that lay beneath it.
"What is that?" gasped Truva.
"Evil," said Halbarad. Truva was tempted to laugh at the simplicity of his answer, but then she recalled Saruman's Uruk-Hai, the Wargs, and the circling fellbeast, all of which stifled her initial reaction. She raced on in silence beside Halbarad, the company ahead gradually growing closer.
Once more the fellbeast swept overhead but did not break the cloud cover. Truva wondered at what its purpose might be; whether it intended to attack them, or had been sent to scout their movements, or if it perhaps served some more nefarious purpose beyond her reckoning.
Truva and Halbarad eventually overtook the hindmost riders and shouted words of encouragement as they passed, though they did not slacken their pace until they reached the head of the column where Aragorn rode, stony-faced and grave. Quick glances between the three was sufficient to confirm what went unspoken: that their survival depended upon gaining the Hornburg before dark.
Halbarad began to make his way amongst the Dúnedain, gathering their reports and attempting to enhearten the Hidlanders, as Truva dropped back to the very rear of the company to ensure none fell behind. The White Mountains loomed ahead, yet it seemed that the faster they rode, the more rapidly dusk descended over the snowy crags.
The Elven horses began to lag. Truva endeavoured to rally the fighters, yet sheer exhaustion dulled even the most earnest Hidlander's fervour. The company's pace slowed, and the passing of the fellbeast grew more frequent, and nearer. Its anticipation was practically tangible upon the air, and Truva knew then that it merely waited for the cover of darkness.
To the immense relief of the entire company, the Hornburg came into view at great last. Renewed energy rippled through the riders, their pace picking up once again. It seemed possible the dusk that now fell thick about them might last long enough to allow them to reach shelter ere full darkness descended.
The same thought must have occurred to the beast – if it was capable of such thought – for a most terrible screech rent the sky, causing the riders to drop their reins and cover their ears.
"That is an unexpected development!" shouted Halbarad, who rode just a few horse lengths ahead of Truva.
"Take all riders who yet have energy!" she called, her ears still ringing. "I will guide those who cannot keep pace."
Halbarad dropped back so that their conversation would not be overheard. "We are stronger as one; it will be far harder to mount a defence if we were to divide."
"It will force the beast to choose between multiple targets," said Truva, then lowered her voice even further. "And it is better that some of us survive, rather than all remain in the open."
"Then I shall remain behind with you," he said, conceding to her plan.
"No!" Truva said forcefully. "Inform Aragorn, then ride with the foremost group. A greater number of riders increases the likelihood that the beast will attack."
Halbarad pursed his lips, looking as though he might argue, then urged his horse into a sprint. Truva took hold of her bow and held it inconspicuously at her side before drawing the Hidlanders who trailed behind into one group of two score riders. To her great dismay, Eilif was amongst their number, struggling with his mount.
Truva slowed their pace in imperceptible increments, so that they might conserve some energy should they be called to fight. The foremost group of riders gradually began to pull ahead, none save one son of Elrond and a Dúnadan warrior remaining behind to assist Truva in the defence of the Hidlanders.
Complete darkness descended, and the others were soon lost in the night. Truva relied on her ears to sense the fellbeast's approach, yet the horses' thundering hoofbeats drowned out most sound. The tiny, distant fires of the Hornburg were lit, and still no further sign of the fellbeast came. Just as Truva wondered whether they had been dealt a stroke of luck and might yet make it to safety unscathed, the first blow struck.
Another ear-splitting screech emanated from the night, and in that very moment the jet-black fellbeast descended from the sky, its menacing talons held before it, snatching at the riders. Truva and the Elf immediately drew their bows and loosed countless arrows in its direction, though the only target their shafts found was its left claw. The creature squawked and pulled up sharply before circling back overhead and diving again. Truva released another volley of arrows, all of which ricocheted harmlessly off the thick plating that protected its front.
The fellbeast hung momentarily in the air, buffeting the riders with the draught from its wings, then snatched a Hidlander, darting high into the sky. Truva raced for better positioning and shot again, this time striking the beast's underbelly. It released the fighter, who plummeted to the earth from a terrifying height. Truva ordered one of the Hidlanders to assist the fallen victim as she plunged forward, attempting to drive the beast away from their ranks.
It was then that she spotted a single flame approaching from the direction of Hornburg. In the darkness, the contrast rendered her unable to see by what means this fire was transported, yet she continued to observe it from the corner of her eye as she tracked the movement of the fellbeast, now circling just out of range.
Panic coursed through Truva when she saw it bank yet again, for judging by the angle it intended to strike the approaching figure. She urged Bron forward, and from the darkness emerged Halbarad's face, illuminated by the light of the torch he bore.
Truva gasped as she saw the fellbeast plunge, attacking the Ranger from behind so that he was unaware of the danger. She drove Bron directly toward Halbarad and his mount, drawing her sword as they closed in. She saw the look of confusion spread across Halbarad's face, yet so overwhelmed by the fight was she that Truva did not have the foresight to warn him; all she could do was act.
Halbarad diverted his horse, avoiding collision at the very last instant, and in that very same moment the fellbeast descended. Determined to protect Bron, Truva stood as high as she possibly could in the saddle and drove her sword deep into the beast's clasping talons.
Truva felt herself lifted from the saddle, though her right foot caught in its stirrup and a sickening snap could be heard as the fellbeast pulled her skyward. She felt nothing except rage, however, and slashed desperately at the claws that encircled her body, talons piercing her flesh. The more she struggled, however, the tighter the beast's hold grew, and she felt the air being pressed from her lungs until she cleanly severed its hind toe and succeeded in wriggling free.
She hurtled downward and hit the ground with incredible force, the crunch of bone audible. Bron raced immediately to her side and Truva dragged herself into the saddle, ignoring the incapacitating fire that spread throughout her body. She sought out Halbarad and the Elf before regrouping the Hidlanders that milled about, confused and terrified.
"Ride as though your life depends upon it!" she cried, "For it does!"
They all bounded forward once again, yet Truva could sense the inky blackness plotting its next attack. She took up her bow once more and turned to Halbarad, who still brandished the torch. "Let us hope this saves us a second time," she said, holding several arrows to the flames.
When the beast swooped down yet again, Truva aimed true to its heart, but no words came as they had previously. She released the arrows all the same, and while they hit their mark they failed to effect the same result as before. The creature merely pulled up and mustered another strike.
"Ride on!" Truva roared at the top of her lungs, urging the fighters forward. "Ride hard!" She turned in the saddle so she could hone in on the beast that now hung in the air behind them, yet when she leased her arrows it pulled skyward as if taunting her, and her assault missed its mark.
The creature arched high overhead, only to drop in front of the party, halting their progress. The son of Elrond shot at it directly, and though he missed as well, a path for the fighters was cleared. The ground began to slope downward beneath their horses' hooves as they rode on, for they had come at last upon the outermost edge of the gorge that led to Hornburg. Far in the distance, Truva could see the fires of the fortress growing larger, and hope welled within her breast.
The beast grew frenzied as they neared their destination, attacking more frequently and less cautiously, sending riders scattering as they dodged its assaults. Truva lit another arrow upon Halbarad's firebrand and shot it in the direction of the fellbeast as it descended once more. Her arrow embedded deep within the beast's skin and continued to burn, yet the creature remained entirely unaffected; it latched onto a rider and his horse, lifting them skyward.
Truva gave a fierce cry, joining the Elf in sending her few remaining arrows skyward, and under their barrage the beast released the Hidlander. Truva darted to where the fighter had fallen, yet even as she arrived, her breath caught in her chest. Eilif's face swam before her teary vision, neck turned at a disturbing angle. Neither he nor his mount were breathing.
Despite the desperate nature of their situation, Truva sat upon her heels in shock. She had lost a fighter – one she had sworn to protect, one who had followed her lead, who had believed in her, whose loving sister had entrusted him into her keeping. Truva threw herself upon Eilif's mangled figure, failing to mind the blood that soaked into her clothing. Sobs racked through her, and yet no noise came out.
Halbarad raced up behind her and dismounted swiftly, pulling Truva roughly away from the bodies. "There is nothing that can be done for them now! You must see to those that still need your help!" he implored.
She fought fiercely against Halbarad, clinging to Eilif as an unearthly scream ripped from her throat, but then an eerie calmness suddenly fell over her, and she composed herself. Truva stood and wiped her arm across her face, turning just in time to nock an arrow to her bow as the fellbeast swooped down in another attack.
She had no need to release the arrow, however, for a separate volley came from not far ahead, from the direction of the Hornburg. Truva gazed, stunned, as a small company led by Aragorn returned from the south, the ferocity of their onslaught driving the creature back out of range.
"Mount up!" Aragorn commanded, and both Truva and Halbarad immediately did so. The floundering Hidlanders were once again surrounded by a guard of Dúnedain as they fled down into the valley and toward the fortress, crossing Helm's Dike and clattering up the causeway. The gate opened wide for their entrance.
As soon as they were safe within the walls of Hornburg, Truva glanced about to ensure that all fighters entrusted to her care had arrived – all save one. She could still feel the wind from the downbeat of the fellbeast's wings overhead, its piercing shriek upon the air, yet the Dúnedain on the walls of the inner court assured her of the Hidlanders' safety as she slipped from consciousness and the saddle. She heard panicked shouts from the fighters gathered about her, but could not summon the strength to assure them that the blood on her clothing was not her own.