A/N: Hey guys, so I'm sure that where ever you are in the world you have heard what has been happening in England over the last few weeks. I live in London as does my brother and we were both caught up in the attacks at the weekend. Fortunately we were both very lucky to be unharmed but it got me thinking, as these things and indeed all terrible events tend to do, and I wanted to write a chapter that whilst in keeping with the story tried to deal with the idea of senseless violence and loss. I hope that it at least helps a little with this and it is I suppose a therapy for me to write it because as all writers know, writing is our therapy, our way of coping and understanding. Thank you :)
When her awareness returns to her, she is briefly aware of the fact that she was apparently weaker than she liked to think and that was not a thought that sat particularly well with her. Yes she wanted to be around Aragorn all the time, and yes she was quite content to sleep in his lap because she felt safer when he was close by but she hated appearing weak in front of others, she had been trained for years to be the best warrior. She felt a pang of guilt as she thought of how ashamed her brothers would be if they could see her now.
"Medui, what is it are you well?" Aragorn's voice is concerned as always but there is a new tightness there too and it scared her a little. Slowly, she opens her eyes and spends a few seconds adjusting to her surroundings. She is being held she realises, close to Aragorn's chest as he runs, although he pauses now to set her on her feet, his hands on her waist to steady her.
"I… was just thinking of my brothers… where are we?" she asks in confusion and he glances around too, calling Legolas and Gimli back.
"We are tracking the Uruk's that took Merry and Pippin," he explains and she nods,
"How long have I been asleep?" She asks noticing him wince a little as he steps even closer and reaches a hand to brush fingers against the soreness she can still feel on her neck.
"Nearly two days," he murmurs, his eyes betraying his worry for her despite the calm aloofness in his expression.
"You have carried me all that time," she states quietly her own eyes now tracing his features and noticing the exhaustion in even his stance and he nods after a small pause. "You should not have done that," she whispers, gasping a little as he pulls her to him and holds her close, his face buried in her hair.
"I came too close to losing you back there because we were separated, it will not happen again," he murmurs fiercely and her whole body hums with a strange tingly feeling at his words, his protection of her. This is what love is she thinks to herself, moving slightly to face him she opens her mouth to tell him she loves him but then catches sight of Legolas and Gimli and remembers why they were running. Now is not the time. Maybe when the hobbits were safe, she would tell him then.
By the end of the following day Meduineth was nearly falling with exhaustion, she was of course used to going long periods of time with little to no food and rest but never before had she kept up such a pace whilst still being wounded and she was suffering because of it. She knew that the others were worried, Aragorn especially but she could not bear the thought of Merry and Pippin suffering further because of her weakness.
"We shall rest here a while, I cannot track them in this dark and fog," Aragorn sighs and she sinks quickly to the ground as Legolas sets about scouting the area for danger, Gimli already snoring where he has fallen down, perhaps even more exhausted than Meduineth.
"Let me redress your wound," a voice says softly behind her and she turns dazedly to see Aragorn crouching behind her.
"Okay," she whispers, allowing him to help her remove her outer tunic and pull aside her shirt. For a while they sit in silence as he removes her bandages and reapplies the salve he carries before placing new bandages around her arm.
"It is not infected," he murmurs after a while, "how is the range of movement?" he asks once he has helped her to redress and is sitting beside her.
"It is… okay," she says after a pause, glancing at him before continuing, "It will be fine in a few days, I was… lucky," she swallows thickly as she says this and he sighs pulling her gently into his side, just as he always did.
"It was not your fault Meduineth, please do not blame yourself for his death, he would not want that," he says quietly and she is ashamed to find tears pooling in her eyes and quickly turns to bury her head in his shoulder, breathing in his scent and grounding herself.
"You won't leave me will you?" she asks in a barely audible whisper and his grip tightens on her instantly.
"Never," is his reply and she shifts again moving herself into his lap, where she feels safest, no matter what is going on around her, around them.
"Good, I do not think I would survive that," she mutters after a while, her breathing evening out when as she says the words.
"Sleep títhen-pen, my little mystery, I have you," he whispers his fingers stroking through her hair, carefully avoiding the deep bruising now clearly visible on her face. He winced as he stared at the marks marring her otherwise pale skin, he had often found himself admiring her skin, how no matter how long she spent out in the elements it remained pale and smooth, it was almost elven in its appearance and despite the fact that he knew, for it had been checked extensively by his father and Gandalf, that she was human, he still found himself wondering from time to time for he had never met another human as perfect as her.
"It is because you love her that she appears so much more than any other," a voice says quietly to him through the darkness and he starts a little subconsciously shielding her with his own body as he twists his head to see Legolas standing close by.
"I don't know…" he stutters, rarely caught off guard in such a way,
"Your emotions are plain to read on your face when it comes to her," the elf smiles and Aragorn can feel his face heating slightly in embarrassment.
"Are you saying she is not beautiful?" Aragorn asks suddenly, feeling defensive of the girl curled up in his arms and Legolas chuckles a little at his friends question.
"No, she is beautiful, it is clear for anyone to see but I think because of your love for her you find that you cannot gaze on anyone else in the same way," he replies and Aragorn falls silent unable to say anything else as he watches her for he knew it was the truth and he briefly worries if she can see his affection for her too and has not said anything because she does not return his feelings.
Dawn comes too quickly and with it comes an ominous message as Legolas stands and surveys the horizon.
"A red sky rises, blood has been spilled this night," even as he says the words Meduineth feels a heaviness in her stomach and glancing to Aragorn she sees the expression reflected on his face and that worries her more but she doesn't say anything, choosing instead to be strong for him and remain hopeful that resting would not mean they were too late.
"Riders," Aragorn suddenly shouts and before she can think of anything else she is pulled down behind some rocks and the ground begins to rumble as hundreds of horses begin to thunder past us.
"Who are they?" Meduineth asks but instead of answering her Aragorn grasps her hood and pulls it over her head.
"Stay hidden and stay close to me," he says almost sternly and she nods as he grasps her hand and pulls her out as the last horse passes her, "Riders of Rohan. What news from the Mark?" he shouts and the horses begin to turn instantly, creating a tight circle around the group of four exhausted travellers, Meduineth shuffling closer into Aragorn's back and Legolas and Gimli behind her, blocking her from view as much as possible.
"What business does an elf, a man and a dwarf have in the Riddermark and who is that you conceal?" the leader, for that is clearly who he was, asks the riders around him stepping closer on snorting horses, spears aimed at what remained of the fellowship. "Speak quickly," he commands as none answer him.
"Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," Gimli retorts and Meduineth tenses, the testosterone and hostility around her making it hard to breath. The man dismounts in a quick blur approaching the four as Aragorn places a hand on Gimli's shoulder to stop him making the situation any worse.
"I would cut off your head - dwarf - if it stood but a little higher from the ground," the man sneers and Meduineth feels a sudden anger pulse through her, standing straighter to say something but Legolas beats her to it in a blur of movement his bow is drawn and an arrow knocked aimed at the mans heart.
"You would die before your stroke fell!" he spits, such venom in his voice that she flinches, she had never heard him so angry and it scared her. Aragorn pushes down Legolas' arm and steps forward slightly.
"I'm Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he gestures to the others, "the is Gimli, son of Gloin and Legolas, from the Woodland realm,"
"And the one you keep hidden?" the man asks still clearly unsure and angry at the four of them and Meduineth feels Aragorn tense slightly before reaching for her hand and pulling her carefully to his side, signalling for her to take her hood down which she does, shying away from the stares she receives.
"This is Meduineth, from the house of Elrond," he says and she smiles nervously at the horse master standing before her. "We are friends of Rohan and of Theodan, your king," he continues in a bid to get attention and focus away from the girl as quickly as possible and it does not escape the notice of others that he has not released his grip on her hand, nor the fact that she stood so close to him that there was barely an inch of space between them.
"Theodan no longer recognises friend from foe," the man sighs deeply, finally removing his helmet to reveal himself before continuing, "not even his own kin," he makes a gesture now and the spears are withdrawn. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over this land. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that we are banished," he virtually spits the last word and Meduineth feels a deep pity for the men who just moments ago had appeared to be the enemy. This war was beginning to blur the lines between friend and foe as trust became harder to commit to or earn and the thought filled her with a deep sadness. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked and everywhere his spies slip past our nets," He still did not trust them then! It was just as Meduineth feared, no one could be trusted, hope was fading and it terrifiesd her.
"We are no spies. We track a band of Uruk-Hai westward across the plains. They have taken two of our friends captive," even as Aragorn speaks the words she feels a painful clenching of her heart.
"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night," Eomer says and she feels her body begin to tremble.
"Surely you have them with you then?" she asks before she can stop herself, unable to hold the gaze he sends her way as nausea rushes through her.
"But there were two hobbits, did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli insists,
"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn now says and the pleading in his voice makes her heart stutter, her breathing becoming shallow.
"We left none alive, we piled the carcasses and burned them," he replies heavily, gesturing the smoke spiralling skywards on the horizon and suddenly Meduineth's world is spiralling as her legs buckle beneath her, Aragorn catching her and holding her to him tightly but saying nothing. His body rigid with shock.
"Dead?" Gimli chokes out and she makes a whimpering sound as she tries to come to terms with what she is being told.
"I am sorry," Eomer says as he nods before whistling, "Hasufel! Arod!" as he calls two horses come forward and he takes their reigns in hand, "May these horses bear you to better fortune than the former masters. Farewell. Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands. We ride north!" then with a roar they are gone and Meduineth is being dragged up behind Aragorn and they are galloping towards the smoke.
The grief built in her like nothing she had ever felt before, it was like every fibre of her being shock and trembled with the need to be away from it. Her body burned and itched and she could not fight the gaping emptiness that seemed to consume her making her feel hollow and dead. She had failed them. The thought ran in circles around her head and she was unable to rid herself of it, unable to deny that fact that if only she had been stronger, been there, fought harder then she could have saved them. She looks to Aragorn, desperate for comfort for understanding but all she sees is her own guilt reflected in his eyes and it forces a sob of anguish from her throat as her knees buckle beneath her. This was more than she could understand, more than she could comprehend, she had seen death before but she had been a tiny child when her parents had been taken from her, Gandalf had been an old man and whilst it hurt to lose him this seemed so much worse. Pippin and Merry were innocents, they had done nothing in their short lives to hurt anyone and the idea of such evil taking them from the world, from the fellowship left her… broken!
She listens as Aragorn lets out a roar of pure anguish and hurt and her heart shatters more. They were supposed to protect them, they were innocents under the protection of the fellowship and the fellowship had failed them. This makes her think suddenly of Boromir and a new pain rips through her, he had fought so hard to save them but in the end was powerless in the face of such hatred, such pure and inconceivable evil. He had died for nothing! In her heart she knew it wasn't true, that he had died a heroes death but what good was it? In the end he was still gone, Merry and Pippin were still gone and the evil was still there. What good could they possibly do? Surely no matter how hard they fought evil would win because it was too powerful, too strong and too consuming.
Despair waged war inside of her and she could no longer see or here anything else around her, such was it's grip on her heart and soul. Tears blurred her vision even as she was pulled to her feet, stumbling behind the person who was dragging her gently along.
"Have hope Meduineth," Legolas whispers but she does not have it in her to even attempt to smile at him. They are following the trail of the hobbits into Fangorn, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli all filled with a newly restored hope that their two young friends were still alive but she could not. She had no hope left, only despair, only grief and it ate away at her heart.
"Behind me," Aragorn suddenly commands, dragging the girl almost roughly as he pulls his sword out to attack the white wizard that approached. She can't. She merely sinks to the floor, burying her head in her hands as she waits for death to take her, to take them away from her.
"Meduineth," the voice is familiar, gentle yet forceful at the same time and she hears it almost as if remembering it from a dream and finally she looks up into the face of the man who had become her grandfather, the man she had watched fall and her heart almost stops.
"Gandalf," she says in a whisper, before launching herself into his arms sobbing uncontrollably.
"Shh, child, I am here, the hobbits are safe, there is no need to despair," he murmurs to her as he pulls her carefully to her feet.
"I thought… I lost hope," he says eventually staring at her feet until his fingers grasp her chin and pull her face up to his.
"Never lose hope my child, no matter what evil you face there will always be good, always be hope and we must be strong in the face of hate for that is the only way we will defeat it. Hate and evil will never understand love and it is this which ultimately defeat it," she nods as he speaks feeling the profound knowledge of his words give her new strength.
"Let us continue our fight then, where are we headed?" she asks in a small voice and he smiles at her and nods before moving off, his presence replaced immediately by Aragorn whose hand finds hers and holds it tightly, not letting go until they reach the edge of the forest.