Chance Encounter
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them to their rightful owners.
Chapter 23: In the Fortress
"Aragorn!" called Balian. Where did the ranger go? Where could he have gone? "Legolas, where did you last see him?"
The elf looked around with a worried expression on his face. He examined the ground. "There are drag marks," he said. He, Balian and Gimli followed the marks to the edge of a cliff which looked down into a deep ravine with a fast rushing river swollen from the rains. A weak gurgling laugh sounded behind them and Legolas whipped around to see a dying orc with black blood trickling from the side of his mouth. Aragorn's dagger was buried in its belly.
Gimli put the edge of his axe to the foul creature's throat. "Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing," he growled.
"He's dead," sneered the orc, gasping for breath as blood filled his lungs, slowly drowning him. "He took a little tumble off the cliff."
Legolas grasped the orc's armour and hoisted him up. "You lie!" hissed the elf through gritted teeth. His voice was thick with pain and anger. The orc did not respond. His gurgling laughter died in its throat as he stopped breathing.
A glint of light from between the orc's fingers caught Legolas' eye. He plucked a shining jewel from the creature's hand. The elf frowned. The Evenstar. Arwen's gift to Aragorn. He rushed to the edge of the cliff and looked down. A warg's broken body lay on the rocks, its entrails leaking out of its exploded belly. Or Aragorn there was no sign. He heard someone come up behind him. It was Balian
The blacksmith felt hollow. First Boromir and now Aragorn. Was anyone going to survive this futile struggle against evil? He felt lost. They had lost their leader. Who was going to lead them now? Did it even matter anymore? Immediately he chastised himself for having thought such a thing. Of course it mattered. They had to save the people; they had to save Middle Earth. Aragorn would have wanted them to continue and finish that which he believed in.
Legolas wanted to say something to the youngest member of the Fellowship but his voice caught in his throat. His mouth refused to form words. His heart had been cast into a sea of darkness and despair. Aragorn, his dearest friend and comrade was gone. The elf looked down at the turbulent waters and then at the Evenstar in his hand. How was he going to break the news to Arwen? He had failed her; failed both her and Aragorn.
He heard the King giving orders to leave this killing field and make for safety. The man's voice sounded so far away. "Leave the dead," Théoden was saying. The elf whipped around. Leave Aragorn? How could the king even suggest such a thing?
Théoden put a hand on the elf's shoulder. The words of comfort which threatened to spill from his mouth were futile, he knew it. How could he comfort someone with centuries of experience who had just lost a dear friend, a friend who was a brother in every way but blood? There were no words to describe such sorrow and therefore words could not possibly sooth the pa8in. Instead, Théoden uttered a single imperative: "Come."
Legolas did not move. He remained at the edge, standing as still as a statue, mired in his grief. Balian looked up and swallowed hard, blinking back tears. Aragorn would not want them to fall into despair.
The men were already mounting. Guy sat astride Cynebald, untouched by the Fellowship's loss. He was, however, unwilling to ride with the Rohirrim alone. Balian's story had spread, making him immensely unpopular. At least he knew the Fellowship wouldn't allow anyone to kill him, although now that Aragorn was gone, he was beginning to wonder.
"Legolas," said Balian, trying very hard to keep his voice from trembling with emotion. He touched the elf's arm. "We should go. Aragorn would not want us to despair. He's in a better place now…"
"What do you know about it?" demanded the elf, turning on his friend. "Have you died before? Have you?"
"I…" said Balian.
"Have you ever lost a brother, a friend, a comrade?"
"I killed my brother in anger, Legolas," said the blacksmith. "And I've watched my friends die. I've seen my mentor's severed head tossed in a pile. I watched my father take his last breath. I held my stillborn child. I cut my wife down from the rafters. Aragorn was my friend too. I think I do know how you feel."
"I'm sorry," said Legolas, calming down. "I'm just…"
"I know," said Balian, wiping a sleeve across his eyes to dry them. "We have to be strong for Aragorn. We have an obligation to fulfil. He would want us to go and protect Rohan. We need you to lead us on."
Legolas bowed his head and said nothing. He mounted Arod and helped Gimli to climb up behind him. Balian swung himself into Louan's saddle, surprised to see Guy waiting for them. They kicked their horses into a fast canter to catch up with the others.
Balian observed Legolas closely during the rest of the journey. The elf was withdrawing into himself to hide his grief from the world. His face was a blank expressionless mask. It might as well have been made of stone. The blacksmith had heard in Lothlorien that although elves could not succumb to illness and old age, they could die of grief. He was afraid that it was happening to Legolas. Gimli feared the same thing for he gave the young man a comprehending look. They would try to work on the elf once they reach Helms Deep.
Guy was strangely silent. It appeared that he was shaken by their encounter with the wargs but in truth, his mind was working furiously. With the ranger dead and the elf consumed by grief, there were fewer people to watch Balian's back. The blacksmith himself still bore wounds from his misadventures and was not in the best condition. If Guy planned well enough, he could arrange Balian's demise and make it look like an accident. Maybe the blacksmith could 'fall' from the battlements while inspecting them. Unfortunately, the man had collapsed due to his wounds and fatigue and had fallen. Guy de Lusignan smiled at his fantasy. He would get rid of Godfrey's thrice-cursed bastard and have his revenge. How sweet it would be.
As soon as Balian caught sight of the fortress of Rohan, he became concerned. The fortress was semicircular in shape, making it vulnerable to attack from all directions except the back, which was shielded by rocky mountains. The placement of the fortress itself was not too bad as it was nestled at the vase of steep cliffs. However, this would make escaping difficult. He prayed it would not come to that.
They rode up the causeway of stone and up to the heavy wooden gates worn smooth by time. The gates opened with a groan. The sounds of hooves hitting stone resounded throughout the fortress as they rode in.
"Make way for the king!" cried the heralds. People scattered before the horses. Éowyn rushed out to greet her uncle. Her hair was loose and she was clothed in a rough woollen gown.
"So few," she said, searching the riders with her eyes. "So few of you have returned."
"Our people are safe," said Théoden, dismounting. An attendant took his horse. "We have paid for it with many lives."
Balian swung out of the saddle and looked around. Where were the catapults? The ballistae? How did the Rohirrim intend to defend their fortress without any of those things? He followed the King and his riders into the keep. Legolas had disappeared and Gimli was speaking to Éowyn, no doubt breaking their bad news to her. The dwarf was brave. Balian doubted that he had the courage to do such a thing.
He heard the sound of children crying his name behind him. He looked around. There were his young charges, eager and glad to see him. "We were scared," they told him as he assured them that he was not hurt. "Were the wargs very big?"
"Yes, they were big," he said. "But we killed them all." And they killed a lot of us too.
"Sir Balian," said Éothain, "I want you to meet my mother."
"I am pleased to meet you, ma'am," said Balian, bowing. He turned to the boy. "Since when did you call me 'Sir Balian'?"
"Well," said Éothain, shifting from one foot to the other. "You are a knight, so I thought it would be appropriate." He looked up at Balian. "Can you teach me to be a knight?" he asked.
"Maybe later," said Balian. "I need to find my friends." Actually, he needed to find a certain elf before said elf did something stupid.
Legolas stood at the highest point of the fortress with a smile on his face. His keen eyesight tracked a lone rider across the plains.
"Legolas?" said Balian. "Legolas, what are you doing?" he climbed up to the elf. "Please don't tell me you were thinking of jumping."
"I was not," said the elf. The blacksmith was surprised to see that he was smiling.
"Hope is coming," said Legolas as if that explained everything. Balian was perplexed. He shook his head and left the elf to his musings. He had something to discuss with the King.
Théoden was holding a discussion with his ministers inside the keep when the blacksmith who became a knight interrupted him.
"My lord," said Balian. "We must look to the defences. This wizard will attack us here soon. We must be prepared."
"Sir Knight," said Théoden patiently "this is exactly what I am doing."
"Then where are your catapults and ballistae?" said the younger man. "How do you intend to defend your fortress without the proper equipment?"
"With archers and rocks and warriors of course," replied the king. "We Rohirrim are not like the Gondorians. We do not make siege engines."
"If you will excuse me, milord," said Gamling, clearing his throat. "Maybe he has a point. Maybe we should commission some to be made."
"Perhaps you are right, Gamling," said Théoden "but even so where would we find an engineer and the materials to make these things?"
"I am an engineer," said Balian. "I've made them before."
"Yes but that still does not solve the problem of materials. There is not enough wood or metal in this fortress. Maybe, Sir Knight, you should focus your energy on seeing to the defences with the things that we do have?"
Guy leaned against a wall and watched Balian teach the boys swordplay. The boys were using wooden sticks as swords. Balian demonstrated with his own blade.
"No, no," the blacksmith was saying. "Never take a low guard. You always strike from high." He showed them. "The Italians call it La Posta di Falcone; the guard of the hawk."
"What are Italians?" said a boy.
"Oh, never mind. Just strike from high." Balian checked the boys' postures, correcting them if they needed correcting.
Guy shook his head. That fool of a blacksmith was trying to make these farmers' sons into knights. He couldn't see it happening.
"Blacksmith!" he called. "How about we give them a little show?"
Balian looked at Guy in surprise. Was that arrogant bastard offering to help? No, he had a malicious gleam in his eyes. This was going to be just like that last time, in the streets and alleyways of Jerusalem.
"Well?" pressed Guy.
Balian nodded. To back down would be to show weakness. He couldn't do that.
Blade clashed against blade. This wasn't just a show. It was a struggle for life, for dignity. Balian threw Guy against the wall. Guy's blade glanced against the blacksmith's arm and bounced off the elven chainmail. The former king swiped wildly, almost decapitating the blacksmith if he had not leapt out of the way in time. A crowd had gathered to watch. Their eyes were wide with awe. Some men even betted on who would be the first to draw blood.
"Stop this madness!" cried the king who was also watching. "The enemy marches upon our borders and you two are trying to kill each other!"
Balian bowed his head in shame. He had given in to his pride when he should have ignored it.
"We were just showing the young ones the proper way to use a sword," said Guy.
"Well, I think you have shown them quite enough," said Théoden. "Come Sir Knight, I would discuss the defences with you."
Balian sheathed his sword and followed the King. "I'm not done with you yet, Perfect Knight," he heard Guy say as he passed by. The ominous words made him want to shiver. He fought the urge to do so. He would not let Guy win.
Théoden led Balian into the hall where maps and plans of the fortress were strewn about all over the tables. Balian looked at them intensely. The only thing that needed reinforcing was the gates, as the entire fortress was made of rock. Unless, of course, the enemy had catapult, ballistae and other siege engines. Then things would be slightly different.
"How many archers do we have?" he asked Théoden.
"Not enough," replied the King.
Balian and Théoden were discussing where to place the archers when there came a shout from below. Moments later, Aragorn burst in, battered, tired and wet, but otherwise unharmed.
The blacksmith rushed towards his friend, speechless. He had so many questions but Aragorn did not seem to be in the mood for storytelling. "A great host of Uruk Hai is making their way here," said the ranger. "I passed them."
"A great host, you say?" said Théoden.
"All Isengard has been emptied," said Aragorn.
"How many?"
"Ten thousand strong at least."
Théoden whipped around in shock. "Ten thousand?" he whispered.
"They will be here by nightfall," said Aragorn.
"How many do we have?" asked Balian. He had a bad feeling about this.
"Three hundred at the most," said Gamling.
"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms," said Théoden. "Get the women and children into the caves." He walked out of the keep, with Aragorn, Balian, Gamling, Gimli and Legolas behind him. They went out to the outer wall and surveyed it. Théoden seemed satisfied by its condition. "They will break like water upon the rocks," said the King. "Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn, we've seen it before. Crops can be resown. Homes, rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them."
"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops and villages," said Aragorn. "They are here to destroy its people, down to the last child."
"What would you have me do?" demanded Théoden, grasping Aragorn's arm tightly. "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would make it such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."
"Send out riders, milord," said Aragorn. "You must call for aid."
"And who will come?" said Théoden. "Elves? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you, Master Aragorn."
"Gondor will answer," said Aragorn.
"Gondor? Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Gond…" The King trailed off angrily. He had no wish to list his grievances against Gondor. "No, my Lord Aragorn. We are alone."With that, Théoden stormed off, Gamling behind him.
"We must prepare," said Legolas. "Aragorn, get some rest. You look like you just walked out from Mandos' Halls."
"No, I'm fine," said the ranger. "We'll post archers along these walls. That way, we can shoot those who attempt to come up the causeway to ram the gates."
"Aragorn, you must rest," said Legolas as Aragorn descended into the keep again. "You're no use to us half alive."
"He's right, you know, lad," said Gimli. Balian just shook his head. Aragorn was just as bad as his patients.
'You reap what you sow,' he thought.
"Aragorn!" came a woman's voice. They turned around to see Éowyn running towards them. She looked flustered. "I am to be sent with the women and children into the caves," she said, almost growling with frustration.
"That is an honourable charge," said Aragorn.
"To mind the children! To find food and bedding when the men return! What honour and renown is there in that?"
"My lady," said Aragorn patiently "There comes a time when there is honour without renown."
"Let me stand at your side."
"It is not in my power to command it." The ranger turned to leave.
"You do not command the others to stay!" cried Éowyn. "They stand beside you because they would not be parted from you…because they love you!"
Balian's eyes widened in shock. Was Éowyn in love with Aragorn?
"I'm sorry," said Éowyn, in softer tones. She fled into the caves.
"Let's go to the armoury," said Gimli, breaking the tension. "We should arm ourselves."
Aragorn nodded but did not speak. The four of them made their way to the armoury, where riders were handing out weapons to the would-be defenders of Helms Deep. Balian's eyes swept over the men. Most of them probably hadn't touched a weapon before in their lives. Aragorn was of the same opinion.
"Farmers, farriers, stable boys," said the ranger. "These are no soldiers. Not including you of course, Balian."
The blacksmith nodded.
"Most have seen too many winters," said Gimli.
"Or too few," said Legolas. "Look at them. They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."
The milling people stopped and turned to look at the elf as if demanding an explanation.
Legolas began to speak in elvish impatiently. Aragorn replied but the elf refused to be placated. The volume of his voice increased and he almost spat out the last words.
"Then I shall die as one of them!" shouted Aragorn. Now both Balian and Gimli understood, at least, they were almost certain that they did. The ranger left in anger. Legolas made to follow him but Gimli held him back.
"Let him go, lad," said the dwarf. "Let him be."
Balian turned to look at his two friends, then went after Aragorn. He found the ranger outside, taking deep breaths to calm himself.
"Maybe Legolas is right," said the blacksmith. "It is quite impossible."
"How could you say that?" demanded Aragorn. "You've defended Jerusalem with worse odds. You survived. The people survived. Why is this any different?"
"Last time, I had siege engines," said Balian. "The Rohirrim don't have a single catapult. And Saladin was not bent on destroying us or the city. It is very different."
"I will not give up hope, Balian. Nor should you."
Balian was left there standing alone. The ranger was right. He could not give up. How many people almost gave up before the siege of Jerusalem? Many, too many to count. Yet he had not. He did not know what he could do but he was certain that like last time, he could make a difference. Encouraged, he went back to the armoury. The world of men will not fall.
A/N: Whoopee! The siege of Helms Deep next! I'm more than halfway through this story; I can't believe it! Anyway, please review! I write faster when I get reviews.