Sorry about such a delay in updating! My laptop went screwy, and I'm working on getting it fixed..luckily though, right before it went down, I sent the story to myself and have it on another computer. But it's been a couple of hectic weeks and such, and I've barely had the time to hold still, let alone bother with updating. But I'm back for now :) Hope this chapter is satisfying enough! As always, please, please read & review!
Cheers!
Disclaimer: I own none of LOTR - it is entirely Tolkien's genius. And any dialogue and such from the movies are credit to P. Jackson and Co.
Travel began again early the next day, but felt too slow for Alandria. Still, something inside told her their journey to Helm's Deep was not wise. True, it had for years protected the people of Rohan from whatever horrors befell them, but that was before the darkness stretched and Saruman created vile new creatures. Now, she was not sure it could withstand such an assault as the Wizard was bound to deliver. On they continued though, and they indeed were nearing the refuge. She sat atop Dustling again, as he walked slowly several steps behind Aragorn's horse, Hasufel. She tried not to focus on the conversation her Lady Éowyn was having with the dark Ranger, and although it interested her, luckily the man spoke too softly to be clearly heard. The golden-haired Lady asked about the woman that gave Aragorn the silver pendant he wore about his neck, and Alandria looked away, knowing the answer. She had not been blind to the glances and smiles Éowyn showered the Ranger of the North with, but they made her uneasy. Éowyn may not yet know of the beautiful Elven enchantress that held the man's heart, but Alandria did. And she feared for what would happen when Éowyn came to learn that her hopes could never be.
Her silent musings were halted then, as Háma and Gamling trotted briskly past. Once clear of the group of people, they spurred their mounts into gentle lopes, climbing up the valley ahead. Alandria then saw the blonde Elf a distance away, perched atop a high hill and surveying the land with his sharp eyes. His posture was stiff, his bow in hand. The two Riders had disappeared, gone to scout ahead. But the cry of a horse's whinny met Alandria's ears, and she moved Dustling out of the group of travelers.
"Aragorn." She called, and he turned his attention to her. "Something's wrong."
She had hardly spoken, and Legolas called the Ranger up to his lookout. Aragorn glanced at Alandria, then dropped Hasufel's reins and ran to where the Elf had stood. The immortal had disappeared, but Aragorn stood with his back to the group, watching something ahead of him. More neighs reached Alandria's ears, and she thought she heard a throaty growl. Fear tainted her blood, but she waited a moment more. Aragorn turned then, and dashed back towards the group quickly, nearly stumbling in his haste.
Théoden rode his horse forward to meet the dark haired man, calling, "What is it? What do you see?"
"Wargs!" The Ranger cried, confirming Alandria's fear. "We're under attack!" People began screaming, panicking, knowing they could not defend themselves against such an onslaught of the monsters. Alandria turned Dustling in circles, as he was restless in the screams.
"All Riders to the head of the column!" Théoden cried, and Alandria urged her horse forward. She stopped though, as the King sat on Snowmane before her. "No, Alandria, not you."
"But I can fight!"
"Not now, you must help Éowyn lead the people to Helm's Deep."
"You cannot ask me to stay here!"
"I am not asking, Alandria, I am ordering." His eyes were dark, his face stern. "Lead the people to the refuge, we will return." With that, he nodded, and turned his horse towards Éowyn, who stood but a few feet away.
Alandria hesitated, and caught the gaze of Aragorn. He seemed to know what she had been told, and although his features were sympathetic, he did not console her. Instead, he mounted, Hasufel already moving. Alandria muttered a weak curse, before nudging Dustling towards the chaotic swarm of villagers. "Keep together!" She yelled, and they flocked from her steed like sheep, moving in the direction Éowyn was leading. Alandria cantered quickly to where the Lady was hurrying people along, and stopped beside her. "I will keep those in the back moving, and together. You lead them." Éowyn nodded, and the Lady-Rider turned her mount back to the straggling followers, hearing the faint yelps and howls of the attacking wolves. The people were running, slowly, but they were moving nonetheless. Alandria had little to do at the immediate moment, and faced the direction the Riders had taken, Dustling prancing nervously. He could hear the snarls and yells of battle better than she could, and was uneasy with it so near. "Not yet," She murmured, patting his firm neck and urging him into a steady canter, rounding the people. "We do not fight yet."
Soon the sounds of wolves snarling and horses whinnying faded, and the people being herded to safety slowed. Alandria could not find the same ease they had, but trotted busily back and forth at the rear of the large group instead. Few needed her encouragement to keep moving, or stay close together, and her duty was dull. Continually she glanced behind them, thinking she heard the neigh of a horse or even sometimes the growl of a Warg, but there was nothing. With her own growl of disapproval, Alandria spurred Dustling into a lope, quickly coming to the head of the travelers. She found Éowyn quickly, and slowed to a walk beside her.
"You are restless." The Lady noted, smiling slightly.
"I do not like being left out of the battle." Alandria replied sharply, no amusement in her features as she looked back once more. "There were many wolves..."
Éowyn sobered as well, glancing behind herself as well. "But they are strong men. They will win."
"Nonetheless, I should have liked to be there with them. I do not feel comfortable knowing Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn are in a battle without me there." She shifted uncomfortably, hard features troubled. "They are all valiant fighters, and the best I've seen of their kindred, but I do not feel right, leaving them."
"You are very close with them, aren't you?" Éowyn asked gently, but not needing an answer. "But do not worry - as you said, they are skilled fighters. As are the Riders. They will return. You did not leave them, either. You were ordered to leave, by your King, and could not refuse no matter how badly you longed to fight." Her voice changed with the latter of her speech, and Alandria glanced at her in curiosity. The pale Lady stared ahead now, walking steadily, and her head was held high, her blue eyes glinting.
Alandria sighed softly, understanding. "You could not have fought, my lady. None would have let you risk it."
"I know," Éowyn replied quietly. "I just wish I was not always left behind. You at least were chosen to go on your great journey with the Fellowship, to have adventures, and battles, and be a warrior. I stayed here, and looked after my sick uncle and watched the town fall into Gríma's hold. It is not the life I want."
"Someday, my lady, you will have a battle to be part of, I know it. And you will be one of the bravest and strongest there."
Éowyn looked up at her friend's words, and smiled slightly, although Alandria returned no more than a slight curl of her lip. "Thank you, Alandria. I hope so."
"Trust me, my lady, you will."
Their conversation was stopped then as cries of "Helm's Deep!" and such interrupted them. The two women looked ahead then, and saw the great stone refuge of Helm's Deep laid in the valley before them. It's back was to the cliffs and mountain, a great wall spread from the left of it across the Deep, and a sloping road leading up to it's gates. The stones were old, grey and worn, but strong beyond measure. The walls of the fortress had yet to be breached, and that thought spurred on the weary travelers.
"Helm's Deep, at last." Éowyn sighed, watching as the many people around her surged forward. She glanced up at Alandria and smiled softly again, patting Dustling's shoulder. "Come, let us hurry and get the people in before the men return!"
Alandria nodded, and nudged her horse into a trot again, turning to round up the remaining people.
Éowyn entered the broad gates of Helm's Deep first among her people, and Alandria brought up the rear. Many of the people saw their families already there, and ran to greet them. Others dispersed more slowly, but still eagerly, comforted to be in their refuge. A few stayed by the carts with the food, and set to unpacking what things they had. Éowyn kept watch and help organized the unloading, as Alandria trotted about uneasily. She felt cramped on horse-back in the roads meant for infantry, but did not long to be among the swarm of families and weary villagers. She finally found her way to the stairs and, after reluctantly leaving Dustling in the hands of a guard at their base, leapt up them swiftly. She stood at the top of the gate now, overlooking all the land before the Deep. And her timing was excellent, for no sooner had she looked out, than she saw a troop of men on horseback approaching, less than a mile away.
"They moved fast," She murmured, and then sped back down the stairs. She did not see the guard with her horse however, and furrowed her brow, turning on another guard nearby. "Where is my horse?"
"He was taken to the stables at the back of the Deep, my lady."
"What? I did not ask for that!"
The guard shifted now, unsure. "It..it was assumed, I suppose, my lady."
Alandria growled but did not bother to argue, and continued quickly to Éowyn. She found the fair lady still helping with the unloading of provisions, and grasped her arm urgently. "My lady! They're here - the Riders! They're back!" At once Éowyn's eyes lit, and she followed Alandria quickly to the gate, just as it opened and the remaining Riders trotted in. Éowyn rushed to her uncle, and Alandria followed a step behind, her green eyes already searching the small group.
"So few," Éowyn breathed. "So few of you have returned."
The King's features seemed guarded then, and he glanced at both of the women carefully, before turning to help one of his Riders. "Our people are safe." He replied. "We have paid for it with many lives."
He said nothing more, and Alandria felt the worry that had started since she first saw the small number of men, grow. She pulled lightly on her Lady's arm, and they both looked carefully through the crowd. Alandria saw the fair Legolas, and stout Gimli, and many other Riders, but no Ranger. But it could not be possible.
"My ladies," Gimli called their attention, stepping forward, his helm removed and bearded features somber.
"Lord Aragorn," Éowyn asked softly, her voice speaking where Alandria's would not. "Where is he?"
The Dwarf hesitated, fearing to say the words they had already assumed, but slowly choked them out. "He fell."
Éowyn stared, her round blue eyes brimming with tears, and turned to her uncle. He met her gaze and turned away, ashamed. What the golden-haired Lady then did, Alandria was not aware. She herself stumbled back from the group, her own eyes filling with watery sorrow. It was not possible, not Aragorn. He was one of the strongest men she knew, and skillful, and wise. He could not have fallen. It was simply not possible. But he did not appear, hidden from the depths of the few Riders, and she continued to back away from the group. Her throat felt choked, and her vision swam. The Ranger had been the one she did not ever see falling, and had been the one to keep her going on. Now that he was gone, what was she to do? Everyone was dying.
She started when a gently firm hand grasped her arm, and turned numbly towards the beautiful face of Legolas. His face was lined with pain, for the Ranger had been dear to him as well, and his blue eyes quavered with same. He took her arm and led her to a place away from the crowds, behind stone pillars, and quiet. He carefully sat her down, and even sat beside her. Unsure as his motions were, she was comforted the slightest by them, and welcomed him readily. Once his hand left her arm though, her head fell into her hands and she wept quietly.
The tears choked her, familiar and unwanted, but her cries were much softer than her last ones had been. Now they were just soft sobs, heard by no other than the Elf at her side. It pained him even further to see her tortured so, and his own scarce tears fell. Alandria's shoulders shook with the sorrow, and her mind reeled, wondering how such horror could have fallen their company. How could such actions have happened to the Fellowship? Surely when Elrond arranged their group, he had not seen any such things happening. Certainly not the fall of Aragorn. Still, she found it impossible for him to be dead. He was a great man, beyond many's reckoning. But Boromir had been a great man too. Great men fall, so it seemed. And now she was left wondering if any would survive the oncoming wars.
"I am sorry, my lady." Legolas finally murmured softly, hoping to ease her tears. "We got separated in the battle, and the Wargs were a great force.." He realized he truly had no words of comfort, and fell silent. But a moment later, Alandria slowed her choked sobs, and whispered roughly through her tears.
"Did you see him fall?"
"No, my lady."
"Where..where is his body?"
"The King told us not to bear the burden of the dead, and so we left them." He paused, and shifted slightly. "But Aragorn was not among them. He was taken over a cliff. We saw no body."
Her head jerked up to meet his keen eyes, and her reddened stare was intense. "No body?" He shook his head. "He may yet be alive?"
The Elf's already pained features softened, and he shook his head slightly. "It was a far fall, and there were rocks, and the water was rough. I do not think he would have survived."
"But he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Ranger of the North and Heir of Isildur. You have seen his triumphs in battle. Do you really believe it would not be possible?"
He paused, careful of her sudden hope, but considering the words. "Perhaps," He said slowly. "it may be possible. But my lady, do not go hoping too highly. I know you do not want to think he is gone, but it is most likely."
But Alandria shook her head, and turned away with a shaky sigh, studying the blank stones before them. "But if I do not hope that one I love is alive," She murmured. "What do I hope for?"
The Elf did not answer, but remained silent, until faint words reached his sharp ears. He lifted his head, listening carefully, and then stood, pulling Alandria to her feet. "Come, some one beckons for you." She shot him a confused look but he did not heed it, and simply led her from their hidden refuge, into the wider streets.
Still Alandria did not hear her name or any call, but Legolas was facing to her left, and so waited from the direction he gazed. Not but a few seconds later, she did heard her name being called, and by a male voice she knew well but had not heard in many months. "Father?" She called back, just as the man strode around the corner and faced her.