Hope you enjoy the chapter :)
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.
Alandria obeyed unwillingly, and slowly descended the stairs, immediately becoming caught in the midst of several families moving their belongings to the caves. Alandria reluctantly offered her help, which was greatly appreciated, and lifted a basket of clothes to her hip to carry. She made several trips to and from the caves, helping a variety of people, and then ran into Gamling on her way back towards the Wall.
"You must go to the caves, milady." He told her. "No more wandering about."
"Wandering about? I'm helping the others."
"Yes, but that must be done now. You need to go to the caves, as the men are readying for the battle."
"To the caves?" She repeated in surprise, before shaking her head. "No, I can't go to the caves. I am a fighter."
"Nay, lady. All women and children to the caves."
"But I am no helpless woman! I have travelled with the Lord Aragorn, and Masters Legolas and Gimli! I am to fight beside them!"
"Nay," He repeated, shaking his head firmly. "To the caves." Without waiting for her to argue, he turned and strode away.
Alandria stood in the walkway for a stunned moment, before curling her lip and slipping through the slight crowds. Soon she found who she was looking for, followed by Legolas. Just as she came upon him though, the Lady Éowyn appeared as well, and caught his attention first. Alandria held back, waiting to give the Lady her moment with the Ranger she so obviously admired.
"I'm to be sent with the women into the caves!" She protested loudly, and he answered softly.
"That is an honorable charge."
"To mind the children! To find food and bedding when the men return!" She cried, angered just as Alandria had been. "What renown in there in that?"
"My lady," He murmured, clasping her arms firmly. "A time may come for valour without renown. Who then will your people look to in their defense?"
"Let me stand at your side."
His features were tinted with pain, and he looked down on her sorrowfully. "That is not in my power to command." He replied gently, and turned to walk away, only to be halted by her words once more.
"You do not command the others to stay! They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you!" She paused, staring into his eyes and her voice shook with emotion. "Because they love you." Alandria felt shamed to be hearing such conversation, and took a step back, but the exchange was over. The Lady Éowyn bowed her head and apologized, before brushing past the Man and Elf, and disappearing in the thick of the retreating crowds.
Aragorn spotted her then, and clearly knew she had heard his and the Lady's words. But he said nothing, only waited for her to approach. "You know what it is I am going to say." She stated, stepping towards him.
He nodded, sighing softly with the same pity he had shown Éowyn in his eyes. "And I again say I cannot command that."
"But you can challenge it."
"I will not."
"And why not?!" She cried, her grass-green gaze pleading. "You know I can fight! I have fought beside you! And you know also that any extra body will help. The defense needs me."
"Aye, you have fought beside me. And too often have you been in harm's way. For once, Alandria, be safe. Comfort your people. They will need you, and the Lady Éowyn, if things grow dark."
"Be safe?! Hiding in the caves will not be safe! We're just as likely to be killed there as in the middle of a battlefield! Against this oncoming army, nowhere can we be safe! We're just holding off the inevitable!"
"Curb your tongue, my lady." The Ranger snapped quietly, glancing around. Alandria followed suit, and saw several severely frightened faces, having overheard her outburst. "If you do not think you will be safe, you must have the others think so at least. They are not all as strong as you and the Lady, and you both will needed there as much as here. I am not casting you aside Alandria, nay, rather I would be eager for your sword with mine. But it is not my command, and people need you in the caves as well. Now please, my lady, to your charges. Darkness is falling."
His lecture silenced her quickly, and she nodded numbly, before pushing her way past him and a worried Legolas, just as golden-haired Éowyn had done.
She strode angrily through the crowd, and soon came upon the deep caves. The air grew cooler, and wetter, and the only light flickered from torches on the walls. Hundreds of people were crowded in the dark space, bunched together like frightened animals. Alandria muttered foully under her breath, hand on her sword's hilt as she paced through the tense crowd. Wide, terrified eyes glanced at her, taking in her stiff posture, hard face, and weapon. Children clung to their mothers, many of them crying, some of the women crying as well. Soldiers wandered about, searching the families for any husband or son that could be used for the battle. Many young sons were torn from their pleading mothers' grasps, many aged fathers and grandfathers quietly comforted their families as they walked away. Alandria was numb to it all, having found a cold, lone spot of stone to sit on, away from the cries and tears. She sat silently, teeth gnawing her thumb nail, eyes focused unseeingly on a glittering spot of nearby cave.
She didn't want to believe Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli would die. She didn't want to believe that her King Théoden would fall, and the whole of Rohan would follow. She didn't want to think that Gandalf had abandoned them, where his errand led him, and that once Helm's Deep was defeated, the valiant Éomer and his remaining éored would fall also. She didn't want to think of being found here, deep in the caves, by the enemy, and slaughtered helplessly with the other women and children, with the Lady Éowyn. But she found nothing else to believe, or to think. For there was no chance that their mere hundreds of fighters - most of which were unskilled - could defeat the army approaching. They would be destroyed. Rohan would fall. And, most likely, Middle-earth would soon be taken by darkness.
Alandria sighed heavily, and dropped her head in her hands, closing her eyes to the thoughts. She did not hear the footsteps of an approach, until her name was spoken.
"Alandria?"
She lifted her head quickly, and met the dark blue gaze of Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan. "Yes my lady?"
"May I join you?"
"Of course, my lady." Alandria moved over on her seat, revealing room for the fair lady. Éowyn sat, and they remained silent for a long moment, neither of them even looking at each other. The women and what children were left in the caves finally settled down, huddling together in groups or laying down, hoping to sleep away the approaching horror. Still, many cried, but no one paid heed any longer.
"I am glad you are here, Alandria." Éowyn finally broke their silence, receiving a glance from her dark-haired friend. "I was ashamed, and angered, to be hidden in the caves so. I wanted to fight. But with you here, perhaps it shall be easier." Alandria did not answer. "I had thought they would surely let you fight with them, and I would have to remain in the caves because I am a Lady of the Hall. Now I see that, however wrong it may seem to us, they are making no exceptions."
"They should have. One, two fighters would be helpful, with their numbers as they are." Alandria murmured, eyes still on the cave walls.
"Yes, it would have been wise, I think." Éowyn replied softly, her eyes roaming over the distraught families littered about. She sighed, and looked to her side, at her silent friend. "Do you think there is a chance, Alandria?"
The grass-green gaze flicked in the Lady's direction, then quickly away as she shrugged slightly. "I suppose there is always a chance."
"But do you think there is one? Do you feel we can win?"
Alandria met the Lady's intense stare carefully, answering slowly and honestly. "No, I do not see any hope of victory." Éowyn turned away, as if the answer pained her, even if it had been expected. Still, Alandria continued. "We have not enough fighters, nor with enough skill. Most are too old, too young, or just plainly too inexperienced. We have called for no aid, none will come, and we will fight alone. Against thousands of strong Uruk-hai, no. I do not see victory."
"I do not either." Éowyn replied. "And I do not know if it comforts me to know you think the same. I do not want to see Rohan fall, or the people die. Certainly not my uncle, who just got his life back."
"No one ever wants to see such things, my lady. But it is not our choice. We just do what we can." Alandria sighed, glancing at her hands clasped before her, then up at the crowded caves. Torches glittered off the walls, and in the wide eyes of young children. She shifted, and then raised to her feet, before offering her hand to her lady. "But for now, we can try to comfort others that are more frightened than we are." Éowyn took the extended hand, and stood as well, watching Alandria curiously. "Come, we are down here to help the women and children. Let us do something besides think of death." The White Lady smiled slightly, and nodded.
"Aye. We'll do what we can."
Neither of the women knew how many children and mothers they'd murmured soothingly to, or how long they'd been in the caves. There was nothing to be heard from the men readying about the fortress, and in the dark, glittering holes, no one knew whether night had yet fallen or not. Alandria assumed so, for it seemed to her as though her and Éowyn had spoken with innumerable families for at least a matter of hours. Now however, they had reassured and comforted all they could as much as they could, and sat again side by side, quietly.
Alandria had her knees pulled up to her chest, and rested her arms on top of them. She felt something soft on her fingertips, and glanced at her side to see the fur-lined edge of the cloak about her shoulders. It brushed her fingertips as she breathed, and she tolerated it for a moment, before reaching to grasp the entire edge. She pulled the soft cloth tighter about her, and her stomach churned.
The dark halls were silent, eerily so, and the faint light from Gandalf's staff was still the only illumination. Every shadow caught her attention, and her blood was chilled in the damp dark of the mines. They were only halfway through their journey in Moria, and although they had no knowledge of night or day, it was decided time for rest - and she was on watch. She had been watching for over an hour, but slowly it seemed as though the stone walls got colder, and darker, as time went on. She shifted uncomfortably, and an unwanted shiver trembled swiftly through her.
"You are cold?"
She jumped at the quiet, unexpected mumur. She looked over, knowing who had spoken, and saw the broad shouldered Man from the South had raised himself to his elbows, watching her intently. "It's nothing. Just uncomfortable." Her words were whispered, for no longer could they separate themselves at night when they wished to talk, and even quiet words carried well in the echoing halls.
He didn't answer, but instead quietly climbed up from his laying spot on the hard floor, and padded softly to where she sat. He stood beside her for a moment, and although she had tried to ignore him, to convince him she was fine, still she started in surprise when something fell across her shoulders. A quick glance told her it was his Gondorian cloak, a dark red-brown, soft, with elegant patterns across it, and a dark, fur-lined edge. He settled it on her, his hands light and careful, then lowered himself easily beside her.
"Now you will be cold." She finally argued, looking pointedly at him.
His handsome face broke into his broad smile and he shrugged. "Nah, I will be alright. My clothes are thicker than your's." Still she looked doubtful, but he only continued to smile. "Trust me, I would not have offered if I would be cold."
She knew, as did he, that he certainly would have offered even if he might have frozen to death, but she did not press it. "Thank you." She answered instead, voice even softer, as she hugged the warm cloth closer to her body.
"Of course, m'lady." His rich voice itself warmed her, and she sighed in content.
Silence fell around them again, and Alandria found the contorted shadows of the abandoned mines once more unnerving. Almost unconsciously, she reached to her side, and grasped the gloved hand that rested nearby, needing connection. The man started in brief alarm, but then merely smiled softly, and did not move.
"This was his, you know."
"Pardon?" Éowyn turned to her friend, caught off-guard by Alandria's sudden words.
"This cloak. It was Boromir's."
Éowyn's blue eyes softened, and she studied the handsome cloak intently. "It's beautiful. Did he give it to you?"
Alandria's skin twitched in a slight flinch, and she shook her head. "No, Aragorn bid me to take it. When he fell."
"I am sorry, I did not know."
"No, don't be sorry." Alandria sighed, running her fingers lightly across the patterns. "I didn't want to take it, and for the longest time it felt wrong to wear it. Still it does not always feel right, but I am glad Aragorn forced me to keep it. It's comforting, at times..."
Éowyn of Rohan again watched her haunted friend intently, still shocked at the change, in only a matter of months. "Alandria," She murmured, gently, resting her hand on Alandria's arm. "I am sorry that you lost him. Please do not shake away my sympathy, for I am honest. I am sorry he left you so much hurt."
Alandria indeed wanted to brush away the comforts, but was weary, and had little hope left. So instead she nodded, voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, my lady. I'm sorry too."
Éowyn clasped her friend's hand tightly, and smiled, although it was strained. Alandria did not bother trying to return it, but nodded, and clasped her hand in return. They stayed like that for a long, silent moment, and slowly both were comforted. But then came a sound neither might have expected. A horn from afar, muffled by the thick caves, but heard nonetheless. Both the women leapt for their feet, eyes wide and ears alert.
"They've come?" Éowyn whispered, but Alandria shook her head, rushing closer to the entrance of the caves.
"No," She whispered, confused. "That is not for orcs." She then pressed her ear closely to the wall of the cave, as Aragorn had shown her, and closed her eyes to focus. She was not nearly as skilled as the Ranger, but luckily the approaching warriors were not hiding their advancement. "I can hear their marching!" She told Éowyn, and the many others that were listening. "But..it is not many. It sounds only heavy enough for perhaps...a score, maybe two score of soldiers..." Her report trailed away, and the gathered viewers grew tense, wondering what was happening, who had arrived. Then Alandria eased back from the rough wall, her eyes bright.
"Two score, you say?" One woman from the crowded villagers asked. "That's hardly enough to do anything!"
"Yeah, what use is that?" Another asked, but Alandria shook her head.
"No, it's not only two score. More than that, I'm sure. Their steps are lighter than Men's, so I cannot tell."
"Who's steps?" Came another voice.
Alandria's eyes were wide, bright, a flame of hope kindled in them as a faint smile turned her mouth. "The Elves'."