The Fortress still stood. For now.
Ailith stood upon the battlements at the top of the keep. A wind blew her hair off her shoulders and she shivered in her woollen gown.
The door down into the keep opened and Merewald stepped out to join her lady. She handed Ailith a cup of hot mead.
"Everyone is settled," she said. A noise rose in Ailith's throat to indicate that she had heard. "The Riders are bedded down for the night and Grimfast is running over the final plans with the reserves," Merewald continued. Ailith's eyes didn't move from the lights of the Enemy's camp.
"They tried Helm's Deep and failed. Now they try the Fortress and I cannot guess the outcome. There are so many of them..." she said.
"You did the right thing, my lady. Returning to us," Merewald said quietly.
"Did I, Merewald? Did I really?" she asked forlornly.
"Of course. Better to die defending your home and a place you love than in some field in a foreign land where no-one knows who you are and your burial is nowt but in a mass grave with a prayer to Béma hastily muttered over you," Merewald sniffed. "Forget what those jumped-up Riders from Edoras will say. We are of the North, and we have our own ways."
"The North waits for no Man," Ailith murmured.
"Aye milady. For no Man," Merewald agreed.
The next morning was cool and misty.
"This fog hides the Enemy," Grimfast noted from their position on the battlements.
"Wonderful," Ailith snapped. Her Captains exchanged a look behind her back.
"Everything is prepared, milady. We await your command," Folcred said. Without a word, she turned and walked swiftly down into the courtyard to where her Riders were waiting.
She mounted her horse and let her fingers twist around the reigns. She breathed deeply and lifted her head. The Riders watched her expectantly. All her training and instruction she had received over the years should have prepared her for this moment. She was supposed to be their leader; she was supposed to inspire the soldiers to victory.
Or to a noble end.
The door to the Keep opened and Merewald stepped out into the morning air. As their eyes met, her words from the previous night came flooding back.
"Brothers!" she shouted. "The King rides to the aid of Minas Tirith but we are needed here to defend our homes. The Enemy may outnumber us but we shall ride out and we shall let them know that we will not stand down! So long as one man remains alive, with a horse to bear him and a sword and spear for him to wield, then this Fortress is ours and ours alone. The Fortress is the Northern Gate to Rohan and we shall not let it fall! We are Rohirric and we face battle with pride!"
The men cheered and followed her horse as she spurred him around and towards the gate.
"Good speech," Grimfast muttered behind her and she smiled. The lines of horsemen formed in front of the Fortress' walls and trotted forward towards the approaching black lines of the enemy. They seemed to stretch forever, hundreds of orcs and Wargs and other foul creatures. Ailith looked at her own small contingent and her hands began to shake with nerves. She turned in her saddle and ran her eyes over the lines of reserves on the battlements with their bows and then her gaze lifted to the flag of Rohan. It flew from the highest point of the Keep, the green and white bright against the darkened sky.
The hand that drew her sword was as steady as ever.
"For the Wold! And for Rohan!" she shouted and the cry was taken up along the lines. Brassy calls rang from their horns and the horses moved forward with a grim purpose.
As they gathered speed, Ailith shut her eyes and slightly prayed to Béma for both them and those in Gondor. Then she added her voice to the battle-cry and the Riders of the Wold plunged into the Enemy.
She hacked a path through the gibbering orcs, her horse's hooves churning the earth below him as he jumped from side to side. The orcs tried in vain to cut her down but the horse and the Rider were moving as one. On and on they ploughed, their foes lying dead behind them.
Suddenly an arrow came out of no-where and Ailith found herself tumbling forwards as her horse went down. Her back hit the ground and she bounced once before scrambling to her feet. She felt no pain or injury; the adrenaline was carrying her too high.
Her sword flew in wide arcs. It bit savagely into any orc that neared her. She had to find a shield and quickly; she knew she was vulnerable with only a sword to defend herself. A great Uruk reared up in front of her and slashed at her with its blade. She felt white hot pain slice into her side and she stabbed desperately.
As the Uruk fell, she staggered away. Another Uruk, froth dripping from his mouth, charged towards her. She saw Folcred riding towards the pair, wild desperation on his face and his sword ready to strike. She shut her eyes.
There was a great crash and the sound of wood creaking. All around her, she heard the orcs shrieking in panic and the captains screaming, "Stand your ground, maggots!"
She opened her eyes and for a single moment wondered if she was having some sort of insane hallucination.
Trees, trees smashing their way onto the battlefield. She climbed unsteadily to her feet and watched them carefully. When she realised they were only attacking the orcs and leaving the green-clad Riders unharmed, a low chuckle escaped her throat. She fell to her knees again.
Once again, the people of Rohan were saved.
Merewald finished tying the bandage around Ailith's waist and washed her hands.
"There, that will do for now. When I've treated the others I will give you something more substantial," she said. Ailith nodded her thanks and pulled her shirt back on. She walked out into the courtyard and looked about. With the intervention of the trees, less than a third of the Wold's Riders had fallen to the Enemy. If they had not come, then the Fortress would probably be little more than a pile of rubble now.
Grimfast approached her. "Our friends want to speak to you," he said.
"What?" she said. "The trees want to talk to me?"
"No, the Ents leading the trees. Léonere is beside himself with excitement; apparently they have not been seen in Rohan for hundreds of years," he explained. She followed him up to the top of the wall with some confusion.
Léonere was standing speaking to a face level with the top of the wall. The face was good-natured and very wise but it was most definitely a tree. She hesitated.
"My lady, may I introduce Treebeard," Léonere said to her.
"Thank you for helping our people," she said uncertainly to the face and it creaked into a smile.
"Hoom. It was the least we could do; you have protected the Northern borders of our forest for generations," he said. "And War teems through other lands. It need not spread here again. Your country can now heal its hurts and become green once again."
She paused.
"Other lands? You mean... other lands such as Gondor?"
"Yes. Word of both your predicament and the horde that awaits Minas Tirith was carried to us on the wind by young seeds. They do babble but their tales are accurate," he acknowledged.
Her face paled.
"A horse! Bring me a fresh horse!" she shouted.
"My lady! You can't!" Grimfast and Léonere protested but she was away and running down into the courtyard. A stable-hand quickly ran towards her and handed her the reins of a new horse. She mounted with difficulty and gasped as pain spasmed through her side.
"My lady?" the stable hand asked worriedly.
"I'm fine," she said and spurred the horse back out through the gates. She had to reach Gondor. She didn't know why, but she knew she had to.
Ailith had once read that the Pelennor Fields were beautiful and plentiful fields stretching almost from Osgiliath all the way to the Minas Tirith. She had always longed to see such agriculture; there was none quite like it in Rohan.
She reined in her horse and a small gasp escaped from her. The fields were blackened and churned by the Enemy. Pain spasmed through her side and she grimaced before letting her horse begin to trot towards the White City. Her fingers probed her ribs. It didn't feel clean and when she had rested earlier it had smelt diseased. Yet something kept her from attending to it properly, instead pushing her on and on towards Minas Tirith.
She gagged as the stench of death grew stronger the closer she got to the city. The giant carcasses of the mûmakil were attracting the carrion in their droves, as were the bodies of the Orcs. Only one great and headless body was given a wide berth by all.
Her horse slowed. She patted his neck gingerly and urged him forward towards the cluster of green tents beneath the broken walls of the city.
"Gamling!" she shouted at the first familiar face she saw. He turned with shock and hurried towards her.
"Lady Ailith? What are you doing here? We thought you had returned home!" he said as she dismounted. Her legs wobbled dangerously and she quickly put out a hand to steady herself against Gamling.
"You are injured," he said gravely.
"Nothing that I can't handle," she replied and took a few steps away. Gamling followed her. With a dreadful whinny, her horse collapsed on all fours from exhaustion but she barely noticed. All her energy was focused on keeping herself upright.
"Gamling, where is the King?" she asked through gritted teeth. Gamling paused, his face strangely impassive.
"The King has gone to the Houses of Healing within the City," he said hollowly. She stared at him.
"Théoden is injured? Is he seriously injured?" she asked. He shook his head.
"The King has gone to the Houses of Healing... to seek aid for his sister, Éowyn, who was found in a comatose state on the field of battle," he said. Her face paled.
"Éowyn? No, please, no... Éowyn, Éomer, Théoden," she moaned and tried to stumble towards the city again.
"My lady, you are injured and you need to rest," Gamling said. She shook her head and took another step.
"My lady?" he asked as she stopped, swaying dangerously.
He stepped closer, a hand stretching towards her. "Ailith!" he shouted as she fell backwards, her face devoid of any colour and blood seeping through her clothes.
Apologies if it felt a bit rushed in any way. Real life got a bit hectic for me recently and I've only just began to get back into writing. This was by far the most difficult of my stories to update.