The Rise of the Rohirrim
"So much death..." Théoden said listlessly "What can men do against such reckless hate?" He sounded like he was close to crying. Aragorn paused, staring at the King. It was like they couldn't hear the pounding of the Uruk-Hai behind the door. Rosalie raised her head. Legolas and Haldir had left, upturning more tables to push against the doors, decorations falling to the floor with loud, irregular clangs that melted into the noise around her.
Her heart had sunk when she realised the magic... Thing she had done hadn't worked. Sure it bought them some precious time, but nothing like she had thought it would. Instead, they had perhaps minutes under the relentlessly pounding Uruks, and Rosalie's bones still felt like melted butter.
"Ride out with me," Aragorn said a shade above a whisper. Théoden's mouth fell open, but she saw the glinting spark. His eyes changed, the desperate blue shining with the tiniest splash of hope. Excitement. Possibility. What are you up to Aragorn? "Ride out and meet them." The ranger's voice rose and a harsh grin appeared on the King's face. He strode forward to meet Aragorn, raising a fist non-threateningly, blue eyes flashing wildly.
"For death and glory." The King whispered and beside her, also listening in, Gimli grinned in glee.
"For Rohan." Aragorn promised smiling just as wickedly as Théoden. Oh God, what? No, huh? "For your people." Rosalie could see that both men's eyes were glowing- for them, this would show strength, a last push to remember them by if the worst should happen.
Soft light shimmered at her feet and Rosalie glanced up. A small slit window showed pale blue sky and white sunlight. It was the sky you saw in sacred glades; where you would hear trickling streams in the distance, feel bird songs through the trees. Not the sky on a battlefield, not a day filled with bloodshed. "The sun is rising," her quiet voice had caught Aragorn's attention and he glanced at the window. Something seemed to catch his attention and his gaze didn't falter for a few minutes, staring into the distance. Rosalie frowned, thinking back, wondering what gave him hope about a new dawn. The penny dropped, eyes widening, hope soaring like a swallow. Gandalf!
The commotion was everywhere. Soldiers were scurrying in and out of the room, some carrying swords and other weaponry, others dragging horses into the main room, most already dressed for war. They didn't seem to mind the panic, the confusion, the organised rabble. I didn't even know they had horses in here, Rosalie marvelled. She was still tired, not having the energy to do much but sit and stare. She couldn't even question the dwarf when he let out a short laugh and sprinted out of the room, men jumping out if his way as he passed. Théoden's smile had returned, but it was harsh and broken, the smile of a man who was looking death in the face.
A hand gripped her shoulder. Rosalie turned, and smiled lazily at the elf behind her. "Are you sure you want to be here?" Legolas asked worriedly. The girl gave him a look and nodded. He didn't look convinced. "You are tired and weary, that makes you an easy target for the Orcs. Especially since your female..." Rosalie ignored him and the elf huffed.
"I think it would be wiser for you to stay here, else you do yourself harm but I can already tell you're not going to listen." He stated, and she smiled slightly. You think? She turned away, watching the preparations again, and he grabbed her arm gently. "I would prefer if you stayed close to me in this battle. That way, I can keep an eye on you." Sincerity sparkled in his deep blue eyes and under them, she melted. Rosalie smiled and nodded her head, and the elf repeated the action, looking more relaxed than he did earlier.
The King leapt onto his horse at the front of the charge with the vigour of a man half his age. He turned in his saddle to survey his followers. To his right, Aragorn sat motionless, sword already in hand, back straight and stiff. Haldir was further away, just as still as the ranger, and in the row behind, Legolas and Rosalie waited for the signal, horses side by side, facing forward. The urge to peek at the elf was niggling at her mind, but she brushed it off forcefully, resisting the temptation.
"The horn of Halhammerhand shall sound in the deep- one last time!" He shouted, looking back at the doors. They were cracking and breaking, and with every hit, Rosalie could see shadows of grey flesh, the Uruk-Hai growing closer and closer. Strength, we need strength, Rosalie prayed to any and every God she knew, begging for the stiffness in her muscles and the fatigue in her mind to be wiped away.
"Fell deeds await." Théoden muttered, but everyone could hear him. Despite her better judgement, Rosalie glanced at the elf next to her. As if feeling her eyes trained on him, he glanced at her, and sent an almost imperceptible nod. "Now for wrath, now for ruin, now for the red dawn!" She drew her sword; metal grating against the hilt and the King placed a golden helmet upon his head.
With perfect timing, a deep echoing noise sounded. Hard, low and chilling, it flew from the top of the towers and Rosalie fought the urge to shiver. The doors screamed one last time, flying off their hinges, falling to the floor in front of the charge. Soldiers who had been holding the shredded remains jumped back, as if trying to hide from the Orcs pouring inside of the Keep.
Rosalie took a deep breath, and Legolas' had lunged out, holding hers, squeezing it for a few seconds before dropping it like it was wild fire.
The King shouted something she couldn't understand, but it went up in ugly cry from the rest of the men. They raised their swords above their heads, shouting and charged forward. Rosalie's own ash coloured horse reared, shocking her a little, but she gripped the saddle tightly, and held on. Would have been very bad if I fell off, she thought, before putting everything irrelevant out of her mind.
Legolas' stallion jolted forward, and hers followed it. They sprinted out of the hall, most of the Uruk's who had broken in having the sense to dive out of the way of fifty charging horses, all carrying, with a few exceptions- mainly one, seasoned warriors. Rosalie watched with morbid fascination as Aragorn forced his sword down through helmet and into an Orc's brain, cringing a little when it squelched as he pulled it back. Though the ranger looked disgusted as well.
The Uruk-Hai didn't seem to be expecting an assault, many of the horrible creatures standing idle, shocked as the riders burst out through what they fought was a conquered Keep. Many surrounding the entrance were killed, bodies dropping where they last stood. Rosalie hadn't even touched battle yet, her blue-eyed elf and an unknown soldier continuously circling her. Wait what, my elf? He's not yours! Or mine!
Not many fought back, most of the Orcs parting for the troop of riders. They slashed and hacked, screams and pained shouts echoing off the stone walls of Helms Deep. Horse hooves clattered over smooth stone as they rode out further, knocking the monsters out of the way like swatting flies. Black spectres grouped together, surrounded by grey walls, and brown horses. Rosalie couldn't understand them. Why aren't they fighting back? We all know they can? They have the numbers to kill us all, why don't they? No one's firing arrows at us, or chucking swords maybe? It was true; no arrows rained from the heavens, or the rings of clashing metals, just the sound of the metal of Rohan fighters cleaving monsters in two. It was like the Orcs were under a trance, a spell holding them in place as the men slaughtered them with no mercy or remorse.
Behind them, two different banners fell. The grey hand and the white horse twinned in the air, twirling around each other, locked in combat. Both fluttered to the ground, trampled on by their earthly counterparts, lying frail and broken on the cold ground. Something twisted in her stomach.
The horn of Halhammerhand began to die, but was reawakened again, and Rosalie realised the person blowing into it was Gimli. Like he would've missed a fight like this for any other reason. The causeway was in sight, a few feet ahead of them. By now, the Orcs had listened to the dying screams of their brethren and rushed to their aid and their vengeance. More ran up the bridge, only to be thrown off by the charging war-horses, much like their masters, not caring who was under them. They fell to the ground, limbs and necks landing at strange and painful angles, most not moving again.
Théoden rode out onto the bridge, followed swiftly by Haldir and Aragorn, flanking the human King. A few seconds later, Rosalie and Legolas met them, and the girl blinked at the sight. Trapped inside of Helms Deep, and only a partial view of the war on the ground, Rosalie had forgotten the original numbers. A black mass of chanting bodies met them; flowing and ebbing like a living sea. Fog swarmed around them, like they were actually supernatural creatures.
Time inched slowly past, and somehow, most of Théoden's cavalry remained intact, the Orcs falling instead of them. Above them, in a small crevice of the mountain face, a horse whinnied, and Rosalie glanced up. How did I hear that? Any thoughts were wiped from her mind, seeing the horse, and the distant rider.
Shadowfax reared, his white coat shining in the soft light surrounding The Lord of Horses, and the wizard riding him. Rosalie smiled at the sight. The lone rider and his white horse of Destiny, how fitting. Many of the men around her had paused as well, and she could almost feel the tension dropping, soldiers awed by his arrival. Even the Uruk-Hai stopped fighting, staring up in shock at the white wizard who towered over all of them. If Rosalie was close enough, she was sure he would be smirking.
Every soul on the battlefield of Helm's Deep turned to face Gandalf, lowering swords and spears. Even the horses quieted down. A small figure in grey armour, riding a horse decked in Rohan war colours trotted over. He waited just behind the wizard, surveying the scene below them, as if debating whether to join or not. They'd better, she thought.
The human rider behind Gandalf lifted his sword, a cue to his followers apparently, as riders sprang from over the hills. Rosalie could only see the first line, but she knew there was more behind. Wait, isn't this the group that kidnapped me? There's like two thousand of them? What are they waiting for? Get your butts down here!
A few Orcs around her inhaled sharply, squirming in their boots, uncomfortable with the sudden evening of numbers. From the corner of her eye, she could see the grim smile on Haldir's face, and the happiness in Legolas' eyes. A few of the Orcs snarled.
The leader, she thought before Aragorn had called him 'Éomer', lifted his sword once more, and his men copied the action. "For the King!" He shouted, but the cry was weak to Rosalie's ears, too much distance to hear the strength and power behind it. The men shouted their agreement, roaring loudly.
Gandalf charged forward, a white speck leading a dark brown crowd, all armed and dangerous. The Orcs sprinted forward as well, re-massing to the East where the group were galloping from. The Uruk formed a new line, lowering spears, bracing themselves for the oncoming onslaught. Barbed spikes pointed out, ready for the horses, but still the Rohirrim ran, not fazed by the manoeuvres the Orcs were assembling.
The girl growled, glaring at the Orcs, and the front line soldiers who were prepared to die to help the ones behind. She raised a hand, ignoring the warning glance Legolas gave her. The light that had sheltered Gandalf before blazed behind the Rohirrim, as if the sky itself was on fire. Instinctively, Orcs raised gnarled fists to cover their eyes, spears no longer directed at the riders. And then the horses hit.
They dove into the sea of Orcs, not caring about the risk or danger, like they were born to trample monsters that preyed on humans. Axes, swords, pikes, and spears were swung, flung, raised and smashed against the Uruk-Hai, flailing helplessly, many still feeling the effects of Rosalie's burning light.
She could feel the effects as well; energy vanished with the fading light, nausea and bile rose inside of her, and the idea of throwing up over the side of her horse became a distinct possibility. She slumped back in the saddle, almost sliding off if Legolas hand hadn't shot out to grab the back of her shirt and armour. Sleep seemed so inviting.
The two armies collided, this time, the Uruk-Hai and the Rohirrim. The riders of Rohan jumped through the waves of creatures almost effortlessly, trying to meet the few riders on the bridge. Rosalie felt a little bad for the Orcs, a bitter pill settling at the pit of her stomach, knowing that they died so easily because of her influence. An influence she shouldn't have had.
The Orcs began to fall back, the two parties of riders joining, and forcing them to flee. Many dropped their weapons, carrying themselves as far as possible from the men who cleaved down their comrades. They ran towards the forest, a tangled, messy line of riders chasing them. "Stay away from the forest!" Éomer hollered, and Rosalie frowned. Why is he giving them advice? In any matter, the Orcs took no notice, disappearing into the tree-line. Aragorn watched them solemnly, understanding Éomer's cries better than Rosalie.
She leaned over to the ranger. "Why is he saying that?" She whispered but the man didn't respond. A few seconds later, the furry green tops of the trees rumbled. Snaps and creaks echoed horribly, and then the screaming started. It was high-pitched, shrill and painful to listen to. Rosalie's mouth fell open, her eyes widening. What- How? Oh my God.
"I think you got your answer," Haldir stated shortly from the other side of the ranger. From some silent cue, the men all turned, walking slowly towards Helms Deep, but Rosalie couldn't stop staring at the forest. Everything had fallen silent, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone called her name, Gandalf she thought, and her horse replied to the command, stopping her from looking at the forest, and taking her back to the safety of Helms Deep.
Men and elves alike combed through the destruction of Helms Deep. Aragorn, Haldir, Théoden and Gandalf had disappeared off into a room in the Keep, while the others stayed behind. To Rosalie, everything looked bleak and grey, as if the battle had drained any colour, life or vitality from the land. She stood on the ground, staring blankly at the broken wall, murky water lapping around it, rippling when disturbed, like blood around a wound.
Soldiers dug through the mess, unearthing the fallen and taking them back up to the Keep. It had been decided that before they were buried, that their families in the caves could say their final goodbyes. The girl's stomach clenched painfully as one of the men carried a body past her, too small, too skinny for an adult, big blue eyes unfocused. As it passed, all she could hear was the screaming. Explosions; dead eyes; snarls; growls; shouts; shouts; blood, so much blood.
Rosalie jumped, glancing around her. Finding no threat, she tried to calm her speeding pulse. Stop this Rosalie, you're meant to be strong, she chided herself. Whatever happens, don't let him see this.
Bowstring twanged, and she jumped again, hand going for her sword, eyes spinning crazily, only to see Legolas lowering his bow, Gimli staring at him, shocked. She walked over. "It twitched because it has my axe in his nervous system!" The dwarf shouted, and shook his axe, and the Orc he was sat on twitched grotesquely.
"What are you two doing?" She hissed anger seething inside her. What is wrong with them? Is this about that stupid death toll contest? The girl sighed, closing her eyes for a few seconds. When they opened, the green had cleared, fading back to a normal colour, the anger fading with it.
"Ah Rosalie!" Gimli didn't seem fazed by her angry tone. "Was wondering if you'd kept a track of how many Orcs you put down?" He asked, missing the elf shaking his head subtly over her shoulder. Unlike the dwarf, he had noticed her stiffness, and realised its root. 'Put down'? Doesn't he mean killed mercilessly? She thought sourly, but put on a clever mask.
"Not really," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "but I didn't want to hurt your feelings with the results."
"Eh?"
She could almost feel Legolas smiling behind her. "Well, if I had gotten involved in your little betting war, I would've won."
Gimli shook his head, chuckling a little. "Confident words for such a young lass. While you're better than the average human soldier, you don't hold a candle to the elf and I." Legolas laughed.
"It's strange- I find myself agreeing with Master Dwarf," he smiled as Rosalie spun on him.
"You really think?" She asked, and Legolas grinned like a kid and nodded. "Because if you remember correctly, which I'll forgive you if you don't Legolas, as the oldest here, I could knock Uruks off their feet from far away, with my mind." She gloated, ignoring the twinge at her callous words and the elf pulled a face, shaking his head.
"Well I have a similar weapon- they're called arrows," he countered, and Gimli laughed.
"I think the elven princeling will find I won fair and square," Legolas frowned at his title, but Gimli didn't seem to care. He jumped off the Orc, brushing dirt off his person, and Rosalie cringed a little. The Elf's frown deepened. Gimli huffed. "Anyone going to join me back to the Keep?" He wondered gruffly. Legolas shot him a look and he left without another word.
Rosalie moved to follow him, but a hand around her elbow stopped her. Deep blue eyes met swirling green. They paused, frozen in time. "I remember what it is like to witness war for the first time," he whispered finally. Rosalie stiffened, panic shooting down her spine. How does he know? She wailed in the safety of her mind. "I know how it makes you question your morals. How the guilt can rip you apart. How it makes you wonder if you were right to take another life. How it makes you wonder if it was for the right reasons."
His words were meant to be soothing, but inside her, alarm bells were ringing, causing more chaos than any others. Legolas stopped, sensing his words weren't getting through. "If you want to talk about-"
"I'm fine." Rosalie cut him off quickly, ripping herself away from him, stalking back up to Helms Deep, not waiting for the elf to join her.