Notes: I might not have a lot of time next week so I decided to do a double update for this one. Enjoy!
The army had been gone for two weeks now.
After seven days, there had been an eruption. All of Minas Tirith had seen Mount Doom grow active, the ash from it still blew into the city and made the stones look grey. Opinion was divided on whether this was a good sign, or an evil omen. On one hand, it could mean success, on the other hand, it might mean the whole of the army was dead and buried under a wave of magma. Ella wouldn't let herself think about it. She had vowed to harden her heart.
For now Lothiriel wiped her hands on her breeches, then wiped at her sweating brow. She was covered in dirt once more, which should have been a common thing for her by now, but it was an entirely different kind of dirty. She reached down and pulled another carrot out, threw it in her basket and went to the next.
We do not have enough workers, Milord. We cannot harvest all the crops before we go.
'I will do it.' She had said and many of her ladies had followed. She was struck by the difference between this and when she had gone alone to the destruction of Pellenor fields. It was nice to have her women with her. When she had gone alone she had expected the difficulty of the work. This time she had not expected the heat of the sun, nor the pain in her back from bending over through hours of labour but now they were almost done, the field was almost bare. She grinned and shook her head in disbelief. This was one more day of survival when they had to flee Minas Tirith. It felt good.
Éowyn was preparing her men to ride to Edoras the next morning. They had delayed as long as they could. Ella privately thought Éowyn might have been delaying for Faramir, waiting for him to do something to make her stay, but that was romantic nonsense and there was no time for that. Both of them knew better. She would miss Éowyn when she rode. She would miss having the woman around.
The whole city had become grim and utilitarian in the last few days but not without life. Even those bird wives and their husbands contributed now, they paid in gold or personally saw that the mills went to work and wheat was made into flour. They housed orphans and pregnant wives with no husbands and supplied them with food and clothing. It made Ella's heart swell sometimes to see her people like this. It was a tiny bit of hope that she clung to like a drowning girl. The rest she blocked out of her heart and left it dry and cold where it could not interfere.
"My Lady, we are done for the day." The farm manager went to go for a bow but Ella stopped him.
"If your back is as sore as mine, I cannot imagine that anyone would be important enough to bow to." It was a mark of how much the people had changed when her ladies started laughing and the man stopped his bow and rubbed his back in appreciation. Ella did manage a small curtsy before turning back towards the hold but simply because it seemed right, she began the long walk to a warm bath.
Her feet felt blistered and the mud made her itch. She didn't scratch though, and she didn't touch her hair or clothes to adjust them, she set a good example. Her ladies settled into a rhythm beside her. It was calming to hear their chatter, despite the dark days, people never really changed. One lady was particularly happy. Her betrothed would be released from the Houses of Healing today. He was missing his left leg from the knee down, but she didn't care. Ella smiled to herself, making a mental note to find the lady a dress or a jewel for the wedding. It always seemed to surprise her when life went on, day after day. People fell in love. Babies were born. Horses were groomed, people fought, people ate, people dreamed, people died.
I wonder, Father, would you be proud of me now?
By the time Ella had bathed and dressed again, the sun had begun to go down. She was wringing out the water from her hair when she heard a knock at her door. "Come in."
Every muscle in Ella's body screamed as she stood to greet her visitor. Today it had been harvesting, yesterday it had been milling, the day before it had been building, and before that demolishing, making the tunnel bigger. There was no task Ella would not do. No call too small. When the people found a princess willing to wash the bedsheets of the sick, they were more willing to do it as well. Brothers. Strengthen my step. I will not let your legacy fade. She would sleep the night away in exhaustion, or else find no sleep at all.
Éowyn was dressed for dinner, shoulders as straight and strong as ever, her hair pulled back and braided, which was not common for her. The de-facto Queen of Rohan had dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale and drawn. "You have not slept, my lady." Ella said gently, asking a question she doubted would be answered.
"Perhaps, Princess, I should have joined you in your work. You look ready to collapse." Éowyn gave her that same small smile. Not like her brother at all, but she didn't need to be. Ella had grown as fond of her as she had been of Éomer. She stepped forward and put her chin for a moment on the Queen's shoulder, heaving a sigh. She tried to imagine having done the same to the cold figure who had come to her family's breakfast those weeks before. She could not. No one understood the weight the two carried. When Éowyn could not sleep, she would go to the gardens and let the light of the moon wash over her. Sometimes Ella would find her sleeping there. Sometimes Éowyn found Ella in the highest tower, mesmerized by a horizon that did not change. Not for better. Not for worse. How strange, it seemed that the woman with her foreign accent was a lifeline for the fickle young princess. If only their families could see them now.
"I will miss you, Your Highness. I hope I will not turn to stone on the towers once more without your hand to guide me away."
"I do not think that will be your fate, little one. No, not anymore." Éowyn's words made Ella's chest swell with pride. As the weeks had gone by, she had grown to treasure the woman's opinion more than gold. She could not imagine now having to go without.
Though her hair was still wet, Ella took Éowyn's arm to go to dinner. For once, it was a small affair consisting of just Ella, Éowyn and Faramir. Of the three of them, none looked to be in particularly good health. Like Éowyn, Faramir had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks, which he had shaved clean were now peppered with stubble. He looked haggard and exhausted, but in good spirits. Ella pretended not to see when he would brush Éowyn's arm or whispered in her ear, and when the lady would smile in response. Let love bloom, she thought, nibbling on the last of the summer berries, soon it may all become even harder.
The three lay sprawled in their own exhaustion on couches, eating the simple meal, the conversation deliberately light. Tomorrow, Éowyn would ride for Rohan and the people of Gondor would begin the preparations to flee Minas Tirith, and gather those who resided in other cities; Dol Amroth, Linhir, and Erech, among others and then flee northward.
They left unsaid how no place seemed safe. Perhaps the Dwarves could offer them safe haven, but they could not withstand the dark forces forever. Perhaps they could escape to the Shire, but news of strange happenings, even at that distance could be heard swirling through the cities. Ella's information had turned dark and there were more rumours than fact. It made her nervous.
Instead Ella told stories of growing up with Faramir, of how Amrothos would pretend to watch out for them, telling them exactly the prank that would befall them, only to lead them into a trap.
Faramir told Éowyn of the hundreds of times that Lothiriel as a babe would escape her crib and nursery and be found only hours later. They couldn't even sack the nurses, since it was understood that the child was filled with a mischievous spirit and it did not seem possible that four nurses could all be so incompetent.
Éowyn told them of Edoras. Of breaking her first horse, and ended up miles and miles from any town and having to find her way back with only the reins and a soft saddle and what was now a tired and surprisingly mild horse.
Before too long Éowyn had fallen sleep on her couch, and Faramir and Ella had fallen into a companionable silence, both mulling over their own thoughts and trying to find the answer in little sips of watered down wine.
"Will you ask for her hand?" Ella put down her cup and settled lower on her coach, fighting sleep for a little while longer.
"I am not certain. Not yet. She knows I love her. I have hope now that she may love me." When he glanced over at Éowyn, his gaze was tender.
Ella smiled, feeling herself starting to slide deeper towards sleep. "Is it very exciting? I wish for your sake, it had happened differently." She thought of all the old stories of danger and love co-existing. Of excitement and war and two lives being entwined. In her experience from watching men and women marry, it was rarely a whirlwind of any kind.
Faramir seemed to be pondering his answer when a guard came clattering into the room. Both of them scrambled to their feet, their exhaustion forgotten and even Éowyn managed to look awake, only taking a second or two longer to stir and rise as well.
"There are Uruk-hai at the Gates, Milord."
Ella wavered. She felt herself grow hot, then cold again. The world spun around her. This was it then? Their greatest fears were brought to life, they were under attack. "We have the armies of Mordor at our gates then? How could this have happened?"
"That can't be possible. We would have seen them approach." Faramir was right. Ella let out a long shaking breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. Faramir would know better than anyone else how to handle this. He had done it before. "Ready the bowmen, and those who can bear arms. We must not let them think we will be easy prey. Ready the preparations to evacuate the city."
Everyone moved to follow his orders, and Ella went to straight to her rooms, changing from her dress into breeches again. She pulled on an old shirt and a thick leather tunic and a cloak. Her maidservant buzzed around her like a fly, but there wasn't a point in shooing her away. This time, Ella vowed, she would not hide in her rooms from the noise and the danger. She knew better than that.
She could not force her maidservant to bring her brace so she fetched it herself, along with her tab and her bow. She had not used it in so long that she had to hunt for a string to replace the old one which looked about ready to snap. It had been years since it had been safe enough to go hunting and Ella didn't like shooting at captured animals, though she knew it was a sport that some nobles did enjoy, and so her gear had gone by the wayside. She cursed herself for ignoring her training, for not realizing that this was a skill she should refine. It was one more thing she would regret when this was over.
She half expected Faramir to protest when she came out to stand beside him on the wall, but he only looked at her and then gave her a small nod. Their numbers were so few, it would not do to refuse a decent bowman or woman. Ella saw at once how the Uruk-hai had managed to get so close. Almost all were mounted on wargs, but more importantly, their numbers were few. She pictured the sea of dark bodies that had attacked nearly a month before. At the time she had not imagined that so many creatures could gather in one place, they had spread almost to the horizon. In comparison, there were maybe five hundred fell creatures at their gates. She shook her head and turned to Faramir. "Do you think they are the scouts? Why would they attack us? They'll be destroyed."
"Do not underestimate them, Cousin. I can only imagine that they are desperate and alone. Deserters, perhaps. Still, do not give them any advantage."
"I certainly do not plan to." Ella grinned at him, and he was struck by the feral sort of face she wore. When had his cousin become a lioness, he wondered, had it happened in front of him? Should he worry for the girl she had been?
From here they could hear the chant of the creatures below, but with their numbers so few, it sounded hollow in their ears. Ella made to go join the line of archers who circled the walls. The other bowmen moved to accommodate the extra body. If she was worried that she would be forced back to the keep, she needn't have bothered herself. No one seemed to mind her sex nor station, why would they? There were Orcs and Uruk-Hai at their gates. If the princess wished to risk her own skin, let her. Let her earn her title.
Even the ranks that finally formed outside the city looked messy to Lothiriel. Without notching an arrow, she spent a moment or two drawing the bow to get a feel for it again. From her spot, she could see women and children finding stones and boulders to log over the walls and a pot of oil was beginning to steam over a fire. She was awfully calm though for someone about to engage in her first battle. She knew, logically, that even one Uruk-Hai was extremely dangerous, but seeing them so far below and looking so pathetic, she couldn't help but settle and gloat. You can't get us up here.
She soon learned how wrong she was when a dark arrow hit the man beside her in the neck. Just as quick as the wait had been slow, the air was filled with sharp points and her own hands were reaching for arrows, notching them and setting them free, before forgetting the target and moving on to the next. She could hear the ragged breathing of the woman who stood to her left and, much quieter, she could hear the rattle of the man on her right. She had thought him dead, but he fought for breath. Ella ducked, turning her attention to him. He clutched at the arrow, his face turning purple, Ella tried to stop him as he worked to tear the thing from his throat. He clawed at her and she was struck by the amount of blood. Ioreth hadn't let her into an operating room yet, hadn't let her help with open wounds unless they were the sort to be stitched closed in four stitches or less. She felt curiously numb as she tried to hold the man still. This wound would take ten stitches at least and that was just on one side. This was far outside her skill level. She could hear herself screaming for help, but help did not come. The man slowly went still in her arms, his hands wrapped around her wrists. Ella shook as she pulled herself from his grasp and reached for her bow, only to realize she would need to clean her hands before she could draw it again. She couldn't see any water, so she spent a good minute, still kneeling, trying to wipe the blood away on her breeches. The stones were turning slippery.
The woman to her right notched arrows and let them going with a fluidity that would have been the envy of Ella if the setting had been different. If the archer was scared, she did not show it. Her face was as calm as a lake on a hot summer day. Ella was nervous to reach for an arrow and disrupt the woman's rhythm, she knew a wrong move now might get them both killed so she turned to her left and reached for the bucket of arrows there, dragging them closer and studiously ignoring the body that waited beside.
Ella unfurled herself and notched her next arrow, aiming for a warg who was dragging its rider. It wasn't clear if the rider was dead or alive, but wargs were almost worse when they roamed free, destroying livestock and wild animals at will. She made the shot, dropping the creature into a limp pile of limbs. She felt a surge of excitement but she drew the line at whooping out loud. That seemed excessive, even for her. She notched another arrow, missed the next shot, notched another, got another kill, notched another, leg shot, notch an arrow, shoot, notch an arrow, shoot. She was not tired, she was not sore, she was defending her country, notch, shoot, notch, shoot, notch, shoot. She felt a sharp twinge in her shoulder that faded into heat. Notch. Shoot. Notch, careful now, shoot. Notch, shoot.
She noted with something like concern that their arrows were getting low, even with her dipping into the dead man's basket. She ducked again, feeling safe behind the stone walls, and searched for someone to bring more arrows, and then perhaps to bring water. Surely someone was assigned to the task. All around them, black Uruk-hai arrows lay scattered. Perhaps someone was coming to replenish the supply, but they were taking too long. Ella would have to do it herself. She felt invincible, she felt strong and able, like her senses had been sharpened. She took the empty basket and began to crawl her way over the rough stone floor to gather was many arrows as she could. This time the pain, when it came, was sharper and accompanied by a moment of impact and force just off centre of her spine, feeling for all the world like getting struck in the hip and ribs all at once and knocking her knees and arms out from under her, her head hitting the ground hard. She panicked. Had she scraped her face? Head wounds bled terribly, it would be inconvenient to shoot with blood in her eyes.
She came to standing, half crouched, the world spinning around her. Her arm ached terribly and now her back and ribs and legs felt bruised and hesitant. She tried to force reason into her head. If she was really injured, would she have been able to stand like this? No. Mostly likely not. It was probably a stray brick that had hit her. She pushed the basket towards her friend, only to find the woman draped, open eyed over the wall, her bow in one hand and an arrow square in her chest.
The mass of bodies at their gates had shifted towards a majority of corpses and only a few still living. Ella fired another few shots, but they were weak and only led to a single kill. Though Ella could never guess what action would make her feel guilty the next day, she dropped her bow at her feet and slid down to sit, head between her knees. The pain in her back grew intense and Ella felt nausea bubble up, it was hard to twist, but if she really turned, she could see the broken shaft of an arrow lodged into her back muscles. The head of another arrow was nestled deep into her bicep, the pain radiating high into her shoulder and collar bone. Ella knew not to try to pull the arrow out. Ioreth had told her how much more damage could be caused by doing so but she still ran her fingers longingly over the arrow head she could reach under the skin, pressing lightly on the wound to get a feel for how deep the metal had gone. She could feel where the head had shifted, from the thin skin under the bicep where it had first gone in, to the shoulder when she must have accidentally snapped the shaft. The world spun as she tried to push harder, she had lost it, she lay her head back against the comforting stone. The tower careened around her, the floor roiling like a great wave when that summer storm had hit the Bay of Belfalas.
Ella thought perhaps she should try standing. That proved difficult but not impossible, she kept her arms rigid and pressed against the stone walls, feeling for all the world like she might go tumbling over if she so much as shifted too far left or right. She noted Éowyn coming to put an arm around her. Then the fear on her face, the way she paused suddenly, turning to the horizon.
That damned horizon, thought Ella, which had been so unchanging for so many days, but she saw now what Éowyns saw: dark figures, only not so dark, and riding horses, banners held high. She thought she recognized a swan, but she reasoned that any white blob might do. Éowyn was holding her so tightly, but all Ella wanted was to slip to the floor and lay down for a moment. Lay me down, she wanted to say. This is as good a place as any. Éowyn now looked as alarmed as Ella had ever seen her. She wondered what could have possibly rattled the woman so much, what had finally shaken Éowyn's calm? She tried to speak to ask, tried to laugh. It did not work. It would not work. She saw golden hair. Then she saw darkness.