R&R
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Chapter Forty
"Asteard!" barked the king, not taking his eyes off Serafina, "Put her in chains,"
Asteard took a few tentative steps towards them, "Yes my Lord," he paused, "Uh, which one my Lord?"
"Both of them!" he answered tearing his gaze away from Serafina. She noticed he deliberately avoided looking at Serrah, she though it just was well. The initial shock that had disfigured Serrah's face had ebbed away and she was almost beautiful once more. Serafina kept her eyes on the other woman as Asteard re-cuffed her hands. Serrah barely moved as Asteard locked the chains previously used on Serafina's ankles onto Serrah's wrists.
"It is done my Lord," he said looking regretfully at Serrah.
"Very good," Théoden said brusquely, "Asteard, find Éowyn. She will undoubtedly not like it but she is the only one I trust to escort Lady Serrah to Helm's Deep,"
"If it pleases you uncle, I would escort Serafina," said Éomer frowning at her.
Serafina took a deep breath. She did not want Éomer's company, but she doubted they would consider her desires on such a matter. Standing still, she waited. Éowyn arrived shortly, Serafina heard her ask where Lord Aragorn was and her stomach did a sickening flip at the mention of his name. She closed her eyes to block out the world, but she could not block out Éowyn's cries. A small part of her wondered how the lady presumed to know him so well that she would mourn him after only a few short days of his acquaintance. Serafina thought of how he and Éowyn had laughed together only yesterday. To her surprise, no pang of jealousy coursed through her. She felt no envy, only deep sadness, and regret. Eventually she felt a hand on her back, signalling that it was time to move on. Heart aching she searched within herself and found a tiny ounce of strength. Gritting her teeth she straightened her back and opened her eyes - the day was not over yet.
#
"Did you love him?" Éomer asked her suddenly, breaking the long silence between them.
Serafina's head snapped up and her step faltered. A moment passed and she collected her thoughts again - that was none of his business. She didn't answer.
"Serafina?" he prodded.
"I heard you," she answered, voice straining to keep calm. She tried desperately to banish the memory of his kiss. Sure as she was that if she refused to remember it she would not have to decide what it meant. What it could have meant.
"The men lose hope," he mumbled looking around him.
She snapped out of her reverie and turned up her nose at the cowardice. "They are foolish to think the life of one man would have saved them," she said bitterly.
"One man can be the difference between victory and defeat," he countered.
Serafina spun to look at him, disgusted that he wanted to talk to her about such a topic after what had happened mere hours before. "One man!" she yelled at him, gesturing emphatically, "You are a man! Look around you - do you see how many men are here? If it only takes one to make a difference, then it could be any one of you!"
It was Éomer's turn to not answer. She lifted her chin involuntarily and turned back around to continue their trek. In her minds eye she saw herself with her chin in the air and her thoughts turned to Serrah. Had Aragorn suspected? Surely he must have.
Clearly Éomer's thoughts had taken the same direction as her own, "He had thought he was going mad when he first saw her," he said pausing, "You remember how he ran down to your cell? At that moment I had not voiced my suspicions to any one, I merely thought to wait and see if any of those who knew you could see you in Serrah. As it was, I knew Serrah, and could see her in you. That was why I insisted on the manure - Grima would have seen it in an instant, Éowyn nearly saw it despite the manure," Serafina stopped listening but Éomer continued, she could hear his voice like a rumble in the distance. She tried to let her mind drift away from Aragorn, but it would not be distracted. She began to wonder if he had fallen on the rocks or if he had somehow made it into the water, saving his body from further injury. How had he died - she didn't even know. Her heart begged her to stop the line of thought but she could not help herself. There were so many ways he could have died - mauled by a warg, slain by an orc, both. Unbeknownst to Serafina, her face began to twist into a tortured expression and Éomer eventually stopped his monologue and watched her as she walked, carefully placing one foot in front of the other.
Images of a dead Aragorn began to flood her mind. She wished fervently she had been able to see his body to put her vivid imagination to rest. Somehow the image she had seen earlier of his bloodied face with a dagger to his chest kept coming back to her. For a time she fancied it was because it was one of the least gruesome, and although his face was bloodied she could still make out his features, but something unsettled her about the image.
"Serafina look…" instructed a voice from behind her.
Lifting her head she saw a bleary looking keep set into the mountain. She blinked a few times, frustrated with her tears for obscuring her vision, until the image sharpened. Before she was even able to focus of the magnificent keep before them, recognition hit her in the stomach like a physical blow. She knew suddenly why the image she had conjured of Aragorn with the dagger was so unsettling; the dagger in his heart, it was her own. Bile rose instantly, she manage only three steps to the right before vomiting.
She retched violently, over and over. To Éomer's credit, he eventually came to her side and held her forehead as she continued to heave up every ounce that was in her stomach. Fiery bitterness stung her throat but still it would not stop. The image of her dagger in his chest was too vivid. Somewhere in her mind she knew it was imaginary - she could feel her dagger still in its sheath. But even though it was only her imagination, the implication of the image was very real. The vomiting turned into heaving - Serafina guessed there could not have been anything left in her stomach and she heard Éomer making soothing sounds. Part of her wanted to arch up and yell at him to get away from her, but her heart was not in it. Her heart, it seemed had fully left her and she felt like a shell; brittle and empty. Eventually heaving turned to sobs and the horse lord pulled her into a warm embrace.
When she quietened Éomer held her at arms length and looked at her. His eyes raked over her face and she felt like a horse whose quality he was appraising.
"Today is not over Serafina, this may be only the beginning of the tragedy that marches towards us. Look inside yourself. Where is the stubborn, difficult girl I met on the plains earlier this week? Where is the girl who can barely mount a horse but tries anyway in front of an éoard?"
Serafina's eyes narrowed. He was making fun of her after she had emptied her stomach, and her tears on top of him? She turned up her nose and regarded him through the red, puffy slits that were her eyes, "She's in front of you Lord Éomer. Perhaps you can barely see me because your people have nearly staved me to death -"
"Good," he said cutting her off with a grim smile, "don't lose her. You'll need her before the night is through. Come, there is much to do."
#
The Hornburg was in chaos. Éomer handed her over to Asteard as soon as they were inside the walls, giving him strict instructions in Rohirric along with a burning torch. Serafina studiously avoided Asteard's gaze. She thought perhaps he asked her something once or twice but she made no answer to him. He led her through a maze of corridors until he found what appeared to be a deserted armoury. The room was large, five or six times the size of her cell in Medusal but it was completely empty. No weapons hung on the walls, no armour. Nothing. Sturdy looking metal rungs ran parallel to each other along length of the room, seeming to be almost at one with the wall. He led her to a corner of the room to the end of one of the pairs of metal rails. It wasn't difficult for her to imagine spears and pikes lining the walls behind the rungs. Quickly he removed one of her cuffs, slid the chain behind the metal bar slightly above her hip height. With a last look at her he set the torch into a stand on the wall before stalking out without a word.
Serafina stared into the dark room, lit only by the flickering torchlight. She was alone, completely alone. Fear seized her.
"Asteard?" she shouted, perhaps he was guarding the door to her improvised cell.
No answer.
"Asteard!"
Still no reply.
Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She knew she was being irrational, but it didn't help. For some reason the dark corners of the room where the light didn't touch haunted her. But she knew the scariest thought was that Asteard might not on the other side of the door.
"Asteard!" she cried as loud as she could, loosing all sense of self control.
In that moment she knew she was alone. No man would have ignored the desperation in her voice, no matter how badly she'd treated them. She resolved to be very polite to Asteard when he came to unchain her and take her to her next prison. A horrible thought that she was to be left in this dark room until they forgot about her flitted across her mind, but she shoved it aside.
Slowly, very slowly she began to realise why she hated to be left so alone; memories from the past couple of days ran rampant in her head, a myriad of images, and she wondered if there was to be an escape. She saw Serrah's face when she had realised that Serafina knew about Arnudor. She saw Aragorn's eyes as he looked at her, waiting to hear if she trusted him. She saw Legolas as he regarded her after shoving Aragorn's ring back into his hands. Gimli crying. Théoden staring at her, calling her Serrah. Éomer holding her. Aragorn kissing her. Asteard offering her a hand to help her up after trying to run with her feet chained. Aragorn's hands on her as she searched for her pins. His fingers on her lips. His hands easing her dress over her bruised shoulder.
A strangled cry escaped her lips. It sounded strangely hollow in the empty room. The sound brought her back to her senses momentarily. Berating herself for losing control she stood a little straighter and took some steadying breaths. She was alone in a deserted room, with apparently no one near enough to hear her scream. Now was not the time to loose control.
Serafina knew that here, there was no escaping the immediate past. She would need to confront what had happened, and so decided to deal with the easiest issue first - that of her mother.
She found that she was not as surprised as she expected; true Serafina had imagined a mother who welcomed her back with a tender embrace. But somehow the reality of the situation seemed more likely. Evidently her mother was no saint; first her father (whoever he was), then Théoden, followed by Wormtongue and then Théoden again. She wondered how much time had passed between Serrah's stint in jail and her relationship with Théoden. Serafina scoffed at her previous worry that her mother would be disappointed with her if they were ever to meet. She had always wondered what it would feel like to meet her mother, but now that the time had come she felt nothing but emptiness, and disgust… but there was some curiosity also; mostly it involved the particulars of Serrah's crime, and the identity of her father. She assumed it wasn't Théoden, he would have been ruling Edoras when her mother was in Minas Tirith. Nevertheless, Serafina resolved to find Serrah and question her.
She tried to imagine what questioning Serrah would be like; had she any feeling left for an estranged daughter? Or was she empty, like Serafina? With a sudden pang of self pity, Serafina realised she had not always been empty - she had been quite full of emotion until earlier that day, when Aragorn fell. Angrily she pulled at her cuffs, willing them to break. The pain of the metal digging into her skin was a glorious distraction from where her thoughts were heading, but they would not break. How dare Éomer subject her to this prison with no one but herself to keep her company! She rattled her chain against the bar but she knew it was in vain. Again she tried to slip the cuff over her hands but all she succeeded in doing was breaking her skin further still. A small whimper of pain escaped her and she gritted her teeth at her weakness. She cursed Aragorn under her breath for taking her pins but stopped herself halfway through.
Could she really curse him? Aragorn, who had always been unfailingly kind, and patient? Would she really curse his name now that he was dead? The image of his body with her dagger in his heart surfaced again and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Somehow she had to accept what her mind was trying to tell her; she had killed him. The ache she had experienced earlier that day returned with a vengeance. She lifted her hand quickly to clutch her constricted chest, forgetting her chains, and cried out in agony as the cold metal broke into her already weeping wrists.
She cursed loudly, how could she have gotten herself into such a situation? How could she have allowed Aragorn to be killed when she had had warning? The image of his smile crept into her mind and she threw her head back, desperate to forget. Éomer's question came back to her; had she loved him?
The sound of metal clinking shocked her out of her reverie. She stood very still, watching the space where the door stood. In the low light she watched as the handle turned. A figure stole into the room, it was large, but that was all she could make out in the darkness.
"Who's there?" she asked, hating the shake in her voice.
"Serafina?" the voice asked.
The voice sounded too familiar, she knew her mind was playing a trick on her. "Who's there?" she asked again, putting some steal back into her voice. The man came no closer, she scowled at his game and snarled at him, "Lingering in the shadows will not make me afraid - but it makes you a very particular type of cad to try to frighten me so!"
"I have no intention of unnerving you," he answered. There was no mistaking it now, it was Aragorn's voice. It struck her briefly that it hadn't taken her very long to go insane, but then if she was insane, she could have lost all scope of time and been in here for days. Slow footsteps came towards her, eventually she could make out Aragorn's unmistakeable form and face, his hands outstretched in peace.
"Oh please," she said, feeling emboldened by the realisation she was talking to a figment of her imagination, "if you had no desire to scare me you wouldn't be here haunting me."
"Fia," he said stopping a few feet in front of her, "I am no ghost,"
"Tell that to the man who died today," she spat back. She was furious; how dare her mind play tricks on her like this!
"I did not die," he countered evenly, a smile beginning to spread onto his features.
"Oh, and I suppose that's why you're here now? Because you're alive?"
Aragorn smiled at her again and took a step forward, "I am alive Fia," he said offering his hand out for her to take.
She stepped back into the wall and drew her hands away from him. Unfortunately the cuffs bit into her wrists again and she drew in a breath sharply.
Predictably, Aragorn frowned, "What have you done?" he asked, walking over to the wall to grab the torch. He came back to stand in front of her and looked down at her wrists. "You did this?" he asked her incredulously.
"I'm not particularly fond of confinement," she answered.
"You, Serafina, are in a never-ending state of injury," he murmured quietly, setting the torch onto the floor and taking a familiar balm out of a pocket.
"Don't touch me," she warned looking at his offending hands as they opened the jar of ointment.
"Very well," he answered.
She lifted her eyes to his. Something caught in her throat, he did not look how she would have imagined him too; he was grubby, his clothes were torn and his eyes were a dark navy in the torch light. He also smelt wrong, slightly damp and muddy. She wrinkled her nose, "You smell funny,"
"I fell into the river,"
"Off the cliff?"
"Legolas already told you that much," he said matter-of-factly. She could sense his patience starting to wain.
"If you are alive - how did you survive the fall?"
"Luck?" he suggested shortly.
"What if I don't believe you?"
"I will have to leave you soon to prepare for the siege," his voice was hard, "If we all survive, Valar willing we can laugh about it tomorrow. If not," he paused looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes, "well, you already believe me dead so it can hardly matter to you if I die a few hours earlier or later. For me, this might be goodbye."
Serafina looked at him gravely and weighed his words. Yes, the Aragorn in her imagination would have reacted that way to her wrists. But she did not think she would imagine a scenario where he would talk of saying goodbye because he was about to go to his death. She certainly doubted that she would replace his natural smell with the stench of muddy water…
"Aragorn?" she asked timidly. She lifted her hands to touch his chest but they stopped short and the chain clanged against the metal. "By the light of the Valar I swear I will chain Éomer and Asteard both in this infernal armoury and -"
A warm hand silenced her, lifting her chin up to look at him. He looked deeply into her eyes, but there was a sternness there she had not anticipated.
"You refused to take this from Legolas?" he asked holding up a familiar ring with his other hand.
Serafina stiffened; this was most certainly not her imagination. Trying to pull her chin out of his grasp she shrugged, trying to give an air of nonchalance, "It was not mine to take, I did not want it".
Aragorn raised his eyebrows but slipped the ring back onto his finger. She looked at him and wondered if there would ever be a time when she could be honest with him. Could she ever tell him that she blamed herself for his death, or near death?
"I though you were dead, Aragorn," she said seriously. "Can you at least accept that perhaps I wasn't thinking clearly?"
"You have made it abundantly clear that you are not thinking clearly," he muttered.
She looked at him angrily, "And now you are going to leave me here, alone in this room while you fight orcs?"
"What is my alternative Serafina?!" he asked her, anger flashing in his gaze to match her own. "The last time you were free you tried to escape into the night where Wargs and Uruks roamed the plains - need I remind you that you have had encounters with both of these enemies before and barely escaped with your life?! Tonight the same foe faces us, but this time they are ten thousand strong. I will not let you risk your life with your own stupidity!"
Her face became red with anger and her eyes wide with fear. She curled her lip hoping it would hide her terror, she had not forgotten the Uruk-Hai, "And so when these ten thousand orcs storm the keep I will be safely locked in this armoury, and they will never find me here!" biting sarcasm filled her voice and Aragorn took a step back as she snarled, "I guess it's lucky I can't escape, because if they stormed the keep my instincts would surely tell me to run for safety, rather than waiting here chained up like a pretty little gift for them to -"
"Enough!" he said holding up his hands. His face was twisted into a tormented mask and Serafina almost felt guilty for conjuring the images that were no doubt running though his head. But she grit her teeth and lifted her chin high, she was not about to get raped and skinned by an orc because she didn't have the stomach to remind Aragorn of the dangers of the situation. He took a deep breath and took her face in his hands, "If the walls are breached I will personally come and free you,"
She looked at him with her eyes wide, "And what if you are already dead?" she asked harshly, "Or does my life not concern you if yours is over?"
Aragorn took his hands off her face and grabbed her upper arms, shaking her. "How can you be so unfeeling?"
"How can you be so pigheaded to believe you are invincible? You already died once today!"
For a moment Aragorn looked as though he was about to rebuke her, but his face softened. "I am sorry you had to live through that," he said once again caressing her face, "I don't know how I what I would have done if…" he let the statement hang in the air.
Serafina laughed mirthlessly, "You probably would have jumped over the cliff after me and willed me back to life. It turns out that would have served me better," she paused regarding him coyly, "Instead I threw up for a quarter of an hour, I'm afraid I got some on Éomer,"
Aragorn laughed. Serafina felt her heart flutter at the sound and couldn't help but smile. He looked down at her and his mirth turned into something more serious, "Fia, I'm sorry but I cannot let you out. You are not my prisoner, and knowing you are not wandering around the Hornburg during the battle will keep my mind at ease,"
"But what if the -"
He cut her off, "If something should go wrong I promise you that someone will come for you and you will get away safely,"
Serafina sighed, it seemed she had only one last resort to win this battle. Taking a steadying breath she looked down at her hands, surveying his belt as she did. When she was composed she turned her face back up to him, unsure how to repeat something she had ended up doing unintentionally last time. She knew he normally saw through her pretence, so that was out. Instead she would have to draw on her own complex feelings. She was afraid he would die, yes. He had mentioned this might be goodbye. Tentatively she let her guard down, worried she would be assailed by a rush of feelings, but instead she felt a wash of exhaustion sweep over her.
"Aragorn? I don't want -" she paused that sounded wrong, "I don't know if -", again it was wrong. Mentally she cursed her awkwardness; she couldn't even voice her feelings to get the better of him.
"What is it?" he asked, looking down at her. She found herself wishing the light was stronger so she could make out his face.
Eventually she settled with the truth. As usual her clumsy phrasing made the words sound harsher than intended, but she didn't think he would mind, "I will not forgive you if you die tonight. I am so tired, and filthy, that I -"
Fortunately she was spared going on further. Aragorn stepped closer and placed his fingers on her lips.
"I have no intention of dying tonight," he whispered to her in a low voice, he turned her face up to him and studied it. She let him look at her, her eyes unguarded. She didn't know what he would see; fear, certainly; tiredness, undoubtedly; concern for him? Something stronger? Eventually his searching became too much and she closed her eyes. He pulled her against him. As she hoped her hands were squashed against his belt. She tired desperately to keep her head calm; his embrace was comforting, but his presence set her nerves on edge.
She buried her face in his chest, needing some privacy if she was going to be successful. Very carefully she squirmed against him, under the pretence of finding a more comfortable position, pushing herself closer to him. He responded in turn dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head and tightening his arms around her. His hands, splayed on her back, moved from her shoulders to the small of her back and around her waist. She smiled, enjoying the sensation, it would be easy to forget what she was doing and put her arms around him. Involuntarily her traitor arms moved to embrace him in return. She winced in pain as her wrists were again caught by the cuffs. Aragorn chuckled at her and brought a hand up to her face, pushing a strand of hair out her eyes. She glared at him, but his eyes danced with mirth. She huffed her annoyance - Aragorn could think she was annoyed about the pain in her wrists but she was more annoyed with herself for getting distracted by her own plan. Soon she would have to think of other plans that did not involve physical contact with Aragorn.
"Do no frown so my Fia," he said and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, "This is not goodbye".
Abruptly the reality of the situation caught up with her - it could very well be goodbye. She looked intently into his eyes, searching for the hope she had always found there. Again she found it in abundance, but it did not satisfy her.
"How can you say that?" she whispered, "And do not ask me to trust you; I do trust you, but it is everyone else that I do not trust,"
He cradled her face in his hands, "Look into your heart," he whispered back with the same intensity, "Does it tell you this is the end?"
She stared at him disbelievingly, but she did as he commanded and searched her heart and mind. As if waiting for her, the vision of Aragorn's grey eyes, dark with desire floated into her mind. A flush went through her body, realising how close she was to the man who filled her mind. She stared up into his eyes and said in a fiery whisper, "This is not the end!"
Without warning his lips descended onto hers. His mouth was hot and urgent, desperate to give as much comfort as it could take. She let herself be moulded into him and returned his kiss with fervour. His hands began to roam her body and a little voice yelled at her to pay attention. Without slowing the kiss she pressed her body hard against his, trying to make up for what her hands couldn't do, but she did not forget her hands. She treaded a dangerous line - she didn't want him to find out what she was doing, nor did she want him to misconstrue her actions for being a harlot. The kiss was deepening, and Serafina could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting - it couldn't be long until she lost all rational thought - she had to act now.
Her hands caught as they were at his belt she at least didn't have to move them. She came up for air and met his gaze briefly before he caught her lips again with his - this time more tender. Splaying one hand as best she could against his muscular abdomen, the other she kept in place by the belt and expertly ran a finger along the inside - hoping he had stolen her hiding place for her pins. His kisses were becoming lingering and lazy, she let his hands roam. She had a very distinct feeling he was trying to memorise her body, her curves. She couldn't help but smile into his kiss when she found her prize. He smiled back at her and she nearly laughed out loud. Playfully she bit his lip, and he kissed her soundly in response. She found the thought crossing her head that maybe she should make all of her plans involving physical contact with Aragorn. She had to bite back a grin as she pulled two pins from the inside of his belt. He pulled back slightly to see her face and smiled, "What are you grinning like that for?" he asked huskily.
"I'm just enjoying myself," she said truthfully.
"You look like a guilty child," he observed.
She nearly laughed at his apt observation but she settled to tease him with a half truth, "I'm just looking forward to the future," she said with a coy smile.
He shook his head, but smiled at her. "I am glad we did not have to part fighting," he said smoothing her mattered hair. She tried not to melt into a useless sack of skin and bones at his feet, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. "I must leave you now," he said a frown returning to his face.
The levity from the moment before faded quickly and she looked into his eyes and nodded, suddenly unsure what to say.
"Be safe," he whispered leaning his lips onto her forehead.
"And you," she managed to choke out.
He stood back and observed her for a moment before nodding at her with a melancholy smile and leaving the room in a few large strides.
It took Serafina a good while to compose herself after he left. But before too long she had picked the locks on her cuffs and slipped them blissfully over her wrists. She didn't even need to wonder where she would go; she wanted answers, and somewhere in the keep her mother, was sitting with her wrists bound and Serafina intended to find her. Depositing her own cuffs into her pocket she walked out the door.