The sound of my childhood was all around me. Laughter, and voices mixed in a hundred conversations, the distant churn of the furnaces, and the spirited collisions of wooden swords. Frerin bidding us farewell to go work in in the lower halls of the mountain. Fein and Fali at the each other, heads full of grand visions of victory, glory.
I had a book in my hands, and sat in the sand, watching them whilst I turned the pages.
The book in question, one of the old dwarven kings, and what each of them had done in their time, was plucked from my hands. I looked up into Vesper's face.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "You aren't supposed to be in Erebor for another week."
"Our plans changed." She smirked. She clambered over the side of the arena, and sat down beside me.
"Should we call them over?" I nodded at Fien and Fali.
"Leave them." She shrugged. "They'll realise I'm here soon enough." She examined the cover of the book, trying to make sense of the runes. "What happens in this one?"
"It's about our kings, who they were, what they did."
"History lessons." Vesper sighed. "I detest them, personally."
I frowned. History was one of my better subjects. It was stories, and I had been raised on stories. I was not be the stuff of legend, but I could remember legends. That was my part, passing them on, continuing the cycle.
"I don't find them very bad." I shrugged.
Vesper knew me too well however, knew how I was better with books than I was with swords. "Do you ever think you'll do anything grand, like these kings she asked?"
I squirmed in my place. Everything they did was so heroic…I was just a child.
"Not something like fighting off dragons, of course." Vesper added. "Just something that would leave a mark behind you."
"I could write a book." I said, optimistically.
She laughed, merry and friendly. This captured the attention of my brother and sister. "Vesper!" And soon two bodies were thrown upon us and there was a good deal of grappling and greeting and ruffling of hair. The poor book I had been reading was compressed between us all, creasing some of the pages. I hated it when accidents like that happened. In my mind, I set out part of my evening to press the pages back to their original perfection under a stack of my father's journals, much like how Fali pressed flowers.
"You're going to spar right?" Fali asked. "Right, Vesper? We promised each other we would."
"Yes." Vesper nodded. "Sparing, hunting, forging, eating, racing, and long evenings laughing."
There was a happy cheer. Vesper was smiling, in her circle of friends again.
"Maybe you'll be able to tell me some of the tales from your book." Vesper freed the novel from the scramble of bodies, and passed it back to me.
"I will." I nodded.
"And then we'll go hunting." She smiled. "So you can have a real adventure."
/
The dream dissipated into the laughter of children, a memory of happy, carefree days.
If only my friend could see me now…finally having an adventure. Would she be worried for me? Vesper had always watched over all of us faithfully as a sibling. She'd be concerned, and surprised, and even glad for me in, in a certain way. As I woke up, I could almost hear her sighing 'Finally, it's about time you closed your book and started living those legends.'
"Rise and shine, young prince."
An axe was laid across my chest, heavy and solid. I gulped in a breath, a bit more strained than normal, and looked up at Gimli.
"What is this for?" I asked.
"No more archery." He said. "Not for a dwarf." He pointed to the axe on my chest. "I will be outside. You will join me, and you're going to bring that with you."
He left.
"This is my reward for making friends with an elf…" I mused, shouldering the axe and following.
Gimli made a very…honest…instructor.
"I've seen lasses with better strikes than that." He told me, after another less-than-perfect maneuver of the heavy weapon.
"Now, there's no need to bring Fali into this." I replied, in an almost laughing tone. "My sister practically called the training grounds her home away from home."
"Let's try again, shall we?" Gimli asked, shrugging off my comment. "Warrior stance." He gave the order.
Gods, but I hated that stance. A good fighter would hold the axe in front of him, the head facing down, and across his chest, knees slightly bent, ready to push and shove and swing into any brawl.
Most dwarves were sturdy folk though, were as I was a more lithe example, given my mother's background. How Fali had worked around her own size was beyond me. The axe's weight felt like the base of a mountain, and my arms strained against gravity.
Now was time for one of Gimli's drawn out historical anecdotes however, and I found myself bearing the position for longer than I could.
"You must be strong, and stand tall…tall, young prince, tall!…" Gimli stressed and I was forced to stand straighter. "…like a mountain." Gimli finished the analogy. "Feel the weight of the weapon."
Oh, I certainly am, I thought.
"Imagine what something like that could do to an orc." Gimli went on. "Yes, the axe has force. A force as old and strong as the generations who have wielded it." Gimli grinned broadly. "You should have heard the stories my father told me when I was a wee lad. Enemies were decapitated in a single stroke. Cave trolls were split in two."
"How very lovely." I wheezed a little.
"Remember to breath lad, that airy voice doesn't become a young man." He continued on, yet again. "Which reminds me, your delivery could use a bit more spirit. Our battlefields used to echo with war cries. Perhaps you could try to have a little more conviction in your voice."
I made it through one line about Gloin wielding an axe on the way to Erebor before falling forward, letting out a strangled sound that was more of anguish than any sort of battle cry. I droppedthe axe to the ground and letting my arms hang below me, throbbing from such treatment.
"Not exactly what we were going for." Gimli eyed the fallen axe, then my form. "You're a bit of a smaller man…" He seemed to finally take note of it. "Perhaps a lighter axe? There's one in the armoury."
"There was a lighter one all along?!" I snapped at my instructor.
"He's back!" Our mutual attention turned to Eowyn as her face appeared, looking from the upper floor of the fortress. "He's returned, it's a miracle!"
"Who?" We asked, both a little confused by her sudden joy.
"Lord Aragorn!"
"What?" I demanded back. It couldn't be…he had fallen from the edge of a cliff…he couldn't be here.
"This is no time for tall tales." Gimli said, gruffly.
"It is not a lie, he's just come through the gates on a horse." Eowyn beamed. "I am not lying, he's here. He's here!"
"By the Valar." Gimli gasped. He then turned on his heel and ran at such an impressive speed I was reminded of his comment that dwarves were 'natural sprinters'.
"Wait for me!" I called, trying to carry the axe along too. Gimli had neglected to pick up the weapon in his haste. The end of the axe was dragged through the dirt behind me, its heaviness forgotten. I pushed my way past curious people all moving along or crowding together to look at something. Or rather, someone.
"Where is he? Where is he?!" I could hear Gimli demand. "Get out of the way! I'll kill him!"
"If you could please excuse me…" I tried to get the crowds to part.
"You are the luckiest, the cunningest, the most reckless man I've ever known!"
I paused where I stood. Gimli could only be speaking to Aragorn. He was back. He was alive. Hope alit in my chest. "Excuse me…!" I tried more desperately to part the people around me.
"You look terrible." I heard the words of Legolas. Yes, those words could also be directed at only our friend. If Legolas had spoken like that to anyone else it would have been taken out of turn, and not as a joke.
I broke free of the people then, dropping the axe at the bottom of the steps, carelessly. Aragorn stood with the elf, facing away from me. He was in terrible shape, as Legolas had said. Disheveled, beaten by quite a few elements, and with his coat covered in dirt, he made an alarming sight compared to when I had last seen him.
He was alive, and there was nothing more great than having the proof of it.
He turned, accepting something that glistened from Legolas. I recognized it as Arwen's necklace. I stood behind him and waited for his eyes to fall on me. I was even more alarmed by the front of him, seeing dried blood on a corner of his clothes, and the fatigue in his eyes. He had traveled long and impossibly hard to reach us.
Even more impossible, he smiled warmly once he saw me standing there. "Master Gideon."
"Aragorn." I grinned back.
He caught sight of the axe. "No doubt Gimli stepped in as an instructor for you, during my absence."
I nodded, quickly embracing him. Yes, he was here, and alive.
"Mahal…" I said, looking at him again. "What happened to you? Legolas isn't lying, you look like a mess."
"Hopefully Theoden will overlook my appearance. I must speak with him, as soon as possible."
"Now?" I asked. "Don't you want to rest first?"
"Later." Aragorn replied shortly, his hand on my shoulder. "I have important news for the king."
He was very serious, and as soon as Legolas began to show him the way to Theoden's workrooms, he followed, silent and stony-faced. I followed, wondering what sort of news he had. With each step it was becoming more and more apparent that I would not like to hear it. Aragorn was too silent.
He walked into the hall where Theoden was discussing the matters of where people were to sleep and rations, trying to organize his entire city and quite a few outlying villages into a smaller space. When Aragorn pushed through the doors, tired and disheveled as he was, Theoden must have thought he resembled a ghost.
"Aragorn?" He asked in surprise. "We had taken you for dead."
"Thankfully that is not true." Aragorn replied. "But I bring very ill news."
"Speak." Theoden bade him.
"Our enemy sends a great host, marching it's way to the very door of Helm's Deep." A silence followed his words. An army? Coming here? But this was a fortified place, a notorious stronghold…surely we had no cause for true alarm. Right?
"A great host you say?" Theoden asked, in the kind of voice that requests more information.
"All of Isengard is emptied." Aragorn nodded.
A whole city…
My mind began to work out what size of an army that could entail.
"How many?" Theoden asked, thinking the same.
"Ten thousand strong…at least."
My brain ceased to perform any sort of mathematics.
"Ten thousand?" Theoden asked, clearly surprised.
"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men."
"Mahal…" I managed a word.
"They will be here by nightfall." Aragorn finished. I was beyond words at that point.
"Let them come." Theoden said, with conviction. I could not believe the words we had heard. "I want every man strong lad able to bear arms to be ready by nightfall for battle."
A familiar feeling that had been missing from my life the past few days resurfaced. I realised that order included me. It must, the army approaching was too large in size for it not to include me. I was going to have to fight…and I felt afraid.
/
The more fearful I became the more I wanted not to be afraid, or at least look like it. What would Aragorn think? That I had resumed my old habits after he had vanished? What would the people here think? That their chances of survival rested on the shoulders of a coward? No, I would not have that.
With great focus, I set a serious look on my face, and kept my mouth closed for the following hours, never saying a word, not daring to utter a single concern.
Gimli said the orcs coming were Uruk-hai, with thick armor and wide shields. I said nothing.
Theoden went on, trying to prepare for battle. I said nothing. He spoke well of Helm's Deep, it's past and it's attributes, but it did not calm me.
Aragorn said they try to murder us all, down to the last child. I said nothing. Theoden refused to send out horses and riders for aid. I said nothing. One would think I was a mute.
Legolas was the only one who seemed to see through my actions. No doubt the rate of my breathing was the only thing changed, giving me away. He had the good sense not to say anything, though twice he looked over me, as if asking if I was alright. A curt nod was all it took for him to look the other way again.
By the third hour of the afternoon things were moving at an even faster pace. The doorway to the caves below was opened and women and young children were making their way inside. I caught glimpses of ghost-people and the weary, possession laden travelers again.
"We'll place the reseves along the wall…it will support the archers above, on the causeway." Aragorn said. Somehow he had remained standing through the whole afternoon.
"Aragorn, you must rest." Legolas was firm. "You're no use to us half-alive."
If I was acting like I was mute, than Aragorn was acting as though he was deaf. He paid no attention to the elf.
"Aragorn." Eowyn called to him, and approached with a disappointed look on her face. "I'm to be sent with the women to the caves."
"That is an honorable charge." Aragorn told her. She was a lady after all, and one who could rule in Theoden's place, should the worst occur.
"To mind the children, and to find food and bedding for the men who return." She finished with a frown. "What honor is there in that?"
"A time may come for valor without renown." Aragorn said. "Go to the caves."
"I want to fight with you!" So much like Fali…if she had been shorter I would have sworn it was my sister.
"That is not in my power to command." Aragorn apologized. "Eowyn, your people will need you."
"You do not command the others to stay!" She snapped back. "They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you. Because they love you." Silence followed her outburst. Eowyn realised she had outspoken, and muttered "Sorry."
The others nodded, and left. I stayed behind, looking at her. Maybe it was because she was so like Fali to my eyes that it managed to break my held silence. "You should go to the caves." I told her.
"Not you as well." She huffed at me.
"I meant it Eowyn, as a friend, I think you'd be better there."
"Why?"
"You're like my sister."
"I thought she liked fighting."
"She does." I nodded. "No one could deny that…but she would also be torn if someone told her she could go to the caves or fight beside the men and demanded a choice from her."
"Why would she be unable to choose?"
"Fali's desire to fight is only rivaled by her desire to protect the defenseless. Part of her would think she was better spent in the battle, and part of her would want to watch over every child in Helm's Deep like a pack of ducklings, and comfort them as they heard the battle overhead." I smiled at the thought. "No doubt she would entertain them with stories…but she would also want to be part of this legend about to take place, I'm sure."
"What do think she would choose?" Eowyn asked.
I could tell she would base her answer from my words. Unfortunatly, I knew Fali would have ultimately decided to fight. The approaching army was too large in size, and she would consider it defending all those in the caves below. She would have gladly done either, but she would have chosen to fight, leaving the comforting in the capable hands of mothers. But Eowyn needed to be in those caves.
I did not lie as I replied "She would have done what was best for the people."
Eowyn hung her head, and I knew she had taken my words and made her choice. She would be going to the caves.
I patted her arm in a friendly manner. "I can certainly tell you, as one of the returning men, that I would definitely appreciate the food and bedding you find."
"I hope you do return…all of you." She nodded.
"You and I both." I nodded.
Eowyn embraced me, and I returned the gesture. "Fight well, Gideon."
"I will." Hopefully the words would not be an empty promise.
She headed off dutifully to the caves. I watched her leave, wondering what her statement about love had truly meant. She had often looked upon Aragorn with admiration, but she had also known of Arwen's necklace, and his loyalty to her. And yet, the heart was never easily understood.
I looked for the others again finding them where men, old and young, were being suited for battle. I then became very aware of how few men we had that were a decent age for fighting, eyeing the elders and the boys. Fali would have sent the children back in a heartbeat. If they were made to fight it would only strengthen her resolve to join in the battle, defending them as well as the walls of Helm's Deep.
"Farmers, farriers, stable boys…" Aragorn spoke softly. "These are not soldiers."
I said nothing, reverting to the same serious look as before, lest my fear be known. I merely nodded.
"Most have seen too many winters." Gimli said.
"Or too few." Legolas replied. "Look at them, they're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."
The room fell silent and Aragorn, Gimli and I faced the elf. Could he still see cowardice in my eyes too?
Aragorn and Legolas spoke in elvish, and I discerned only certain words.
A better chance here, than in Endoras…
They wouldn't win this fight…death…
"Than I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn replied, loudly. This was followed by a hard stare shared between them, and then Aragorn turned and left. Legolas tried to go after him but was held back by Gimli.
"Let him go, lad. Let him be." He said. We did not want them arguing again.
Legolas wore a frustrated expression, and turned and left us as well.
I sighed, internally.
This was not a good prelude to the battle.