** Since updating the story I've decided I might go back and rewrite the part where Eredhel got captured by Saruman and change it so that she became a fourth hunter with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. I'd really like to know what you guys think about whether or not I should change it! Please let me know!**
Hi! So I FINALLY finished an update, so sorry for the long wait! I just couldn't get up the motivation to get it done! Luckily once I finished this chapter I got over the block I was going through and I already have the next update half done! I sosososo appreciate the reviews you guys leave me, they make my day and encourage me to keep writing!
MissPixieM: Thank you so much! I enjoy writing them because I think it's important to be able to visualize exactly what's going on in a battle, it's not just sword poke here and then head chopped off there!
Amsim: Thanks! Things are definitely about to get more intense!
Adamo393: Your review was the one that really made me push through to get this chapter finished, thank you so much!
Guest Reviewer: Yes I can definitely help with elvish names, I actually had to do a lot of searching to come with one for my OC. Just PM me and thank you soso much for your sweet review!
They found Gimli seated on a flat boulder, carefully wiping the blade of his axe. Dead orcs and Haradrim were scattered all around him, bearing the marks of the dwarf's wrath. His eyes brightened when he saw them, and a wide grin spread onto his face as he rose. "Ah I knew you would make it!" he exclaimed jovially. "I have to admit there were moments when the battle grew so fierce I feared I would never get to hear your final count master elf." Legolas smiled, a competitive glint in his eye.
"125, and two mumakil," he answered proudly. The dwarf looked up at him, dumbfounded.
"What? Lad you've got to be joking! I killed the same number! 127 orcs and men!" he said in amazement. They stared at each other for a moment before they both started to laugh. Aragorn shook his head at them, a grin pulling at his lips. "Well I suppose we will have to hear the lass' number. We either both beat her or both lost to her." They turned towards Eredhel but she was not there. They caught site of her far to their right, searching the battlefield like a wolf on a scent. She paid them little mind as they turned and followed her, wondering what on earth she was looking for. The elleth wove between fallen men and orcs, her feet flying over the trodden grass and blood stained dirt. She had covered a quarter of the battlefield when finally she stopped, her eyes on something ahead of her. Aragorn was about to place his hand on her shoulder when she darted forward, leaning over a dead horse. They heard her swear and begin pulling at the beast, trying to move it.
"Eredhel...?" began Aragorn.
"It's King Theoden, he's dead," she explained curtly, her voice flat. Aragorn's eyes widened as he recognized the straw blond hair and royal armour. He moved to help her and the others followed. In moments they had moved Snowmane off the King's body. Aragorn bowed his head and said a prayer, a sigh escaping his lips. There was a large hole torn in Theoden's chest plate, and his sword was on the ground beside him. They then noticed the dead Fellbeast to their right, its severed head several metres from its body. Legolas was marvelling at the creature when he felt a tug at his elbow. He turned to find Eredhel behind him, her eyes wide. She was grasping a steel mask, crowned with spikes and set with narrow eyes. "The Witch King, its his," she said breathlessly. Having overheard her words Aragorn came to join them.
"Yes I remember it from Weathertop," he added. The man and elleth locked eyes and understanding suddenly passed between them.
"Eowyn must be here as well," breathed Aragorn. She would have defended her uncle, no matter the cost. They spread out, trying to find some clue as to how the battle had played out. It was Legolas who found the maiden, dressed in men's armour with her helmet cast on the ground beside her. Gimli picked it up, running his hands over the smooth steel. Eowyn was lying on the ground, her eyes closed. When they looked they could find no mark upon her, yet she would not wake when they called her name, the shallow rise and fall of her chest indicating her weak state. Guilt filled Aragorn, if only he hadn't allowed her to accompany the men to battle. She would have been alright. He reached for her hand and noticed that her gauntlet was cracked and tarnished. He pulled it off and saw that her hand was grey, and her veins black. The realization hit him like a stone wall. "She, she killed him," he said hoarsely, barely able to believe it.
"Glorfindel was right," said Eredhel quietly. "The Witch King did not fall by a man's hand, he fell by a woman's." Eowyn had been exposed to the same dark magic that Frodo had, if she wasn't healed soon she would die. "Aragorn we need to get her to the city." The man nodded and bent to scoop Eowyn into his arms. He sighed as he looked down at her golden hair and pale face, damning the war and everything it had cost them. How much more would they lose? How many more of their friends would fall? His grim thoughts were interrupted when Legolas yelled to the others, having croyched to the ground.
"Merry is here!" Now it was Eredhel's turn to be filled with guilt. No, she had provided the opportunity for him to go to battle, it was her fault. She ran to Legolas' side, looking down at the small body lying on the cracked ground. Eredhel knelt beside him, gently squeezing his shoulder, praying that he would awaken. She was overcome with relief when his eyes fluttered open, squinting in the sun as he looked around.
"Merry?! Merry!" she exclaimed.
"Eredhel? Legolas? What are you doing here?"
"The battle has been won my friend," explained Legolas as the others joined them. At the sight of Eowyn in Aragorn's arms the young hobbit's eyes widened.
"Is-is she...dead?" he asked, wincing as he tried to rise to get a better look at her.
"No, she isn't, but she doesn't have much strength left. It seems you two suffered the same injuries," he added, pointed to Merry's burned hand. Merry stared at it in confusion for a moment before his memory of the battle came back to him.
"The Witch King, he killed Theoden, and Eowyn, she killed the Fellbeast. Then the Witch King came after us, I hit him in the leg and then I think Eowyn stabbed him with her sword. It's hard to remember, when I struck him with my dagger it felt like my arm was on fire, I still can't feel my hand!" explained Merry frantically.
"Shhh, we know what happened, or most of it anyway," said Aragorn. "We need to get you to a healer. Can you walk?" Merry tried to push himself to his feet but groaned in pain, struggling to stay awake. Legolas immediately bent and picked him up. The companions then made their way towards Minas Tirith, picking their way through the debris and bodies of the fallen. When they came across a mounted soldier they directed him towards the Fellbeast, telling him to retrieve the King's body and have it brought to Minas Tirith.
When they arrived they saw that the great doors had been rammed open. They lay bent and burned on either side of the now open archway. The citizens gave them odd looks as they passed through the streets but said nothing, their eyes lingering on Gimli and the four elves. Soldiers rushed to and fro, attempting to clear away the remaining wreckage and put out fires. The city had been hit hard, many of the houses and buildings were in ruins. Eredhel walked up to a soldier and tapped him on the arm before leaning in to mutter something in his ear. Her companions could not hear what was said but the man's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly before replying. He and the elleth spoke for a few moments before she thanked him and turned back to the others. "Gandalf is in the high levels of the city. It would seem Denethor went mad, his men say he cast himself from the spur and fell to his death. Prince Imrahil is also here, though he passed the command to Gandalf," she explained.
"What of Faramir?" asked Aragorn.
"They say he alone returned from Ithilien, when a host of soldiers were sent to reclaim it from Sauron's sources. The man I spoke to did not know whether he was still alive."
"Then all paths still lead us to the Halls of Healing, for I predict that we shall find Gandalf there as well," said Legolas. "Where are they?"
"The sixth level," answered Eredhel. "I visited them once, after aiding the Southern Rangers."
"Aye, they are high above us, and we do not have much time," said Aragorn as he beckoned to them. "Come, we must hurry." Their small group followed the man and elleth through the wide streets, the pair often leading them down narrow alleyways and behind buildings to get to their destination as quick as possible. They had just passed through the gate to the sixth level when Eredhel spotted a head of gleaming white hair. She felt warmth spread through her at the sight of her old friend and lengthened her stride.
"Mithrandir!" She called, as she made her way through the many citizens and soldiers. The wizard turned, the apprehension on his face vanishing when he saw the elleth coming towards him. He beamed as she reached him and gave her a once over, assessing her for any injury.
"Mellonin! What a joy it is to see you alive and unharmed after such dark days. I trust you are not here alone?"
"Of course not, unfortunately my companions are somewhat burdened," she explained. Gandalf's smile fell as his eyes fell on the bodies in Aragorn and Legolas' arms. At that moment Pippin came weaving through the crowd.
"Gandalf, what's going...? Oh! Eredhel! You're here!" he said happily.
"Peregrin, run back inside and tell Reina that she will need two more beds beside Faramir's," said Gandalf gravely. The hobbit looked up at him in confusion before his eyes fell on Legolas and Merry in his arms.
"Merry? MERRY?!" Pippin ran towards the elf, ignoring the hand that reached out to hold him back. He skidded to a stop, tugging at Merry's sleeve. "Legolas, what's wrong with him? Is he even alive?!" he demanded.
"He's alive Pippin," said Legolas gently. "But he needs healing, urgently."
"But I don't understand, what happened to him? Merry? Merry?!" The young hobbit's eyes were full of confusion and panic as he tried to waken his best friend.
"Legolas, Aragorn, bring them this way," instructed Gandalf. The group followed behind him and entered a great white building. High set windows allowed sunlight to stream into the giant central chamber. There were five rows of beds, each running the length of the room. Each bed was accompanied by small table as well as a chair for a healer to sit in. At the far end there were two large carved doors, which opened to a hall of private rooms as well as supply rooms. Sculptures of divines watched over the wounded from the sides of the room and white marble of the walls emitted a calming glow. "In the corner, to the far right," said Gandalf. When they reached the empty cots Eredhel's eyes fell on the man occupying the bed next to them. She sucked in a breath of air as she eased herself onto the thin mattress. Faramir's face was gaunt and a light sheen of sweat covered his skin. Once Legolas had gently deposited Merry onto one of the neighbouring beds he moved to Eredhel's side, staring down at the man curiously.
"So this is Boromir's brother," he said.
"Yes, Faramir. There was great love between them, though their father's affections often set them apart. Gandalf what happened to him?"
"He rode to Ithilien, though he knew the mission was for naught. His father and lord commanded it, so he did as he was bid. He alone returned, but his father thought him dead. The loss of his second son drove him mad, and when he thought the city to be lost he attempted to burn Faramir's body along with his own. If not for young Peregrin, he would have succeeded," explained Gandalf grimly. Pippin looked over at the sound of his name but then returned his attention to Merry and the healer that had come to assess his condition. "But now it is your turn to tell a tale," said Gandalf. "Ours is relatively simple, and yet I suspect that yours is far more complicated."
"Aye, your guess is right. But it will take quite while to tell all the events of the past days so I will tell you of Theoden's fate as well as Eowyn's and Merry's first," said Aragorn. He told Gandalf of where they had found Theoden's body and then their discovery of Eowyn and Merry. When he reached the part about the Witch King's fall Gandalf's eyes widened, but a small smile spread across his lips.
"Ah, so it would seem Lord Glorfindel was right, though it is a pity that Theoden's life was the price that had to be paid for the Witch King's fall." He sat in silence for a moment before abruptly rising to his feet. "Very well, these three are in very good hands and there is much that needs to be done. I also need to know how you arrived here, which I believe would be better heard around a table laden with food and drink." He looked down at Pippin, "I am assuming you wish to stay here a while, you know where to find us yes?" The hobbit nodded, taking a seat in the chair beside the bed. The companions bid him farewell and then made their way back out onto the street. From there they continued towards the citadel, each of them looking upon the White Tower of Ecthelion in awe. It rose three hundred feet high and gleamed in the setting sun.
Now Aragorn quickened his pace, eager to look upon the White Tree. His eyes were met with a sorry sight when he reached it. It's branches were burned and frail, some still bearing the glowing embers left by the battle. He was running his fingers over a smooth section of undamaged bark when he noticed someone making their ways towards them from inside the citadel. The man seemed to recognize Gandalf and when he got closer Aragorn recognized him as the Prince of Dol Amroth. "Mithrandir!" he called, raising his hand in greeting.
"Ah, Imrahil," said Gandalf. The prince came to a stop before them, his eyes widening as he took in their group.
"It would seem some introductions are in order," he said with a grin. He had long, straight, dark hair and dark brown eyes, with fair skin and strong features. He was clad in his battle mail and a magnificent sword gleamed at his hip.
"Of course!" agreed Gandalf. "This is Gimli, of the Blue Mountains, Elladan and Elrohir, Lords of Imladris, and their sister-"
"Eredhel," finished Imrahil for him.
"I see you two have met," said Gandalf, throwing a glance between them.
"Yes, I had the pleasure several years ago," explained Imrahil, flashing the elleth a radiant smile. "We fought some Haradrim together near our borders."
"Though they were no match for your men," added Eredhel, a reluctant grin pulling at her lips though it sooned turned into a grimace. Ever since her incident on the battle field she had been fighting to keep more flashbacks at bay. When they had entered the Halls of Healing it had worsened, the sight of all the injured men only making the memories all the more real. She felt as if she was shifting between two realities, and she was becoming less and less sure of which was the real one. Luckily Imrahil did not notice her smile falter and chuckled appreciatively.
"Well as much as I like to take pride in my forces, I have never seen the like of your archery skills. You saved many of my men's lives."
"Yes, well she does make a habit of getting herself into the midst of battlefields," interjected Gandalf. "Though her marksmanship has been matched by one of her companions. This is Prince Legolas, of Mirkwood," he continued. Legolas took a step closer to Eredhel and gave Imrahil a polite nod while the Prince of Amroth offered him a smirk. Eredhel noticed their exchange and repressed a twinge of irritation. Luckily Imrahil's attention was suddenly drawn by Aragorn.
"And who is the final member of your company?" he asked.
"That may be a matter best left for inside," replied Gandalf. Imrahil's brow furrowed but he did not press the matter further.
"Very well, most of my men are spread throughout the city but there are a few within the citadel along with Eomer, one of the captains of Rohan's forces," he explained.
"Yes, he knows these companions well, though I doubt they have seen him since Rohan's forces mustered at Dunharrow. Please, lead on," said Gandalf. Imrahil led them up the stone steps and into the great citadel. The air was cool and less smoky than outside. They were in the throne chamber, with giant pillars extending upwards on either side of the room. Stone stature stared down at them from atop their plinths, carved in the likenesses of the kings of old. Aragorn stared at them in reverance, dipping his head to each one as he passed them. Eredhel and Legolas watched him, each happy that their friend had finally reached his home.
"Perhaps he too will stand immortalized in stone one day," said Legolas silently.
"Well if he is, I'd like to be there when he has to pose for them to sculpt it," said Eredhel amusedly. "I do not think he is capable of standing still for that long, he would lose his senses." She suddenly frowned and pressed a hand to her temple, causing Legolas to look over at her in concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes, fine," she replied flatly.
"No, you're not. I meant to ask you-" he was interrupted by a loud cry. They had just passed through a side door and into a large open room. Bookcases were filled with scrolls and books, while two weapon racks stood in the corner. A round, wooden table was situated in the middle of the room, around which several men were seated. Upon the arrival of the group one of them had rose, and ran forward to embrace Aragorn.
"My friend, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you!" exclaimed Eomer, clapping Aragorn on the shoulder. "I wondered if you would make it!" He looked around at all of them, beaming. "I heard that your forces swept over the battlefield like wind does the grass, flattening any who stood before you."
"Aye, the men of Gondor fought well. Though Gandalf tells me the Rohirrim arrived just when the battle grew most desperate," said Aragorn.
"Yes, and we lost many men. But we were victorious! The only thing that could aid my happiness was if I had word of my uncle. I had many of my men scour the plain but they did not find him, the last of them returned only a quarter of an hour ago," he said sadly. Aragorn inhaled sharply, not wanting to tell Eomer of his uncle's fall. Eomer noticed his apprehension and understanding filled his face. "I am guessing you know of his fate. Please, tell me. I did not expect it to bode well when we could not find him after the battle." Aragorn hesitated for a moment, meeting Gandalf's eyes.
"Theoden King now resides with his forefathers, though he met them proudly. He was slain by the Witch King of Angmar, who no man could ever kill," explained Aragorn grimly. Grief filled Eomer's eyes and he pressed his fist to his chest.
"Then he died valiantly, which does ease my heart."
"Eomer... there's something else," continued Aragorn. The other man looked at him in confusion but said nothing as he waited for Aragorn's explanation.
"The Witch King is dead, but he did not fall to the hand of your uncle or any man upon the battlefield. It, it was Eowyn. She posed as one of your uncle's soldiers, and killed the Witch King whilst defending Theoden's body. Merry was with her."
"What?" demanded Eomer, shock evident in his features. "But how? Where is she?"
"The Halls of Healing, she has sustained grievious injuries, inflicted by dark magic. Legolas and I carried her and Merry from the battlefield. They were on the outer stretch of the plain, if not for Eredhel, we may not have found them at all." Tears began to brim in Eomer's eyes as they turned towards the elleth. To their surprise she was nowhere in sight.