To all who are reading this, thank you! I know this story has been a slow journey. But your comments and continued interest has kept me going, and recently sparked a fire in me. Therefore, here is chapter 74. I hope it reads okay. *fingers crossed*
CHAPTER LXXIV
ON THE BRINK
Disquiet had fallen on Helm's Deep. The interminable waiting, combined with the news of Théodred's death, had cast a cloud over everyone. It was palpable. Annalyn could feel and see it everywhere she looked. Even in the Keep's Great Hall, where villagers were now gathered for their midday meal.
"Mama, when can we go home?" Young Gytha spoke over the drone of conversation, her downhearted eyes scanning the hall when she lamented, "I don't like it here."
Filled to the brim, the lofty space was hot and stifling, the smell of smoke and unwashed bodies filling the air.
After exchanging a glance with her husband, Hildred set her fork down, her voice gentle when she said, "None of us like it here, child. But for now, we must stay."
"But I miss the village," Gytha countered with a pout. "The little stream and the meadow."
"And I miss my bed," Galan added from where he sat, next to his father who cut in, not harshly, but not gently either.
"We all miss our beds, Galan. But it cannot be helped. We must be patient."
Seated on the opposite side of the table, with Ninael to her left, Annalyn regarded the children with genuine empathy. After all, staying here, amongst so many displaced people, was no easy thing. The idleness alone was nigh on suffocating. Not to mention the uncertainty they all faced. Would they even have homes to return to? For the Orcs were hunting all over the Westfold, burning crops and villages as they went.
Seconds went by. The children had fallen silent. Adrift on their own thoughts, they picked at the food they had been given—a modest ration of boiled potatoes and carrots.
Over by the next table, men were conversing over their cups, their voices carrying over the din.
"Did you hear?" one of them said. "Erkenbrand has taken up command of the West-Mark."
Annalyn recognized the name at once; Erkenbrand was the Lord of Westfold.
"He thinks a full-scale invasion is imminent."
"Is he gathering more men to his cause?" the other man asked.
"That's what I heard."
Whether Edmund and his family had caught that bit of news, Annalyn did not know. They were quietly eating their food. As she took a bite of her meal, Annalyn thought of Lórien, and the friends she had made there: Ithriel, Taerion, Bestedir and Glirwen.
She couldn't help but wonder how they were. Perhaps they were having their midday meal on the terrace, with vibrant golden leaves fluttering high over their heads.
With a glance to her left, Annalyn noted Ninael's demeanor. Her brows were pinched in a slight frown, her gaze lost to the table in front of her.
"You seem troubled." Annalyn's voice was low and discreet. "Is something wrong?"
"I do not know for certain. Only, I have a foreboding feeling about this day."
Before aught else could be said, a young lad came running into the hall. "People are coming!" he said to a man he seemed to know. His father perhaps. "A long line of them. They are coming up the ramp."
Curious as to whom they might be, Annalyn set her fork on the table. Along with Ninael, she soon exited the hall, and made for the edge of a parapet, from which they could see the ramp.
Sure enough, people were making for the gate, many of them on horseback.
"I wonder where they are from." Annalyn said before she and Ninael headed down to the outer courtyard.
From the looks of it, the arriving group consisted of women, children, and the elderly. Leading them was a young woman with a brown dress and long golden hair. Grave, she seemed. Yet fair she was also. With a basket strapped to her back, she stopped to look at the courtyard for a moment. There was something familiar about her.
"I know her face," Annalyn said when it occurred to her. "I saw her during a visit to Edoras. That is Eowyn, niece of the king."
As more and more people filed in, the story they told spread like wildfire in the Hornburg. Earlier that morning, as they had drawn nearer to Helm's Deep, the people of Edoras had been ambushed first by a scout, then by a full company of Warg riders. To defend the villagers, soldiers had ridden to the head of the column, while the most vulnerable had made for lower ground.
Now that they had arrived at the fortress, the relief on their faces was unmistakable. But as they waited for the soldiers, their relief soon gave way to worry. When the wait was over, and the men finally arrived, a hush fell over the crowd.
"Make way for Théoden! Make way for the king!" a guard called as Théoden and his men rode into the courtyard.
Battle-worn and somber, they drew rein, and dismounted their horses.
As people looked on, Eowyn approached her uncle. She spoke just loud enough for Annalyn to overhear. "So few… So few of you have returned."
"Our people are safe," the king replied. "We have paid for it with many lives."
Despite his weariness, Théoden, son of Thengel, had a commanding presence about him. His beard and his hair were gold, his cloak a deep green. Scarcely had he arrived when he took charge of the fortress, ordering all of his forces behind the wall. The gate was to be barred, he said, a watch set on the surround.
As soldiers promptly got to work, Annalyn exchanged a look with Ninael. "That foreboding feeling you had? I'm afraid I now share it."
Since there was nothing to do but wait, the two started for the Keep, but then Ninael noted something.
"Look," she said and nudged her head toward a cluster of people.
"An Elf," Annalyn replied with surprise.
Tall and golden-haired, he wore a green garb with a cloak that looked a great deal like the grey elven cloaks of the Galadhrim. "Is he from the Golden Wood?" Annalyn asked Ninael.
But the Elf shook her head. "Nay. My guess is that he is one of our Northern kindred. Yet he is clad in a cloak of Lórien. Come. I must speak with him."
Intrigued, Annalyn followed her friend.
"Mae govannen," Ninael said upon reaching him. "I am Ninael of the Golden Wood. This is my companion Annalyn."
"Well met," he replied, and seemed surprised to find one of his kindred here. "I am Legolas of the Woodland realm."
"Your cloak. Your bow… You have been to Lothlórien."
The Elf inclined his head at that. "I have. Not long ago, my company found rest with your people. Ere we departed, your Lady bestowed us with fair gifts."
Ninael's brows rose in amazement. "Is that so? What news from Lórien? Tell me, has war reached our borders?"
When Legolas shook his head, Annalyn loosed the breath she had been holding.
"By the time we departed, your realm had yet to see war," he said to Ninael. "What may have come to pass since then, I do not know."
As the Elves talked some more, Annalyn wondered if Legolas had met Haldir. If his path had taken him through the Northern Fences, she reckoned that he might have.
Gracious, I miss him.
"Legolas!" a gruff voice echoed about the courtyard, and they turned to see a Dwarf nearby. "There you are! I've been looking for you."
With an apologetic smile, Legolas looked to Annalyn and Ninael. "It would seem my friend wishes to speak with me. Excuse me, I must go."
As Ninael gave a nod, she concluded their meeting with, "Cuio vae."
Legolas gave a bow, replied in kind, and left.
Dusk was drawing nigh, and Annalyn was seated against a wall of the inner courtyard, when Gytha approached and knelt before her. "Show me again?"
"Show you what?"
"The drawings you brought. The ones with the houses in the trees."
"Ah, yes. Very well." Opening her satchel, Annalyn retrieved Taerion's sketch book. Mouth pulling into a smile, she held it so Gytha could see.
As the girl's brother sidled up to catch a glimpse, Annalyn turned the pages one by one. When she reached the last page, Gytha's eyes widened. The girl had never seen that particular drawing before. "Is that you?"
"Yes, that is me." An image of a very special night, when she and Haldir had danced in the Halls of Starlight.
"You look like a princess!" Pointing to the page, the girl asked, "Who is he?"
Her heart constricting with longing, Annalyn answered, "His name is Haldir."
"Is he a prince? He looks like a prince."
Annalyn chuckled. "A prince no, but he is a soldier. A Marchwarden they call him."
This last bit sparked Galan's interest. Inching closer, he asked, "What is a Marchwarden?"
"He is a sort of captain, brave and disciplined. Isn't he, Ninael?"
The Elf, who had been standing nearby, gave a nod. She smirked. "He is brave, yes. And very disciplined."
The children seemed impressed and were about to say something—doubtless a question—when a commotion caught their notice.
Concerned by rising voices, Annalyn craned her neck in time to see a soldier. As he stalked across the inner courtyard, he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
"By order of the king, women and children must seek refuge in the caves! Every man and strong lad able to wield a sword must report to the armory!"
"Is it the Orcs?" Someone asked the soldier. "Are we being attacked?"
"A man rode in just now. He reported seeing an army of creatures. Uruk-hai they are called. They are making for Helm's Deep as we speak."
"How many?" This time, it was Edmund who spoke.
At this point, most everyone had gained their feet.
"Ten thousand strong." The soldier's throat bobbed. He even blanched a little. "They will be here by nightfall. I will say again! Women and children to the caves! Men and lads to the armory!" With that, he was on his way, shouting these new orders to all who could hear.
And just like that, chaos erupted. Some of the women cried in fear, several of them holding to their sons.
"Mama, papa." Galan's voice shook. "The soldier said young lads. Does this mean I have to fight?"
Hildred beseeched her husband with her eyes. "Galan cannot fight. He is but a child!"
No sooner had she spoken, than two more soldiers appeared around the bend. "You, you, and you!" They pointed toward fathers and sons. "To the armory!"
When they approached Edmund and his family, Hildred held to Galan and pleaded. But the king's orders had been given, and her pleas fell on deaf ears.
As Galan was pulled away, Edmund went with him. To his wife, he said, "I will watch over him! I promise I will guard him with my life!"
Watching them go, Hildred could only weep, her shoulders bobbing in time with her silent sobs. Gytha, who was now wrapped in her mother's arms, was crying as well.
"Women and children, this way!" a soldier called out, and motioned with his arm.
As mothers and daughters followed him toward the Burg's rear entrance—from which they would follow the Deeping Stream to the Glittering Caves—Hildred and Gytha lingered behind.
To Annalyn and Ninael, Hildred said, "I reckon you two are staying?"
Tears stung Annalyn's eyes. With grim determination, she answered, "I can fight, therefore I will. For my people. For you and your children."
Hildred's lips quivered. So, too, did her words. "Take heed out here."
"We will."
The women fell silent as a soldier's voice reached them from afar. "Come on. Keep moving. Quickly now!"
And so Hildred and Gytha started for the caves.
Now it was Ninael who spoke. "Ten thousand…"
As her innards turned to water, Annalyn swallowed thickly, and finished, "Against three hundred..."
When she looked sidelong at her friend, it was clear the Elf knew what she did; with no time to call for aid, the people in Helm's Deep did not have the strength to repel such forces.
Perhaps our doom really is upon us…
*Cuio vae." – "Live well."
Thanks for reading! I know many of you are eager for Haldir and Annalyn to reunite. We're almost there! Thanks again, and as always, reviews are writing fuel.
CygnusRift xox