"It is not everyone,' said Elinor, "who has your passion for dead leaves."
― Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
"I wish you had asked for a horse and not a bath," grumbled Thalion. "Then we could have taken turns riding on it."
One of our healing wagons had broken down - again. The wheel had broken clean off this time, and shattered. Thalion and I were waiting by the side of the long trail of soldiers, waiting impatiently. A soldier who was in charge of all things carpentry-related called Jerden was doing his best to put together a new wheel. His makeshift workbench left much to be desired. I was worried that his saw was going to cut through his thumb or perhaps his knee every time his sawhorse wobbled.
It was a month since I had met the elves, and we were still talking about it. Few of us had met any elves before, and it wasn't likely we would see them again. Despite being allies, the elves usually kept themselves to themselves.
Nothing of interest had happened since then, unless one counted a bout of explosive diarrhoea in the soldiers which I did not. I had never been so glad to not eat meat and avoid that particular malady. But despite nothing much happening, our long trek between two mountain ranges felt ominous. We were all racked with tension. I had never seen mountains before and had been overwhelmed by how large and indomitable they seemed. But the novelty had worn off quickly. The mountains hid goblins and every single day, without fail, they attacked as dusk hit. The soldiers killed them all, but the goblins still managed to pick off a few men each time. We had buried close to a hundred over the last month. Attack felt inevitable. I had even seen a goblin up close once, but a soldier had killed it before it even looked at me.
Thalion and I had been sitting by this wagon for two hours. We hadn't said anything about it, but I knew he felt as much as a sitting target as he did.
"Horses are expensive to keep. I do not have enough money to feed a horse, or stable it and whatever else you do with horses," I retorted. We were sitting on a grassy bank, watching the men walk past us.
"Alright for some, Fish Girl!" jeered Denvy, not unpleasantly as he walked past. At least some of us were in a good mood. I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Should have asked for a wheel that didn't break all the time," I muttered, bitterly.
"Please stop bickering, children," said Thavron, who had stomped back from wherever he had been to check on the progress of the wheel.
"It's too hot, Thavron," I complained. There was no shade or breeze in the valley and I was sweating into my lovely Elvish clothing. Not that it mattered. I had found that the soft cloth was strangely impervious to dirt, and seemed to absorb and neutralise the smell of my sweat. Thalion had pushed me into some mud after my boasts about my new clothes became too much to bear, in what he claimed afterwards was a scientific experiment to test my hypothesis and not a fit of jealousy. Within two hours, the mud had dried, crumbled from my clothes and disappeared. My hair soap and shampoo had not run out yet and I felt blessedly clean. But there was still much to complain about, like the damned heat. No one mentioned the goblins.
"Your stupid magic elf clothes keep you clean," Thalion snapped.
"Yeah, but I can still smell you !" I retorted.
"Enough!" snapped Thavron. "If we can't fix this wagon, we will have to offload it onto the other healer wagons." No one wanted that. The wagons were slow and filled to the brim as it was.
"Almost done, Master Healer," said Jerden. "I'll have this wheel finished in a jiffy." He was a big, rather blond man, not prone to talking, but with clever hands and a cheerful attitude.
"Good man," said Thavron, clapping him on the back. I winked at Thavron suggestively, for Jerden was quite good looking (although not as attractive as Varin) and the master healer threw me a look that could sour milk. I smiled, and stood up to give the horse some water. The poor creature was sweating profusely.
"How far are we from the camp at Erech?" I asked.
"Most of our company is already there, it's only five more leagues," said Thavron. He had clearly already set up the healer's tents there and then doubled back to ensure we made it one piece. I was grateful to him, but how he had the energy to do so was beyond me.
A few minutes later, Jerden and Thalion attached the wheel and we were off again. Thalion and I sighed in relief to rejoin the procession. Soon we would be out of the mountain valley and safely in a camp.
"Prince Isildur has brought a large stone from the island which he plans to place on the hill-top at Erech," said Thavron, conversationally, as if this was normal behaviour. I wanted to snap something rude about the antics of aristocracy but instead I bit my tongue and asked about the stone's significance.
"It's from the island," repeated Thavron, as if I were stupid. But there were several different islands, I thought, feeling foolish.
"Numenor. The island of Numenor. Thavron was born on Numenor and Numenoreans usually refer to it as the island," explained Thalion, pleased to know something for once.
I blinked, more confused. "I thought you were from Minas Tirith? You are not just Gondorian nobility, you are Numenorean, too?"
I considered him. He did have grey eyes, dark grey hair, and he was very tall. But his hair was shorter than Numenoreans usually wore it. Not that I had met many. But Elrond knew who he was; indeed, his reputation was so strong that the half-elf had taken his troublesome patient to Thavron. I had clearly underestimated Thavron's importance.
"You are trying to work out how old I am, aren't you?" he said, dryly. I blinked, not realising that he must have the long life of the Numenoreans, too.
"All I know is that you are very wise and learned," I told him, quite truthfully.
"You are learning diplomacy I see, although it goes against your nature. I do not mind you guessing," he said with a smile.
"Forty-five?" I said. He shook his head and I guessed higher and higher. This amused Thalion greatly.
"A HUNDRED AND FIFTY!" I spluttered when I finally hit upon his age. "How could you not tell me, Thalion? And are you Numenorean, too?"
"Only half. And I am only twenty," replied Thalion, laughing.
I shook my head and told the wagon horse that life was a series of surprises, to which the horse snorted.
It was only a few more hours until we reached the camp. As we drew near, the night fell, and we saw that this camp was the largest of all.
"This must be all the men in Arda," said Thalion, wondrously. He was almost right. As we wearily set up our tents, Merind told us that Isildur had brought down huge armies from the kingdom of Arnor in the north, and the elves had emptied Lindon! The camp was settled near a river, and around a hill-top, with the river leading to the mountains. Once again, there were tents as far as the eye could see, but this time of different colours - the different kingdoms of Gondor. The elves had already made their way across the mountain range and into the plains of Calenardhon. They would help us through the mountains, Merind explained. I wasn't sure how we would take our wagons up a mountain, and was glad of the help. Thalion expressed a desire to see elves up close. I left him and Merind to discuss whether or not it was true that female elves fought in the army as I drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, after breakfast, I looked for Berendine, but I could not find her anywhere. There was no tavern for her to hide in, so I figured she must be in one of the tents nearby. Eventually, I gave in and asked Thavron, and he said she was fine, so that was that. No more questions allowed. She was loyal, I thought, for she had never even hinted at who Joy's father was. Instead she always avoided the topic, and I didn't press her although I dearly wanted to know. She thought she was lucky, I supposed. A high-born man was looking after her. But how long could that last?
It was more than my mother had received, I told myself. And yet, I didn't like it. She did not have to confide in me, but I wondered why she didn't. After all, I was a midwife, and the only woman for leagues.
Many of the men had injuries from the goblin attacks that needed tending to, and that kept us busy for a few days. After that, Thavron made me tour round the other healer tents with him. Ever organised, he wanted to discuss logistics with the head healers from Arnor and Eriador and told me they were less likely to be argumentative if he had a woman with him.
It was clear there was no little enmity between Thavron and the head healer from Arnor, as soon as we approached their healers tent.
"Not dead yet, Thavron?" asked an old grizzled man in a healer's apron, crossing his arms with a look of disdain. He was tall, but had a large belly which was unusual in the soldiers and healers. He was gnawing at a chicken bone in the healer's tents, which surprised me. Thavron would never let us eat anywhere near the patients.
"Alive and kicking, Erik," he responded. "Sorry to disappoint."
"A girl, eh? I could tell you stories about this one that would curl your hair, girlie," Erik leering at me and chucking the chicken bone onto the ground. I disliked him intensely on sight, and not just from the insinuating comments. I saw that his hands and fingernails were dirty. I let Thavron discuss in what order they would enter the mountain range, and what support Erik needed. This camp had a lot more men on stretchers and cots than we did, some with unpleasant looking infections.
"Healer Erik does not believe that a healer's hands need to be clean. He believes infection is the result of an impure heart," said Thavron, grimly, as we walked to the Arnor healers camp a few minutes later after their terse talk.
"Well, that's convenient," I muttered. "How has he managed to become head healer?" I asked.
"He is most cavalier about treating fellow healers. Some healers, dear Minnow, do not have their hearts in the right place. Many want a decorated career, and do not care how they get it," he said.
It was a lot to take in. I felt naive. I had not realised that some healers would prize their own position over their patients' wellbeing. I felt the horror of the devastation someone like Erik could cause, and I shivered.
"Thank you," I said, softly. Thavron stopped and looked at me, curiously. "For being a good healer and a good teacher."
"You'll like Healer Rin," he told me with a smile, after considering me for a few seconds. I found out, almost an hour later, when we reached the Eriador healer's camp, why. Healer Rin was a woman. I was speechless for almost a minute as Thavron laughed at me, before launching into an interrogation. I wanted to know everything . She made us a pot of tea and we sat down for a much needed cup as she recounted how she had become a healer.
"Thavron trained me himself, Valar above, must have been almost fifty years ago, now?" she said, with a smile. She must be Numenorean too, I thought, as she looked barely fifty herself.
"Before you decided to go north to run wild," he said with a smile.
"I spend much time with the elves now, not that they need much healing, for they are never sick, but they are wise in herb lore. And of course, I wanted to learn better how to treat elves wounded in combat for their bodies are not like ours. I've met Lord Elrond several times, for he dwells in a valley in Eriador," she said.
"We met him, too. We healed an elf a month ago. Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin," I said, proudly. She widened her eyes, shocked.
Thavron let me show off and tell the story, and Rin was gratifyingly impressed, and praised me extensively. I admit that I liked the attention.
"I have not met him, but I have it on good authority that Lord Glorfindel is considered the best looking elf in all of Arda. There are many elleth who try very hard to catch his eye. I hear that even Lady Galadriel's daughter is in love with him, but although he is charming to the ladies, and all politeness, his heart is yet untouched."
Polite and charming were not words I would use to describe the Balrog Slayer, I thought, wondering who Lady Galadriel was.
"I thought Elrond was very handsome," I ventured. I had often thought of him and his beautiful hair on the road.
"You cannot think Elrond is better looking than Glorfindel!" said Thavron, astonished. Rin laughed at him.
"Elrond is very warm and kind, and perhaps more like a man than an elf in some ways. More familiar," Rin said to Thavron.
"Did you not think Glorfindel was a bit… mercurial?" I asked Thavron, wondering how to describe it. Glorfindel had reminded me of a cat with his large eyes, and unnatural stillness.
"I suppose you are unused to the ways of the elves. It is said, go not to the elves for counsel for they will say both no and yes. To the uninitiated, they may seem changeable," said Thavron, with a smile.
We gossiped for a little while longer, and Thavron was finally satisfied with the plans to cross the mountains. Our first large battle would most likely be on the other side of the mountain range, Thavron explained, so we had to be ready as soon as we reached the ground on the other side.
"It's too early to be so dark," said Thalion, as we returned back to our healer's tent. He was right, the bright sunshine had been replaced by storm clouds.
When we woke in the morning, it was raining heavily.
That morning, I was doing my rounds, cleaning wounds for infections and nattering to Denvy who had appeared with an injured friend. We spoke of our fascination with the mountains, and how far we were from the sea for an hour or so. It was nice to catch up with an old friend, I thought, and I was beginning to relax again.
"Come," said Thavron, appearing out of nowhere as was his wont, and dragging me by the upper arm. "Stop wriggling! I'm taking you to see the king."
"What, why?" I asked, alarmed.
"I told you, didn't I, the first time that we met, that if you healed someone important that you would get paid extra," he said, pulling me through the campsite.
I became wet quickly in the pouring rain, and my boots drenched in the numerous puddles.
"Haven't been paid the whole time I've been dragged around the mainland," I muttered. It was a sore point for the healers, but as we didn't want for food or shelter, there wasn't much to say about it. What use would money be to us even if we did have it? Thavron ignored me.
"You saved one of the most famous and powerful elf lords there has ever been. The king wants to thank you. Listen to me, and you won't get hurt."
"Hurt?!" I repeated, growing scared.
"Keep your head down and don't look anyone in the eye. Once I introduce you, curtsey, then put your hand to your heart and bow. The king likes both the human and Elvish courtesies. He's been in a bad mood since Numeanor fell twenty years ago and he's a soldier, so keep your answers short, boring and formal. Elendil is not as gracious or understanding as Gil-galad, and as for Isildur, well, you don't want to catch his notice. Don't ask me why. And don't fucking ask for another bath."
He looked at me and saw I was terrified. "Don't worry that much, little Minnow. He's my cousin so I'll protect you from his wrath as much as I can."
"He's your cousin?! You've kept that one quiet," I hissed. But there was hardly any time to think. Thavron stopped in front of a large tent, looked me over and adjusted my damp headscarf, tucking in loose tendrils. With a nod, he ducked into the tent, pulling me with him.
Inside the lavishly decorated tent was the king, seated at a desk reviewing maps, and behind him was his first born son. Thavron introduced me, and I did my best to curtsey and bow without looking them in the eyes.
I was very conscious that even seated, Elendil was a lot taller than I was.
"You have brought us much honour, Mistress Healer," he said, slowly. He sounded more like an elf than a man, although I could not explain the difference if I had been asked.
"I thank you, my lord," I said, politely.
"Cousin Thavron tells us that it was your quick thinking that saved Lord Glorfindel's life," he continued.
"Healer Thavron trains us well, my lord," I said. There was a long pause.
"Well, now you have seen the petite female healer we have heard so much about, dear son. Tolerable, but not pretty enough to tempt you, I think, Isildur," said Elendil in Sindarin. "I heard she was spirited, but I suppose you have warned her, Cousin Thavron, to be meek and subservient before her king? Hmm. Demure has its own appeal however."
I was trying my hardest not to shake, and dug my fingernails into my palms. All the hair on the back of my neck had risen.
" She is a good healer, my lord, and all I instruct her in is healing, " said Thavron, courteously.
"Look at me, child," the king commanded, and I flinched and turned my gaze up to him. He leaned forward to look at me. Close up, he looked even more like a giant. His eyes were slate grey, and it was clear that despite his jet black hair, that he could grow no beard. This struck me as stranger than the elves who clearly didn't grow facial hair either. He raised a massive hand to stroke my cheek, his fingers around my neck and his giant thumb touching my lip. I stood stock still, very aware that his hand could crush my skull. His eyes swivelled to Thavron and he chuckled.
He gestured at a leather pouch on the table. "Let it not be said that I do not honour my debts. Dismissed." Thavron calmly walked forward and picked up the pouch, and I clumsily curtseyed and bowed before he dragged me out the tent and back to the healer's tent without saying a word.
Once back, he made me a cup of tea, still silent and handed me the pouch, which I opened.
It was full of gold Castors!
"Is this for me? I'm rich," I said, incredulously. Thavron nodded, tensely, and told me to get back to work.
Later, he found me rolling up bandages and quietly asked me if I was well. I considered. I hadn't felt that scared since I had seen an orc close up, but I seemed safe for now. I shrugged. I didn't have the words. I had been around soldiers for months now, and while they had been rowdy and sometimes suggestive, and I shared a tent and slept next to a boy, I had never felt unsafe in anyone's presence. But I had also never met a soldier who radiated power as much as Elendil did.
"Which one is Joy's father?" I asked, tentatively.
"I don't know," said Thavron, bitterly. Then Thalion called us over for our supper, and we didn't talk about it again.
The next day at lunchtime, despite the rain, Elendir, Isildur and Anarion climbed the hill-top with the leader of the mountain men and of course, the stone from Numenor. The men gathered outside their tents to gaze up at their king. The mountain men watched from the mountain. They reminded me of some goats I had read about, that could climb up high mountain walls that were almost flat. We could see the small figures from the crowd around the mountains, but I couldn't tell if they were mountain men or Elves.
"The Elves are up there watching," said Thavron, pointing to the mountains north of us. A great cheer went up closer to the hill-top, and I could dimly hear a loud voice upon their air.
"What's happening?" whined Thalion.
"I'm trying to listen!" hissed Cenra. "Why must you always ask questions?"
"Because I don't know what's happening!"
"He wants the mountain men to swear allegiance to him," snapped Varin. I wandered back to the healer's tents and sat on a stool next to a sleeping patient.
Everyone was irritable today, I thought. I had been damp since it had started raining, and the flat plain we were on meant that there was already flooding in some parts of the camp. I loved water and being wet, but my skin was beginning to wrinkle, and it made healing harder if everyone was covered in mud. I watched as the crowds cheered, pensive.
Erecting a three foot stone on a hill-top seemed largely pointless to me, even if it was from Numenor. Don't be cruel, I chided myself. If Tolfalas fell into the sea, I'd be devastated and probably take to investing in rocks as some sort of emotional safety blanket. But then, I thought archly, the people of Tolfalas would probably not worship Sauron if he popped over in a rowing boat and started promising all sorts of things.
After the mountain men had pledged their allegiance, the men took to celebrating, and so we made up our best hangover concoctions. I wondered if the elves were watching as soldiers fell over and threw up, and if so, if humans deserved their censure. As I stroked the back of one man curled around a bucket in our tent, I decided that we did.
A few days later, on a walk back from a visit to Rin, I asked Thavron what the river was called.
"Morthond. It's also called Blackroot," he explained. It had been raining solidly for over a week now, but the river was surprisingly low. I wondered if there was a blockage in the mountains that was stopping it. The mountain waterfall was barely a drip.
I looked up at the sky. It had become so dark all the time.
"When will this cursed rain stop?" muttered Varin.
The overcast skies and constant rain made a stark contrast to the dry sunshine we had endured on the long march here. No one said anything, but we guessed that it was not natural. Orcs did not like bright sunlight and preferred the night. Sauron's arm was long, I thought, as we were far from Mordor. As much as I didn't like our king, I felt that if anyone could defeat Sauron, then it would be him. I mused on this as I mindlessly stuffed carrot stew into my mouth that evening. Glorfindel was the general in the Elvish army, but I hadn't felt intimidated by him. And while he glowed, which was admittedly strange, he hadn't felt threatening. And, I reminded myself, no one is in a good mood if acid is being habitually poured on them.
Hostile, doubtful, unfriendly and suspicious, yes. But cruel, no. Glorfindel had thought me an odd child, with pillow creases on my face. Well, no doubt that had been true. I remembered with a smile that the Elvish king had accused me of stealing! That had been a surprise. Glorfindel had called me a revelation. Elrond had been generous.
I liked the Elvish retinue a lot more than our king, I realised, shivering. I did not ever want to meet with Elendil again. However, I was too unimportant to cross paths with him again. Thank the Valar! He had called me tolerable, and not pretty enough, which suited me. I did not care to court his good opinion.
I slurped the rest of my stew and was about to kick off my shoes and sink into my cot when I heard a shout. Begrudgingly, I got up, muttering about drunks, but I was wrong, it was not more revellers.
"ATTACK!" shouted someone, then the call went up again and again. I found Thalion in the flurry of activity, and holding hands, we scurried to the healer's tent to look for Thavron.
"It's so dark," said Thalion. I couldn't see much at all, but far away I could hear the creaking of metal, and screaming in the night.
"A large party of orcs attacked from the southern mountains, where the goblins were. They obviously snuck through our defences, but that's Captain Torgny's company. Once he has established a line, we will send our stretchers out," said Thavron.
"And now we wait," said Varin, putting a hand on Thavron's shoulders. Apart from a patient dying, the worst part of healing was watching our soldiers, our friends, fight and get injured while we looked on, helplessly. I found it hard to discern what was happening. I could see movement, and light flashing off swords, but could not tell how many were fighting. Thalion prodded me and we readied the healer's tent, moving the soldiers who were already injured to the side.
"Captain Torgny sends for stretchers!" cried a young soldier, almost out of breath. Thavron nodded at Merind and Orin, who trotted after the soldier holding a stretcher between them.
"They've brought catapults," muttered Thavron. I rushed to his side and looked. At first I could see nothing, but then, following his finger and the noise, I saw a large rock flying through the air.
It landed with a thud that almost floored me, and rolled through a company to our right, flattening the men.
"Don't bother, they're all dead," said Thavron, grimly, after I made to move. Merind and Orin arrived with the first round of wounded, and I finally had something to do. After a while, I felt we were getting in the swing of things, but two more catapults were fired. The ground was so flat, that even though the water was now ankle level, the stone missiles were flattening everything in their path.
"Captain Trond calls for stretchers!" cried a soldier. Thavron sent Cenra and Sundun with him, leaving only a few of us left.
"The fight is expanding to our west front. Elendil will probably decide to move forward with our removal into the mountain," mused Thavron. "We must be ready to move quickly," he told me. I nodded.
"Menrin and Olin are dead, someone else must go to the front to collect the wounded," reported a soldier.
"Eru," swore Valin. We all paused, shocked.
Thalion stepped forward, and so did I. We gave each other a nod, and while he grabbed a new stretcher, I looked back and smiled reassuringly at Thavron. I wished I hadn't, as I trotted behind the soldier, holding the stretcher. Thavron had looked uncharacteristically devastated, and was holding hands with Varin. I shuddered.
Water was sloshing around my ankles the closer we got to the front. A little rain didn't bother me, I told myself. I was an islander born and bred.
It was chaos. The orcs had ripped through several lines and tents were smashed everywhere. Thalion and I followed the soldier, stepping over dead men, until we got to an overturned wagon, being used as a hastily erected wall of defence, where some injured men had been dragged, while the able men clashed swords. We put down the stretcher and gathered up the liveliest looking man when there was a sound of rocks falling. I peeked over the side of the wall to see what was happening.
There was a thundering sound I couldn't place. I looked around, and realised that the river bank had broken. It was steadily rising to my knees. But worse than that. I had suspected that something was blocking the waterfall in the mountain. Whatever it was, it had been unblocked, and several days worth of rainfall had broken through the mountain walls. A huge wave of water was coming from the mountain, straight towards us. I grabbed Thalion and held him close.
"Valar save me," I muttered, weakly as the water swept over me.
The water was icy cold.
I don't remember much except I was spinning, spinning endlessly in a darkness full of bodies.
Later, much later, I awoke with a start. I couldn't move, everything hurt, and I couldn't see anything. Dried mud had crusted over my eyes and it took some effort to open them. When I finally managed to do so, I was not rewarded for my efforts. I realised with a lurch that I was in a pile of people. Underneath me were dead bodies, and I had dead bodies above me. I was covered in mud, blood, dirt, and urine. I slowly tried to wriggle.
"Do not move," whispered a voice behind me. "I'm glad you've woken up. We were washed several hundred feet west, and caught in a big mudslide near the river. The stones from the catapults have made large craters, and we have landed in one. The orcs ran through us hacking at everything, and I do not think anyone else is alive. We have been here for three days, I think."
"Three days?" I croaked. My throat was parched. "Where are the rest of the soldiers?"
"I cannot see much, but I think they were forced to make haste into the mountains. That is what Isildur would have done."
The voice told me that he was surprised I was alive, I had been underwater so long. I could still feel water tickling my ankle, but I guessed it was draining away now. I told him I felt half-dead and he snorted. For a while, we said nothing and I tried not to throw up at the smell.
I cleared my throat a few times and tried to speak. "Are the Elves still in the mountains?" I whispered.
"A woman?" he whispered in horror. "It cannot be!"
"A healer," I corrected. The soldier sighed.
"Worse and worse. The orcs will kill me on sight, but you they will make sport of. You will scream for death before the end."
"Are you trying to scare me?" I snapped. "I am well aware of the danger."
"Perhaps it is better to kill you now," he mused.
"For the love of Eru. Can you see anything? My sight is blocked."
"It is dusk, I believe, and I can see no one else alive in this pit."
"Less to save, then. First things first. Let's get out of the pit," I muttered, trying to move my body.
"I cannot move. My leg is broken, and I am pinned against something… or someone. I have tried for three days to move. It is hopeless," he told me.
"There is still hope. You can crawl surely. We must be near the Elvish holding," I repeated. "We should make for that if we can."
"The Elves? Even if they are still there, they will not let us in," he said, with a sigh.
"Don't be foolish! Of course they will." This man was starting to get on my nerves, I thought. It was bad enough to be in a pile of dead bodies without his despondency.
"They may be our allies but they are not our friends. At any rate, we are in a tight spot. Even if we could move now, injured as we are, in the sunlight, the orcs will spot us easily and shoot at us. If we wait for the cover of darkness, they will be upon us for they like to feast on the dead."
"How far away are the orcs? They are not good shots," I said, desperately looking for a silver lining.
He acquiesced on that point, and told me that the Elvish holding was half a league north, and the orcs were half a league south. It was as he said, a dire situation. I did not know if I could crawl half a league, bruised and broken as I was, but I was determined to live.
There was something about his accent and the way he talked about elves that made me realise that he was no ordinary soldier. They talked of the Edain in reverential tones, but the few captains I had met were of Numenorian descent and were envious and bitter towards the Elves.
"We must not give up hope," I said. "What's your name?"
"My friends call me Annie," he said, haltingly.
"Well met, Annie. I'm Minnow. I'm going to wriggle out."
It took me an hour. I was so stiff, I felt like I was made of stone. While nothing was broken, I was badly bruised. I knew that my bruises would be black. There was probably a lot of internal bleeding, I thought, grimly. It was the worst hour of my life. I had to stop myself from crying and throwing up, as I slowly moved dismembered limbs out of my way, and heaved torsos to the side so I could venture closer to Annie, and the top of the pile. My headscarf was gone, and my long, tangled hair kept catching on jagged pieces of metal, and loose was so slimy, I could cry. I had also lost a boot. My purse, however, was still tucked in my bodice, for which I was very grateful.
But I made it, and breathed the cleaner air in deeply as my head breached the canopy. I knelt down and grabbed Annie's arm, pulling him out with no small effort as my muscles screamed in agony.
Blood and dirt obscured his features. His nose was broken and his face puffy. But he looked young, and slightly familiar. I had met a few of the captains before, so he was probably one of them.
"We do not have long until the orcs see us," he told me. He pulled out a shield from the pile, and miraculously, still had his sword in his scabbard. His shin was badly broken, though, and I quickly ripped my tunic up and made a splint. We crawled on our stomachs across the muddy pile of dead bodies, into the mud proper. The mud had clay in it, I realised. It was soupy and went up to my waist. But we couldn't go round it. It looked like a lake of mud, but beyond that, the terrain sloped upwards and then the mountain began. The elvish fortress was high up the mountain walls, but there would be some way through. There had to be.
"I cannot wade through this mud, it is too deep," he said, his face screwed up in pain. "You must leave me."
"No!" I hissed, close to tears. I was a healer. I healed. I couldn't abandon a man to orcs.
"I cannot walk, Minnow," he said, as if talking to a child. "The Elves will not come and help us, indeed, I think even my father would not risk such a venture, but their stronghold is not far now. If you continue, you will reach them. I will hold off any orcs."
An arrow shot past us and landed not far away. We looked behind us. Five angry looking orcs were a few hundred yards away.
"The orcs are advancing upon us," he said, more urgently. "Remember you are a woman. Run and I will do my best. My sword arm still works."
"No!" I whispered, weakly. "I'm a woman, and you can't abandon me. Please, Annie, do not leave me." He looked at me, clearly conflicted. His blueish grey eyes were red-rimmed, but full of worry for me. Another arrow shot by us, closer this time. I begged him again, and for a few seconds we sat, crouched in the mud, looking at each other helplessly.
"What do you propose?" he asked, bleakly.
"Together or not at all! I will drag you there. I am your healer, do as I say!" I snapped, grabbing him from behind, pulling him backwards through the mud soup. "Valar above, you're heavy," I grunted. I stumbled in the mud, my back straining. More orc arrows landed in the mud nearer and nearer us.
"Please hurry. The orcs' aim has improved," Annie said, archly. I accidentally swallowed a mouthful of clay and spluttered. I slipped and went under, pulling Annie with me too, but just as I thought we would have to swim in the mud, my feet hit stone and I stood up, wrenching Annie upwards. He spat out the mud. If I were less exhausted, I would have wept.
"It is only a few hundred yards," I told myself. "You must hold on tight," I told him, as I tried to pull him out of the mud, my thigh muscles screaming in pain. But he kept slipping out of my grasp. "Hold on tight, you absolute bastard," I snapped, and finally pulled him out. We were on the rocky slope now, and more arrows whizzed past us. Annie held out his shield and I cowered behind it. I could see the archer now, with a monstrously large black bow. Ahead of him were four orcs, wading through the mud, grinning at us. They weren't rushing. They thought they had us.
Somehow, I pulled the two of us up so that we were standing. I put my arm around Annie's waist and we hopped closer to the wall. He grunted with pain and his arm was around my shoulder, holding me with a vice-like grip. As we stood facing the wall, I couldn't see a path up the mountain. A mad thought entered my head; had the Elvish climbed up the walls of the cliff like mountain goats? There was no way we could do that.
"Help us!" I shouted, uselessly at the wall. "We're not orcs, we're Gondorians!" I waved my hands up at the mountain. We were covered in mud, and probably looked as dirty and foul as any orc, but I hoped my voice carried.
Annie had turned and drawn his sword, and was standing on one leg, reading to attack.
A length of rope silently piled in front of us. I looked up, rather foolishly, but could not see anyone but the hanging rope.
"Thank the Valar! Minnow, you goddess!" cried Annie.
He quickly and expertly wrapped it round the both of us, and grabbed onto me tightly. And then, like we weighed nothing, the rope pulled us upwards, faster and faster. The orcs were beneath us in a moment, as we whizzed through the air. The rope pulled us higher and higher up the mountain, until the orcs looked like ants below us. If I wasn't so exhausted, I would have felt more scared of the height, but as it was, Annie's reassuring arm was gripping me strongly. I gripped his waist tightly.
Hands grabbed me and pulled me over the edge of the cliff, where Annie and I fell in a pile on the ground.
"It is the Gondorian healer! " said Glorfindel's voice, wondrously.
"I'm going to need another bath!" I said, looking up at his glowing face deliriously, then threw up on his boots and promptly passed out.