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━━━━»•» act three. age of anguish

39. the cost of war «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 rohan; great west road

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STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PANICKING MASS, ELGARAIN FELT A FAMILIAR CALMTH TAKE OVER. Whenever her people were in turmoil, a regal feeling of duty allowed her to remain her composure. With determined strides she made her way through the crowd, searching for the White Lady of Rohan. While Elgarain thought herself perfectly capable of ordering people to move calmly and safely, she knew what they needed was a familiar face telling them what to do. Not a foreign queen, especially if this queen was from another race entirely.

"Make for the lower ground!" a firm voice shouted. "Stay together!"

Following the sound, Elgarain found Éowyn as she directed her people towards the valley below. Their eyes met; a look filled with understanding passing between them. The shared burden of leadership. The two women both knew they had to get these people to safety as quickly as possible.

To her right an elderly lady slipped while hurrying down the rocks. Elgarain rushed over and lent her an arm to help her down safely. The woman offered a grateful smile and Elgarain made sure she stood steady on her feet before letting her continue on her own.

She looked out over the crowd and her brow furrowed. The row of people seemed endless and in their desperate attempt to get away, the people of Rohan were scattered all across the rocky landscape. There was but one thing to do...

"Stay close! Make sure no one is left behind!" Elgarain called out, her voice carrying through the valley. Her words carried more weight than she had expected, for most people moved closer together.

She hurried towards a small group of women and as she directed them back to the main convoy, her ears picked up the far away snarls and clashes of the battle. Every bone in her body burned with the desire to turn around and march back to those she left behind. If only to make sure they were alright and take care of their wounds. But she forced those thoughts down. Her place was here.

Up ahead a familiar blonde girl tripped over her own feet. Her brother, leading a black horse by its reins, immediately knelt down to help his crying sister. Elgarain rushed toward them, falling on her knees beside the siblings to inspect the damage. A quick look was all she needed.

"You're lucky, Freda. It's just a scratch," Elgarain assured her. "Come on, up you get."

But Freda stood still, as if frozen to the ground. "I'm scared," the girl sobbed. She wiped away her tears, but fresh ones followed instantly.

Elgarain squeezed her shoulder, forcing down her feeling of haste to make sure she got through to the girl. "You want to know a secret?"

Freda nodded, suddenly looking eager.

Elgarain leaned in. "I'm scared too."

"I thought Elves didn't get scared," Éothain said with a frown, sounding wise beyond his years.

"Oh, but we do, and do you know how I was taught to confront that fear?"

Both siblings looked at her with intrigued eyes.

Elgarain took Freda's hand in her own. Flashes of her father marching off into battle, of Gyda teaching her to fight, of Boromir taking his last stand, they all passed through her mind, fuelling the strength of her words. "You take all that fear, put it in here and—" she curled up the little fingers into a clenched fist "—you fight to protect that which you love."

Freda stared at her fist, as if she'd never been truly aware of her hand before. Then she took a shaky breath and nodded. "I'll try."

Elgarain smiled. "I wouldn't ask for anything more." She got back to her feet and offered the girl her hand. "Come on, let's get you on that horse. It'll make the journey much easier." She guessed it was Freda's own tired feet that had made her trip in the first place. The little girl had seen her brother fall from this very horse, which probably made her hesitant to get back on it again. But they could use every bit of advantage they could get in their hurried retreat to Helm's Deep...

The girl looked at the animal, somewhat doubtful.

Seeing the look on his sister's face, Éothain was quick to respond; "I won't let you fall, Freda, promise."

"Okay," she said at last, though her voice was still a bit shaky.

Éothain climbed into the saddle and Elgarain lifted up his sister, placing her securely in front of him. Then she took a hold of the reins and led the horse back towards the convoy.

While their fear was still clearly visible, most people had managed to shove aside their panic. It was mostly thanks to the fact that they were moving further away from the battle. Soon the dying howls of the Wargs and the battle screams of the men were nothing but a memory. Still, Elgarain feared they would hear those sounds again all too soon. Even if Théoden's soldiers defeated their enemy, Saruman would send another army. The wizard would not rest until Rohan was in ashes and its people slain.

A sudden flaming stab in her side made her stumble to a halt. She gasped, cradling her side. Through the haze of pain her brain warned her to think of the safety of the two children she had in her care. With watering eyes, she looked around, expecting to see the Wargs and their riders coming over the hill and attacking the convoy. But the monsters were nowhere in sight.

With a frown she looked down at her side where the pain had come from. Her mind had conjured up images of an arrow protruding from her skin, or the gash of a sword, but there was nothing to be seen. No wound, not even a single drop of blood.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Éothain questioned.

"I-" she stammered, looking around once again to make sure everything was truly alright. "Yes, I'm fine."

The boy stared at her with the eyes of a child easily seeing through a poorly fabricated lie.

She tried to offer him a reassuring smile even though her side was throbbing like an open wound. "I will be alright, honestly." She didn't look at him when she replied and instead took a careful step forward. The pain was already subsiding, but her fear only grew stronger. What in Elbereth's name was happening to her?

Elgarain walked in silence after that, fearing with every step she took the pain might return. It didn't and neither did their enemies show up behind them. It was around midday when she noticed a change in the landscape. As they approached the mountains the rolling landscape grew flatter. The ground was a little steep as they entered a gorge leading towards the southernmost point of the mountains. When the last of the hills were truly gone, Elgarain finally saw it.

A fortress carved from thick stone stood upon a thick spur of rock. A thick tower rose from within the fortress. It looked ancient and yet strong enough to have withstand the touch of time. From the fortress to the most southern cliff of the gorge stood a wall, thicker than any other she had ever seen. From beneath the wall a blue stream came flowing into the green valley, gently wrapping itself around the rock and then disappearing from view to the south.

"Helm's Deep!" a woman cried out. "At last!"

Elgarain blinked herself awake from the majestic view. She'd given anything in that moment to just sit down in the grass and capture the strong lines and thick rocks on paper. A small smile appeared on her face. For she knew of one person who would've been all too happy to join her. Gimli would feel right at home here between the rocks and the mountains. But the world no longer granted time to admire its beauty. Instead, she gently pulled at the reins and led the horse with the two children on its back down towards the fortress.

A long row of refuges made their way towards the thick causeway that crossed the stream and led up towards the sturdy gates of the fortress. Which, if she remembered correctly, was called the Hornburg.

"Wow," Éothain muttered behind her. "I didn't know men could build such things."

From what she'd learned about the race of men, she knew one thing for sure: they were constantly trying to better themselves. Even in their skills as builders and stonemasons. While the fortress was a true wonder to look at, it didn't surprise her men were able to build such a thing.

They walked through the gates and entered a courtyard of stone. Soldiers walked about, leading horses and carrying provisions, but mostly the fortress was filled with Rohan's people. Tired and bruised, they appeared to be what was left of the people living in the Westfold. They must've travelled to the safety of Helm's Deep, hoping to find salvation here.

"Mom!" an unexpected cry from behind her made her jump.

Éothain had climbed down his horse faster than Elgarain had turned to see who he was looking at. The young boy rushed through the crowd and fell into the embrace of a gold-haired woman. As quickly as she could, Elgarain helped Freda down from her horse. She took off in a sprint and launched herself at her mother.

A smile found its way onto her face as she watched the family reunite. Though the sight made her look over her shoulder, as if she would see her own family walking through the gates at that very moment. Instead, the two children and their mother walked towards her.

"Thank you, my lady," the woman said, smiling brightly.

Elgarain shook her head. "There's no need to thank me, it was the head of my guard who brought them to Edoras."

"Then, I'll make sure to thank her," she said with a small bow. "Where can I find her?"

Her smile vanished. "I'm afraid she and the other soldiers have not yet returned."

The woman placed a hand on her arm, slightly startling Elgarain. "Fear not, my lady. I'm sure you will be reunited with her, as I was with my children."

"I hope so," Elgarain replied, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder once again.

"Lady Elgarain!" a familiar voice called from her right.

Elgarain waved goodbye to Freda and hurried up the stairs. Waiting above was Éowyn, a concerned look on her features as she looked out over her people. Standing at her side were Fridwyn and a man Elgarain had not yet seen before. He was the first man of Rohan she had seen who wore a few braids in his blond hair. His beard was turning grey though his eyes still held a youthful strength.

"This is Erkenbrand," Éowyn introduced the man, "first Marshal of the Westmark."

"My lady," Erkenbrand bowed. "Fridwyn tells me you are a healer. Many of my soldiers were injured trying to defend our people. Some of those who made the journey here are wounded or sick. We would be most grateful if you could assist our healers."

Elgarain nodded. "Of course, my lord. Do you have a room we could use to treat the sick?"

"I'll have my men prepare one right away."

"Thank you and please make sure it is as clean as possible."

The Marshal nodded, bowed once more and retreated.

Fridwyn stepped forward, eyes hard as she looked at the many people gathered around them. "I'll send some of my healers to separate the gravely injured from those with minor injuries."

"I can spare two soldiers to help carry those who can't walk," Éowyn said. "I need the others to start preparing the keep for whatever it is that will show up at our gates."

"Of course, we'll have to make do." Elgarain looked over her shoulder at the people gathering inside the fortress. "I'll start at the outer wall."

"I'll send Alys for you when the healing quarters are prepared," Fridwyn said.

Elgarain nodded and took her leave. It felt good to have something to do, something to take her mind off her worries for her friends, for the battle looming ahead, for the fate of all Middle-Earth...

The next hours became a blur of bruised skin, bloodied cuts and tear-stained cheeks. She tried to work as gently as she could with the little medical equipment she'd been able to bring from Edoras. But many times, she found herself wishing for the clean and stocked healing rooms of Mithlond. It was hard to give her patients the proper treatment when she was kneeling on rough stone, surrounded by refugees. However, she'd been taught well. Lord Elrond had made sure she knew how to let her surroundings fall away and focus only on her task. And so that was what she did.

She finished stitching up an ugly gash on the arm of a wounded soldier and stood straight to stretch herself. Only then did she notice the sun was beginning to set. While Elves did not need food as much as humans did, even they could not work endlessly on an empty stomach. She turned around, about to set off in search of food, but froze when her gaze landed upon a familiar face making her way through the crowd.

Upon ahead, Gyda and Legolas came walking through the corridor of stone. A wave of pure relief washed over her and before she knew what was happening, she was running. She pulled Gyda into a tight embrace.

"You're back," she whispered.

As a reply, Gyda squeezed her just a little bit tighter.

Gracefully, Elgarain moved back and greeted Legolas with a warm smile. Her eyes were quick to study him for any injuries but found none. However, when she turned to look at Gyda, she couldn't help but notice the wound on her side. The exact same place she had felt that horrible pain. Her hand moved towards her own side, as if afraid the pain might suddenly return. She had all but forgotten about the strange phantom pain but seeing her friend, it all came back to worry her even further.

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts down. There would be time to discuss it later. Instead, her gaze trailed to look behind her two friends, looking for another member of their fellowship. Perhaps he had gone to the stables first to make sure his horse was taken care of?

Gyda cleared her throat and Elgarain turned her eyes towards her. Her stomach clenched with unease at the look in Gyda's eyes. Only once before had she seen her guard look this hesitant. Long ago when she had returned from Mordor and brought Elgarain the news of her father's death...

"Gyda?" she whispered, a heaviness settling upon her heart. "Gyda, where is he? Where is Aragorn?"

A choked sob escaped Gyda's mouth.

"Gyda, please?" Elgarain pleaded, her knees were starting to feel weak. "Where is Aragorn?"

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

It felt as though a light was extinguished inside of her and suddenly the world was dark. A pained cry was torn from her lips. Her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. Gyda moved forward, able to catch her before she collapsed onto the ground. The two Elleths sank to the floor together, Elgarain clutched Gyda's arm, crying with gut-wrenching sobs.

"Please no," she cried, burying her head in Gyda's shoulder. "No, I can't..."

Gyda pulled her closer, barely managing to speak through her own tears. "I'm so sorry, nesa."

The celebration of the people of Rohan upon the return of their warriors had quieted. The city fell silent as the grief of the Elven queen reigned through the walls of Helm's Deep.

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𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

This chapter was a struggle to get through but I finally did it! Not sure it came out exactly as I wanted but eh it's fine. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Poor El is really going through it...Finally back together with Aragorn and then he goes and falls off a cliff. It's not easy being in love with a man who is as reckless in battle as Aragorn is lol. Oh well, we all know what happens next ;)

Also, Erkenbrand is not an original character of mine. He's a character from the books. I thought it would be fun to include him! I wanted to make the people of Rohan a bit more real instead of just nameless faces. So, I hope you like it! If you want to see who I casted in the role, you can check out the Act 3 chapter.

Hope to see you all again soon!

xx Nelly

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:

Nésa ― Sister

NOTES ON LORE:

Elbereth ― Varda (or Elbereth in Sindarin) is the Queen of the Valar, the wife of Manwë. Of all the Valar, the Elves revere her most because she created the stars. Calling out her name when in danger is comparable to calling upon a saint or angel for protection.