Ch. 28 - All Is Lost

Once they neared the River Entwash, having ridden well into the night, Aragorn’s heart became heavy and filled with dread; he pushed them and their horses mercilessly. Elrohir was forced to call a halt.

“Brother. You will kill the horses at this pace. We must stop.”

The look of despair in Aragorn’s eyes almost undid Elrohir’s resolve. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “We cannot continue further this night.”

Aragorn nodded, slid from his mount, groomed it, laid his bedroll on the ground against his saddle, fell wearily upon it and slept immediately. Erkenbrand did the same. Both brothers looked at each other. Passing their flask of miruvor, Elladan sighed. “He will ride till he is dead.”

“He would but we are here and we will see that he does not.”

“How do you intend to stop him, once we are closer to Minas Tirith?”

Elrohir laughed briefly. “I will sit on him if I have to. As I did when he was a child.”

“Do you suppose the boy is still alive?”

“I hope so. With all my heart, I hope so.” Elrohir remembered the little ones who had died needlessly in all the wars against Morgoth and Sauron. “Life can be bitter, my brother. Let us look to saving this one, just this one.”

Elladan’s grim look assured Elrohir that his brother understood.

~*~

Though the riding was still slow in the Mark’s deep snows, they made good time. This morning they had passed over the bridge at the Entwade. They stopped for a quick midday meal in the forest that stood to the west of the river and by evening, they made the Great West Road. The feel of it beneath their horses’ hooves lifted their spirits, if but for a moment. It was only by Erkenbrand’s thorough knowledge of the land before them that their progress had been so swift.

‘Another day,’ Aragorn chanted mindlessly, ‘another day and we will reach the Mering Stream. Then, a straight shot to Minas Tirith.’ He struggled to stay astride his mount. Bending his head, his fingers pushed fiercely the flesh between his eyes, trying desperately to stay awake.

Elladan watched him, raising his eyebrows to Elrohir who nodded. The younger moved his horse next to Aragorn’s. “It is time we slept, Aragorn. Erkenbrand tires.”

Aragorn looked up in astonishment. His eyes widened, “I did not see.” He turned in his saddle and waved to the Rohir. “We will stop, Captain. It is almost dusk. Elladan has spotted one of your lean-to’s ahead. We should reach it within the hour.”

The Ranger bit his lip and Elladan sorrowed for him. To have to stop when his brother’s heart sank with each passing moment… His esteem rose further for this beloved man, this brother of his.

As they reached the shelter, Elrohir put his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “I promise to wake you before Anor rises. We will be at the stream before midday.”

Nodding tiredly, Aragorn dismounted. They settled for the night, sleep overcoming the men in moments, but in the deep of the night, Aragorn’s scream, “All is lost!” rent the night.

Elladan and Elrohir ran to his side. Their brother slept whilst his body thrashed in some hideous nightmare. They held him.

~*~

Éomund swore softly. "We have no way out, but they have only one way in. We have defeated them before in similar situations." He put his hand on Théodred's shoulder, looking long and hard at the lad, judging him quietly. "You will need to be a part of our defenses now. Remember all that I have taught you."

Théodred nodded. His eyes stared back straight and strong into his uncle's. "I am ready." His voice was strong also and Éomund smiled. "Let them come," the Prince of the Mark said.

"Indis?"  Éomund turned towards his friend.

"I am ready too, Éomund. I will stand behind and, if any are unlucky enough to get past you, they will have me to deal with." The sound of many feet crunching the snow at the entranceway gave her pause.  "I am sorry, too, Éomund, for what I said before, for spurning your friendship. You have always been a friend - of Gondor and of me. If I am able to wield my sword half as well as you, we will have victory."

Gorlim stepped to the entrance. "Would it be too much to ask you to move over a bit, Prince Théodred, so that I might share in this victory?" He held the lad's shoulder firmly and gently moved him back a step or two.

They came within moments after that. Two squeezed through and were immediately beheaded by the Captain of Gondor and the Marshal of the Mark, but as soon as their bodies lay upon the cave's floor, another two followed. They died in short order, but while the second was falling, another from behind managed to reach in and slash at Gorlim's arm. The captain almost dropped his sword, but the blow was not enough to overcome instinct and the years of discipline and training that the mighty captain of Gondor had. He cut off the Orc's arm and the creature pulled back, howling in pain.

Éomund dispatched him easily, but his concern for Gorlim caused a momentary lapse in attention, which gave the next Orc the advantage he needed. Slashing down, the Orc knocked the sword from Éomund's hand, then its upward stroke caught Éomund's calf and the Rohir crashed down on both knees. The fall, instead of hindering, helped him, for his sword lay only an inch or two from his hand. He picked it up and shoved it into the beast's stomach. The thing fell against him, allowing another Orc to step through the opening. Éomund did not have time to withdraw his blade and fight the latest attacker.

Gorlim was otherwise occupied with another of the foul creatures. Théodred stepped forward and slashed the oncoming beast's stomach. It fell. Éomund smiled grimly and tried to stand, but another pushed him back down and stabbed at him with a pike. The pike's blow was deflected by Indis' sword. Théodred killed it. Another took its place, shoved through the opening by those behind it. Indis cut off the first one's arm and Éomund chopped at its legs. The creature fell. Its comrades screamed in rage, the sound reverberating through the small cave.

Startled, Théodred turned and felt pain flaming through his shoulder. He looked in surprise behind him and found himself face to face with two intense yellow eyes, staring at him in fury. He drew in a breath, his heart stopped, but the beast fell next to him, hewn down by Gorlim's sword.

The next moment, Gorlim himself fell face forward, a pike sticking out of his chest. Théodred sobbed, tears streaming down his face, but he countered the next attack, the shoulder wound forgotten in the grief and anger that flooded through his young frame. Not one moment of rest was allowed him. The next Orc’s blow landed squarely on his other shoulder. Théodred screamed; his lifeless body was pushed out of the way by another of the enemy.

Indis stepped further forward. There were now three Orcs in the cave itself and she had no idea how many were behind the two who were still struggling to enter the cave's small opening. A sword, slashed against the back of her head, felled her.

Éomund looked on in horror as she fell. All about him, his comrades lay dead. Shaking his head to clear it from the stupor of grief, he slashed at another Orc, but as it fell, it fell towards him. Trying to roll away, he found himself trapped. The breath was pushed out of him and, after a moment's struggle, he knew no more.