Ch. 44 - To The Rescue

Elrohir knelt and shook Erkenbrand. Instantly, the Rohir was awake. “Elladan and Estel have not returned.”

Erkenbrand stood and began to saddle Elrohir’s horse.

The Elf put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “My brothers are able, in most circumstances, to take care of themselves, but a promise is a promise. They have not returned. Will you come with me?”

“Why am I saddling the horse? I am coming, whether you had asked or no.”

Elrohir thanked the man, quickly took down their camp, and quenched what remained of their fire. Then, the Elf climbed up on the horse and offered his hand. The captain took it and hoisted himself behind Elrohir. Erkenbrand looked confused. “Is there a problem?” Elrohir asked.

“When we began this journey, I rode behind Estel. I am unsure how one holds onto an Elf?”

Elrohir, despite his concern, laughed aloud. “The same, Captain, the same.” He felt the Rohir’s arms around his waist and urged the horse forward. They rode at a slow pace. Elrohir kept his eyes on the ground before him, watching for the signs that Aragorn had left. He was grateful that the man left such a trail, though none else would know the significance of the twined pieces of horsehair that lay every few yards upon the snow.

“A light!” he pointed after a few miles had passed.

“Horses! I smell many horses,” Erkenbrand replied. “We best move downwind. Though I think they are not Orcs.”

“There is a smell of Orcs’ blood about,” Elrohir said distractedly.

“Then better we dismount; leave the horses here.”

Elrohir agreed by a nod of his head. As they approached the light on foot, the movement about the cave’s entrance surprised both. They saw the glint of steel on drawn swords and heard the whispers. Elrohir unsheathed his own sword, as did Erkenbrand. “There are too many for us. We wait until they enter the cave, then we strike,” he whispered to his Rohirric companion.

Erkenbrand nodded standing beside his extraordinary friend. “Is Estel in the cave?”

“I believe he is.”

“If we wait, it may be too late.”

“I think they are men of Gondor. Thus does their garb remind me.”

“Gondor? Then they are friends.”

“You forget, Captain. We have heard of treason and treachery. We know not the loyalty of these men before us.”

Erkenbrand hissed. ‘Traitors!’ His mind reeled as he clutched the hilt of his sword.

~*~

Profound silence filled the air before the house. Horror etched its way across the faces of the men of Gondor, both those in the company of Arantar and those in the house itself. The door was thrown open and a woman ran out, followed quickly by the wife of Lord Dagnir.

“Stop!” Hathawyn screamed. “You fools have hit a woman and a countryman of mine. She would not harm any. Ragnhild!” She cried as she ran forward. She was held firmly by Angbor before she could reach the fallen woman.

“Hold. Let my captain examine her.” He spoke quietly, but firmly.

Hathawyn looked at him as if he were mad, then realized he was only a youth. “She is my friend,” she sobbed.

“She will not be harmed by my captain. Let him take a moment.”

She slid in his arms; he held her closer. The lady of the house waited behind them. The men in the house dared not fire again. First, they could not dare hit Minastir’s mother. But secondly, they were soldiers of Gondor. They could not hurt a woman.

The archer was thrown through the upper window, slid off the portico, then landed on the grass. “Slime!” the men who threw him screamed. “Traitor!” those on the square murmured. The man began to sob and writhe on the ground. “I missed. I aimed for their captain. I missed. I missed.” He hid his head between his knees, his hands covering the back of his head as he sobbed.

Arantar had slid off his horse the moment she fell and took her in his arms. His men quickly rode forward and formed a circle of protection around them. As he touched the  embedded arrow, another figure broke through the guard and slid to his knees next to Arantar.

“Let me, please,” his voice broke. Arantar gave the woman over to him.

~*~

Aragorn began to sing to Faramir once again. Smiling, he was glad that he had drunk the water. It definitely helped. After many more moments, Aragorn began to be concerned. Elladan had not returned. He grit his teeth and swore softly. He should not have let him go alone. He shook his head. 'No need to worry. Elrohir has probably found us.' He started the lullaby where he had left off.

~*~

As the men of Gondor neared the cave, Dervorin motioned. “There,” he whispered. “Someone is over to the left.” Three of his men followed his command and moved to intercept the shadow near the cave. It struggled valiantly, but another four joined the fray. In more than a few moments, the prowler was snared and bound. Three lay wounded next to him. Dervorin, not waiting for a report, left two men with the man they captured and another with the wounded. He motioned to the others and they continued towards the cave.

One of the knights turned to his leader. "I hear only one inside. It… it seems he is singing.” Wonder appeared on the knight's face. “It is a lullaby of Dol Amroth!"

 "How know you that?" A soldier sneered.

 "I am descended from the line of Aglahad, a prince of Dol Amroth. I know that song, I tell you!"

 Dervorin listened cautiously. "It could be a trap."

 "Why would someone sing a lullaby to entrap us? A bawdy tavern song would be better."

Their leader nodded. "You speak wisely. Still, be cautious. Draw your swords and follow me." He drew his own sword and bent low, silently entering the cave's mouth. Almost crawling, he passed through the long entranceway. A fire was glowing in the middle of the floor, its light starting to dim. Orcs’ bodies littered the floor. He saw the half-eaten remains of a man and almost retched, but quickly steeled himself. In a far corner, a man lay against the cave's wall, holding a bundle close. He rocked back and forth, his eyes closed.

~*~

She felt the pain first, searing through her body. Once, when first she learned to ride, she had fallen and broken an arm. As a child, she thought no pain could equal that. Now, as she gasped for breath, she realized she had been wrong. With her arm, the pain had been localized. This pain – it engulfed her; she could not breathe and did not know why.

A warmth filled her as an arm encircled her waist. Only once before, early this morning, had she felt this touch, but she recognized it immediately.

“Borondir,” she gasped.

“Hold still, my Lady. I have you.”

She heard the fear in his strangled voice. She tried to open her eyes, to reassure him, but they would not obey her. Another moan escaped her. She wanted to cry in frustration. She did not want him to worry, yet what could he do if she continued to groan so piteously. She bit her lip; swallowing slowly, she forced her eyes open. Tears streamed down his face! Her heart fluttered. ‘This cannot be happening! I cannot die – not with love so close.’ She swallowed again. “Hold me closer,” she whispered.

He picked her up and walked slowly back towards the inn. The pain, as he lifted her, sent her crashing into blackness.

~*~

By now, Aragorn’s concern reached a heightened level as he heard noises from the entrance to the cave. Elladan still had not returned, but Elladan would never make this much noise!  He tried to get up without disturbing the boy, but the cave was suddenly filled with soldiers, all with swords drawn and scowls on their faces. Aragorn raised his hands helplessly. His sword lay next to the fire, useless.

“Thorongil!”