Compos Mentis [Rávamë's Bane: Book 2]

Part II : Chapter 17 ~ Mîr Nín

A/N: It's finally here! It's finally done! The trickiest chapter I've written to date!

Ok, I originally wanted to get this chapter out to you for Christmas, but I decided realistically (what with family holidays, new work, and getting sick literally the day before I came home again) I wasn't going to get it polished before New Year at least. Then when I did, I kind of gave my Beta a blue-screen-of-death moment when she read through a particular scene at the end of this chapter (you'll know it when you see it).

It's been a long time coming, and I'm so grateful for how patient you've been with me, and I really hope you guys enjoy the results half as much as she did. :)

~ ♛ ~

Helm's Deep was a monster of a fortress, though you wouldn't know it at a glance.

Sarra had told me during our walk that over half of it was actually below ground, dug straight into the side of the mountain it was built against. But as Aragorn, Benvolio and I crested the final hill that brought the valley into view, the parts that were visible were breathtaking all on their own.

The Hornburg — the main fortress of Helm's Deep — stood out from the sheer wall of the cliffs like the bow of a ship, its two levels and internal walls formed entirely from the same dark grey stone of the mountains. It had been built so that it was slightly raised above the valley it overlooked, the only access via a long, narrow causeway leading up to a set of heavy wooden gates.

Unless, of course, you felt like scaling the enormous Deeping Wall that stretched literally from one side of the valley to the other, with only a thick steel grate at the base to let the stream flow through.

It wasn't quite dusk yet, but the sun was hanging low enough in the sky to cast a forbidding red hue over the cliffs as we cantered past the empty trenches and ramparts.

One tiny, stupid part of me was almost reluctant to guide our Benvolio up the stone walkway towards the entrance, the intimidatingly huge walls of the citadel looming up over us like some kind of sleeping giant that would swallow you if you got too close.

But deep down, I knew exactly why I was truly reluctant to enter, and who I would face inside.

That feeling of dread quickly disappeared the moment the lookout guards began pointing and shouting all along the battlements. Eventually, one had the presence of mind to bellow for the gates to be opened, and the colossal wooden doors began to swing outwards. Benvolio — who had carried us the entire way without so much as a snort of complaint — staggered inside before coming to a shaky stop only a few steps past the threshold. Tired soldiers and nervous refugees lined the walls of the first courtyard, all of them turning to watch open-mouthed as Aragorn slid off the horse — indecently spritely for someone who'd been on horseback all day, in my bruised opinion. I carefully swung my creaking legs off Benvolio's back too, trying to ignore the clamouring, pointing people beginning to surround us, and immediately fell as my knees gave out.

My annoyance at Aragorn's supposed lack of exhaustion disappeared as he caught and steadied me.

"Can you stand?" he asked, no trace of judgment in his tone. He obviously knew how much the journey had taken out of me by how naturally quiet I'd been. It took a moment to properly get my feet under me, and even then they were barely steady enough.

"Yeah, just give me a second."

He nodded, slipping an arm gently around my back. The action was partly to disguise the fact that he was still mostly holding me up from the growing crowds around us, but also to make sure I was the only one who could hear him whispering.