𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Thirty-Three: Trouble On The Way

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"Éowyn, Cyne!" Théoden's voice sounded from behind me as I charged passed him, "Lead the people to Helm's Deep! And make haste!"

"I can fight!" I heard Éowyn shout in response.

"No, you must do this, for me!" Théoden cracked his steed's reigns, shooting off beside me.

I chanced one more glance over my shoulder, finding that Cyne and Éowyn had been provided with another horse, and were rallying the people to follow them on. I swivelled back around to face the onslaught of Warg-riders.

"Follow me!" Théoden ordered the remaining riders.

A cacophony of sounds echoed over the lands, the thundering of Warg paws and horse hooves like a landslide, the alarmed screams of the hysterical people, the snarling Warg-riders, and the chimes of swords against swords. Éowyn and Cyne's voices carried over the sounds of battle, as they frantically herded the people in the other direction.

But as soon as I became immersed in the battle, all these noises faded from mind. I zeroed in on an advancing rider, his snarling and slimy black face bearing the stark-white hand of Saruman.

He raised his jagged blade, his cracked lips turning up into a sick grin. I parried his clumsy blow, and he growled, turning his Warg so that he was charging at me again. I ducked out of the way of his blade, swinging my own steed around and impaling the Warg-rider with my blade. The Warg snapped at my horse, who reared in fright. I dug out one of my throwing knives, whipping it in the Warg's direction. It planted itself into the Warg's scull, and the beast gave a drawn-out shriek, before collapsing, dead.

Arrows flew over head, sinking into the flesh of our enemies and downing them with a precision that could only belong to Legolas. The flags of Rohan whipped in the wind as the riders threw their spears and swung their blades. Gimli's bore his axe high, swinging it down upon unsuspecting Warg-riders with a deadly force. I'd lost sight of Aragorn. Legolas, who remained without a horse, spotted Gimli amongst the riders, and swung himself up and onto Gimli's steed.

I turned my horse back around to face the coming Wargs, my eyes raking the tumult of battle for Aragorn. Blackened and crooked arrows were let loose from the enemies side, striking down our own. But no as fast as we downed them. I cut passed three more riders with ease, utilizing both my broad-sword and my throwing-knives as I'd done before.

Soon it became painstakingly clear that the Warg's were a greater problem than their riders. They tore at Rohan's steeds, downing their riders and leaving them helpless on the ground. I did all that I could to evade this, leading my horse with practices skill through the labyrinth of fighters, and thanking Varda I'd been forced into riding lessons as a child.

My eyes continued to scan the crowd, becoming more and more frantic the longer I failed to spot Aragorn amongst the battle. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I lowered my hunt towards the ground, searching through the corpses with my eyes. They were an even mix of enemy and ally, Warg and horse. I didn't see Aragorn among them.

I turned my horse back around as I slashed the throat of a brutish looking orc, whose Warg was impaled from behind by one of our own. I nodded my head in thanks.

Then, my eyes narrowed in on Gimli, who stood solitary on the ground, his axe raised high at a charging and riderless Warg.

"Gimli!" I called frantically, cracking my horse's reins.

"Bring your pretty face to my axe!" he called daringly, as the Warg charged.

I silently willed my horse to go faster as I focused on nothing but rescuing my friend from the grips of death. I was so focused, in fact, that I failed to notice another Warg, charging on my right flank. It struck my horse, sending me plumetting to the ground. The force of impact knocked the wind out of my lungs and I struggled to suck air back into them. My horse gave a defeated neigh as the Warg tumbled over it, before sinking its teeth into my steed's neck.