The Shadow Walker

69. Alone

I couldn't help the anxiety building in my stomach as I sat in the courtyard. Èowyn had Boromir in the infirmary, and was stitching up his chest and side, which were apparently torn up pretty bad. I glanced around, trying to distract myself by tapping my boot on the stone tiles. Helm's Deep was a sober place, but a safe place. In a sad way, it reminded me of Rivendell.

That just made me more anxious.

I wasn't sure why I was this upset. Maybe it was the storm clouds building, and the way the earth seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the torrent to come. Or maybe it was that every minute seemed to stretch into three, making it seem the Men—and my companions—had been gone far too long.

But finally, there it was. I thought it was thunder at first, until I heard the rattle of the horses' equipment, and hooves striking the causeway.

I jumped up. The guards were already opening the gates, and after a moment, the horsemen poured into Helm's deep. At the front was Thèoden, and another man I recognized but didn't know. I kept my eyes peeled for my companions. Legolas wasn't hard to find, and Gimli rode beside him on his borrowed horse. But—I didn't see Aragorn.

Anywhere.

The dread, which I had almost forgotten, hit me full-force. Crippled by it, I stood motionless as the Men dismounted. I was vaguely aware that Èowyn joined us and touched my shoulder, but I didn't respond. I just watched my friends.

Legolas swung off Arod, leaving the horse in the care of a stable boy. The ellon met my glance briefly, then he broke eye contact and just walked away.

Gimli didn't. He slowly shuffled forward, his expression stunned. Finally, he met my gaze, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Lord Aragorn—where is he?" Èowyn asked carefully.

Gimli didn't answer. A single tear spilled over his cheek, getting lost somewhere in his beard.

No.

My knees faltered. Èowyn grabbed my arms before I could fall, but all I wanted was to curl up on the ground and cry.

"Gimli," Èowyn said softly, "would you give me a hand?"

The two of them lead me away. I didn't watch where they took me; I didn't care. But after a few minutes, we ended up in a small, dim room. Èowyn sat me down on a hard mattress. "Could we have a few minutes Gimli?" she said.

"Of course," he replied gruffly, and left the room. As soon as he pulled the door closed behind him, Èowyn turned to me.

"This is my room, Eda," she said softly. "You're welcome to use it as long as we're in Helm's Deep."

I gave a mute nod. I was probably coming off ungrateful, but I didn't care. Aragorn was gone. Nothing else particularly mattered.

"Perhaps you should take a bath," Èowyn suggested gently, pointing to the other side of the room. "It might help you feel better."

My gaze followed her gesture, resting on a tub carved right out of the stone wall. It was nice. Luxurious, for these people. But I honestly didn't care.

Èowyn rubbed my back comfortingly. "Is there anything I can get for you?" There was a telltale waver in her own voice, but she bravely bit it back.

I shook my head. "No...thank you. I just...want to be alone."

Èowyn nodded and stood. "Alright. I will be in the infirmary, if you need me." And she left the room.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, letting myself fall onto the pillows. A few individual tears squeezed out and dripped onto the pillow. I was alone. Completely alone. I used to be fine alone—happy, even. So what was wrong with me? Gandalf had left, that Legolas hated me, and now...Aragorn was dead. Why did I care?