Rain on the Mountain | Aragorn | The Lord of the Rings

Chapter 38

"Théadain!" The call at her side made her turn just in time to catch the spear Baldan tossed to her as he rode past, "On your left." He nodded to the warg that had locked its jaws around the neck of a fallen horse, distracted by its kill as its rider tried to tug it back to the fray. With a smirk, she drew back her arm to throw the spear directly into the creature, grinning as it fell in such a way that the rider was crushed beneath its bulk. She turned to thank Baldan but he was already gone, cutting his way through another foe.

She followed him, putting her sword to work as she cleaved an orcs head from its shoulders in passing. As she circled Folca to search for her next target, she realised breathlessly that there were none.

The chaos of the battlefield had quietened as her riders chased away the last of the wargs, though she realised with a grimace of numb regret that the field was littered with more than just the bodies of their enemies. The green cloaks of fallen riders stained the earth, their number illustrating the price they had paid for victory. This time, it had been high.

"Théadain!" A sigh of relief left her at the sound of her Father's voice, and she rode to his side quickly; "You're not hurt?"

"No, nothing worth mentioning." She sighed, wiping her sword on her saddlecloth and sheathing it as she cast her eye over the field, picking out the forms of Baldan and a few of her other riders as they dismounted. She swung herself from her saddle to join them as they began to search for survivors. Among the men walking she also counted Gamling, clasping his shoulder firmly as she passed him, "Háma?" She asked softly, already knowing the answer before he shook his head sadly.

"Fallen." He confirmed softly, clasping Théadain's shoulder in return as he saw the pain in her eyes.

"I will tell Háleth." She promised softly, knowing it would pain Gamling to inform his close friend's son of his death.

Moving on, she breathed a soft sigh as her eyes picked out Legolas and Gimli searching among the bodies.

"Aragorn?" She frowned at Legolas' call, watching as he cast his keen eye over the field. As Gimli repeated the call more urgently, she felt her blood run cold.

She couldn't see him.

"Aragorn?" Her own voice joined the call desperately as she jogged to the dwarf's side, looking out to the edge of the gorge that their battlefield bordered. "Where is he?"

A choked, cruel laugh drew her gaze, and she followed Legolas to crouch by the orc that wheezed the sound, clutching at a wound in its chest.

"Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing." Gimli growled to the creature, brandishing his axe fiercely as Théadain stared down at the orc, her eyes landing on the familiar dagger protruding from its chest. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to where it had been sheathed at her belt only that morning, before she had handed it to Aragorn.

"He's dead."

The orc's breathless snarl made her freeze, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down in disbelief. It felt as though the world had simultaneously been wrenched away from under her feet and a cold hand had punched her firmly in the stomach, she was falling, breathlessly spiralling down into nothingness.

"No..."

"He took a little tumble off the cliff." The creature sneered as her eyes darted to the edge of the gorge.

"No!" She cried, dashing to the edge of the stone as Legolas moved to shake the orc, but she neither heard nor saw any of it. "No, no Aragorn, no!" She screamed for him as she fell to her knees at the cliff edge, looking down into the rushing water tens of feet below. Her hands gripped the stone beneath her as a sob tore from her throat, her mind calculating the height of the fall, the depth of the water.