Chapter 38
"Wargs! We're under attack!" Aragorn called frantically to her as he ran to find Hasufel.
Théadain felt her blood run cold at his words. She had been afraid of an attack, perhaps by orcs or at worst, Uruk-Hai. Wargs were another terror altogether.
Around her, she heard her people begin to scream and panic, frantically searching for an escape. She wheeled Folca around, calling out for her riders, summoning her company to her.
"Rohirrim!" She cried, seeing those she had scattered around the column respond to her call, "All riders to the head of the column, spears and swords drawn!" Her voice rang out clear over the sounds of the cries of fear, but behind her she could already hear the yelping and barking of their foes.
"Eowyn!" She called as she watched her cousin turn from speaking with her father, "You have your sword?"
"The king has commanded me to lead them away from the fight." The blonde woman called bitterly, gesturing to where her sword was sheathed on her saddle.
"Ride with your sword drawn, you are the column's only defence." She breathed, reaching to draw her own sword, "If one slips through our defences, you are their protection, Éowyn." She knew her cousin had the heart of a warrior, and skill with a blade, but in this moment, their people needed her to lead them.
She pulled Folca to turn, catching Aragorn's eye as he pulled himself into Hasufel's saddle, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring nod as she urged her horse on, over the crest of the hill that separated her from battle.
The sight that met her eyes made her stomach threaten to empty its contents, not the near fifty wargs and riders that bore down on them, but the sight of the fallen rider and horse that lay dead near where Legolas stood drawing back his bowstring to fire on their enemies. She choked on her cry of rage as she recognised the still form of Háma lying in the grass, gripping her sword tighter as she spurred Folca on towards her snarling enemy.
They clashed in a flurry of fur and steel, screeches and battle cries ringing out through the air as both cavalries met. Spears adorned with the banners of Rohan were thrown, riders were knocked from their horses by the sheer brute force of their foes. Amidst the fray, Théadain fought for her life.
This was why she feared wargs above all other attacks that could have befallen them. As soon as she cut down a rider, the beast beneath the orc would turn on her. Whilst the Rohirrim could boast a greater number of riders, their mounts left them disadvantaged. Around her the cries of men rang in her ears as they fought, desperately trying to bring down the wolf-like creatures that the orcs rode.
As she drew up Folca with one hand to survey her surroundings, her sword dripping black blood as she held it aloft, her eyes locked on a riderless warg that prowled the perimeter of the fight. She witnessed the moment it set its sights on her, a cry of defiance leaving her lips as she rode hard towards it. As it bounded towards her, muscular legs preparing to leap, she ducked low in her saddle, thrusting her sword up to meet its thick neck as the creature lunged at her, a growl of satisfaction following her cry as she saw it fall to the ground behind her.
"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.
"Théadain..." Her father's hands were on her shoulders, pulling her to her feet as she struggled free of his grip, her hands moving to unfasten her cloak.
"Let me go- he could be alive, he could-" She sobbed as the king held her firmly, tugging her back from the edge that he momentarily believed his daughter was about to throw herself from in pursuit of the man.
"He's gone, Théadain. No man could survive that fall." He breathed firmly, cupping his daughter's cheeks as a heart-breaking cry left her lips.
"No, you have to let me try- If it was me he wouldn't leave me, he's saved me so many times father, let me try!" She pleaded, clutching at his sleeves as he held her up.
"Do not throw your life away in pursuit of a dead man!"
"Then let me ride downstream, let me find him!"
"And do what? Pull a battered corpse from a river?" He demanded, knowing his words were harsh, but the frantic anguish painted across his daughter's face frightened him. He had to get through to her. "Théadain leave him, he would not want you to pursue him." He reasoned, seeing her shaking her head, "Théadain, that is an order."
At his words her struggles ceased, her shoulders slumping as her father spoke to her not as his daughter, but as his Marshal. "I need your strength now, Théa, our people need you."
Slowly, she nodded, choking back her tears as she looked up into the pitying eyes of her father, forcing down the screams of regret and aguish that fought to escape her lips. Silently, he released her shoulders, turning to Gamling as he approached them as Théadain's eyes drifted back to the river.
"Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isengard will return." Her father ordered, turning back to Théadain as she stared down at the rushing water. "Leave the dead."
She had not felt herself trembling until Legolas' arm curled around her shoulders, drawing her to his side as the elf followed her gaze.
"He can't be gone..." She whispered brokenly, her mind refusing to comprehend it, "He can't..."
"We have to go, Théa..." Legolas' equally fractured voice drew her eyes from the water as he gently pulled her away, his face betraying the shock he was so desperately trying to overcome as he slowly pressed Théodred's dagger into her hands.
None of them could have imagined this would happen. Aragorn was strong, capable, the thought of him falling in battle where others had survived was incomprehensible.
She could not recall how she found herself in Folca's saddle once more, her heart and mind numb as they refused to let her process the loss. She couldn't accept it, not in the way she had accepted the loss of Boromir and Théodred, for there was no body she could clutch in her arms, no still face she could look into and know that he had left her. It felt as though she moved through a thick fog as she followed the other riders over the hills, her body simply following the familiar motions as her eyes fixed unseeingly on a distant point.
He was gone. Only hours ago, she had woken in his arms and now he was gone.
If she had known, if she had imagined that this could have happened, what could she have done? What could she have told him?
She couldn't bear to think on that, the answer was too painful, for she knew now what words she longed to speak to him, words she had not dared utter before, out of fear that exactly this would happen. That he would be taken from her, and she would be left alone.
*
Théadain could not bring herself to feel a sense of relief as the fortress of Helm's Deep came into sight, nor could she feel it as they passed beneath the gates of the Hornburg in a clattering of hooves.
"Make way for the king!"
As the call rang out, bouncing off the solid rock walls, she could not help but be astounded at the sheer amount of people crammed into the fortress. She had been correct in assuming that the refugees of the Westfold would come here, they lined the pathways, mingled with those that had fled Edoras. She heard her father's voice over the commotion caused by their arrival but could not pick out the words as she dismounted, handing Folca's reins to a guard as she heard Gimli softly informing someone of their loss.
A gentle hand on her arm broke her unblinking focus on the stone wall that surrounded them, and she turned to meet the glistening eyes of her cousin, "Théadain..."
"Éowyn..." She choked softly, her hands reaching for the support of the other woman. She could not cry, she would not, but still she let her cousin pull her into her arms, embracing her tightly. Éowyn's admiration for Aragorn had been clear, and now she felt the grief rolling off the younger woman in waves as she whispered her regret at his loss. Théadain had to pull away at that, shaking her head as she stepped away, moving as though she were in a trance.
She had to put thoughts of him out of her head now, she had to overcome this. Her people needed her.
"Baldan..." She breathed softly, turning to find her rider at her side.
"My Lady, you should take some rest." He tried to coax, seeing that she was still deep in her shock by the way her eyes wandered aimlessly over the crowd, as if she was searching for the form of the Ranger. He had never seen her like this, save for the time after one battle where she'd received a blow to the head. His leader was always alert, ready, and now she seemed a shell of herself.
"No..." She whispered in response to his request, shaking her head slowly, "I... I have to... Háma's son, I have to tell him..." She murmured, remembering her promise to Gamling.
"I will tell Háleth, Théadain. Do not force yourself to endure more." Her friend reassured her, clasping her shoulders, "If you must do something, help settle the people."
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, feeling herself nod in response to his words. She had to do something; she knew that. If she allowed herself to rest, she feared she would drown in this despair.
She felt like she was adrift in a boat on a wide ocean, her sails torn, her life at the mercy of the waves.
Or perhaps she was drowning in the churning waters of a rushing river, her body and mind tossed and turned as she tried to process the fact that he was gone, and that her heart would never heal.
[A/N: Thank you for reading! Please vote and comment, I love to hear what you think! X]