My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 44: To the Rescue
Elrohir knelt and shook Erkenbrand.
Instantly, the Rohir was awake. “Elladan and Estel have not returned.”
Erkenbrand stood and began to saddle Elrohir’s horse.
The Elf put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “My brothers are able, in
most circumstances, to take care of themselves, but a promise is a
promise. They have not returned. Will you come with me?”
“Why am I saddling the horse? I am coming, whether you had asked or
no.”
Elrohir thanked the man, quickly took down their camp, and quenched
what remained of their fire. Then, the Elf climbed up on the horse and
offered his hand. The captain took it and hoisted himself behind
Elrohir. Erkenbrand looked confused. “Is there a problem?” Elrohir
asked.
“When we began this journey, I rode behind Estel. I am unsure how one
holds onto an Elf?”
Elrohir, despite his concern, laughed aloud. “The same, Captain,
the same.” He felt the Rohir’s arms around his waist and urged the
horse forward. They rode at a slow pace. Elrohir kept his eyes on the
ground before him, watching for the signs that Aragorn had left. He was
grateful that the man left such a trail, though none else would know
the significance of the twined pieces of horsehair that lay every few
yards upon the snow.
“A light!” he pointed after a few miles had passed.
“Horses! I smell many horses,” Erkenbrand replied. “We best move
downwind. Though I think they are not Orcs.”
“There is a smell of Orcs’ blood about,” Elrohir said distractedly.
“Then better we dismount; leave the horses here.”
Elrohir agreed by a nod of his head. As they approached the light
on foot, the movement about the cave’s entrance surprised both. They
saw the glint of steel on drawn swords and heard the whispers. Elrohir
unsheathed his own sword, as did Erkenbrand. “There are too many for
us. We wait until they enter the cave, then we strike,” he whispered to
his Rohirric companion.
Erkenbrand nodded standing beside his extraordinary friend. “Is Estel
in the cave?”
“I believe he is.”
“If we wait, it may be too late.”
“I think they are men of Gondor. Thus does their garb remind me.”
“Gondor? Then they are friends.”
“You forget, Captain. We have heard of treason and treachery. We know
not the loyalty of these men before us.”
Erkenbrand hissed. ‘Traitors!’ His mind reeled as he clutched the hilt
of his sword.
~*~
Profound silence filled the air before the house. Horror etched its way
across the faces of the men of Gondor, both those in the company of
Arantar and those in the house itself. The door was thrown open and a
woman ran out, followed quickly by the wife of Lord Dagnir.
“Stop!” Hathawyn screamed. “You fools have hit a woman and a countryman
of mine. She would not harm any. Ragnhild!” She cried as she ran
forward. She was held firmly by Angbor before she could reach the
fallen woman.
“Hold. Let my captain examine her.” He spoke quietly, but firmly.
Hathawyn looked at him as if he were mad, then realized he was only a
youth. “She is my friend,” she sobbed.
“She will not be harmed by my captain. Let him take a moment.”
She slid in his arms; he held her closer. The lady of the house waited
behind them. The men in the house dared not fire again. First, they
could not dare hit Minastir’s mother. But secondly, they were soldiers
of Gondor. They could not hurt a woman.
The archer was thrown through the upper window, slid off the portico,
then landed on the grass. “Slime!” the men who threw him screamed.
“Traitor!” those on the square murmured. The man began to sob and
writhe on the ground. “I missed. I aimed for their captain. I missed. I
missed.” He hid his head between his knees, his hands covering the back
of his head as he sobbed.
Arantar had slid off his horse the moment she fell and took her in
his arms. His men quickly rode forward and formed a circle of
protection around them. As he touched the embedded arrow, another
figure broke through the guard and slid to his knees next to Arantar.
“Let me, please,” his voice broke. Arantar gave the woman over to him.
~*~
Aragorn began to sing to Faramir once again. Smiling, he was glad that
he had drunk the water. It definitely helped. After many more moments,
Aragorn began to be concerned. Elladan had not returned. He grit his
teeth and swore softly. He should not have let him go alone. He shook
his head. 'No need to worry. Elrohir has probably found us.' He started
the lullaby where he had left off.
~*~
As the men of Gondor neared the cave, Durahil’s second, Dervorin,
motioned. “There,” he whispered. “Someone is over to the left.” Three
of his men followed his command and moved to intercept the shadow near
the cave. It struggled valiantly, but another four joined the fray. In
more than a few moments, the prowler was snared and bound. Three lay
wounded next to him. Dervorin, not waiting for a report, left two men
with the man they captured and another with the wounded. He motioned to
the others and they continued towards the cave.
One of the knights turned to his leader. "I hear only one inside.
It… it seems he is singing.” Wonder appeared on the knight's face. “It
is a lullaby of Dol Amroth!"
"How know you that?" A soldier sneered.
"I am descended from the line of Aglahad, a prince of Dol Amroth. I
know that song, I tell you!"
Dervorin listened cautiously. "It could be a trap."
"Why would someone sing a lullaby to entrap us? A bawdy tavern song
would be better."
Their leader nodded. "You speak wisely. Still, be cautious. Draw your
swords and follow me." He drew his own sword and bent low, silently
entering the cave's mouth. Almost crawling, he passed through the long
entranceway. A fire was glowing in the middle of the floor, its light
starting to dim. Orcs’ bodies littered the floor. He saw the half-eaten
remains of a man and almost retched, but quickly steeled himself. In a
far corner, a man lay against the cave's wall, holding a bundle close.
He rocked back and forth, his eyes closed.
~*~
She felt the pain first, searing through her body. Once, when first
she learned to ride, she had fallen and broken an arm. As a child, she
thought no pain could equal that. Now, as she gasped for breath, she
realized she had been wrong. With her arm, the pain had been localized.
This pain – it engulfed her; she could not breathe and did not know
why.
A warmth filled her as an arm encircled her waist. Only once
before, early this morning, had she felt this touch, but she recognized
it immediately.
“Borondir,” she gasped.
“Hold still, my Lady. I have you.”
She heard the fear in his strangled voice. She tried to open her
eyes, to reassure him, but they would not obey her. Another moan
escaped her. She wanted to cry in frustration. She did not want him to
worry, yet what could he do if she continued to groan so piteously. She
bit her lip; swallowing slowly, she forced her eyes open. Tears
streamed down his face! Her heart fluttered. ‘This cannot be happening!
I cannot die – not with love so close.’ She swallowed again. “Hold me
closer,” she whispered.
He picked her up and walked slowly back towards the inn. The pain, as
he lifted her, sent her crashing into blackness.
~*~
By now, Aragorn’s concern reached a heightened level as he heard
noises from the entrance to the cave. Elladan still had not returned,
but Elladan would never make this much noise! He tried to get up
without disturbing the boy, but the cave was suddenly filled with
soldiers, all with swords drawn and scowls on their faces. Aragorn
raised his hands helplessly. His sword lay next to the fire, useless.
“Thorongil!”
