The Edges of War

The Edges of War

Chapter 2
Author: Frosty the Crime-Fighting Hamster
Rated: Strong R
Summary: After the death of the hobbits and the disappearance of the Ring of Power, all of Middle-Earth fights against Sauron and a new enemy. The One Ring is in the knowledge of all races now.
Disclaimer: Disclaim this! *makes obscene gesture*


*

She could hear the shouts and yells all around her. Arrows flew by, swords clattered, but she couldn't tell who was friend and who was foe. The light in the forest had died, and now only shadows, deadly shadows, moved about.

Grasping tightly to her sword, she walked along the edges of the woods, squinting into the blackness. Her shoulder ached with a wound she could not remember getting. She wanted to call out for her Captain and comrades, but that would only draw the enemy near. There seemed so many of them, so many more than they had first seen. The sounds of battle began to fade as she stumbled through the brush. Perhaps she was moving further away. She couldn't tell.

Stifling her fear, she listened closely to the noises around her. The clang of swords slowly faded and soon the only sounds were ones of the dying. She shook as she held her sword, and tried to step around the fallen bodies, when suddenly the world turned quiet. She stopped. There was no noise. All had turned silent.

The next thing she felt was a sharp ache in her head. When she hit the ground, the noise of footsteps and voices was all around her. Rough hands grabbed her body and spun it around so she looked up to the sky.

Her mind told her the faces she saw couldn't possibly be real.

It was an unusual thing, when she woke up. There was no more forest, no darkness and no cool night air. And this was no afterlife. Praodith rose up on her elbows and looked around the small room, very confused. The light from the table lamp cast a soft golden glow on the wood plank walls. It was a warm room, and a warm bed. She looked down at the comforter she was under, then under the covers. Her skin was clean, her hair wet, and the clothes she wore were not her own. Slightly panicked, Praodith sat up and darted her gaze around the room until it fell on her sword and folded uniform, piled against the far wall.

Calming down, Praodith pulled back the sleeve of her shirt to look at the injury. She winced when she moved the material, but took great comfort in seeing it dressed. Obviously she was not in danger, wherever she was. The enemy wouldn't bother tending her wounds, would they? And her weapon was just metres away from her.

Quickly the darkness of her dream invaded her thoughts again, and her mind turned to her comrades. Others must have survived. Praodith swung her legs over the bed in an effort to get up, but found her strength lacking.

"You're awake," came a voice from the doorway as Praodith sat back down on the bed. "Please, you shouldn't try to get up. You're very weak."

Praodith licked her lips as the woman walked towards her. She looked kind enough, but when she turned to fetch a glass of water, Praodith saw her ears. "You're an elf," she said, suddenly wary, "Where am I?"

The elf looked confused at Praodith's sudden nervousness. "You're in Gondor," she replied, "Don't be frightened. None of us will harm you."

"But you're an elf," replied Praodith, still distrustful, "Why are you in Gondor if you're an elf?"

Arwen sat down on the foot of the bed, far enough away so as not to frighten the girl. "My husband is the King of Gondor," she said, "There are two elves who serve this country. I am one of them. My name is Arwen."

Praodith took a deep breath and shook her head. "Forgive me. I...am not used to seeing elves. I was under the impression that they fought for the enemy." She didn't feel completely at ease yet, but this elf had made no ill move towards her.

"For the enemy?" Arwen shook her head, "No, I promise you, elves are not the enemy. You are from Rohan?" At Praodith's nod, she continued, "What iur nur name?"

"Praodith," she replied. Then, suddenly concerned, she asked, "Where are my people? The ones I fought with? Are there any other survivors?"

Arwen's face turned sad and Praodith closed her eyes in pain. "I'm sorry," she said, "You were the only one we found alive."

Her stomach felt like lead. Praodith clenched her teeth in an effort to stop the tears threatening to leave her eyes. "I can't believe it," she breathed, leaning back, "All of them? Are you sure?"

Arwen moved closer to her and touched Praodith's leg. "I am sorry," she replied.

A tear slipped down Praodith's cheek. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath and wiped the wetness away. "Thank you," she said, "For finding me. I owe you."

The elf smiled softly. "You owe us nothing. But you bring us much hope. We had no idea Rohan was still standing. Perhaps, once you heal, you can help us fight. If Gondor and Rohan fought together, we could defeat the enemy."

Praodith's eyes were lined with tears but they did not fall. "The enemy is too strong," she said quietly, shaking her head, "Rohan is weak. She won't be much use to you."

The hand on her leg squeezed gently. "Every person helps. Every weapon is of use. Don't lose all hope."

Smiling sadly, Praodith thought to her home. She wondered if they knew she was still alive. "Rohan probably doesn't even know I'm alive," she said, "They don't know that Gondor is strong. Our was a suicide mission - they most likely will continue with those. Theoden knows he is losing."

"We will send someone," replied Arwen, "Someone to tell them that you are here."

"How long will that take?" Praodith laughed mirthlessly and shook her head. "Efforts were made to contact Gondor before. No one ever made it. It's too dangerous."

There was a knock at the door and Praodith startled. She looked up to see a tall blonde elf approaching. Wiping her face, Praodith tried to look dignified.

"I heard voices," said the elf, "I brought something to eat."

He spoke mostly to Arwen, making only brief eye contact with Praodith. "Praodith, this is Legolas. He's the one who found you," said Arwen as she took the bowl of soup from the blonde elf's hands. "Legolas, this is Praodith. From Rohan."

Praodith took the bowl when it was offered, then looked up at Legolas. "Thank you," she said, "I owe you my life."

Legolas only nodded briefly. Praodith looked from him to Arwen. She had met few elves in her time, but none had looked as tired as these two. Legolas especially looked withdrawn. Praodith felt a tinge of guilt at her earlier lamenting. Obviously Gondor had been through much.

"I want you to finish that, and then get some rest. Legolas and I will come see you again later." Arwen rose up and smiled. "Take care."

"Thank you," Praodith replied as the two elves left the room, shutting the door behind them. It was all of a sudden very quiet and lonely in that room. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of her comrades and of her home. Everything seemed even more hopeless than it had before. And part of her wished they had left her on that battlefield to die.

*

Legolas leaned against the wall and listened while Aragorn spoke with Arwen. They were discussing what Praodith had said, about Rohan being weak. Aragorn was considering sending someone out to try to find King Theoden. Legolas didn't offer his opinion that that would likely fail.

Crossing his arms, he peered at the door where the girl was sleeping. In truth, part of him hoped perhaps her coming would herald some sort of new confidence in himself and in Gondor. But so far there was nothing. She herself looked to be quite discouraged.

Legolas sighed and looked back at Aragorn. He wished he could be stronger for his friend, but his will was beginning to break. The war had been long and hard, and Legolas was impressed with how Aragorn could keep his hope, but the elf could feel himself fading. Even someone like him, with so much knowledge and courage and pride, could feel the ravages of time.

Obviously Arwen felt it, too.

"I cannot offer you any advice," she told her husband, "It is your decision whether to send someone to Rohan or not. This girl will be no help for some time. She is in mourning."

Aragorn nodded. "I understand," he said, sighing, "I will discuss this with Boromir and Faramir. Continue taking care of her. The sooner she heals, the better. For everyone."

Legolas watched as Aragorn nodded to him and then kissed his wife goodbye. When he had gone, Arwen took a deep breath and turned. "I need to get supplies," she said, gathering her cloak, "Will you take care of her when she awakens?"

The elf nodded and watched as Arwen left and closed the door quietly behind her. The house was silent now, the only sounds voices and horsehooves outside the building. Licking his lips, Legolas decided to check on the girl. There wasn't anything else to do.

Legolas pushed the door to the room open as quietly as he could, but he winced when it creaked. When he looked inside, he saw the girl sitting up in bed, looking wide awake.

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping inside, "Did I wake you?"

"No," she responded, sitting up straighter, "I was awake. I couldn't sleep."

"Would you like some tea? That might help," he said, moving towards her. He was acutely aware of how she watched every step he took with great anxiety, but never looked him in the eyes.

Praodith fidgeted in the bed. "No, I'm fine. I don't really want to sleep anymore." Her eyes flickered up to his and briefly met his gaze before she looked back down to her hands. "Has Arwen gone?" she asked.

He frowned. Was she scared of him? "She has gone to get supplies," he said, approaching the bed. Praodith's focus moved to his feet as she watched him come nearer. Legolas sat in a chair opposite the bed and leaned forward. "Is something wrong?"

Praodith quickly looked up at him and widened her eyes. "Wrong? No, no, not at all. Why?"

"You seem...frightened." Worry flickered across Praodith's face, but she quickly regained her composure.

"I'm not frightened," she said, taking a deep breath. Legolas watched her closely as she licked her lips and swallowed heavily. Her eyes left his as his gaze penetrated her.

Legolas smiled softly. "Good. You have nothing to be frightened of here." Praodith seemed to relax slightly, but he could tell she was still wary. "You've gone through a great deal. It would be expected that you would have trouble adjusting. I promise you, though, it is safe here."

Praodith pursed her lips and looked at Legolas with a questioning stare. "Forgive me, as I have not met many elves, but are all your kind as...gracious as you and Arwen?"

Legolas blinked softly. "Elves are not a spiteful race, if that is what you're asking."

Praodith sighed and nodded her head. Legolas wondered what prompted her questioning, and what thoughts contributed to the look of uneasiness upon her face, but he said nothing. "Are you hungry?" he asked, changing the subject, "I could make you something to eat."

Leaning back against the headboard, Praodith shook her head. "No, thank you," she said, crossing her arms, "I think maybe I'll try to rest, instead."

Legolas stood. "Let me know if you need anything," he said, then left the room. Praodith took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes.

It wasn't long before the golden hue of the room turned to a dusky black. When Praodith opened her eyes, there were no walls, no lanterns, only the bitter green of trees covered in night and gray shadows covering the dark sky. Figures loomed above her, people with long, dark hair and piercing eyes, but she couldn't recall who they were. And she couldn't understand why they were hurting her.

The voices were thick and heavy, but they made no sense in her ears. Praodith could feel blood tricklingn hen her cheek, warm against her chilled skin. There was other warmth, too, travelling over her cold and bruised body. Hands. Her parched throat burned as her ragged breath moved in and out of her body. She wondered why she was so cold.

Praodith tilted her face to one side and blinked slowly at the body-strewn vista before her. A face looked into hers, but there was no life in the eyes. Her mind searched for the name of the man not far from her, but she couldn't recall it. There was too much going on. She couldn't think.

A great weight fell against her body, and Praodith exhaled sharply. She looked back up towards the sky, but found herself looking not at the dark clouds, but at a face. The man's breath was hot against her skin, and part of her knew something wasn't right. The hum in Praodith's ears grew as she placed her hands on the shoulders of the person above her, pressing upwards against him. She was too weak, though, and he ignored her efforts.

Closing her eyes, Praodith felt warm tears line her lashes and threaten to fall. Something was very wrong. None of this was right.

A soft laughter fell to her ears as the man's warm breath caressed her neck. All she could feel was him on top of her, and the cold, rough ground pushing at her bare back. All she could hear was the man's voice, muffled before, but now clear as a ringing bell.

"You're mine."

Legolas stood outside her door, leaning back against the wall. He could hear her in there, dreaming. It obviously wasn't pleasant.

Part of him wanted to go in there and wake her, tell her that what she was seeing wasn't real. But something held him back. Legolas crossed his arms and sighed, his attentive ears catching every word, every sound from the room behind him. It gnawed at him.

Legolas had seen and heard a lot of things over the past year. Things that he would never forget. What bothered him the most was not being able to help. Coming upon a battlefield but finding none alive was a usual thing, something to be expected. But Legolas could never get over the amount of death he saw. Not just men, but women and children. People were so desperate they were sending their children to war. Legolas had seen many of them, all dead.

In the room behind him was one of those people. One of the ones who should have died. Yet, even with her being here and being alive, Legolas felt like he was unable to save her. She had already gone through was would likely damage her for life. He felt completely helpless.

His eyes moved to the front door when he heard noises. Arwen stepped in, a large bag in her hands. "How is she?" she asked, setting down the supplies and pulling the cloak from her shoulders.

"Tired," he said, licking his lips. "She's dreaming now. But it's not a good dream."

Arwen stood at the door and listened. The noises were quieter now, but Praodith's breathing was ragged and pained. "She's having nightmares," said Arwen, "It's to be expected."

Pain was always to be expected. "Can we do nothing for her?" he asked, growing angry. If he couldn't lessen the pain of this one girl, what could he do?

Arwen's eyes were soft as she looked up at him. "This is something she has to work through," she said, and Legolas turned his eyes away from her. "We can help her by listening, and taking care of her."

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "This is a fool's mission," he snapped, glaring at Arwen. "She can't be saved."

Without waiting for a response, he tore out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

*

"I don't know what you expect from this," said Boromir as he lifted a saddle and placed it on his horse's back, causing the animal to shift its feet. "What do you think one girl will do?"

Aragorn sighed heavily as he leaned against the stable wall. "I'm really not sure, myself," he said, crossing his arms. "I thought perhaps her recovery would be an inspiration to Gondor. I thought maybe she would have information for us, something to help us defeat the enemy." He shook his head sadly, "No one is ever found alive. I wanted to believe she was, I don't know. An omen?"

Boromir snorted as he adjusted the bridle. "An omen? She is one girl, Aragorn. You put too much emphasis on her arrival." He tightened the straps, then seeing his friend's dour face, sighed and turned to face him. "I understand what you're trying to do," he said, "You are our King, and Gondor is losing this war. You thought this girl could bring us hope. Instead of looking to her for what men can only find in themselves, look to her as a reminder that our country is still strong. This girl followed her Captain and nearly died. Our soldiers would do the same for you, and they do that because they see you have hope. One girl from Rohan cannot change the outcome of a war, no matter how much you want her to."

A smirk spread across Aragorn's face. "When did you become so philosophical?" he asked.

Boromir laughed. "I have always been. You just haven't been listening."

Standing, Aragorn walked to the edge of the stables and looked out over the skyline of Gondor. "We're getting weak," he said quietly as Boromir came to stand beside him, "I don't know how much longer we can last without help."

"As long as you have hope, our country will follow you and believe in what they're doing," replied Boromir. "They will fito wto whatever end."

"How can I take any comfort in that, when I feel as though the end is near and ominous? I am leading my people to their deaths."

"But you are leading. There is glory and fortune in fighting. Would you have us lie down and accept our fate?" asked Boromir, "We still have a chance. But only you can convince Gondor of that."

Aragorn nodded softly. "Be careful on your patrol," he said, turning the subject to their present situation, "There are rumours of orc armies roaming the north border."

"I will watch for them," Boromir replied, clapping Aragorn on the shoulder, "Take the evening off. Go to your wife."

Aragorn grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, sir." Boromir chuckled and Aragorn watched as he mounted his horse and took off out the gates of Gondor. The smile on Aragorn's face faded as the doors closed behind him.

Boromir was right. Aragorn's hopes that this girl would bring newfound energy to the people of Gondor were foolish. By now all of Aragorn's people would have heard that a girl had been found alive, but he doubted it would make a difference. Perhaps they would be happy that someone was saved, but that would be all.

Sighing, he walked out of the stables and made his way back into the city. He needed to concentrate on this war effort. One thing that gave him hope was knowing that Rohan had not fallen to the enemy. Perhaps they were stronger than he knew.

His thoughts roamed back to the people around him. Boromir. Faramir. Legolas. Arwen. They had made so many sacrifices for him and for this war. Aragorn had already lost numerous friends - he didn't think he could take any more losses.

But again, Boromir was right. Aragorn had to be strong for his people.

He just wished it was easier.

*

TBC