Rides A Pale Horse

Title: Rides a Pale Horse
Author: Emmess
Rated: NC17
Genre: Romance, Angst, movie verse, to a point.
Summary: The Elves arrive at Helm's Deep


Rides a Pale Horse, Part II

The beast was felled by a single swipe of Aragorn's sword, its helmet clad head flying free of its body, clanging noisily to ground as a fountain of black blood spurted from its neck covering everything within reach before the body slowly toppled to lie twitching on the stone.

Dropping to his knees next to the prone form of the Elf, Aragorn gently turned the Lorien Captain's body over. Cradling Haldir's head on his lap, the Ranger moaned at the copious amount of blood that soaked his own leggings from the horrible wound that had been opened in the Elf's back. He noticed the slighter form, nearly unrecognizable under the gouts of black blood that coated it, lying facedown across the Elf's boots.

"Brave soul...may Eru grant him peace," Aragorn murmured, before turning his attention once again to the Elf he held in his arms. "You! Help me bring him inside to the healer!" he shouted, looking up to catch the attention of the man nearest him.

"That is the healer!" the man shouted back, pointing toward the crumpled form near Haldir's feet, before turning his attention once again to the onslaught of the army of Isengard as the Battle of the Hornburg raged on all about them.

An Elf caught sight of Aragorn and Haldir, his sword slicing a path through the black demons of Saruman, speeding to their side. Sheathing his sword as he knelt, Aragorn recognized Haldir's brother. "I will take him and tend to him."

Aragorn felt Haldir stiffen in his arms, his silver head lifting painfully to look toward his feet. "No, Orophin...the woman. Help the woman," he whispered, his voice gravelly and hoarse, "this is my end." His head fell backward once again to lie still in Aragorn's arms, the movement costing him dearly.

"Save your breath for that which it is intended, Haldir. You will not leave us this night," Aragorn sternly ordered, handing his blood soaked burden to the Elf's brother. Relieved of the weight of the Elf, Aragorn stood, quickly stooping to check on the slight form lying on its side on the cold stone. Shocked no more by the fact that the broken body belonged to a woman than by the fact that she still drew breath, he scooped her up into his arms and followed the Guardian who carried the Lorien Captain into the Keep.

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Orophin sat at Haldir's bedside when Rœmil arrived in the healing room, covered in gore and smelling of death. He hovered near the doorway, unwilling to step any closer to his brother who lay pale and still on the thin mattress.

"Take thee from here, Rœmil," Orophin said, frowning and wrinkling his nose at his younger brother. "The stench of the burning fields is upon you."

"How fares he this morning, Orophin?" Rœmil asked, patently ignoring his older brother's order. He stripped his thick leather gloves from his hands as he waited for an answer, flexing his fingers.

"Better. He has woken for longer periods of time than before, and I believe but for the pain he would stay awake. Now go, before the smell of you seeps into the bedclothes!"

"And the other?" the youngest Lorien brother asked, still hesitating at the doorway. He nodded toward the slight form lying as still as death on a nearby cot.

"It would be better if she never awoke," Orophin answered, shaking his head, his gray eyes following Rœmil's line of sight to the frail human's bed while a look of sadness crossed his fine features. "The wounds she sustained will never heal fully. Better that she had died on Wall."

"Do not say that, Orophin. Do what you must, whatever you must, to save her."

Both brothers looked down at their elder, whose eyes had cleared of reverie. Haldir's fine brows were knitted in pain, sweat beading his forehead as his eyes flicked first to the bed next to his, then to each of his brothers in turn.

"Haldir, you must rest...sleep, we shall speak of this another time," Rœmil said softly, taking another step into the room.

"Nay, we will speak of it now, and you will listen else I will not allow myself to rest!" Haldir whispered, his shoulder rising slightly from the bed in his anxiety. His breath drew in sharply from the pain the movement caused.

"Lie still, else I will be forced to render you unconscious, brother!" Orophin stated, frowning at his elder brother. Sighing, he continued, "Haldir...the woman is broken beyond my capability to repair her. If her arm had not deflected the blade, the demon's axe would have cleaved her chest in two. I fear her wounds will never heal fully...her scars will not fade as will yours in time. She will most likely always feel some degree of pain. She will not have use of her hand...and her scars...suffice it to say that her life will not be an easy one, Haldir. It would be better to allow her to slip away now, while she is free from the pain..."

"NO!" Haldir growled, a bit of his old strength finding its way into his voice. "The blow that felled her was fated for me, Orophin! I saw it in the Lady's mirror...I saw my death on the Wall. It is a life-debt that I owe her...would you have my soul burdened with such a debt until the End of Days?" Haldir paused, trying to regain his breath, every muscle in his being rebelling at the effort. "Her life is but a fleeting moment in ours, Orophin. I will take responsibility for her...it is the only way open to me and I must repay this debt, else I will bear its weight for the rest of my days."

"Yes, Haldir, yes...it will be as you say, but you must rest now!" Orophin agreed, seeking to placate his wounded sibling. "You have my word on it, brother."

"And mine as well, Haldir...I will help in any way I can," Rœmil added, stepping yet closer to his wounded kin.

"You can most help by taking yourself from this room this very moment, Rœmil...you reek," Haldir murmured as his eyes began to glaze over, slipping again into the pain-free reverie where he had spent nearly all of his time since the night of the battle.

Smiling for the first time since he had rushed, bloodied and frantic, into the healing room where he had been told his oldest brother lay near death, Rœmil left, pulling his gloves on over his hands, heading back outside of the Hornburg to where a massive clean-up was in progress.

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The bodies of the valiant dead of Rohan and of the Elves of Lorien had been sent on their way with full ceremony, buried near the alfirin-covered tombs of the Rohan Kings. The remaining Elves added their own poignant tribute, their voices lifting in lament of their brothers sent to the Halls, praising their loyalty and bravery, entreating Mandos to care for them until they should meet again in the Uttermost West.

The fields of the Deeping-coomb were spotted with black, oily plumes of smoke from the many pyres where burned the carcasses of the Urak-Hai - they had been dragged and stacked like so much cordwood before being set aflame.

During the days of toil as the people of Rohan, aided by the surviving Elves, worked to cleanse the Hornburg and Deeping-coomb of the filth of the Urak-Hai, Haldir woke more frequently and for longer periods of time as his wounds began to heal with the amazing alacrity of Elves. Spending most of his waking moments staring at the frail form drowning in blankets on the cot next to his, he inquired often of her condition.

"There has been no change, Haldir. Mortals are slow to heal, slower still to recover their strength. I keep her asleep else she would have no choice but to suffer the horrible pain of her wounds. This I will not allow no matter what you ask or threaten, brother," Orophin said firmly, looking hard at Haldir.

"I wish not for her to wake to her pain, Orophin...I ask only that you should heal her, no matter how long it should take." Haldir sat on the edge of the bed, a cup of tea balanced on his knee. Already he pushed himself beyond his limits, as Orophin had known he would, dragging himself from his sickbed whilst the wound in his back had barely closed itself.

"She will never heal fully...thusly have I told you innumerable times, Haldir. Her prospects for the future are dim."

"Her future is my worry, Orophin...her present is yours. See to it that she has what care she needs to recover as best she is able," Haldir insisted, draining the dregs of his cup and handing it empty to Orophin's waiting hands. Sighing, he asked, "What news of the war?"

"The Ranger waits for some sign that Gondor calls for aid."

"Ah...he waits for the Beacons...will Rohan answer?"

"Rohan may answer...but you will not, Haldir. Do not think for one moment that I will allow you to don your helm, sword, and bow and ride into battle...I will strap you to the bed if necessary."

Haldir managed a small chuckle at his brother's fierce sentiments. "I do not believe that will be a concern, Orophin...I can barely sit up, let alone ride into battle."

"I know you better than you think I do, brother, and I warn you that I will make good on my pledge to tie you down."

Again, Haldir smiled, shaking his head at his brother's folly, although deep in his heart he knew Orophin to be correct. He would have ridden into Gondor had he been able to mount his horse. Grabbing hold of Orophin's arm, he allowed his brother to help ease him down onto the mattress again, knowing that rest was the best healer now.

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Familiar faces visited the sickroom often, the Ranger and the Mirkwood Elf - whose friendship with the Dwarf continued to baffle Haldir - checking on Haldir's progress several times a day. Eowyn came also, sitting for long periods of time at Amaryn's bedside, often weeping quietly at her handmaiden's condition. Theodan had paid a visit or two, although his time was a precious commodity, his mind consumed with the troubles of his realm, and the impending attack in Gondor.

A little over a week after the bloody night on the Wall, Haldir's keen ears picked up the Ranger's voice as he ran swiftly through the halls shouting that the Beacons had been lit.

"So it begins again," Haldir said quietly, pulling himself up, settling himself on the edge of the bed. Looking over to the bed next to his own as was his habit upon rising, he studied the pale face that lay on the pillow there. Hollowed cheeks, her fine bones sticking up sharply under the skin, her eyes hollowed and deeply shadowed, she barely resembled the woman who had reached up to stroke his cheek that fateful night. Her skin seemed as thin as parchment, stretched tightly over her bones, a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead even while in the depths of the healing sleep in which Orophin kept her.

Orophin had been dutiful in his promise to Haldir, rousing her from her induced sleep just long enough to pour medicines, teas, and broth down her throat. Compresses and plasters, some smelling as foul as the demon that had caused her injuries, were placed on her wounds, fresh bandages binding them to her.

Still she slept, for Orophin would not allow her to fully regain consciousness until he was certain she would not only survive, but would be able to bear the pain as well - the pain of her wounds, and the pain of the changes in her life those wounds will have wrought.

Haldir slowly, painfully pulled himself to his feet, staggering the short distance between their beds, lowering himself to sit at her bedside. Gently, he pushed aside a stray lock of hair that lay across her cheek, remembering what her fair hair had looked like in the flickering candlelight when she had first brought him tea. Picking up her uninjured hand, he held it, remorseful again for his initial treatment of her and guilt-ridden that it had been the blow meant for himself that she had received. Most keenly of all, he felt determined that he would do whatever was in his power to do for her to set it right, even if it meant caring for her to the end of her days.

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The Rohrrim were mustered, the Ranger and Theodan leading them toward Gondor, the able bodied Elves along with them, only Rœmil and Orophin staying behind to care for the injured.

It was as night fell, the whole of the Hornburg falling eerily quiet with the absence of the menfolk - the men dead as well as the men seen off that morning to Gondor - that she stirred.

Orophin had gone, ordered away for a brief respite by Haldir, who had threatened to disobey Orophin's repeated orders to rest if he did not go with Rœmil to seek sustenance and a rest of his own.

Hearing her faint moan, Haldir hauled himself from his own bed with more speed than he would have thought himself capable of, given his condition. He was at her side in no more than a few moments, holding her uninjured hand and smoothing the hair from her brow, when her eyes fluttered open.

"Amaryn? Ah ...the sleeping Lady awakens..." he said softly, smiling at her.

"No Lady," she managed to rasp just before the first wave of pain hit her, silencing her again.

"I believe when last we spoke that you had granted me the title of 'Lord' and it would be only fair turnabout for me to grant you the same," Haldir whispered. He frowned as he watched the pain wash over her features, wiping away the small smile that had just reached her lips. "I will fetch my brother. He will see to your pain, little one," he said, fully intending to go out to find Orophin, even if he had to drag himself on his belly through the Hornburg to do it.

"No..." she rasped through gritted teeth, "Stay...please..."

Silently he sat with her, not releasing her hand, watching her fight the pain, and feeling more helpless than he ever had in all his long life.

"I would take this from you, if I could," he confessed softly, his eyes welling. "'Tis my fault that you lie here...it should have been my back that took that blow."

Her eyes focussed on his, and though they were glassy with her pain, they burned with a sudden anger as well. "No...not...your fault. Do...not say...such things...not your fault."

Haldir's tears escaped his control, but he did not answer her aloud. Instead he gently squeezed her hand, not trusting himself to speak.

"I knew I should not have listened to you, Haldir!" Orophin's voice called the moment he stepped through the sickroom door. "She has awakened, and you are out of bed again!" He hustled into the room with Rœmil at his side. Ordering Rœmil to see Haldir back to his bed, he bent to check on Amaryn's condition. From his own bed, Haldir watched Orophin whisper the chant that sent the woman back into a deep sleep.

"You cannot keep her asleep forever, Orophin," Haldir said, his eyes not leaving Amaryn's form, watching as she settled, becoming still as sleep claimed her again.

"She is not ready yet to wake. I will keep her asleep as long as the need necessitates it, Haldir...you cannot rush her body's healing as you do your own."

Grunting, Haldir lay his head on the pillow, Amaryn's whispered words coming back to haunt him. "Not your fault," she had said, seeking to relieve him of his guilt even as the pain wracked her body.

Haldir knew differently, though...he was convinced in the core of his being that it was his fault...had he been stronger, or faster, or more cunning, she would not have taken the blow meant for him. If he had not been so arrogant at their first meeting...if he had not allowed his pride to lead him to seek her out to apologize...if he had not allowed greed and desire to rule him...if he had not kissed her, then she would not be lying broken and wasting in the healing room. He would have been to her merely another Elf who had lain down his life in the course of his duty. He vowed to himself that never again would he allow his own feelings of desire or need to rule his actions.

Guilt enveloped him, black and thick, so that he was almost unaware of Orophin bending over him, sending him into the same deep, healing sleep.

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Orophin allowed Amaryn to wake fully for the first time on the same day that they had received word that the armies of Sauron had been defeated in Gondor. It was not over, they were all too well aware of that for the fires of Mordor still burned far in the distance, and no word had come to Rohan of the fate of the Halfling nor of the Ring. Still, a feeling of triumph had swept through the Hornburg, the voices of the women and those well enough to join them rising in song as the first of the returning Rohrrim rode in through the Gate.

Their song quickly shifted into lamentation at the news of the death of Theodan King, as well as the grave injuries to the Shieldmaiden, their own White Lady of Rohan.

In the healing room, Haldir watched anxiously as Orophin woke the sleeping woman, feeding her a concoction to aid her in fighting the pain she would still feel for a very long time. Satisfied that she would be able to tolerate the pain, Orophin rose from her bedside, glancing and nodding at Haldir as he made his way from the healing room to see to the injuries of the returning Rohrrim.

Haldir had bathed and dressed in a clean tunic that morning, aided by Rœmil, and he looked more like his old self than either of his brothers could have hoped. Limping to her bedside, he smiled at her as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Welcome back, little one. You have missed much," he said, reaching to take her uninjured hand.

"What news, Captain?" she asked, her voice weak and a bit thick from the pain-relieving draught Orophin had fed her.

"The brave warriors of Rohan and Lorien, aided by the return of Eomer and his Riders were successful in vanquishing the armies of Saruman. Gondor was next attacked, and, I am most pleased to say, was equally successful."

"It is over, then?"

"Nay," he answered sadly. "We know not of the Halfling's fate, nor if the One Ring has been destroyed. Know you of the Ring?" he asked, seeking to keep her mind occupied with conversation and free from dwelling on the pain and her condition.

"Aye...I remember hearing Eowyn speak of it. Captain, how fare you? I saw you fall..."

"I am fine," Haldir said, his voice suddenly gruff. He had no wish or need to be reminded of his failure on the Wall. "Are you hungry? I will send for food..." he added, swiftly changing the subject.

"Nay...Captain...how long was I asleep? I cannot believe all this has happened so quickly."

"More than a double handful of days, little one. Your injuries are...extensive, Amaryn...Orophin thought it best for you not to wake sooner." Haldir watched her face carefully, looking for any sign that she knew the true extent of her injuries. Seeing her brow knit, he added, "Your chest and arm will heal in time, Amaryn...with each passing day they will feel better."

"My chest does pain me, Captain...but I do not think my arm was injured...I cannot feel pain in it," she whispered. Looking up into his concerned gray eyes, the import of her own statement hit her full force. He would not have mentioned that her arm was injured if it were not... She closed her eyes against the realization that her arm was injured far worse than she could have imagined. She tried in vain to move it, succeeding only in sharpening the already nearly unbearable pain in her chest.

"Worry not, little one..." He was interrupted by the arrival of Orophin and Rœmil into the healing room, glad that he would not need to explain to her the depth of her injuries as of yet.

Striding to his patient, Orophin smiled at her, checking her bandages and asking her a few questions in his stilted Westron.

"Much pain?" he asked, gesturing toward her bandage covered chest.

"No more than I can bear, Master Elf. Thank you for what you have done for me," she answered softly, her eyes flicking back and forth between the three Elves gathered at her bedside. She realized that they must be all related, the resemblance between them was striking. Each had the same high forehead, the same strong nose and full lips, the same slate gray eyes and fair, silvery hair.

"You lie still," Orophin continued, gesturing with the palms of his hands that she should remain prone and not try to rise. "You stay bed."

Rœmil simply smiled at her, his knowledge of Westron nearly non-existent. Turning to Haldir, he asked, "Will you not introduce us, brother, or will you have her think I am rude?"

Smiling, Haldir translated for Amaryn, formally introducing her to both of his brothers. She managed a smile for the two of them, before a fresh wave of pain swept through her.

"That is quite enough for today," Orophin said to his brothers, taking Haldir's arm and forcing him to rise from her bed. "She needs rest, and will not get it with us three gawking at her." Turning to Amaryn he said, "I will get food...you will eat. Then you sleep."

"Master Elf...my arm...why can I not feel it?" she asked, wanting to know, but afraid of his answer.

"You eat...then you sleep," Orophin repeated, pretending he had not understood her. He had no wish to burden her further by confirming what he felt she already had surmised. He quickly led his brothers from the room, leaving Amaryn alone with her thoughts.

TBC...