Meleth-nin

Disclaimer: Not mine but J.R.R. Tolkien’s. Only Thomas and Randír are mine.
A/N: Kaiyon: Wow, you made me blush with your praises. :) Thank you very much for your kind words, it’s very nice to hear you like this story. I realised that you’re right; I do have a tendency to make bad people fall in love with the good ones! :) And you’re right about another thing as well; Randír does mean trouble for Aragorn and Legolas… ;)
Twilight’s Bane: Glad you liked the last two chapters (or a chapter and its continuation). :) Bad twins, indeed! I love them when they’re all mischievous and making all kinds of evil plans. ;) Also I love the idea of a blushing and babbling Glorfindel, lol. :) I just had to write it that way, glad you enjoyed!
WARNING: Character death.

thoughts


Chapter twenty

Rohan, two weeks later


Aragorn sheathed his sword with an exhausted sigh. They had run into a bigger group of Orcs a few hours earlier and had almost been taken by surprise. The battle had been violent and bloody. No one had been spared; mercy had not been begged nor granted. “How many?” He shouted and gestured at the pile of Orcs they intended to burn.

“Fifty-three, my Lord”, one of the warriors answered. “All in all we have killed at least two hundred.”

King Elessar nodded in satisfaction. “That is indeed good news”, he replied. “But where is King Éomer? I haven’t seen him since the beginning of the battle.”

The warrior shrugged apologetically. “I am sorry, Sire, but I know not.”

“Hmh”, was Aragorn’s thoughtful response. I sure hope that he isn’t injured, he thought. They had built a tent for those who were injured, and at that time there were about two dozen men, some with minor injuries, some with more serious ones. Aragorn entered the tent and searched for him but King Éomer wasn’t among them.

“Has anyone seen your King?” Aragorn asked in a loud voice to attract the men’s’ attention. Most shook their heads but one young warrior nodded vigorously. Aragorn remembered that the boy was named Hathol.

“Aye, sire, I saw him leave with the scouts right after the battle”, he answered and gestured at the north where the men had ridden. “I heard one of the scouts say that they would return before the nightfall.”

“Thank you, you’re a perceptive lad”, Aragorn said kindly and took a look at the young warrior. He was very pale and his right arm lay limp on his side. “What is wrong with your arm?” He asked and felt it through the man’s tunic. This didn’t get a reaction so Aragorn took a hold of the arm and pulled it slightly. Hathol grimaced and his breathing quickened. Those were familiar signs that told the King that the young man was in great pain. He didn’t feel broken bones, though, and his brow furrowed.

“My shoulder”, Hathol whispered through clenched teeth, “it hurts horribly!”

“’Tis dislocated”, Aragorn realised and winced sympathetically. “It must be put back to its place before the tissues start to swell. Now this will hurt, a lot. I want you to be brave for me.” The young man nodded tearfully and waited as Aragorn asked another man to help him. He then explained to him what he was going to do and how he wanted the man to assist him. The man looked doubtfully at Hathol who was in obvious pain but didn’t dare to resist the King.

“Are you ready?” Aragorn asked the boy gently. He got a small nod for an answer and nodded at the other man in turn. The man wrapped a sheet around Hathol’s upper body and held it tightly in order to keep the young man’s torso from moving. Aragorn stood on Hathol’s other side and grasped his right arm. He then gently leaned backwards and rotated the arm a bit in order to help coax the bones into position. Hathol screamed in pain but luckily for him it didn’t take long to relocate the shoulder.

Aragorn quickly made a sling and helped Hathol in putting it on. “It is very important to keep your shoulder immobile for some time”, he instructed. “The muscles need to heal properly.” Hathol looked like he was about to faint but he managed a small smile nonetheless.

“Thank you, Sire”, he said faintly. Aragorn smiled back at him and patted at his left shoulder gently.

“No need to thank me, I may be a King but I am also a healer and it is my duty to help those who are injured.”

“Aragorn!” Came a shout from outside the tent. Aragorn recognised the voice as Éomer’s and quickly stood up. He exited the tent and saw the three scouts and the King of Rohan dismounting in haste.

“What is it, Éomer? Are we in danger?” Aragorn asked eyeing the breathless and panting men carefully. It was obvious that they had ridden back in haste.

“We saw the main group”, Éomer spoke quickly. “There was about sixty of them. They are not far, about three miles in the north from here.”

“The main group, are you sure?” Aragorn couldn’t help feeling excited about the news. He knew that the sooner they caught the Orcs the sooner he could continue to North and to Legolas. “How do you know it is the main group?”

“They have made a permanent camp there”, Éomer answered and grasped his shoulder enthusiastically. “This is it Aragorn, one last battle and then it’s over. We can return to our homes and live in peace.” He then frowned as he remembered something and his confused eyes searched Aragorn’s. “There was just one weird thing. I think there was a human among them.”

“What? Do you think they have managed to take a captive?” King Elessar asked incredulously. “We should attack them at once, before it grows dark. I don’t want the human to have to spend yet another night with those monsters. Elbereth knows what that poor man has had to endure in those filthy creatures’ hands. Surely we cannot abandon our kinsman to torment and certain death!”

“And we will not”, Éomer said calmly. “We will separate our force in three. I shall lead the first one, you shall lead the second and Thavron will be in charge of the third group. Your group will try and free the captive while the rest of us will concentrate in killing the Orcs. Does that sound good to you?”

Aragorn nodded. He felt the excitement build in him, fast and furious, as it always did before a significant battle. He knew that this battle was the only thing that stood between him and Legolas. After they had slain all the Orcs he could continue his interrupted journey to Imladris and reclaim his mate as his. That was the only thought that kept him going. The sight of his beautiful consort, round with his child, smiling at him proudly and lovingly. Aragorn wasn’t sure if Legolas welcomed him with open arms and a smile upon his face, but he prayed to the Valar that the Prince would give him another chance to prove his worth. He wasn’t going to blow it up this time.

They quickly gathered the men and divided them in three groups. It was agreed that some men should be left behind to protect the injured ones in case something went wrong. The sky was already darkening but there was still some daylight left.

“Surprise is our best weapon. We must take advantage of it!” Éomer shouted. “We must strike quickly, do not hesitate.”

The men murmured approvingly and one of them shouted, “We would follow you anywhere, Sire!”

Éomer and Aragorn glanced at each other and both had the same expression on their faces; excitement mingled with determination. “They all trust you, as do I”, Aragorn said respectfully. “You have grown to be a great leader.”

Éomer acknowledged the statement with a nod. “And yet it is you that has given me strength at the times of doubt. You are a good friend, Aragorn. I know you have yet a lot to do, so let us not keep your mate waiting for you any longer than necessary. Let us ride together and slay our enemies.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Their surprise attack had been a successful one. The battle was still raging, however, and Aragorn had lost the sight of Éomer quite a while ago. Where is this human he spoke of? All I can see is Orcs everywhere! He had dismounted soon after their attack and sent his horse away, not wanting to risk Brego’s safety. He also knew that he was too obvious a target for arrows when on horseback. Besides, he felt more at ease when he had solid ground beneath his feet. Anduril was already black with the Orcs’ blood, and there was no end in sight. They had soon learned that sixty was a severe underestimation. There were at least hundred and fifty Orcs inhabiting the camp.

Suddenly someone spoke to him. “Well, if it isn’t the high and mighty King Elessar himself”, a mocking voice drawled behind him. Aragorn’s blood chilled as he recognised the voice. Slowly he turned around to face the other man. Indeed it was Thomas, bloodied and dishevelled, but still recognizable.

“Thomas! What are you doing here?” He asked, not believing his eyes and his ears. Then he understood. “Were you taken captive? Have they tortured you? You must go quickly; someone should take a look at your wounds, if you have any.”

Thomas laughed mockingly. “You are so naïve, Aragorn. That’s almost endearing. You think I was held captive? Please, allow me correct that misunderstanding. I joined the Orcs of my own free will”, Thomas said, punctuating the last three words.

“You did what?” Aragorn was dumbstruck and shook his head in denial. “You have gone mad. They have tortured you and you have lost your mind. Come now, I will see that a healer tends to you.”

“Shut up, Aragorn”, Thomas hissed. “I have not gone mad. I’ve been with these Orcs for weeks now. I ran into them quite soon after crossing the borders of Rohan. They would have killed me but I promised to help them in attacking both Rohan and Minas Tirith. Do not forget that I helped in planning the City’s defences. It will not be hard to break them. I will be delighted to use my knowledge to my new allies’ advantage.”

“You are a traitor!” Aragorn yelled angrily. “I should have locked you up in jail for your first betrayal, but I thought that you were harmless. However this is something I cannot leave unpunished. You shall die for your betrayal, Thomas. And I will be more than happy to deliver the blow.”

“My betrayal, Aragorn!” Thomas shouted and laughed a short, angry laugh. “What about your betrayal? You led me to believe that you cared for me! You made me fall in love with you! Then you just grew tired of me and tossed me aside and broke my heart!” He unsheathed his own sword and approached the King. “And now you will die for your betrayal!”

With that said, he attacked and almost took Aragorn by surprise. The King soon realised that he had been right when judging his former guard’s state of mind. The man had gone mad. Thomas snarled at him, trying to push him and make him trip over his feet, but Aragorn was too experienced to fall for such a trick. However, Thomas managed to strike at his sword so forcefully that Aragorn lost his hold of it. Anduril landed on the ground, three metres away from him.

“Now you’re at my mercy”, Thomas said, smirking evilly, “and no mercy shall be given to you.” He raised his sword, meaning to end Aragorn’s life with one, forceful strike.

What he didn’t know was that Aragorn always kept a long knife hidden under his trousers, attached to his left boot. Thomas’ eyes widened in surprise as Aragorn, instead of accepting his fate launched himself at him and struck the knife on his back, to the hilt. He yelled as it pierced his heart and the pain was the last thing he felt and knew in this world. His body slumped to the ground, lifeless. Aragorn looked at him feeling nothing.

Slowly he came to his senses and realised that the battle around him had ended without him even noticing it. Shakily he rose to his feet and took Anduril from the ground. He saw dead bodies everywhere; to his relief most of them were Orcs. He saw only a few men lying lifeless. He lifted his gaze as a pale looking warrior approached him. The man was visibly trembling.

“King Elessar”, the man wailed. “Please, come quickly. I think our King…”

Aragorn grabbed the man by his shoulders in firm grip. “What of your King?” He asked harshly. The man’s tone made cold shivers run down his spine. “Speak!”

“Sire, I think King Éomer is dead!” The warrior said, his shocked eyes meeting the King’s worried ones. “He is not breathing!”


TBC…

A/N: Please review. :)