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 III


Haldir found her outside of the Hornburg, standing very near the spot where he, and she, had fallen during that terrible night nearly a full moon's cycle ago. She came here often of late reliving that night, and Haldir was at a loss over how to help her come to terms with it.

Although nearly everyone else had returned to Edoras, the trio of Elves and their patient had remained behind, Orophin, his promise to his brother always uppermost in his mind, steadfastly refusing to allow Amaryn to be moved until he was comfortable that she had healed sufficiently. Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the halls, the silence filled only by the sounds of their own voices.

Her dressing gown fluttered in the chill night air, the cold breeze lifting tendrils of her pale hair. One arm cradled the other, the healthy supporting the weak, a habit she had developed recently as if to shelter it from any other injury. Too thin, too quiet...she seemed but a shadow of her former self to those familiar with her.

True to Orophin's prognosis, the wounds on her chest had healed into ugly, red raised scars, which the fingers of her good hand traced unconsciously through her gown. They pained her still Haldir knew, especially when the weather turned sour, although she made no complaint. He winced at the thought of the discomfort she would suffer during the upcoming rainy season when wild thunderstorms would often blow in from the sea far to the West, crashing over the mountains and across the open plains.

Worse than the scars that marred her skin was the hand that remained rigid and claw-like, unmovable and unusable. Simple tasks such as hooking her own dress or caring for her own personal needs had become difficult, time consuming, and frustrating for her, adding to her despondency. More than her vanity or personal suffering, it was the fear that she would be useless, unable to earn her keep and continue in her service to her Lady that both frightened and saddened her.

Walking quietly behind her, he slipped his own cloak over her thin shoulders. "You will become ill standing out here in nothing but that gown. The nights are still cold, Amaryn."

She remained silent, as if he hadn't spoken. Haldir knew the depths of her depression, the blackness of it, the smothering blanket of sadness that gripped her soul...he had felt it himself many times before. The key was not to give in to it...to be strong, but he worried that she was losing the battle. He worried that it would wring the life from her, that she would wither and blow away on the wind like the fuzz of a dandelion in spring.

He had fought his own despair while recovering, the feelings of guilt that hammered at his soul, but his self-given purpose of repaying the life-debt he owed her as he saw it gave him the strength to carry on. Stroking his chin in consternation as he stared at the back of her head, it came to him that she had no reason to fight, no reason to hope...and so decided then and there, standing with her on the Wall, that he would need to give her one.

"Have you packed your things? We leave in the morning," he said softly, walking to stand in front of her where he knew he would fill her vision.

"I do not wish to go, Captain. I have told you this many times before. There is no place for one such as myself at a coronation," Amaryn replied, averting her eyes from the tall Elf who stood before her, blocking her sight of the spot where the axe had bitten through her flesh, destroying her body and her life.

"What? No place for a lovely young maiden? Certainly there is...Minas Tirith is a large city...surely we can fit a tiny little human such as yourself in it," he answered, hoping to get at the least a small smile from her.

Amaryn remained motionless, her expression never changing. Haldir noticed her fingers reach to trace the scars on her chest, even as her good arm cradled the weak. "A servant is not expected to attend such a grand affair."

Haldir knew very well that it was not worry over her status that hindered her, but rather embarrassment over her disfigurement that kept her from wishing to be in the company of others.

"I will not leave without you," he stated firmly, tipping her head up to look at him, "and make no mistake, I have no intention of staying here whilst my brothers travel to Gondor. Either you will accompany us willingly or I will stuff you into my saddlebag. Which will it be, Amaryn?"

This time a small smile did play at her lips for a brief moment. "Captain...I am but a servant...why do you and your brothers stay with me? Orophin has seen to my recovery, for which I am most grateful, but why do you still remain now that I have healed? Why do you insist that I travel with you? You owe me nothing..."

"Nothing but my life, Amaryn."

"You owe me nothing, Captain. Your people gave their lives for mine...you nearly did as well. The slate is clean..."

"Could it not be that I choose to stay simply because I am infatuated with a certain servant girl whose name I shall decline to mention?" Haldir replied, watching her face carefully.

"You are teasing me again...first you threaten to stuff me into a saddlebag, now this. I am going inside," she murmured, turning from his penetrating gray eyes.

"Good. You can pack."

Sighing in defeat, she gave a short nod before retreating into the dim halls of the Hornburg.

Haldir smiled to himself, a smug, self-satisfied smile. He had not missed the flush that had crept up her neck before she had turned away.

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Amaryn sat near the fire, huddled under her cloak as a fierce wind blew across The Mark, cold and unrelenting. Elves sat on either side of her, Orophin to her left and Haldir to her right, unobtrusively trying to block the wind from cutting through her cloak. Rœmil carefully handed her a cup of hot tea, which she accepted with her healthy hand, her other hidden away within the folds of her cloak. Purposely brought for her use, the cup boasted a large curving handle, allowing her to hold it unaided. The Elves drank their tea from their own wide-lipped, handleless wooden travel bowls.

"Have been to Minas Tirith?" Orophin asked Amaryn, hoping to entice the young human into a conversation.

Amaryn gave a slight shake of her head in reply, looking down at the tea which grew cold in her cup.

"I not either. Haldir yes, Rœmil and Orophin, no. I hear is big city. Much people."

Rœmil looked at Haldir as his oldest brother translated Orophin's statements. "I am looking forward to seeing it. I have heard of the beauty of it from the Ranger, as well as from my brother."

Again, Haldir translated, although Amaryn remained silent, staring at the crackling flames, their embers dancing in the wind. She had been this way ever since leaving Helm's Deep, and Haldir was becoming more and more concerned.

"Aye, it is a magnificent city. Not as breathtaking, of course, as our own Caras Galadhon, but impressive enough for a human city..." Haldir added, watching Amaryn for any sign of a response to his statement.

After several moments of mutual silence, Amaryn looked up at Rœmil's sudden anxious insistent jabbering. Haldir, biting back a grin that threatened to overtake him, turned to Amaryn to translate.

"He says that we must return to the Hornburg with all haste..." Haldir said, careful to keep his voice and expression steady and solemn.

"Why? What is wrong?" Amaryn asked, suddenly fearful, certain that something must be terribly amiss for the Elf to wish to backtrack all the way to Helm's Deep.

"He says that you must have forgotten to pack your voice, and insists that we go back for it."

Her jaw dropped as she looked unbelievingly at the youngest Elf, who grinned mischievously back at her. The three brothers began to chuckle and she could not help but join them, although the laughter felt foreign in her throat.

Conversation flowed easier after that, one or the other of the Elves asking a question, to which Amaryn dutifully replied, or telling an anecdote, to which she would smile. She did not ask questions of her own, but at least she was no longer silent and withdrawn.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they caught their first glimpse of Minas Tirith, gleaming white and spiraling high against the dark mountains that sheltered it, the days were beginning to warm with the promise of summer.

The journey had been difficult for Amaryn, for not only did she still wrestle with bouts of sadness and self-pity, but also her wounds, though healed, pained her greatly from the jostling of the endless riding. Luckily, Orophin had foreseen this, brewing painkilling elixirs for her to drink both in the morning and again at night. Still, the pain gnawed at her, contributing to the air of melancholia that clung to her like a shroud.

Her horse, a gentle light gray mare with a sweet disposition, followed Haldir's mount unerringly, aided by a whispered word or two from one or another of the Elves from time to time. Amaryn needed to do nothing more than keep her balance, for which she was grateful.

They entered the city in the afternoon of the second day after their first sighting of it. Even Amaryn was tempted from her silence by its magnificence, remarking to Haldir and his brothers on its beauty. Much of the damage from the war had yet to be repaired, but still the wonder of the city shone like a beacon through the darkness, hinting at the true splendor that would be reached when the repairs were completed.

Making their way through the crowded, narrow streets, winding their way up slowly to the King's House on the uppermost level, they found themselves the object of curious glances from the residents. Haldir and his brothers held their heads high, aware as they were that they represented their Lord and Lady, but Amaryn kept hers down, her eyes riveted to the bobbing head of her mare, her arm carefully hidden beneath the folds of her cloak.

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Always she was cloaked, wraithlike, enveloped in the dark blue voluminous material that flowed about her form in graceful folds. Always her injured hand was hidden, almost as frequently her face was as well, either hooded, or turned slightly away from those who spoke to her.

Speaking only when spoken to, offering nothing by way of conversation other than a whispered "Good day," giving one word answers only when to remain silent would have insulted the speaker, she spent most of her time on the small widow's walk of her chambers, staring out into the distance.

Haldir enticed, cajoled, and sometimes forced Amaryn into accompanying him into the city on several occasions, but was finding it more and more difficult to do so as the coronation approached.

He had had a long talk with the Lady Eowyn, in whose service Amaryn remained, explaining his purpose and the life-debt he perceived owing the servant girl. Asking for, and receiving the permission of the Lady of Rohan to pursue his plan for Amaryn, he had received also her thanks, both for his and his people's sacrifices at the Hornburg, as well as he and his brothers' devoted care of the young woman. Quietly, the conversation known only to Haldir and to Faramir, from whom Eowyn was never found to be far, the Lady of Rohan officially released Amaryn from her service, freeing the young woman to seek what future she thought suitable for herself.

The rest, it seemed, was up to Haldir.

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The morning of the coronation dawned clear and warm, a light breeze blowing in over the mountains, ruffling the delicate white blooms of the White Tree of Gondor which grew healthy once more in the Court of the Fountain.

Haldir had risen with the sun, busy with his plans for the day. At midmorning he knocked on the door to Amaryn's chamber before entering, not waiting for the answer that he knew from experience would be slow in coming.

He found her as he knew he would, once again out on the small balcony, fully cloaked though the morning was warm, staring off into the distance. Placing a carefully wrapped bundle on her bed, he stepped out onto the widow's walk with her.

"Good morn, Amaryn."

"Good morn, Captain."

"Have you broke fast this morning?"

"Nay...I am not hungry, Captain."

"You must eat, Amaryn...would you undo all of Orophin's work by wasting away to nothing by failing to eat? This day will be long and tiring, beginning with the coronation and ending with the celebration in the Great Hall of Feasts...you will not have the energy to last the day without eating."

Her silence told Haldir that she had no intention of attending the feasting...he knew without a shred of doubt that she would squirrel herself away in her rooms as soon as decently appropriate after the coronation. He had absolutely no intention of allowing that plan to come to fruition.

"I have left a package for you on your bed," Haldir informed her. "I will return in an hour to escort you to the coronation."

"That is not necessary, Captain."

"Perhaps, but that is the way of it, Amaryn," he replied more sternly than he had intended. His eyes and voice softened as he tilted her face up to look at him. "Do this for me, Amaryn...please..."

She was not ungrateful for his care, and could not bring herself to refuse a direct request from him. Nodding, she mutely assented to his instruction, her eyes flicking toward the package that lay on her bed within the room.

His lips turned up in a graceful smile as he nodded, telling her also that he would have food sent to her, leaving her to ready herself for the ceremony that was due to begin when Anor reached her full height.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly before noon, Haldir returned to Amaryn's door. Knocking, this time he waited for permission to enter, not knowing the state of dress she would be in, and not wishing to embarrass her.

A slight whisper that any other than Elven ears would have missed gave him leave to enter. Amaryn stood in the center of her chambers, covered head to toe in her familiar dark blue cloak. He shook his head, his long silver hair swaying, for he had hoped she would have forgone the cloak for this one day.

Amaryn, for her part, was astounded by the appearance of the Elf. She had nearly forgotten how breathtakingly beautiful he was, her eyes used now to seeing him dressed in his warden grays, his hair gathered in a simple, thick braid that hung down his back.

Standing before her now was the Elf she had first seen at his arrival at the Hornburg. Haldir's gleaming hair was intricately braided at the sides, before being gathered into a traditional thin back braid, clipped with shining metal clasps set with deep green stones. The rest of his thick silver hair flowed freely over his shoulders and back, shining where the rays of the sun touched it. Wearing a tunic the color of new leaves stitched with deep emerald and golden threads that set off his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he also wore a matching deep green cape flung over one shoulder. He looked every inch the Captain of the Guardians of his Lord's Wood, and she could not have found words to describe him had she tried.

"Let us go, Amaryn, else we will be late!" Haldir said, offering her his arm. "My brothers await us in the Courtyard." He would make no comment about her choice of remaining cloaked...at least not until after the coronation. Taking her uninjured arm, for he knew she would never allow its mate to show itself from beneath the folds of her mantle, he tucked her hand securely into the crook of his elbow, leading her from the room.

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Never before, and she conceded, most likely never again, had she witnessed a scene more poignant and heartening, more filled with hope and promise, than that of Aragorn receiving the crown of the King of Gondor. To be known this day forth as King Ellessar, he looked the part of a King, his robes golden, the Tree that marked his Crest stitched in silver thread across his chest.

Looking at him, barely could she remember him as the Ranger, as simply Aragorn, wielding his sword on the Wall of the Hornburg, or passing a kind word to her whilst she lay in the sickroom after the battle had been won. It was by his hand that Rohan survived, and she hoped dearly that he, along with Eomer, would keep the peace for which so many had died fighting.

The beauty of the Evenstar, his beloved Arwen, was as radiant as Amaryn had been led to believe, and the wealth of love that passed between them was unmistakable. Haldir whispered in her ear the names of Elves who stood in attendance at the coronation, both of them watching as Lord Elrond of Imladris gave the hand of his only daughter to the new King of Gondor.

Of the Elves in attendance she was familiar only with Haldir's brothers, both of who looked nearly as handsome to her eyes as he did, and Legolas, who for his part, looked resplendent in the robes of a prince of Mirkwood. He had nodded and smiled at her when she and Haldir has passed, although she did not see the troubled look he exchanged with Haldir at her hooded and cloaked visage.

Sweet smelling white blossoms swirled on the breeze as the assemblage paid their respects to the four tiny Halflings who had proven themselves to be giants of strength and fortitude in the completion of their quest. At a signal from the newly crowned King, a great cheer filled the air and the crowd began to mingle, laughing and talking, seeking out old friends and new to trade a word or an embrace.

"Let us seek a cup, Amaryn...I am parched," Haldir said softly, leading her toward the King's House.

"Nay, Captain...I am...tired. I would rather go back to my chambers now," she said softly, speaking more words at one time than he had heard from her all morning.

"Fine. I shall accompany you, and we shall send for refreshments to be taken there."

"I...I...think perhaps it best if I retire to my chambers alone, Captain."

"Nonsense. We've not much time before the feasting begins, Amaryn. We shall take a short rest in your chambers, unless you would rather go directly to the Great Hall of Feasts..."

Amaryn found herself at a loss. She had had no intention of attending the feasting, and yet seemed unable to convince Haldir to leave her be. To her continuing dismay, Orophin and Rœmil joined them, both agreeing to lift a cup with her and their brother before attending the feast.

Laughing and joking, Haldir's younger brothers were both in a mood, their joy at the peace that had been so hard won completely transparent, and contagious in its purity. Amaryn found herself smiling often, sometimes not even understanding what was so amusing, but doing so simply because she was unable to resist joining with the three Elves in their gaiety.

Finally, Orophin and Rœmil bid them farewell, with promises to save them seats in the Great Feasting Hall. Standing, Haldir drained the last from his cup, smiling as he put the empty mug down on the small dressing table in Amaryn's chambers.

"I must ask you, Amaryn...did you not find the gown I selected for you to be adequate?" Haldir asked, referring to the package he had left on her bed that morning.

"I have already thanked you for your gift, Captain...it was far too generous, and yes, it was more than adequate," Amaryn whispered.

"It was my thought that perhaps you did not like it, since you have kept it covered by your cloak, though the day is warm," he gently chided her. At her continued silence, he said, "I would see you in the gown, Amaryn..."

Staring at the floor, unsure of how to refuse his request since he had gifted her with gown, Amaryn's healthy hand slip hesitantly upwards to her shoulder, unhooking the clasp that held closed her cloak, allowing it to fall free from her shoulders.

The gown Haldir had chosen was simple in design, made of a softly draping material. It boasted a modest neckline, and long fitted sleeves that gradually blossomed into wide flowing cuffs. A silver girdle cinched her waist, etched with gem-colored leaves. Trimmed with a fine white lace, it was the color of the gown that had caught his attention...it was nearly the same, soft blue as Amaryn's eyes. He had known it had been made for her the moment he had laid eyes on it, and had bought it on a whim, hoping that having the gown to wear to the coronation and feast would lift her spirits.

"It is beautiful, and you are beautiful in it," Haldir said, lifting her uninjured hand to his lips, barely skimming the skin with a butterfly soft kiss.

Her eyes never left the floor, but a deep flush rose to color her neck and cheeks. Haldir smiled, then once again tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "We should go else our seats are taken by others."

Amaryn tried to pull her hand free of Haldir's arm, but the Elf tightened his hold on her. "Captain...my cloak..."

"...will not be needed. It is warm, Amaryn...you will have no need for a winter cloak in the Great Feasting Hall."

Without waiting for the argument he felt certain was coming, he walked out of Amaryn's chambers, giving her no choice but to walk with him since he did not relinquish his hold on her arm.

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The Coronation Feast was a grand affair, befitting the newest King of Gondor in every way. Joyous laughter and song rang through the Hall of Great Feasts, as hundreds joined together to celebrate the Heir of Isildur having taken his crown.

A wide variety of foods had been spread across the long wooden tables, representing all wildlife known to inhabit the realm...or at the very least, all edible wildlife. Venison, quail, duck, mutton, fish, along with many others, and vegetables and fruits of every known shade and texture all made their way into one or another of the dishes and platters. Ale and wine flowed freely, the clatter of knives and spoons silenced only by the contented sighs of full bellies.

King Ellessar and his betrothed, the Elf-maiden Arwen sat on a raised dais, along with the members of the Fellowship, and Lord Elrond of Imladris. Amaryn looked at the new King and thought that this is precisely what a King should like...smiling, and looking as though he were in love with the whole of the earth.

Haldir had just finishing draining the last of his wine when the musicians took up their instruments, striking a lively tune. Standing, he held out his hand to Amaryn. "Come...dance with me."

"I...I...cannot, Captain!" Amaryn stuttered, pulling back from his outstretched hand.

"Why not, might I ask? I have been known to be quite light on my feet," he replied, frowning slightly.

"Yes, he only step on feet one maybe two times," Orophin added, quickly translating for Rœmil, who guffawed at his brother's wittiness.

"Come...I am fond of this tune," Haldir insisted, reaching for Amaryn's hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Captain, please...I cannot...my injuries..." Amaryn argued, pulling back from him.

"What? Your feet were not injured...come."

Finding it futile to resist, Amaryn was soon being swept across the stone floor in time to the music. With one warm hand pressed against the small of her back while his other held her uninjured one, her damaged arm trapped between them, Haldir smiled softly at her, obviously enjoying himself, and she found herself wanting to smile back. Closing her eyes, she soon lost herself in both the lovely strains of the music, whirling movements, and intricate footwork, as the Elf guided her around the room. She was saddened with the song drew to a close, though a bit out of breath from the exertion.

"Come," Haldir said, "I've a need for fresh air." Not relinquishing her hand, he led her out of the Great Feasting Hall onto the courtyard. Nodding politely to the guards who stood stoically in formation around the base of the White Tree, he walked with her to the very end of the triangular courtyard, where a most spectacular view of Gondor and parts of Rohan, as well as the smoking ruins of Mordor, spread out far below them.

Silently they gazed at the view for a while each lost in their own thoughts, until Haldir finally pointed out toward the northeast.

"In that direction lies Lothlorien, and within it the Golden Wood and the great Elven city of Caras Galadhon, my home. It is the most wondrous city in all of Arda, Amaryn...so beautiful that I have not the words to describe it to you." After a moment or two, he turned to her, and said, "I would that you saw it for yourself, Amaryn."

"It must be beautiful, Captain...I have heard you speak of it often."

"Soon will come the time that I must return. The War is over, the Ring destroyed, and the King sits upon the throne of Gondor. I grow anxious to return again to my homeland. When I do, I wish for you to come with me."

"Me? Oh...you are jesting again," she smiled, looking away from him and back out at the view.

His hand caught her chin, gently turning her face toward him. "I jest not...I wish for you to go with me."

"Captain! What cause would you to drag a servant that does not serve you across the wilderness to your homeland? I serve my Lady Eowyn...I have since ere I was brought to Edoras after my parents were slain."

He smiled gently, his hand still cupping her chin, the look in his eye holding her captive. "Do you remember our kiss, Amaryn? I do," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "It is a memory I hold dear to me...one that I do not wish to remain a memory..." The last of his words were muffled as he dipped his head, brushing his lips softly against hers.

This time there was no call for help...no distraction...no one to interfere, and he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from her chin to cradle the back of her head, his other slipping around her waist, pulling her into him. It was only the gentle pressure of her hand against his chest that forced him to break it.

"Captain...why?" she asked in a small voice, her eyes widened. "I am nothing to you..."

"You are everything to me."

She shook her head, trying to step away. "Why do you say these things? I am not as I was before...I am...damaged." Her eyes dropped, her fingers moving from his chest to trace the wicked patterns of her scars that lay beneath her gown.

"Listen to me, Amaryn. I do not see you as less than you were before...I see you as more. I have seen your courage and fortitude...I see it everyday as you fight your pain. I have tried to help you in that fight, and will continue to help you, gladly."

Amaryn continued to shake her head, wanting desperately to believe him, but unable to allow herself to do so. "No...no, Captain. You are beautiful, Captain..." she said raising her eyes to meet his for a moment, her hand rising along with her line of sight to gently stroke his cheek. "You deserve someone as beautiful as you are...someone as strong."

Haldir gave a soft laugh, his own hand covering hers, pressing it to his cheek. "You are stronger than anyone I have ever met, Amaryn. Everyday that you wake and rise from your bed regardless of your pain, proves that to me. Another might likely have found their way to death's embrace long before now."

"I could not because you and your brothers would not allow me."

"And still we will not allow you. I will not allow you."

"Captain..."

"I have a name. You know it well...I would that you should use it from now on. I tire of being called by my rank," he gently admonished her, a look of pleading in his eyes.

"Cap...Haldir...I..."

"Yes..." he whispered, claiming her lips once more, silencing her protests.

She had had the strength and will to survive her wounds, to weather the pain they still caused and the inconveniences they wrought, to withstand the self-imposed loneliness of her depression, but she did not have the strength or the will to resist him any longer. Allowing herself to be pulled into his kiss, she returned it with a passion she did not know that she possessed, her healthy hand threading into his hair, fisting itself in the silky strands.

When he allowed her to breath again, she whispered, her lips still so close to his that they brushed with the movement of her words, "I am yours."

He uttered no sound, but simply scooped her into his arms, carrying her across the courtyard into the King's House, ignoring the curious glances from the few guests that roamed the courtyard or had gathered to gaze at the White Tree.

Through the hallway and up the white marble staircase he carried her, cradled against his chest, making his way to her chambers where he had every intention of claiming what had just been given him.

TBC...