Strange Allies

~~~
Disclaimer - I own none of this apart from Annowe and I have made no money from this story.
~~~

Annowe dug her heels into the horse, urging it forward. Helm’s Deep. It was there – just where Arwen said it would be, rising like a defiant fist from the mountains. She strained her eyes to discern any movement at all in the place but was still too far away to see anything.

“Please,” she begged the horse, the sky, the sun and whatever entity might be listening. “One of them is all I ask.”

Her throat constricted with tension. She could not get there fast enough. She had to see one of them. She had to know that at least one of them had made it this far.

Elrond had threatened and pronounced doom upon her but Annowe held firm in her determination to leave Rivendell after she gave her report. She could not remain there when Legolas might need her. It was absurd. An army of orcs could not keep her away from Legolas.

Of course, Elrond had flatly refused to tell her where Helm’s Deep was or to lend her a horse, still preaching his “non-involvement” in the matter. Annowe had narrowed her eyes at him and sharply reminded the venerable elf that it was his policy of “non-involvement” in the first place that had led up to this point.

“You had an opportunity to destroy that ring years ago and did not,” she savagely reminded him.

Glaring in chastisement, he turned his back on her wordlessly. What could he say? “If” was a very small word with very heavy consequences that he was all too well aware of.

But Arwen had come to her aid, understanding her desperation. Annowe had begged her to come along but the elf had refused, saying simply, “Estel will know where to find me. He returned before. I must trust that he will return again.”

Amazed at her faith, the naiad thanked her, wishing her the best. How she could be so serene and steadfast in this situation was simply astounding. Annowe wished that she had such a calm and unshakable outlook on the future but she was not one to sit and wait. No, she must do something! Anything was better than sitting idly at Rivendell hoping for the best. What if Legolas needed her?

The hopeful naiad had ridden off at breakneck speed, determined to make it to Helm’s Deep as fast as possible.

The horse skidded to a stop in the common yard of the fortress as Annowe slid from the sweating beast and glanced quickly around. The place seemed nearly deserted except for a few young women scurrying about.

Annowe rushed up to the nearest one. “The elves?” She asked tightly, her knees shaking with apprehension and exhaustion.

“This way, lady,” the maid jerked her head. “All that are left are the wounded. The others have returned to Edoras.”

They headed down a short passage and around a corner. Annowe gasped as she entered the large chamber cut from the rock. The room was jammed with wounded men and elves, the shield maidens moving amongst them dispensing water and changing bandages with soothing words.

“Thank you,” she whispered before beginning her agonizing search among the victims.

It was a terrible sight – one Annowe had not seen in many years and hoped never to again. The worst of them had been given beds to lie in. The others were sitting or lying about on the floor and she carefully picked her way over them desperately searching for Haldir or Legolas. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of death and blood but tried not to look too disgusted. The poor creatures!

“Legolas?” She called hopefully. No answer. She bit her lip. “It means nothing,” she assured herself, taking a deep breath. “He could be in Edoras. Don’t panic.”

“Haldir?” Her voice trembled as she moved slowly amongst the wounded, anxiously examining each face for any sign of familiarity. She was almost afraid to know.

“The March Warden?” One of the wounded elves within earshot answered softly.

“Yes!” She cried, moving toward the young archer and gripping her hand. “Where is he?”

“I know not,” the elleth answered. “He was here but I think he was wounded and taken to another room.”

Annowe’s hand flew to her throat and she felt as if all the air had been squeezed from her. She gasped and began to tremble uncontrollably as a nearby shield maiden moved quickly to steady her.

“There was an elf – Haldir of Lorien – the March Warden,” the distressed nymph choked out as she clutched tightly to the shield maiden’s steadying arm. “He would have led the archers who arrived here. Where is he now, lady?”

“Ah, him!” The young maid grimaced. “Him we put away from the others. He was fiercely wounded but in a terrible temper!”

Annowe’s shaking knees could no longer support her and she sat down heavily on the floor as the concerned maid knelt next to her. Only the March Warden could be so insufferable, of that she had no doubt. Relief washed over her and she struggled to control herself. She needed to get to him before she completely dissolved into hysteria.

“Are you well, m’lady?” The maiden asked anxiously.

“Yes, yes,” the naiad breathed, trying to keep her voice calm. “Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood – what of him?” If Haldir were alive did that mean doom had befallen Legolas?

The young woman glanced at the elf and shook her head. “I know him not,” she said gently. “But many of the elves left right after the battle. Perhaps he was with them.”

Annowe took several deep breaths and willed herself not to collapse. She had to get to Haldir. He would know what happened to Legolas.

“Please, take me to the March Warden. I will tend him,” she begged.

“I would lead you to the gates of Mordor myself if you would take him off our hands!” The maiden announced, slowly helping Annowe to her feet. “Pray, follow me.”

With knees still shaking from the relief of knowing Haldir was alive and the apprehension over Legolas’ fate, Annowe followed her just down the hall to a slightly open door. “He is in there,” she whispered fearfully, pointing.

“I will take care of him now,” the nymph assured her. “He will not plague you any longer. Thank you for your kindness to me and to him. He is too proud and stubborn to thank you himself, I am certain.”

The maid smiled slightly and inclined her head in acknowledgement before returning to her duties among her other, more grateful, charges.

As the nymph slipped into the room on her shaking legs, the candle flickered and Haldir stirred, sensing someone was with him. They were probably going to change his dressing again with their rough hands careless on his tender skin. He groaned softly at the thought.

Quietly Annowe moved closer to the bed, torn between her desire to throw herself on him and not wishing to cause him any more pain. Her desire won out and she rushed forward, laying her head on his broad chest and throwing one arm across him to hold him tightly, heedless of his wounds. He was alive! Her knees collapsed under her and she clung to him desperately.

Haldir grunted with pain as he struggled awake, feeling the weight over his chest. Immediately he knew it was Annowe. He could smell her hair and feel her small hand against his neck.

“Annowe,” he murmured, touching her hair and smiling weakly.

She raised her head from his chest and looked at him, the tears running down her cheeks as she laughed crazily, the giddiness of finding him alive making her light headed.

He squeezed her tightly with his good arm as one tear slid out of the corner of his eye. She had come, just as Legolas assured him she would. How could he have ever doubted that she would find them?

“Legolas?” She breathed, her fingers clutching his hair. She had to know.

“Safe,” Haldir replied and felt her body relax against him. “He is safe. In Edoras.”

All of the tension, frustration and fear that had built up since she left Lothlorien finally released inside of her and she buried her face in Haldir’s neck, sobbing helplessly. He rubbed her back soothingly, feeling the same wave of relief wash over him. They were alive and together. Perhaps soon they would join Legolas. He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to wander down that blissful path as the naiad kept her tear-stained face in his neck. The three of them together again in each other’s arms! Oh, what a lovely thought!

She kept her head against him for a while until her sobs subsided, content to listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing in her ear as she relished his scent. How had he survived? Did she care? No, it did not matter. Slowly, she pulled back from him and wiped her face with trembling hands. There was work to do now. His wounds must be tended. He needed to heal quickly so they could travel to Edoras and join with Legolas.

Clearing her throat and taking stock of the small room, she smiled weakly. “I hear you have been terrorizing those who would heal you,” she scolded mildly.

Haldir scowled darkly. “They are too rough and coarse,” he grumbled. “Their hands are unsteady and they do not know how to properly dress a wound.”

“Perhaps you should stop acting like a delicate flower of womanhood,” Annowe teased leaning over to examine his shoulder more closely.

His wound was even more horrible than the wolf’s attack and she gasped. Haldir grunted in satisfaction. Now she would see for herself how badly he was hurt. Would she take pity on him and treat him as tenderly as he knew she could? He nearly smiled at the thought.

Indeed, he was only wounded and not dead at all. No, not dead at all and he would greatly enjoy her gentle touch once again. He was starting to feel better already just at the thought of her small warm hands on his aching skin!

Slowly, she pulled the bandages away, grimacing with pain as she realized the extent of the damage. He was fortunate he had not lost his life or his limb that much was certain. She seriously doubted that a human could have survived such a terrible wound.

“How?” She breathed trying to keep from tearing up at the pain he must be in.

“Did I avoid it? Or how did it happen?” He asked.

“Either, both. I don’t care,” she replied, tenderly stroking his cheek. He closed his eyes, relishing the gentleness of her fingers on his flesh. She would not be rough with him, oh no! A faint stirring in his loins reminded him of how badly he had craved her touch on so many levels.

“It was exactly as you said,” he remembered softly. Would he tell her that Legolas had left him? There was no point in it. And if Legolas had been there instead of the dwarf, who is to say that the Prince of Mirkwood would not have been killed in his stead? No, he would leave that detail out. It did not matter now.

“You made the right choice,” she breathed in relief. Then her tears started again. Desperately, she wiped them away, trying to stop them but they would not abate, only increasing in volume.

“I am sorry,” she apologized lamely trying to smile as they coursed down her cheeks.

“There is no need to apologize, little one,” Haldir murmured and reached his hand to her.

She took it and squeezed it. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.

“Now that IS uncalled for,” he grunted irritably.

Despite her tears, she giggled. He was just as horrible as she remembered and oh, how delighted she was to hear that! With one last gentle squeeze of his hand, she returned to the task of changing his bandage.

~~~