Killing Beauty

Ashva awoke to the sounds of the elves arguing quietly among themselves, trying not to disturb her. But she lay there in the gray light before morning and listened. They wanted her horse to take Haldir back to Lothlorien; he was not getting better. Getting up before they made a move to take the stallion, she said, "Glider will suffer no one but me to ride him."

Rumil, his hands outstretched as if pleading, approached her and said, "I must take him back to Lothlorien. The poison is festering his wounds. I fear for him."

Ashva could see in the dim light the marchwarden sitting up in the cart, but there was no strength in his posture. She knew then she would have to abandon her search for the Rohan horseman. If only she had just rode away. Nearing him, she detected the faint scent of rotting flesh. It must have been horrifying to the elves with their finer senses.

"I have need of your horse," Haldir spoke up, almost sounding like the elf who had chased her out of the woods.

"He'll suffer no one to ride him but me," she answered and examined the leg. It was swollen and the edges were hot to the touch. "I can drain it," she offered and looked up into his face. Elves were naturally beautiful beings, and he had the most expressive eyes, which right now were full of pain.

"I think not," he answered softly. "It would only return."

Ashva refused to do nothing and said, "I'll take you." Turning to his brother, she asked,"Rumil, will you bring my saddle with you and let my wolves travel with you?"

"Anything you ask," he replied, relief showing on his face. "What do I need to do to help?"

Rumil had not realized when he made that offer that Ashva would have him tie his brother's hands into Glider's long black mane or secure his knees to hers once she was mounted. Her quiver and bow, she left to him; most of her knives she left to the other elves. The one with the smallest, sharpest blade she kept for herself. Then with a yelp and a slap of the reins, she drove Glider forwards. The stallion would either save the dying elf or be the bearer of his remains, and Lothlorien seemed a long way off right now.

Glider raced the wind itself, his long legs eating up the distance with each stride. Ashva wrapped her left arm around Haldir, careful to avoid his injury, and for whatever reason, to reassure her or himself, he laid his hand over hers. The dark was closing in on him.

Reaching the wood of Lothlorien as the sky bled its last light over the land, she charged into the forest yelling that she had the marchwarden and needed help. Hindered by the narrow trails, Glider had to stop, his ebony sides heaving for air. "Help me!" she yelled desperately. "Please help me!"

An elf appeared in front of her. His look of suspicion turned to horror as he saw who was sitting in front of her. Grabbing Glider's reins, he led them deeper into the wood towards Caras Galadhon.