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
Disclaimer: I own nothing...I am merely borrowing for a brief moment.


Rides a Pale Horse, Part I

Darkness was encroaching on the rag-tag troops of Helm's Deep bringing with it a silence that was heavy with fear. Gathered by Gamling and his men, the old, the young, those barely capable enough to wield a sword or shoot a bow had been outfitted with mismatched pieces of cast-off armor and weapons. Most simply stood still in one spot, eyeing the rusting sword in their hands, or idly twanging the catgut of their newly acquired bow, not certain at all of how they came to be the only defense of the Walls of Theoden's Keep, and even less certain if they would be able to defend it adequately, fearing in their hearts that they would not. Out beyond the Walls in the gathering gloom an unspeakable army of monstrosities, created from treachery and suckled on hate, marched toward the Keep, the only purpose of their existence to bring about the death of Man.

Through the silence a horn sounded, clear and deep tones that sent shivers up the spines of the motley tin soldiers scattered just within the Walls. The call was made to open the gate, to allow entrance to the miracle that marched up to it in perfect unison.

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She should have gone with the Lady Eowyn and the other women and children into the caves; to the relative security of its rock walls as ordered, and yet she had not. Lingering within the walls of the Keep, she hastily and tirelessly had made piles of bandages ripped from whatever sheets and blankets she could lay her hands on, gathered clean water in buckets, scrounged the healing rooms for whatever medicinal herbs and equipment she could find.

Having survived an orc attack at an early age, having watched her entire village burned and sacked, her people ravaged, she understood well the need for healers after battle. Her father had been killed outright, her mother had survived only a short while, dying not from the blow that opened her thigh from hip to knee, but from the green, stench-laden poison that had soon oozed up from out of its depths.

Found by the Rohrrim sent by Theoden to roust the vermin from the smoking ruins of her village, she was brought to Edoras and placed in the service of Lady Eowyn, then a girl-child herself. Serving faithfully ever since, she had haunted the healing rooms at every opportunity, picking up bits of lore and procedure from the healers. As a female, she was dismissed as too gentle-hearted to apprentice, but for her tenacious will, bright mind, and unflagging interest her presence was tolerated on most occasions.

This was the first act of willful disobedience to the King that she had ever displayed, but she could see no way around it. Every female had been sent away into the caves, and every able-bodied boy and man had been sent to the Wall. There was no one left but she to care for the wounded, to alleviate their pain or ease their passing, and so made her decision to disobey Theoden's order and stay behind. Lady Eowyn was aware of her decision, had approved of it in fact, and were it not for a direct order from Theoden King would herself have stayed behind, albeit to fight, not to heal.

At the sound of the deep resonant horn, which strummed in her breastbone as well as in her ears, even she, with her limited knowledge of Elf-kind, knew that such a beautiful sound could not have found its birth in the foul breath of an Orc. Hoping not to be seen and ordered into the caves she made her way to the gates, curiosity driving her into the open.

"You there! Why are you not in the caves with the other women?" A deep, masculine voice called, just a heartbeat before a strong hand took hold of her upper arm. She gasped, looking up into the narrowed eyes of Gamling, Theoden's Captain.

Stiffening her spine, she said in low tones, "Who will care for the wounded? Who will ease their suffering, if not me?"

"We have healers..."

"They are on the Wall. There is no one but me," she answered her voice dropping lower, not wishing others to overhear. "Please, allow me my choice...please, Gamling...for the children's sake..."

His eyes cut up to the trembling, frightened youngsters on the Wall before looking back at her. Seeing her resolve, recognizing and appreciating courage when he saw it, he nodded, releasing his hold on her arm and patting her shoulder before walking toward the gate, which had just swung open.

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He stood tall and proud before the Man-King of Rohan, a small, benevolent smile playing at his lips. For many days he had marched his troops without rest at the bequest of Lord Elrond of Imladris, and his own Lord and Lady, to arrive here, ready to lay down his own life and theirs to honor the ancient Alliance. In his deep, soft voice he told Theoden as much, his voice reflecting the pride in his race that swelled his heart.

Greeted by the son of Thranduil, he was next embraced by the Ranger. Stiffening for a moment in the Man's embrace, he relented a smile for the obviously heartfelt warmth in it, returning the hug irregardless of the stench that emanated from the Man.

Theoden bid him and his welcome, offering what little comfort was to be had before the shadows finished lengthening and the battle was upon them. It was then, as he followed Theoden, Legolas, and Aragorn up the stairs into the maze of stone rooms behind the Wall, having given his troops permission to break rank and seek comfort of their own, that he spied the woman.

Surprised at the sight of the slight, fair-haired woman peeking out at him from behind a curve in the Wall, Haldir, Captain of the Guardians of Lothlorien, returned her gaze for a brief moment. He wondered at her presence for he had heard it said that the women of Men did not fight, and he saw no other females abroad. Setting the thought aside nearly as soon as it had occurred to him, he followed the two Men and the Elf into Theoden's Keep.

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She had seen little of the Elf Aragorn had brought with him upon his arrival at Meduseld, and had not much opportunity to interact with him. He was the first of his kind she had seen, and she would admit freely that he was lovely to look upon, but in her opinion he could not compare to the regal Elf who had just glanced her way. Proud, broad of shoulder and arm, he looked to her to be a pillar of strength, and she was suddenly very glad that he was on their side. "Perhaps all is not lost for the people of Rohan," she thought as she watched his back retreat into the recesses of the Keep, his deep red cape fluttering at his heels. She found herself wishing that he would turn around so that she might see his exquisite face, and the warm light that seemed to shine in his odd gray eyes, once more.

Shaking herself, she went back to the business at hand, preparing for the inevitable onslaught of wounded that would need tending before this night was out.

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Struggling, she hauled yet another thin pallet into the room she had designated to serve as the healing center, pulling roughly at it, trying to align it in an orderly fashion with the others she had laid there on the cold stone floor. It would not be nearly enough, for she had visions of the room filled with suffering men and boys, spilling over into the hallways of the Keep, too many for her to attend by herself, too many...too many...

Wiping her brow with the back of her hand, she steeled herself yet again against the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. Turning to another task she had set for herself, she readied a tray of sharp embroidery needles and lengths of catgut, her stomach shrinking in upon itself at the thought of what she would be stitching before the night was over.

Turning, surveying the room, wracking her brain for anything else that she might ready before hand that she might need later, her thoughts were interrupted by Gamling. Poking his head into the room, he called to her.

"Amaryn! Come...we have need of you."

Startled, she did not hesitate to follow Gamling out into the hall, where, to her surprise, he placed a tray of tea and fruit into her hands. "I am needed on the Wall...bring this to Elf Captain. He is in Eowyn's chambers."

Spinning on his heel, certain of her acquiesce, he strode away leaving her looking both uncertain and a bit perturbed at being called away from what she considered to be a duty of the utmost importance to play maid to an Elf, especially to one who had looked more than capable of doing for himself.

Casting another look back at the room in which she could already think of a half dozen things that still needed doing, she ran quickly down the hallway toward the Lady Eowyn's chambers. Carefully balancing the tray on one hand, she rapped sharply on the door with the other.

"Enter."

That same, deep melodious voice that she had heard at the gate reached her ears. Turning the handle, she pushed at the door with her hip, opening it wide enough for her body and the tray she carried to slip though, sidling between the door and the jamb.

The Elf stood near the window, his back to her. Still bearing his heavy armor and cape, his bearing ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back as he studied the section of the Wall visible through the window. Once again she was struck by his beauty and strength, as she had when she had first seen him standing before the Gate speaking so eloquently to her King.

"Master Elf?" Amaryn asked, after the Elf had failed to acknowledge her presence when she entered the room. "King Theoden has ordered your comfort seen to..." Again she waited for a reply, which did not come. Put off by his lack of common courtesy as she saw it,
she narrowed her eyes at the back of his silver haired head. "Master Elf? Very well then...I'll just leave it here on the table and be off...I've things to do." She set the platter on the table with no little clatter, thinking to take her leave quickly and get back to the business at hand of readying herself for the aftermath of the battle, when his hand shot out faster than her eye could follow it, grasping her arm about the wrist.

"I have seen your face before. You were at the gate, peeking like a small child through her mother's skirts. You stared with your mouth wide open as though we were minstrels come to entertain in your King's Court. By what name are you called?"

Startled, she looked up into his gray eyes, a bit frightened at the intense way they stared back at her. Averting her eyes, she felt her face and neck grow hot under his scrutiny. "My Lord? Um...I am called Amaryn, Master Elf."

"What reason have you for not being hidden away with the other females...what purpose might Theoden King have for keeping you here while the others are safely stowed away from the evil deeds that come...or the evil thoughts that are already abroad?"

"My Lord?" she asked again, her voice, in rising an octave showing her mounting discomfort, pulling on her wrist in an effort to break free. She did not wish this Elf to know that her King knew not of her presence in the Keep.

"Tell me, what other comforts has the Man-King offered?" whispered his sultry voice, so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath, scarcely able to believe that he had moved so quickly, his hand still gripping her wrist, to stand just behind her. "There are needs to be tended aside from thirst and hunger. I have heard it said often that Men indulge themselves fully before battle...would Theoden King offer less to those who come to aid him in his hour of need?" So close were they that his lips brushed against the folds of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine even as her own lips gasped at his audacity. "Are we not as pleasant to look upon to your eyes as your own Men? Are we not as fair - or as worthy of your attentions? When first I arrived, your eyes followed me as though they were quite pleased with what they saw. Have they lost their interest so soon?"

Wrenching free from his grasp, she backpedaled toward the door. "My Lord! The comforts you have been offered are no more or less than have been offered our own men this night! You...you...insult his Majesty by insinuating that he has not seen to yours as well as to his own. Your tongue must be as black as your heart to speak of such things the night of battle when so many will lose their lives to the evil that approaches!"

"I am not of noble birth...do not seek to burden me with a title I have no right or wish to claim," Haldir growled, frowning at the young mortal. He took a step toward the female who had edged closer to the door, his voice as hard-edged as steel. "Further, do not dare seek to enlighten me on what horrors come with the growing night...I am far too well acquainted with war; far more familiar with its treachery and pain than any mortal could possibly comprehend. Go back into the security of the rock hole your King banishes those of your sex to...you are useless here where Men and Elves will die fighting for you."

"Your...your tea grows cold, Master Elf..." she spat, unable to find words sharp enough to cut through his arrogance to strike him as he had struck her. Ducking back through the door before he could see the tears his cold words had brought to her eyes, she fled back to relative safety of the healing room not daring a single look backward over her shoulder.

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He had handled that poorly. She was an innocent, of that he was well aware at his first glimpse of her at the Gate...and yet he had allowed his tongue to cut her no less sharply or painfully than his sword would slice her flesh. Haldir stared out at the Wall, his shoulders slumping in defeat and remorse, not seeing the Men and Elves gathering there for the thoughts that whirled through his mind.

A memory came to him unbidden, his Lady pouring the waters into her mirror, bidding him look. A vision in the waters of flashing swords and driving pikes, of soundless screams, of blood running in rivulets across gray stone. The sight of his own lifeless eyes staring up into the rain, felled by the evil hand of an Urak Hai.

Regardless of his Lady's comforting words, her insistence that the vision may merely be a warning of the future that might await him rather than the future itself; that nothing was certain; that not all paths led to the same destination, he was convinced that he would meet his doom on the stone Wall of Theoden's Keep.

It was that feeling of his own impending mortality, his own death, irregardless of the knowledge that the Halls awaited him, that drove him to the words that had so rashly spilled from his lips. He had wished, above all else save victory and an honorable death, to feel comforting arms around him this night...he wished to lose himself, if for a brief moment, in a lover's embrace. He wished to be loved in the manner of all things of the flesh for just one night.

He had no right to ask it of her...nor did he ask in the way he had intended. A Captain of his Lord's Guard for so long that scarcely there was a time remembered that he had not been such, he was familiar only with the following and giving of orders - he had no experience with the flowery words and sweet whispers of lovers. So keenly did he feel the desire to taste love before his end that he had heedlessly cast aside his honor. Even as the words had fled his mouth his own ears had heard them as boorish and corrupt, and he would have stuffed them back down his own throat had he the ability.

Hands curled into tight, hard fists at his sides, his shoulders squared once more, he turned and walked to the door, intent on finding the maiden he had offended and offering her his most abject apology for his behavior. If he were to die this night, he would die with his honor intact.

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He found Amaryn in one of the rooms just within the stone archway to the Keep, fussing angrily with a pile of shredded fabric. Murmuring to herself as she wrapped long strips of material into tight rolls, her very stance told him that she was both angry and wounded.

"Amaryn," he called softly from the doorway, waiting for her to acknowledge him before entering the room. He watched as her back stiffened at the sound of his voice. No warmer reception would be forthcoming, and rightfully so, he imagined. His feet led him to her side, his hand reached to her shoulder, though he stopped himself from touching her at the last moment, leaving it to fall uncomfortably back down to his side. "I must offer you my most sincere apology. This night will be...difficult...for all of us, not that I seek an excuse for behavior that was neither warranted nor justifiable. My words were thoughtless, flung from my mouth carelessly. Please accept my most humble apology."

Haldir waited a moment, watching her carefully for some sign that she had both heard and accepted his expression of his regret, but she remained focussed on the pile of rolled bandages before her, the only hint that she had heard him being the slight tremor that ran through her shoulders.

Turning, he made to leave the way he had come, his honor no less whole for the lack of her forgiveness...he had made his apology. Nearly to the door before her soft voice reached him, he froze, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She hadn't moved, rather she still stared at the mound of coiled fabric before her, one finger thoughtfully tracing the edge of the roll she had last placed on the stack. "Master Elf..."

"Yes, Amaryn?" he answered, his voice equally soft, still heavy with regret. He turned to meet her as she hesitantly walked toward him, her eyes still wet with the tears that he knew were his doing.

Willing her eyes up to meet his, her anger melted away in the face of the soft light that shone in his gray eyes as he looked at her. There was a gentleness there that had been absent during their first meeting in Eowyn's chambers, and a sadness that touched her very soul. Hesitantly, her hand reached up to touch the side of his face, his eyes closing briefly at their warmth as they lightly brushed his cheek. "You speak truly, Master Elf...this night will be difficult for us all. No apology is desired or necessary...I think we will all have said things best kept behind our teeth before this night is over."

Her voice was as soft and gentle as her touch, although he could sense the weight of hardship and sorrow beneath the kind words. Briefly he again closed his eyes, relishing her touch, wishing to remember the feel of her fingers against his cheek, to take at least that much with him to the Wall. Opening them, realizing her fingers still gently stroked the side of his face, he gazed into soft, wide blue eyes that looked back at him with concern, and something more. He sensed a longing in them that nearly matched his own, a need to be held, to be comforted, to be sheltered from the evils that stalked ever closer in the night.

Without either of them consciously willing it, their lips met as if of their own accord, soft, pliant and warm, his hand cupping her face even as hers threaded through his silver hair, its mate resting upon the metal of his breastplate.

"Haldir o Lorien," a frightened young voice called to him from the open doorway. "You are needed on the Wall. The enemy approaches!"

With one last look, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone to her jaw line, Haldir turned and left, leaving Amaryn still standing staring at the open doorway long after he had gone.

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She knew when it began. From without the Keep a low rumbling grew ever louder as the army of Urak Hai, ten thousand strong, descended on Helm's Deep. The air filled with it - a solid, reverberating mass of sound, punctuated by shrill screams and roaring inhuman bellows.

Standing close within the stone archway, she peered out through the darkness as arrows alight with fire streamed through the night, disappearing into the gloom. A return volley brought her first patient nearly to her feet...a young boy of no more than twelve summers, felled by an arrow as black as the heart of the beast who had fired it.

Lifting him under his arms, she dragged the boy back into the Keep, into the healing room. Time lost meaning soon after, as one or another Man or Elf dragged or carried still another victim to her care.

Broken Men and Elves lay on the pallets she had prepared, on blankets on the cold stone floor, and on the hard granite itself, lining the hallway, filling the Great Hall. Covered in their blood, the blood of Men and Elves mixing together both on the floors and on her clothes, she worked, stitching flesh as best she could, giving a soft word of comfort, holding a hand as one or another passed from this life to the next.

One hand carelessly batted a loose tendril of blood-streaked hair from her eyes as she stopped to catch a breath before continuing her ministrations. Her blue eyes were hollowed from the sight of so much suffering and death, dark purple shadows beneath them. A deep breath and she was off, running back into the healing room for another load of supplies.

Carrying an armload of bandages from the healing room to the Great Hall, she had barely stepped into the hallway when she heard voices screaming to retreat into the Keep. Knowing that could only mean that the enemy was winning the day, she shuddered, wondering if those few who might manage to survive their wounds would do so only to die under the boots of the Urak Hai as they stomped the life from the heart of the people of Rohan from within the Keep itself.

Her head swung toward the open archway, her eyes catching a glimpse of silver hair and red cape falling to the ground. Forgetting her load of bandages, forgetting her patients, forgetting everything, she rushed through the archway into the fray, her eyes focussed solely on the kneeling form of an Elf.

Haldir knelt in the blood of his fellows, his own running freely from a horrific gash opened in his back by the axe of an Urak Hai. Rising behind him, as dark as the black heart that had spawned him, a grinning death's head, axe raised for a final blow.

Without thinking, Amaryn threw herself in the axe's path, absorbing the blow meant for the kneeling Elf.

TBC...