𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐇: 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( lotr. )

Chapter Nine - Flight to Lórien

"HE HAD NEVER STOPPED LOVING HER..."

✧ ☫ ✧

ARAGORN WAS RUNNING behind the others, reaching the exit and the sunlight as the last one. Outside, everyone was taken by grief. The hobbits were crying openly, unable to do anything else, falling to the ground. He felt the grief himself but had to watch after the living now. Gently, he set Arina to her feet, where she stood, swaying, the arrow still buried in her side. He eyed it, wondering if he could pull it out without risking Arina bleeding to death. Aragorn set down his back, searching for the bandages he'd brought. They'd have to hold, for his daughter could not run with an arrow still in her side. In the meantime, Arina had sat down on the rocks, examining the arrow wound, then carefully gave it a little pull. No barb, at least. The ranger walked over to her, a waterskin and some cloth in his hands.

"This will have to do for now."

Before she could react, he had knelt down beside her, gripped the arrow shaft and pulled it out, causing her to yelp in surprise and pain.

"You could have warned me at least," Arina grumbled in a feeble attempt to joke.

He put pressure on the wound, cleaned and bound it. "I knew you could handle it."

Aragorn scrambled back onto his feet. They had to reach the woods of Lothlórien. He sighed and touched the Evenstar on his chest. Arwen. He wished he had never left her, but it had been for her and Elrond. His heart ached as no ranger's should in the wild as he thought of the words Elrond had spoken to him. 'She stays for you; she belongs with her people!' Those words still rang in his head. When he had asked his foster father about Arina, Elrond hadn't given him an answer. Instead, he had come back to the topic of his daughter, the Evenstar of the Eldar. He should've known that Elrond could never care about his daughter as much as he had cared for him...

Aragorn scolded himself for living in the past, now, when it was essential that he stayed in the present to help the others. He had to think.

"Legolas! Get them up", he called. The elf looked at him, and Aragron could see the sorrow and confusion in his eyes. His friend lingered for a moment but then moved towards the two younger hobbits.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir shouted towards Aragorn.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien", he argued and sheathed his sword. Boromir looked away.

"Come on, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up."

The ranger turned back to his daughter who was still sitting on the stone he'd left her at, hand pressed to her side. It was half a day's march to Lothlórien as the ranger goes. If fate was with them, they would reach the woods just before sunset; hopefully Arina could keep up with them. For the rest of the day, they made their way out of the Vale, Legolas supporting Arina. They only stopped once, when the sun was already high in the sky, to treat the wounded and eat something. He dunked a clean cloth, one of their last ones, into the cold water of the mountain stream and cleaned the little cuts the chains of his mithril shirt had made. He could tell that Legolas and Arina had also noticed their dwindling supplies, not only food, but also medical supplies. After wrapping Frodo up as best as he could, he saw to the others' bruises and cuts (excluding Legolas; he always seemed to get away with no injury) and set off toward the east again.

IT WAS ALMOST SUNSET when they reached the borders of the Golden Wood. They entered it, slowly and on their guard. The ranger moved around cautiously. He knew Gimli the dwarf didn't trust elves; the rivalry between these two races went too far back. As they walked beneath the trees, he could hear Gimli telling the hobbits to stay close.