Song of the Marchwarden - A Deathless Death

Chapter 25 - The Ride

Haldir and his men were resting for the night. It was a long march to Helm's Deep and his soldiers were laden with heavy hearts, as well as their armour and supplies. The banner bearing warriors stuck their flags into the ground as they sat down to rest. Helmets were removed as the warriors let their hair air out in the night coolness. Haldir sat with his back to a tree as he kept first watch. removed his brown leather-bound sketchbook from his chest, where he kept your hair. He ached to the bone missing you. He inhaled the scent of your hair. It still smelled of you. He rested his head back on the tree and looked to the stars and prayed to Eru that you had found some way out of Elrond's grasp. There was a small flicker of fear that ignited within him, an ugly little voice which told him that Elrond would be a better match than you and he. He shook his head, and pushed the voice deep down, as he savoured the memory of your last kiss. He was determined to make it back to you.

Meanwhile, Elrond had long since found out it was not you who rode with his party to Imladris. He has felt nothing but rage since, had tried to communicate with Galadriel and Celeborn, but neither granted him access to their minds. He wanted to travel to Mirkwood, but the sense of caring for his people kicked in. He must be a leader, or there would be no Imladris to lead. Not before his anger rained down on poor Anna. She had been imprisoned in Imladris; however, some of the residents from Caras Gladhon took pity on her and made sure she had clean clothes and extra food. She sat looking to the same stars as Haldir, hoping that her sacrifice would reach the ears of Orophin.

You rode, without rest. You had to make to the Galadhrim before war started. You had to fight side by side with Haldir. You reasoned since they were marching, you should reach them just before they reach Helms Deep. If you missed them, it would be certain death amidst the fighting before you reached your beloved.

"Do you think it will hurt?" Ohtaro asked Haldir, as they were to swap places. Haldir grunted as his stiff body stood up.

"What?" he asked.

"Dying." Ohtaro's eyes were wide. Haldir had forgotten how young this ellon still was. Less than 600 years old.

"I think the injury leading to death hurts, yes. When our fëars go to Mandos, it does not. It is like waking warm from slumber." He reassuringly patted Ohtaro's shoulder. He had utterly lied to Ohtaro, but he could not bear to upset him so. Of course, he spoken about the experience with you. You had spoken how the halls of Mandos was not physically painful, but emotionally so. It was a time of reflection, piecing back together and accepting your death. It was also confusing. You also had to convince the Valar you should be reunited with your body and live the rest of your days in Valinor. Not every elf was successful. For those elves who chose to set sail, it was guaranteed access.

Ohtaro nodded thanks and took Haldir's spot. Once he was sure Haldir could not hear, he wept a little. Knees drawn as close to his chest as possible in armour, he attempted to hug himself as he wrapped his navy cloak around himself.

Your horse was exhausted and refused to move. You knew you must let him rest. He huffed as you dismounted, and you dried as much sweat from him as you could.

"Thank you, you have ridden exceedingly well. Just one more day and we should make it." You said as you stroked him and gave him an apple. He snorted in thanks. It was time for you to rest aswell, but your mind continued to calculate the path to Helm's deep.

Your horse nudged you awake at the crack of dawn. You gave him his feeding bag, as you rummaged around the saddlebags for some lembas. You paced as you ate, stretching your body. You had long forgotten how unforgiving it was to wear full armour. You turned to your steed, "It is time to go, my friend." As you removed his feeding bag you had a horrible flashback to the Easterlings. You shuddered, and felt you were being watched. Your stomach churned as you tried to garner whether this was an echo of the past or if someone was truly in the vicinity. You could hear nothing over the thrumming of your ears, and you found your vision shrinking into small tunnels. Sweat beading on your forehead despite the cold and you realised how alone you really were. You continued to look around and unsheathed your sword. You spun round as you thought you saw movement at the corner of your eye. It was a stag. Majestic, it reminded you of Thranduil. If the stag sees no danger, it must be the ghosts of past terror that rile me so, you thought.