Muted protection

Chapter 17

Linwaethiel's POV

Night had fallen and Gandalf rode through the streets in a desperate attempt to keep these men organise in hopes they would survive for long enough that Rohan would arrive. I followed behind on my own horse and silently mourned my hair, it was rare of elves to cut their hair. Many grew it so long it trailed across the ground, but that usually only occurred when they were centuries old. I had only cut my hair when in the utmost need, when it grew too long for fighting and Arwen had usually always been there to help me. This was the first time I had, had to cut it during a fight. My hood usually hid my identity and therefore my weaknesses and without it I was open to attacks such as those earlier. When I tuned in to the noise around me I heard many men murmuring.

"A she elf..."

"Golden eyes..."

"Keep the children away, I heard she can slay twenty orcs with nothing but a small hunting knife..." Many were like these, warnings, murmurs brought out by the fear of an elleth with blood red hair and golden eyes. I looked towards Gandalf and saw him watching me in silence.

"Why is she so quiet mama, she doesn't speak?" I looked towards the young boy who quickly hid behind his mother's skirts when my golden eyes settled on him. I shifted uncomfortably in my saddle before I threw an knife at a lone orc running down the pathway. As we clattered past I leaned down in my saddle and yanked it out, my movements smooth from the years of practice.

"They fear your anonymity."

That is what my father has told me. I slid the now clean knife back in its place and looked up at Gandalf who looked at me sympathetically. I do not need your sympathy Mithrandir. I only wish for my hood which was my only source of comfort in the world of men. They do not see me as a warrior, they see me as a woman, weak and powerless. And when I prove them wrong, I am nothing but a monster. You have heard what the orcs say about me. My eyes are well  known, as is my hair, the hood kept me from being a target, or a way to hurt others.

My hands stumbled out the words and Gandalf gave me a half smile. "You are quite correct. The men to see you as different, and different you are. But many of these men that you protected today don't see you as a monster but as a warrior, a protector. They don't see your silence as a weakness, nor do they see it as suspicious, they see it as protection. This view although brought on in the midst of war, is correct, not only are you protecting yourself, but you are protecting them. Many said you were dragged though the city for a long time, tell me. Why didn't you call for aid? You have done so before."

I looked into his eyes before looking away. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I chose instead to use my hands. It would have been a distraction, if they had tried helping me they would have been struck down. And when Boromir was shot, I could not help him, I could not do anything. That was the first time I used my voice and it was when my companion died.

Gandalf nodded before we rode into the crowd near the gate. Men turned and watched us and I heard murmurs raise again.

"It's her..."

"She fights with Gandalf, and with us!"

"She protected my wife and children."

I felt them all watching me, and yet none of the eyes held any form of hatred. I glanced quickly at Gandalf before we heard a loud noise. The battering ram slams into the gate and orcs are heard outside the gates chanting.

"Grond! Grond!" Orcs exchange volleys with archers above the gate. Gandalf rallies the soldiers to the gate.

"Back to the gate! Hurry!" I follow him as I race towards the gate but stop when he calls to me. "Linwaethiel, I need you up on the wall, protect the archers."