The Exile's Daughter

Growing Danger

For a moment I could not understand why I was awake in the utter darkness that indicated the peace of deep night. However, after a second I noticed someone shaking my shoulders. I opened my bleary eyes to see the dim shape of Aragorn above me. I sighed.

"I need you."

"It's night time." I groaned. How this was supposed to help my healing process I could not imagine. I still had a few days left to rest, though I expected this was more through caution than necessity. Legolas' voice joined the conversation, heavy with sleep.

"Aragorn?"

"Legolas you must stay."

I sat up and tugged on my cloak, still half asleep. Legolas sat too. "What is this for? Ness is supposed to be resting."

"I know, and I'm sorry, but she may be the only person who can help us now." I frowned and picked up my bow and quiver, then strapped my swords to my belt. He wouldn't have woken me unless something had gone terribly wrong, I knew.

I could sense Legolas' further protests coming, but I crossed the room and knelt to kiss him. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Aragorn will take care of me."

Legolas squeezed my hand and sighed, knowing that Aragorn would not suffer to be argued with when he sounded so tense. "Be careful darling."

I allowed myself to indulge in another kiss. "I will. Go back to sleep."

Aragorn squeezed my shoulder as we walked out of the hut. Elladan and Elrohir were a few leagues away, on the brow of one of the hills which made up the steep sides of the valley. Our horses stood waiting for us. Mounting, we rode off at a gallop, gaining on them every second. They were running across the plain, urgency in the pounding of their feet.

After about ten minutes of riding, we had caught up, and dismounted speedily. There was another horse on the grass, blood pouring from its flank. My heart burned to see the poor creature suffer. Elladan bent down to it and I turned my head, biting my lip. Aragorn pulled me into his shoulder as the creature gave a last scream, which was mercifully cut short.

"Aragorn, what on earth has happened?" I gasped, taking my head off his shoulder and trying and failing to keep my voice steady as I saw Elrohir bend over another bundle on the frosty grass, this time ominously still and man shaped.

"Duilin", he answered shortly, stern eyes on the ground.

My heart plummeted. I closed my eyes. "He only had a few days until he could safely leave."

"I know, but he grew desperate. He was found by an orc pack, and slew a great number, but I have no idea how many escaped. I am sorry to drag you out of bed, but I need elvish eyes to track the rest, or as many as can be found, and Legolas is just too hurt."

"Yes he is", I agreed darkly, "but don't phrase it that way when you get back. We cannot think about the orcs yet, when there is some mother's son lying on the grass."

"I am not sure what we can do for him, if my brothers have found no solution." Aragorn whispered as we stepped closer.

"We can give him some comfort, at least." 

My eyes stung when I saw the him sprawled so unnaturally on the ground. He had clearly fallen from his horse at first, judging by the bandaged shoulder that was now clearly dislocated, but his sword was near his other hand, coated with black blood. He had been hewn with many cruel strokes. His breath was laboured. There would be no saving this sad young man.

I bent to his side and took his hand. Frightened brown eyes met starry grey. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

I shushed him, running a hand through his damp hair. "Think not what might have been. There is no use in regret now."