How did it come to this?
Loyal to her family, her lands and her people, Théadain, the illegitimate daughter of Théoden, King of Rohan, has little concern for the world that lies beyond her familiar grasslands. When all that she loves is threatened...
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Chapter 66
It was a relief to find that her legs were not shaking, as Théadain found herself standing before the oncoming tide of foes. Their horses had been set loose, and if the creatures had any sense of self preservation they would run far from this awful place. She did not doubt that Gandalf's loyal mount, Shadowfax, would know to lead them to safety. They had not released them a moment too soon, as the enemy forces soon made it clear that they intended to completely surround the meagre army before their gates – to block all routes of escape before they stepped forward to attack.
It was agonising to watch, to wait.
"Where now the horse and the rider?" The low whisper fell from Théadain's lips as she summoned her courage, the voice of her father echoing in her mind as she stared down the armies of Mordor. There may be none left to speak the Lament for the Rohirrim after this day, but in that moment, the words leant her the strength of her people. The strength to make one last stand.
Adjusting her grip upon the sword in her hand, she ran her other hand through her hair. She had foregone her helmet that morning, knowing it would make little difference if she wore it or not. Her end would come, and she would rather meet it freely, with her view of the sky uninterrupted, her motion and hearing unhindered.
She could almost hear the Horn of Helm Hammerhand echoing on the wind, the memory of the war cries of her people, bellowed by the voice of her father.
'Forth Eorlingas!'
At her side stood her companions, her friends, her family. Merry and Pippin, bravely grasping their own short swords as they faced down the endless clamour of orcs. Éomer, who had reached to lay a reassuring hand on his younger cousin's shoulder before drawing his blade, receiving an affectionate, grateful smile in return. Gandalf, whose heartening presence was unfaltering, even now as he stood before the greatest evil he had ever faced. The gruff, determined form of Gimli, that had so often surprised her with his gentle nature on their journey, flanked as ever by the quietly capable, ever graceful Legolas. The fond words she overheard exchanged between the elf and dwarf warmed her heart as her eyes travelled finally to the man stood before her.
Around them, the marching feet of Mordor's armies had fallen silent. She could see him scanning their ranks, his expression fixed in one of grim determination, though as she reached to lay her hand on his arm, it softened, his eyes lowering to her face with the smallest of smiles. It was almost apologetic, the way he looked at her. As if he regretted bringing her to this point.
"There is no where else I would rather be, than here by your side." She breathed earnestly, her hand tightening on Aragorn's arm. "This is where my path has led, and I am grateful for every step that brought me here."
Stepping closer, she pressed up to lay a soft, light kiss upon his lips; "I love you, Aragorn." She whispered, not caring who saw, be it the men behind them, the armies before them, or even the great Eye atop its tower.
