The way to Gondor (Aragorn and Legolas fanfic)

Battle of Helm's Deep

Third person POV

Where is now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?

The night was as loud as day. Waves of enemies washed over the fortress, which was standing against them strongly, and the men defending it were very brave. They fought and fought until exhaustion, killing orcs and filthy hostile men with their swords and axes. Lórien's elves fought bravely too, putting arrow after arrow on their bowstrings, and bringing enemy after enemy down. But the night was still long, and the king knew they couldn't fight forever, not against this number of enemies. Was there no help to come? Where was his marshall and the wizard? Where was Gandalf, and the horn of his nephew Éomer?

Where is the helm and hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?

Gimli was fighting alongside Legolas, and they had a game going on, which consisted of who killed the most enemies. Their fighting tactics were quite different: Legolas was shooting arrows at enemies from the distance, hitting each one with a clear shot in their hearts, while his long blonde hair swirled around him, making him look more beautiful than ever. Which Aragorn of course noticed, but he was too preoccupied with the battle himself to comment on it. Gimli, however, had a more furious way of fighting. He was running at every orc that came near him and swung his axe around his head. With loud battle cries he jumped into hordes of enemies and brought them down by turning in circles with his axe outstretched in front of him. 

"I'm on 7, what are you on, elf?", he called to Legolas.

"21", the same shouted back, shooting yet another arrow.

Gimli burst out into loud battle cries and started fighting even more furiously. He badly, desperately, wanted to win, just so that he, for once, was better than the elf.

Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?

Lady Éowyn was worried. She could hear the men fighting for their lives in the castle and on the walls, and yet she was confined to the caves, where she was surrounded by crying babies and wailing women. She was constantly hurrying from one corner to the other to give emotional support to the one's who were the most affected by their fears, and when a wounded soldier entered the caves, she made him bandages and took care of him. It was all that was asked of her, helping in the dark. Wouldn't she ever step out into the light?

Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?

Suddenly the refugees were very quiet. They had heard loud noise coming from not so far away. It sounded like running footsteps and clanging weapons. At once, the crying started again, now even louder and more desperate. They would all die! The enemy was approaching and they would all be slaughtered like animals!

"Stay behind!", a loud voice cried. It was the shieldmaiden of Rohan, who finally had found her destiny. Now she was her people's only hope, and if she couldn't prevent the enemies from killing them, nobody would. 

And when the orcs poured into their hiding place, she was standing in front of them, with a sword in hand. Luckily there weren't that many orcs that had managed to break through and find them, but just enough to make it a hard fight for Éowyn. Never in the history of the Rohirrim there would be a braver and stronger woman than lady Éowyn, and she proved it more than well this fateful night. From the orcs that entered the cave, none returned.

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.

His arrows were all shot so he had switched to swordfighting. Around him, Haldir saw his elves fall, brave, fine men he had known well. And for what? A fight they didn't need to fight, a fight of men. But Elrond had explained it all to him, and he knew that tonight wasn't just about Rohan's future, but about the future of the whole of Middle-Earth. Therefore, he stayed strong and fought. 

A minute later he crossed swords with an especially big orc, which was particularly angry too. Nothing he couldn't deal with, but in the chaos of battle it was always dangerous to fight against one single enemy for too long. You lost control over what was happening around you, and just like that, you could be dead. Right now, the orc he was facing was very determined to mow this elf down, that so rudely stood up against him, and Haldir was preoccupied with him even though he didn't want to. 

All of a sudden, the orc fell to the ground. Haldir had managed to cleave his head open. Finally. But he never turned around to return to the fight. There was a sudden sting in his shoulder, and his vision went black. The only thing he saw, was the figure of a man running towards him. He could barely see the latter's lips moving, but his ears didn't catch the sound anymore.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,

"Haldir!"

He saw him falling. Falling on top of the orc he had just killed, an arrow pointing out from his left shoulder. Why hadn't he been here in time, why hadn't he shot another arrow and killed the orc that shot the elf? He had failed once again.

"Haldir, speak to me!", he demanded, as he reached his friend. But no answer came. The elf had his eyes and mouth closed. When Aragorn felt for a pulse, he felt nothing. No, this couldn't happen! Haldir was the leader of the Lórien elves, he couldn't die! He just couldn't! In his mind, Aragorn knew he had been to late, he couldn't help anymore. But in his heart there was still a tiny bit of hope, and it reminded him, that if he was to do anything, he needed to bring Haldir to the only person that could help him now. 

"Please, please let him not be dead, please", Aragorn whispered, as he lifted the lifeless body from the ground and ran towards the caves. The battle was still going on heavily around him, and he knew he had to return to it as soon as possible, because the situation was pretty hopeless. And he realised right there and then: it wasn't his decision who would live and who would die. Fate had always been the most cruel where you didn't expect it. Another star would vanish from the firmament, another great man would give his life.

Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

(Poem "Lament of the Rohirrim" taken from "The two towers" by Tolkien)