Hope ↠ LOTR

VII. Healer

A legion of Orcs stood outside Minas Tirith, watching over the river and impatiently waiting for the black Corsair ships to aid them in the battle that they were already winning. The ships soon came into sight, gliding across the waters and getting slower when they reached their destination.

"Late as usual, pirate scum!" An Orc, Skully, shouted while he pushed his way through the crowd of Orcs before coming to a standstill in front of the ships. "There's knife-work here that needs doing. Come on, ya sea rats! Get off your ships!"

What the Orcs most definitely did not expect was for a Man, a woman, a Dwarf, and an Elf to jump out of the ship and land in front of them, weapons drawn. They began to advance on the legion, but four people certainly weren't enough to scare them.

"There's plenty for the three of us. May the best Dwarf win!" Gimli remarked.

Their movements turned into a sprint and behind them came the materialised figures of the army of the Dead sitting on top of ghostly horses and charging through the four people, sending the Orcs rushing backwards in horror and fright while their swords clashed with a deafening roar of metal on metal. Or mist, technically.

They fought against the Orcs, moving closer and closer towards Minas Tirith with each strike until they were upon the main battlefield and aiding the armies of Rohan and Gondor in defending the city. Athena jumped back from the blade of an Orc before swinging her sword and chopping off its head, her number count on twenty at the moment—and she was determined to beat the two men yet again.

Bodies of men and horses alike surrounded the Pelennor Fields, Orcs swarming the area and being cut down by their opponents. The Orcs weren't the only enemies that they should be concerned about. Athena felt the ground tremble beneath her feet and she pulled her sword out of the body of an unlucky Orc, confusion filling her until she looked up to see a massive elephant-like creature with large tusks and men riding on top of it. There were more of them on the battlefield and she found herself wondering how she hadn't spotted the Mûmakil earlier.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called for the most light-footed one of the group to deal with the Mûmakil that was too close for comfort.

Athena watched as Legolas made his way to the top of the Oliphaunt while she absentmindedly fought the Orcs near her, but with the army of the Dead she didn't need to fight nearly as much as she usually did and she was allowed to spare her attention to watch him. The saddle that the Oliphaunt was wearing came undone and went crashing to the floor, the creature soon following afterwards.

"That still only counts as one!" Gimli cried out.

"I think he deserves a little more than just one after that," she remarked from beside him, and he only huffed out some air before returning to the battle with her close behind him.

The battle was much shorter than she had anticipated and she managed to entirely evade injury, barely even getting any dirt on her either. Even Aragorn—who was known for being the dirtiest of them all—did not look any worse than he had done before they arrived. Athena wiped the blood from her sword on the body of the Orc she had just killed before sheathing it and walking over to Aragorn, grateful that the four of them had made it out of the battle alive. Gimli and Legolas soon joined them and so did the army of the Dead, standing in front of them and addressing the future King of Gondor.

"Release us."

"Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead," Gimli argued.

"You gave us your word!"

"He did make a promise Gimli, and he wouldn't make much of a king if he decided to break it," Athena told the Dwarf who stood beside her.