Athëa - Queen of the Savages

The Measure of Dignity

Athëa smiled at the friendly banter between her men as they walked to their next scheduled camp, on their way back home to the hidden city.

Her men had been following Aragorn around like little puppies throughout the days in Lóthlorien, and now they were telling tales of him as if they had known him their entire life.

But Athëa fully understood their fascination of the Dùnedain, and their high spirits of the fact that they were now one step closer to fulfill their purpose. A purpose that both them and many of their fathers before them, had only hoped to fulfill.

The sound of their voices, their silly jokes and their imprudent pride calmed her like nothing else could. Being with her men felt like home.

Yet she felt and excruciating notion, that something was not as it was before. The longing for the woodland prince pinched at her, and the picture of him kept appearing in her mind, though she tried her best to block it out. He was right though, she could feel her fëa pushing her to turn around and go to him. But she was not to let her emotions blind her, never again.

Wreigh and Galathor in the front of the party, stopped abruptly and called her name. She made her way to the now crouching men, looking to the ground in front of them.

"Orcs! At least a hundred of the ugly dirt worms!", Galathor explained, with a concerned fold on his rough forehead.

Athëa kneeled besides him and realized something she hoped to be untrue.

"They have discovered the whereabouts of the fellowship", she said looking to Wreigh.

"These tracks are but a couple of days old, the scum will reach your companions within a fortnight." he said obviously feeling the worry of his queen.

Athëa felt a pulling at her heart. She was determined to keep to her plan of going home to her city to prepare for the great battle to come, but she knew that the battle would be obsolete, were the ring to find its way back to its master Sauron. But these thoughts were not the ones worrying her mind, as she looked into the silver eyes in front of her.

"They must be warned!", she ordered, hoping that none of the men would be able to notice the thought of Legolas so obvious on her mind.

******
Aragorn ran as fast as his legs would carry him towards the sound of the Gondorian horn. He had lost Gimli and Legolas further up the hill, fighting the orcs that had ambushed them a few days travel away from Lothlórien.

What madness had driven Boromir to lure the hundreds of orcs his direction, was beyond Aragorn. Though he knew the man to be braver than most, he would not stand a chance against them in his own.

Aragorn slashed his way through the giant orcs, making his way to his kinsman. But when he got an eye on Boromir, it was obvious that he was too late.

Boromir was standing alone in the forrest, with three arrows sticking out from his Gondorian amour. The black orcs were running past him, for they already saw the man to be dead and therefor no longer a threat.

Except for one, dirty haired black giant standing in front of the kneeling man, with an arrow pointing straight at him.

Aragorn ran to Boromir's aid, and just before the orc released the bowstring, he plunged and attacked the orc with his sword.

This was a much stronger orc than the rest, and its chest stood much higher from the ground than Aragorn's brow.

The orc threw away the bow and within moments it had pinned Aragorn to the ground. It's foot was weighting down on Aragorn's throat as it laughed out sinisterly.