His Queen

Chapter 21 - Kitra

The group had been swift in their departure from Balin's tomb. Kitra clung to Aragorn, his arm around her waist to steady her as they ran through the dark corridors. The eerie sound of orc cries and footsteps had echoed behind them, driving them forward with a sense of urgency and fear.

But amidst the chaos, Kitra's eyes had caught glimpses of thousands of orcs pouring out from every crevice and corner - climbing out of cracks in the stone floor, descending from the ceiling, and emerging from between the towering columns. Her heart raced as she stumbled over her feet, forcing Aragorn to hold her steady as they fell behind the others.

At last, they were forced to come to a halt, surrounded by snarling faces and bared weapons. Kitra could barely find the strength to cling onto Aragorn's cloak as he stood protectively before her. She could feel the hot breath of the orcs on her skin, their jaws dripping with saliva at the scent of her blood.

She looked down to see that her bandaged wound had started to bleed again, but what truly frightened her were the dark tendrils spreading from the edges of the gash on her arm. They seemed to pulse and writhe with a sinister energy, threatening to consume her flesh. Fear gripped her tightly as she realized the severity of her injury and the looming danger that surrounded them all.

Kit's voice is barely audible as she whispers, "Poison..." Alana's heart drops at the word, her eyes flickering down to Kit's arm in worry.

"Aragorn," Alana hissed urgently to the other ranger beside her. "We have to do something. She's been poisoned." Aragorn's brow furrows as he looked back at Kit, who was swaying unsteadily on her feet.

Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed through an archway not too far from where they stood. The orcs around them fall silent, their heads whipping around in fear as they search for the source of the sound. The roar reverberates off the stone walls once more, causing the orcs to shriek and retreat in terror from the place where they had emerged. The air was thick with panic and unease as the trio stands in stunned silence, unsure of what will happen next.

Boromir's voice was laced with disbelief and fear as he looked to Gandalf for answers. But the wizard's eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

"What is it?" Alana asked, her eyes searching the dark cavern for any sign of danger.

"A Balrog." Kitra whimpered, pressing her head into Aragorn's sturdy back. "Can this get any worse?"

"A what?" Alana repeated, still confused about the situation.

"A Balrog. A demon from ancient times. Its foe is beyond our comprehension." Gandalf's eyes snapped open, filled with terror. "RUN!" The fellowship wasted no time in fleeing the cavern of columns, their feet pounding against the hard ground.

Kitra could feel Sauron's presence creeping up on her in her weakened state, his malevolent thoughts prodding at her mind. She whimpered as her head throbbed with intense pain, as if a knife were being driven into her skull. Black spots clouded her vision as she struggled to stay conscious. In a moment of strength, Aragorn scooped her up into his arms and carried her along with the group, their only chance at survival.

Kitra's voice shakes as she whispers, "Aragorn...I can feel him..."

Aragorn's heart clenches at the fear in her tone. "Fight it, Kitra," he pleads, his hand gripping hers tightly. "Stay with me. Stay awake." He can see the color draining from her skin, and her eyes losing their spark.

Panicked, Aragorn calls out for Gandalf as they exit the dark cavern. The old man's name echoes through the tunnel, carried by the urgency in Aragorn's voice. Every step feels heavy, like he is carrying both of them on his shoulders. But he refuses to let go of Kitra's hand, determined to keep her with him until they reach safety.