Element of the Heart - A Lord of the Rings/Legolas Fanfiction

Chapter 42: For Gondor

Estelwen clutched at the clothing over her chest, terrified of the emptiness she felt inside herself.

"What happened?" Gandalf repeated.

Estelwen shook her head, unable to answer. They quickly returned inside the city, where a hospitable family offered to clean and bandage the surficial gash on Estelwen's leg. Once the task was done, Gandalf and Estelwen stood in the entrance room alone. Only two humble candles were lit for them, and the parents of the house had gone to tuck their children in to sleep.

Gandalf watched her in complete silence. Estelwen turned towards a small washing basin and extended her hand towards it. Nothing happened. She furrowed her brow, muscles straining, and gasped. The water barely rose a few inches before falling back down. She stared at her shaking hand, now knowing what the Witch King's blade had done to her.

Gandalf's voice was nothing more than a coarse whisper. "He cursed you."

Estelwen's eyes glazed over. She felt frozen, unable to breathe. The fear, the panic, caused something to snap in her. She stood up, nearly knocking her wooden seat over. She could not bear to dwell on the loss of her power, not now. There was so much that had to be done. The orc horde that dwelt in the fortress was armed and ready to strike. Minas Tirith was far from that.

A horn sounded from several miles away. Estelwen peered out of the window into the night, feeling the last of her pride crumbling into dust. "That was no elf horn, was it?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Gandalf sensed her despair, a force that was more weighing on his soul than the tasks ahead. "The orc army is gathering. Mordor sends its greatest forces." He tightened his grip on his staff as a strand of white hair fell in front of his face. "It is up to Aragorn now. Otherwise, the time of man will come to an end."

Estelwen rose to her feet, unable to believe the fear she was feeling. She did not feel like a protector, like a guardian of the people. She was helpless.

Outside, steel was being sharpened and a few children cried, woken up by the orc horn. Estelwen stepped outside. Her eyes scanned the White City. Who will protect Gondor? Its rightful king is held at bay. Who will stand when the last star is stripped from the sky?

Gandalf stood under the doorpost. "What have you decided, Estelwen?"

She turned to him. "Let us give Aragorn the time he needs."

He nodded. "Then we have work to do."

That night, Estelwen aided Gandalf in gathering men together and instructing the women and children to go into the less-exposed parts of the city. No one disobeyed the direct instructions of a wizard. Estelwen, however, was questioned by some knights on why they should prepare for war if the Steward did not give the command.

Because he would probably be the death of you all! Estelwen clenched her jaw, trying to keep her thoughts back. "The wizard does not ask for you to disobey the steward, only to be prepared should the command for war be given."

Even though Estelwen did not sleep that night, she was not tired. Something had filled the void she had inside, and she wasn't quite sure what it was. Cold and angry, it kept her awake and at work. For now, it felt like the desire to survive.

When the sun began to rise, Estelwen prepared herself for battle. There was a suit of armor small enough to fit her, probably meant for a youth training to be a knight. She had never worn armor before, but it would be foolish not to use all that she could to fill in for her disadvantage. She snapped the metal guards in place on her wrist. Fortunately, her sword sheaths fit snugly on her back over her chest plate. She rolled her left shoulder, relieved that she did not feel any pain from it. As soon as she walked into the streets, a knight on horseback reared next to her. "The steward summons you!"