Last Act of Love (Sequel to The Last One)

Chapter 23

Ruive, Legolas, and Gimli were waiting on their horses as the soldiers of Rohan prepared to ride to Gondor's aid. Two days were all they had to gather as many men as they could before they would ride for Gondor. Ruive felt they had not the time or the men to win this war, but she would fight no matter what.

"Horse-master. I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy." Gimli announced from behind Legolas.

"Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands." Legolas replied.

Eomer looked around at the soldiers, sparking a fire among them with his next words.

"Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken. Now fulfil them all! To lord and land!" 

The King, Aragorn, Ruive and the others arrived at Dunharrow where the soldiers had already assembled. Thousands of tents were lined across the fields at the base of the mountain and more on the ledge above.

Legolas, Ruive, and Gimli wandered around the camp watching as the men tried to calm their horses, each of them with fear and anxiety in their eyes, whether for the battle to come or something else that lingered around them. Éomer walked over to the three as they looked around, Legolas was the first to speak.

"The horses are restless and the men are quiet."

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain." Ruive murmured, looking over at the mountain.

"That road there, where does that lead?" Gimli asked.

"It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain." The Elf answered.

"None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil."Éomer stated gravely. 

Ruive knew the tales of that mountain, where the dead army lay. The army Isildur cursed, that only Aragorn would be able to release... perhaps. She watched curiously as Aragorn stared harder at the road, his face showing worry until Gimli caught his attention. 

"Aragorn!"

Aragorn jerked around to look down at the dwarf.

"Let's find some food." 

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Reminder that anything in italics is either Elvish or Dwarvish depending on the situation.  

Night had fallen and Ruive was wandering amongst the camp, her mind trained on many things. Her ears pricked at the sound of a single horse and rider coming up the mountain. Ruive watched as the horse and rider came into view, the rider being all to familiar stride an elvish horse.

"Please let the reason for your presence be good, Lord Elrond."

Elrond swung gracefully off his horse and embraced Ruive, but his hold was stiff and ridged. He pulled back and looked down at Ruive, even in the darkness she could see the worry and sadness in his eyes.

"Mellon, what is it?" Ruive asked, trying to catch Elrond's eye.

Elrond paused for a few moments before sighing deeply.

"Arwen is dying."

Ruive gasped, she hoped that his words were false, but the look in his eyes said this was real.

"Her fate is tied to the Ring, as Sauron strengthens she weakens."

Ruive swallowed the news painfully, Arwen was one of her few closest friends and like a sister, she could not bear the thought of losing her.