Aravan {A Lord of the Rings Story}

S•E•V•E•N•T•E•E•N

A/N: Sorry it's so short! The next chapter is going to be longer, I promise! (But seriously, it's going to be ridiculously long...hahaha) Hope you guys enjoy! Let me know if there's anything you want me to add or anything you think I need to fix/change! 

S•E•V•E•N•T•E•E•N

The old man helped Artanis to her feet.

‘We must leave,’ he said urgently. ‘Come. Follow me.’

She did as he said, tucking the book safely underneath her arm. She was determined to keep it with her so that she could show Gandalf. She felt as if she was too shocked to put her discovery into words. The very name that was connected to hers froze and became scrambled in her mind. She tried mouthing it, but ended up gaping instead. She simply could not bring herself to say that it was true; but inside, she knew it was.

With every step she and the old man took, the room shook. They stumbled and tripped and eventually, held on to each other for support. After much struggling, they reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘Go,’ he said, releasing his grip from her arm.

‘Are you not coming?’ she asked incredulously.

‘No, dear child, I will only slow you down.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off: ‘I’ll be up eventually, but now, you must go. Run. Run!’

As much as Artanis wanted to defy him, she turned on her heel and began to jog up the stairs, tripping every few seconds. She felt her skin open at the knees, staining her pants with blood. Her fingers ached as she continually supported herself on them after falling. Finally, she slipped the book into her shirt, dropped to her hands and knees, and began to crawl up, moving with the shudders of the foundation so that she could continue onward without any trouble. Granted, this took much longer than it usually would have, but she eventually found herself at the top of the stairs, tired, breathless, and still as frightened and surprised as she had been when her vision had ended. She pulled the book from her shirt and tucked it back under her arm.

Artanis flung the door open, prepared to sprint, but stopped in her tracks. The entire city was in hysterics. People were running to and fro, screaming and crying. Mothers swooped their children up from the ground while fathers and husbands practically shoved their families to shelter. Some men were sprinting towards the gates, preparing to fight back against the forces of evil right outside their door. Artanis shook herself out of her trance and began to move with the people. She knew that Pippin would be with the Steward, and figured that that might be the safest place to be at the moment. And so, she ran. She ran until her feet ached and her lungs burned; she ran until her own sweat blurred her vision and her legs shook violently with exhaustion; she ran until she could run no more.

As she fell to her knees with fatigue, she found herself at the top of the city, surrounded by men of the citadel. To her great relief, she spotted both Pippin and Gandalf’s faces amongst the crowd. But, to her great horror, Pippin was screaming at the top of his lungs. He was so frantic that she couldn’t even decipher what he was saying. But she did know that she needed to be with him, and so, she gathered every ounce of willpower that she had and stood to her feet once more, breaking into a run as soon as she was certain she was steady enough on her throbbing feet.

‘Pippin!’ she called as she approached him.

He whirled around, tears brimming in his eyes.

‘He’s not dead, Artanis!’ he cried.