The Crownless Again Shall Be King

Chapter 13- The Reunion

Chapter 13- The Reunion

Rayel's POV

It was dim inside the House of Healing. The candles flickered eerily along with the moans and groans of the wounded and dying. The putrid stench of vomit and blood was overwhelming, making my stomach roll. Every bed was taken in the Hall, blood stained the white stone floor; a painful reminder of what would become known as one of the bloodiest battles in Middle Earth.

Beside me stood my brother, anxiety on his brow. Ever since the moment he had spotted Éowyn's broken body on the Fields of Pelennor, he had been restless.

Legolas and Gimli had stayed behind on the battlefield to assist in the disposing of the Mordor's filth and seeing the proper burial of Rohan's Men.

"Where is she?" demanded Aragorn to the first nurse he saw. "Where is the Lady of Rohan?"

The Gondorian woman put her hands up in defense. "We have many injured here, Sir. Many are wondering how their loved ones are and I don't know if I'm at liberty to-."

But Aragorn cut her off. "-The woman the Lord Éomer brought in."

The nurse looked surprised. "The woman in men's clothing? The maiden with golden hair?"

"Yes!" I nodded. "That's the one!"

"Right this way!" The woman was aged, weary and downhearted. I feared that she had known many of the folk who were here now in the House of Healing; some of whom might never recover. "You're injured?" she questioned, turning to me.

"Compared to those here," I gestured to the bleeding and groaning. "I am perfectly healthy."

She eyed me suspiciously before leading us deeper into the Hall and pointing at the pale body of Éowyn. "The woman you are seeking."

"Thank you," Aragorn said quickly, making his way to her side with all urgency.

Éomer was already there, sitting beside the unresponsive body of his sister. "She does not move," he told us weakly. "Her breathing is shallow."

Aragorn kneeled down beside her, opposite of Éomer and slowly reached for her right hand, softly caressing the dark-veined skin. "This is not a mark made by mortal men- nor by Orcs."

"Angmar," the word was like venom in my mouth. "It was the Witch King."

"How do you know?" Éomer asked; his eyes red with sorrow.

"These markings," I gestured to his sister's arm. "Are a dark, black language- even I do not have the skill to read them."

"Rayel is correct," my brother confirmed. "When your sister killed this enemy, she was drained of all strength that was within her... I know not if she will recover." He reached for the basin of water beside her cot. "But I will do all that is in my power to save her." He took a rag from the water, rung it out and gently placed it to her forehead.

Éomer muffled a sob and immediately my attention turned to him. "She's all the family I have left."

I knelt down before him, placing a hand to his face. "My brother will do all he can for her," I promised. "As will I."

A single tear ran down his cheek as set his jaw and whispered hoarsely: "Thank you, Rayel."

"You're welcome," I replied giving him a weak smile.

We turned back to Aragorn as he placed a calloused hand to Éowyn's cheek, murmuring different words in Elvish. Immediately her breathing pattern increased and she shifted ever so slightly and her eyes fluttered open and grew wide.