The Black Knight

Chapter 21:

           

The carnage and smell of death becomes a reality when the sun fully rises. Numbers of survivors are accounted for, families reunite, and the death toll has to be accepted. Pyres filled with corpses of the Uruk-Hai burn on the battlefield and funerals begin since the bodies of soldiers cannot be taken on the long journey back to Edoras. I continue working in the make-shift infirmary that is filled with cries and moaning from the injured who suffer everything from stab wounds to missing limbs, like the young boy laying in the cot in front of me. An Elvish Elleth steps away from the man beside me, as the Elves are trying to help heal the soldiers as well.

"I can't believe you fought with the men," the boy says, trying to sound excited in his feverish state.

I smile at him as I wipe down his forehead again with a cool cloth.

"I did for it is my job to help protect the realm from the enemy," I say and move to examine the bandage covering the stump of what was once his arm.

Battle is always an ugly affair, but the hardest part about it seems to come afterwards when realities like the one that happened to this boy begin to set in. Anger, sadness, disbelief, and exhaustion all comes at once. I am angry that this small boy and others like him had to even be a part of this horror.

"The Elven healer did well on your arm earlier," I say with a smile, cleaning up the very little blood left over and make sure the skin healed over properly.

I look a few beds over to see Aragorn trying to relax a man while an Elf pulls shrapnel from his leg. I can relate to him as a healer had to do the same thing to me earlier. Aragorn and I have been here the whole night and most of the morning because of our knowledge of healing, but also because the number of healers is slim compared to the injured. One of the curtains nearby is pushed back to reveal Éomer who is still in his blood covered armor. Then again, I can't say much because Aragorn and I are still dressed in parts of ours as well. Éomer nods behind him so I turn back to give the boy a pat on the hand one last time and walk over to the Third Marshall.

"What's up?" I ask in concern.

"Our party is going to Isengard now," he whispers.

I nod and turn to Aragorn. I only have to give him one look before he parts with his patient and makes his way over to us.

"Are we ready to go so soon?" he asks.

"You two have been in here all night," Éomer jokes, glad to see a small smile on his face despite him having to bury his own dead men all day. "We must go now."

We leave the infirmary behind and move through the stone frame where the gate once was to meet the rest of the group on the causeway who are already on horseback. Gandalf sits proudly on the back of Shadowfax next to Théoden. Éomer hops onto his warhorse, Firefoot, while I make my way to Legolas who holds the reigns of he and Gimli's horse and Ashkin.

"Thanks," I say tiredly as I grab the reins.

Aragorn hops onto Ashkin first before pulling me up behind him, grateful for the lift since I can barely feel my feet. In times like this, I can feel my training in Valinor paid off when I have to force myself to push forward despite my body protesting, whether it be for a few hours or several days without rest. We begin to take off and I cannot help but be lulled to sleep against Aragorn's back.

* * * *

"Faylen."

I awake groggily, and see the tower of Orthanc looming ahead, not realizing that I fell asleep for so long.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I reply to my brother.

"Why are you sorry?" he chuckles.