The Unexpected | LotR Fanfiction

Chapter 44

         

Helm's Deep was sent into a whirl wind of frenzy. Women ran about with bandages and food, some tried to take the Eored's horses to the stables, but the men would not part with their beloved animals. The men themselves were battle and travel weary, many covered in their own blood. Eomer himself was drenched in a deep crimson, the blood flaking in places.

The arrival of Eomer and his men (who were cast out by Grima Wormtongue before the attack) sent the camp alive with joy and relief. But it also sent a new wave of grief rolling through. The arrival had sent false hope into the hearts of many. Wives, sisters, mothers, and children had to relive the death of their loved ones all over again.

My heart filled with their pain. I was too aware of all the pain in the world. It's a terrible curse to bear.

I did whatever I could, but the Rohan women beat me to the healing. And the feeding. And just about everything else. So, I left them to it, understanding the emotions they felt.

Eomer and Eowyn had shared a loving reunion but swiftly left the scene to debrief. Not that it bothered the others, they were so engulfed by their joy they hardly noticed.

My eyes snagged on Leofwyn, who wandered around in the thick of the crowd. She stood on her tiptoes looking for someone. With every passing second, I could see her expression become more hopeless.

A young woman conversed with a returning soldier, hope and concern filling her brown eyes as a hand settled on her swollen belly. She asked a question, but the soldier shook his head wearily. His hand came to rest on her shoulder as she broke into sobs. A ring glittered on her finger.

Two riders huddled together, tears making paths down their dirt-caked faces.

Children hugged their mother's knees. Their sweet voices asked where their father was and why he wasn't returning.

"Excuse me," I shifted past Aragorn, "I need to get away from here."

But his hand caught my wrist. "I know what you're feeling, Lumornel. It not good to go and hide it away."

I tugged at his grip, but he was relentless. "I've been doing this all my life, Aragorn. And I've survived so far."

So, please, let me go be alone. Let me escape all this soul-crushing sorrow.

"You need to talk to someone." I could practically hear the name of the person he was implying.

Uh, no thanks.

A pulse emanated out of my skin, pushing Aragorn back a few steps in surprise. I hurriedly escaped him before he could grab me again, cursing my emotions and lack of control.

The way to my room was much shorter than I last recall, maybe because of my running mind. I close the door with a quiet 'click' and rest my forehead on the cool door surface, my eyelids fluttering shut.

"Why did I ever agree to go on this quest?"

"Why, why, why?!" I softly banged my head on the door before quickly falling onto the bed.

My fingers lightly grazed the scab on my neck. They trailed down towards the healing scars on my collarbone and shoulders. Gorthaden became heavier at my hip.

But the answer was simple.

Middle-Earth has too much sorrow, so much pain and toil. It all needs to heal. But healing cannot be done smoothly without some sort of healer.

I rolled over, pressing my face into the pillow while gliding my fingers down to unbuckle Gorthaden. The sword clunked to the ground.

Sleep carried me away, dark thoughts swirling around and around in my head.