Linger

XIV. Whole, but Broken

Someone talked in a hushed tone somewhere to her left, trying to be quiet. She didn't recognize the feminine voice.

At first, she could only hear the woman talking, reassuring someone that they would be able to walk in a few days.

Well, that didn't sound like Heaven—there would be no pain or physical limitations there. So, good news.

I'm not dead, Rowan realized.

Once she figured that out, she started to feel her body. It wasn't ethereal-feeling—like she was just a spirit; she was there and whole—but neither did she feel agony like how she should feel from the sharp point of an Uruk's scimitar being driven through her. Rowan was stiff, her body slightly ached from bruises and strain, but her waist wasn't on fire.

Maybe someone had given her athelas like Aragorn did when he found her outside of Bree.

Aragorn. Legolas. Boromir. Haldir. Rúmil. The battle of Helm's Deep.

The woman's voice wasn't frantic and panicky, and there wasn't a pounding of a battering ram or sounds of fighting. That meant the battle had to be over, and they had won... somehow.

Rowan opened her eyes to see the high stone ceiling of a room belonging somewhere in the fortress. She recognized the rock as the dark hue of those that formed Helm's Deep. Daylight shone through narrow windows set far overhead.

She lay on a thin cot with a thick blanket draped over her for warmth, for her armor and jerkin were gone—bandages wrapped her bare torso from her breasts to the top of her pants. Looking to her left, multiple cots lined the room with an injured Rohirrim, elf, or any other warrior under similar blankets. This was a Healing Room.

"I am pleased to see you awake again, lass."

She looked to her right to see Gimli sitting in a chair pulled up next to the cot she lay in. The chair wasn't built for a dwarf since his stubby legs dangled. His head was wrapped in a bandage and he looked tired.

"The battle?" she asked.

"It is over; we won."

"When were you hurt?"

"After the Deeping Wall exploded. The Uruk-hai separated me from Aragorn and Legolas. I, along with a group of elves and Éomer, sought refuge in the caves. As we retreated, a creature whacked me on the head—some pointy-ears had to carry me."

"When Aragorn and Legolas returned without you, I feared the worst."

Gimli chuckled. "It will take more than a hit to the head to bring down this dwarf."

"I'm sure it will."

"A wound such as yours, though, has felled many warriors. I am truly astonished you live."

"I just knew I was dead," she said. Even though Lady Galadriel implied that I die at The Black Gate...

She shook the thought away—he didn't need to know yet.

"Where are the others?" Rowan asked. "They were not injured, were they?"

"I have sent Aragorn to sleep—he wished to stay with you, but he was weary and battle-sore. Legolas speaks with Haldir and Rúmil. Éomer is with the king." The dwarf stopped abruptly, and his eyes dropped to his hands on his knees.

"What of Boromir?"

Gimli didn't answer immediately, just lifted his eyes to look at her—sorrow filled them.

Rowan's heart dropped. "No... He didn't..."

"I'm sorry, lass. Boromir fell."

She stared at the dwarf, stunned. "No. That can't... That can't be."