White Blood ➵ LotR/Lord of the Rings

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Chapter Thirty
Helm's Deep

Ninimben called encouragement to the soldiers as they neared their target: a pack of Orcs that had been spotted travelling through Rohan, headed in the direction of outlying villages. The Rohirrim had assembled at once, Ninimben among them, and they sped towards their goals. The men had steeled themselves, but Ninimben had found a little extra push, a bit more courage instilled in their hearts, could work wonders. Sure enough, the men around her straightened and rode with more purpose, their eyes newly hardened with grin.

She smiled, pleased with the results. When she turned to Eomer, she found he was watching her with respect and admiration.

"You're a natural," he said with a shake of his head. "Anyone can tell you've done this before."

Ninimben rolled her eyes. "If being a natural involves a thousand of years of experience and practice – then yes. I am a natural," she drawled.

Eomer chuckled. "I am glad you're by my side, Ninimben. The men respect you. And I trust you – I know Theodred does, too. I'm lucky to have found you."

Ninimben's insides squirmed and her heart skipped a beat, emotions she tried her best to suppress with a casual smile. Did he really have to say things like that and get her worked up before they rode into battle?

"And I'm lucky to have met you," she responded, and he smiled.

They rode on a little further before they spotted the cluster of Orcs up ahead. Their reports were accurate in terms of size and location. Their group was more than prepared to face them.

"There they are," she muttered. Ninimben tightened her grip on the reins and glanced at Eomer out of the corner of her eye. "Are we ready?"

He snorted. "Of course we are. You're an army on your own – how could we lose?"

He winked, obviously teasing. Ninimben punched his shoulder. "Don't exaggerate. Besides, you're like that, too – you inspire the men to fight harder. That's worth more than you can know."

"Both of us together, and how could we lose?"

Ninimben grinned. "It's impossible."

And it might as well have been. From the moment the two sides clashed, Ninimben cut down the Orcs easily. She was aware of Eomer the entire time, and he was aware of her: they didn't even have to stand back to back to watch out for each other as they charged into battle, their swords flashing in a deadly dance, cutting enemies around them like they were made of butter. They were two magnets, attracted to each other no matter where they went on the small battleground, and always found a way back to each other. It wasn't exactly like the way she had fought with Legolas, but it was close.

Finally, the last Orc collapsed to the ground, and the battle was over. Ninimben dismounted her horse and stood amongst the carnage, panting, accounting for the consequences of the battle.

It definitely could've been much worse – hardly any of their number had collapsed to the ground, and more had been injured than had perished.

Eomer wiped sweat from his forehead. Despite the exertion showing on his face, he managed to send a grin Ninimben's way. "Good job, Nim. You were incredible out there."

Ninimben wiped her blade on the grass and chuckled. "You weren't too shabby yourself, Eomer."

They laughed quietly between themselves as Theodred trudged over, each footstep heavy. They looked up as he approached.