Chapter Text
CHAPTER LXXVIII
AGAINST THE ODDS
Annalyn was lying on her stomach, her eyes closed as dust and pebbles rained over her body. Struggling to make sense of what had just happened, she stirred and took a breath. Or at least she tried to; the wind had been knocked out of her.
Goodness gracious…
With faint ringing in her ears, Annalyn gasped, and forced the air back into her lungs. Thankful for the fact that she could now breathe, she shook her head, and looked up with a widening gaze.
No... The Deeping Wall. A third of it was gone!
Frozen by the sight, Annalyn blinked in disbelief. What of the Elves? A fair number of them had been fighting alongside her on that section of wall.
With a sweeping glance at the ground, she saw at least a dozen, lying motionless amid the debris.
If she hadn't been in the middle of a battle, Annalyn would have searched for other survivors, no question. But as Uruks flooded through the opening, she had to accept the guilt, and set the urge aside. In pure survival mode, she ignored the aches in her body, rose on all fours, and frantically searched for her sword.
Ah, but where is it?
"Here," she heard someone say.
As her sword appeared in her line of sight, her vision expanded to take in a golden armour, then the soldier himself.
"Rúmil," she marvelled, and guessed that he had been part of the secondary force that was positioned behind the wall. A force that was now charging forward, their blades drawn and at the ready.
Once she had grasped her sword, Annalyn accepted Rúmil's help, and gained her feet. Holding to his gaze, she discerned key things in his eyes: relief and regret, so much regret. But then—given the imminent danger they were in—his expression changed to one of worry. "Can you fight?"
Annalyn gave a nod.
"Good. Let us slay some Uruk-hai."
With that, the two of them faced the approaching Uruks, and readied their stances.
May the Valar be with us, Annalyn thought as one of the creatures charged toward her. When its crude blade sliced the air in a diagonal stroke, she dodged, and blocked the blow with her sword. With a rapid twist of her wrist, she dislodged the Uruk's weapon, then countered with a successful slash to its face.
Haldir's heart was in his throat.
His wife… Where was she? And what of his soldiers? How many had been killed just now?
As the dust began to settle, he stood upon the edge of the gaping hole, and peered down.
At first, all he saw was debris. But then, as bile rose in his throat, he spotted the lifeless forms of some of his brethren. Overcome with grief, Haldir looked for his wife.
Annalyn had to be alright. She had to! The alternative was simply too horrifying to contemplate.
"There," Ninael said, and pointed. "Look."
When he followed her line of sight, Haldir loosed the breath he had been holding.
By some miracle of the Valar, his wife was unscathed! No sooner had he seen her from afar—rising with the help of Rúmil—than he whirled toward Ninael, who quickly guessed his intent.
"Go!" she said. "I will defend the wall!" For Uruks were still climbing the ladders at this point. Thankfully, Ninael would not be alone. Despite the losses they had just suffered, enough elven soldiers remained to counter the assault.
Taking command of the wall, Ninael rallied her soldiers. "Gurth ani chyth 'wîn!"
With nothing but gratitude in his heart, Haldir nodded to his third-in-command, and left at once. But the path between him and Annalyn was fraught with peril. When he descended the stairs behind the wall, enemy soldiers were already waiting for him. More than ready to face them, Haldir held Silverwind in a two-handed grip. With grim efficiency, he dispatched the creatures one by one.
But the assailing hosts were many. Driven by bloodlust, Uruks were pouring through the breach, their sable shields as dark as their hearts.
As Haldir fought his way forward, he could see the secondary force, how valiantly they were fighting. And in the midst of them were Annalyn and Rúmil.
At present, Haldir's youngest brother was fighting by Annalyn's side, his feral gaze fixed on his opponent.
Seconds turned to minutes. Haldir was much closer now.
As the clanging of swords filled the air, Annalyn parried left, narrowly avoiding what could have been a killing blow. When she finally slew the Uruk, her attention snagged on her husband.
"Haldir!" she cried.
"Annalyn!"
"It is good to see you, brother," Rúmil said once Haldir had finally reached them.
Instead of two, they were now three, standing in a defensive circle, back-to-back.
How long they fought, Haldir could not say. Growls and death cries filled his ears. The smell of muck and blood assailed his nostrils.
"We are being overrun!" Rúmil shouted to Haldir.
Before he could say anything, someone yelled from high up the Keep. "Aragorn!" A brief glance revealed that it was Theoden, king of Rohan. "Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!"
Aragorn, who had been fighting nearby, wasted no time by shouting, "To the Keep!"
Looking to his brethren, Haldir waved his arm, and repeated the order. "Nan barad!" Then, remembering his forces on the wall, he called to Ninael, who promptly met his gaze. "Nan barad!" he commanded.
With a nod, she relayed the message without delay.
And so the Galadhrim fought their way toward the entrance of the Keep. Given the number of Uruks, it was a slow and harrowing retreat.
When Haldir finally arrived at the entrance, he could have gone inside, but didn't. Rather, he stood by the door with Annalyn and Rúmil, and swiftly waved his arm. "Seek refuge in the Keep!" he called to his soldiers. "Make haste!"
No sooner had he spoken than Legolas and Gimli the Dwarf arrived, passing him and entering the Keep.
Over the next few minutes, battle-worn Elves entered the Keep in a near steady line. But as the battle raged on, they started arriving one or two at a time. Weary they looked, with Uruk blood staining their swords. While most could stand on their own, several of them walked with the aid of others.
"Where is Ninael?" Annalyn rose on her toes in an attempt to peer over the sea of Uruk-hai.
Suddenly fearing for his third-in-command, Haldir scanned the battlefield. At first, he did not see her. But then, just as he was about to lose hope, he caught sight of his friend.
Ninael's face was streaked with Uruk blood, her sable hair tousled. Whether due to weariness or injury, her battle moves were heavy and sluggish. There could be no doubt, she was struggling.
"Ninael!" Annalyn cried, and was about to go help her friend, when Haldir stopped her with his arm.
"Rúmil, take Annalyn inside."
"What, no!" Annalyn shouted.
"Now Rúmil!"
While his brother obeyed his command, Haldir reentered the fray, and fought his way to his third-in-command. In a fierce dance of steel, he engaged Ninael's opponent without hesitation. As the Uruk brought its blade around, Haldir parried to the right, then pressed his attack. Metal clashed on metal, once, twice. On the third swing, Silverwind carved the air at an angle, cleaving the creature right in the neck.
Haldir turned his focus on Ninael at once. She was limping, he noticed. And there was a pained expression on her face. "Here," he told her. "Hold on to me."
They were on the edge of the throng now, and the path before them was clear.
"How bad is it?"
"An Uruk sliced a gash in my leg," Ninael answered through gritted teeth. "But fear not, mellon nîn. The Halls of Mandos do not await me yet. I will live."
Haldir was relieved to hear it. He had lost too many friends on this night.
And so they entered the Keep, where Annalyn and Rúmil were waiting.
"Oh, thank the fates," Annalyn exclaimed, and hurried over to them.
After a brief embrace with Ninael, Annalyn sought the comfort of her husband's arms. "You made it." Her voice hitched as she spoke. "For a moment, I feared I would never see you again."
His breath ghosting against her hair, Haldir held on to his wife. The battle was not over, it was true, but for now Annalyn was safe. So were Rúmil and Ninael.
As for the rest of the Galadhrim, a sweeping look told him that he had lost nearly half of his soldiers. The sight nearly crushed him, but as Marchwarden, he had to be strong. Strong for himself, for Annalyn, and all who served under him.
*Gurth ani chyth 'wîn! – "Death to our enemies!"