Soldiers

"He's alive!"

"Where is he? Where is he? Get out of way! I'm going to kill him!" Gimli shuffled though the Rohan people to Aragorn. "You are the luckiest, the canniest, and most reckless man I know!" Gimli hugged his legs. "Bless you!" He cried.

"Where is Rowan?" Aragorn asked him. Gimli was silent. "Where is she?" Aragorn looked around at the maidens that surrounded them. He walked through the crowd and inside a stone infirmary, he found Legolas.

"You're late," Legolas said. Then he looked at Aragorn's drenched clothes. "You look terrible," the two laughed.

"Where is Rowan?" Aragorn asked again. Legolas closed his mouth and sighed.

"She's gone to Saruman," he answered. "Decided to fight him alone."

"She's mad!" Aragorn cried. "Why didn't you stop her?"

"There was no stopping her, Aragorn. She thought you were dead," Legolas kept the calmness in his voice whilst he spoke. Aragorn felt anger rattle in his bones.

He went to see the king and explain the army of Isengard he had seen marching their way. Ten thousand troops made up the army and their purpose was simple: destroy the world of men. Aragorn feared that even if Rowan succeeded at ridding of Saruman, it would be too late. The armies were near and would arrive by nightfall.

The king gathered troops. He wanted any and all able men, young and old, to be ready for fight by nightfall. And so his guards collected for their small army. But it wouldn't be enough.

"Someone needs to go after the witch," said Gimli. "She can't face him alone."

"She is his match. No one can put up a better fight against him than her. We will fight the troops, she will fight him," Aragorn explained. He did not like the thought that Rowan could very well be dead at Saruman's feet. He liked to think that she had won and was already on her way back.

"Rowan is powerful," Legolas said. He placed his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "I trust that she will do well."

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Aragorn was not pleased with the men Theoden leveled Rohan's soldiers. They were merely farmers and stable boys. They were not trained soldiers. Aragorn thought Rohan should have sought for help.

But Aragorn, like always, was willing to fight and die, for his race, for his people...and the for one he loved.

When night fell and the soldiers scrambled to their stations, Aragorn put on some armor and collected a few more weapons. Legolas handed him a sword and loudly exhaled. "Keep her in your mind, Aragorn, and it will give you hope," said Legolas. Aragorn smirked and nodded his head.

"It is said that when a witch breathes her last breath, a thorned rose grows at the feet of the one she once loved," Aragorn said.

"So let's hope we don't see any roses!" Gimli said. Aragorn and Legolas looked to him and noticed his armor looked more like a dress.

Then, a mysterious horn interrupted them. "That is no orc horn," Legolas muttered. The three ran up the stairs and outside.

It was an army of elves marching to the stone gates. There were hundreds of them dressed in cloaks but underneath, they were ready for battle.

"I bring word from Galadriel," their leader said to Theoden, Aragorn, and Legolas. "The Witch of Red's noble actions led us to this moment where two races will fight alongside. Let men and elves fight together once more."

They took their positions and heard chanting in the distance. The torches of the orc army came into view, the one thousand soldiers marched to Helm's Deep, putting fear into every man's heart.

Aragorn clutched the handle of his sword and watched a small speck of red fly in the air and around his head. He watched it with a frown. Then the speck flew right into his chest and disappeared. Then he heard her voice. Her beautiful, melodic voice. It rung in his mind and his ears and a slight smile formed on his face.