*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ RATTLE THE STARS ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT THREE ── face et spera 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝WE LEFT NONE ALIVE ❞
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙨𝙨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝙪𝙨 ❞

*✧ ─── THE MORNING BRINGS HER RESTLESS SOUL NO COMFORT. THE FIRE GYDA HAD WITNESSED A DISTANT MEMORY NOW. Her thoughts remain scattered, a flurry of worries, a fear of her own dreams. It makes her hands shake. She blames the cold every time Legolas crouches down next to her as they rest. He doesn't implore her for the real reasons even if his eyes beg for her to say something to him. Anything really.

But Gyda, oathbound Gyda, can't bring herself to think about it. Dares not, because the moment she does, every wall will crumble around her heart. So instead she goes on, step by step. Because she needs to find Elgarain. No other thing matters to her.

She exhales softly as the wind caresses her hair atop the small boulder they find themselves on. The grass is still wet with dew as it glistens in the sunlight like diamonds. Her gaze is on the horizon where the mountains grow closer.

Besides her Aragorn climbs to the highest point and he too has his gaze fixated ahead. A weariness is hanging over them like a blanket. One they cannot shrug off. Their tired eyes matching, and if she looks behind her, she knows Legolas stands, watching her.

Always watching her.

It still makes her heart stutter in her chest.

"They're close." Gyda whispers, keen eleven eyes noticing even the smallest disturbance in the grasslands beneath them.

The plains of Rohan.

Gyda wills her hands to still again when she notices the tremble in her fingers, as if they are itching to touch something. She's craning her head upwards to the sun as if the rays of sunshine might replenish her weary soul.

Aragorn carefully leans down on the ground, and places his ear on the rock.

She watches him with bathed breath. "Their pace has quickened." He announces and Gyda clenches her jaw. "They must have caught our scent."

Worries blooms in her chest and Gyda turns to look down where Gimli and Legolas are moving towards them. "Hurry!"

Gyda is already dashing down, maneuvering between the uneven terrain with newfound vigor as Gimli shouts at them from behind. Just as her feet touch the ground again, another set lands beside her.

She glimpses through her lashes as Legolas follows in her shadow whilst they run down the slope of the mountain, loose rocks slipping downhill as she skids closer and closer to the ravine below. Despite her better judgement, Gyda believes they can catch up to them. Believes that Elgarain is only a couple steps away. Just within reach.

She comes to a sudden stop at the end of the slope, and gazes down the deep hollow in her path. The narrow ravine is silent, an abandoned sight of yellow grass and rocks. She squeezes her eyes shut and digs her nails in the palm of her hands.

A shuddering breath escapes her as she will the tears gathering in her eyes to disappear.

A hand on her shoulder breaks her free from her wild thoughts, but she shrugs it off.

Gyda misses the hurt look on Legolas' face as she moves to climb down the ravine.

"We must hurry." She announces sternly, latching on a thick-looking vine that had manages to make it's way through the crevices.

The descent is quick and quiet. No one daring to speak.

When her feet touch solid ground again, Gyda let's her fingers trail alongside the rocks, as if they'll whisper an answer to her. As if they know who she's looking for. The Elleth wonders for a moment, if the shared dream might guide her in away. That whatever connection had made it possible would lead her right to her queen. Her sister.

"They've been through here." Legolas says gently from where he's crouching.

Silently, Gyda approaches him and peers over his shoulder.

The footprints are clear and deep, as if the earth was sinking. As if the Orcs were carrying more than there armor.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall."

Gyda turns just as Aragorn stands back up again, in his hand the familiar brooch clipping of their own cloaks in his hands.

"They may yet be alive." Legolas breaths out hopefully and Gyda's eyes narrow at his doubt.

"Less than a day ahead of us." Aragorn nods. "Come."

"Come Gimli. We're gaining on them!" Legolas shouts over his shoulder as Gimli comes barreling down, grunting and huffing in displeasure.

"I'm wasted on cross-country. We dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances!" He boasts, though his words are spoken between ragged breaths as the ascend another towering hill.

Gyda moves with agile precision, bouncing from rock to rock, twisting and turning until they reach the top.

They stand still observing the large landscape ahead of them, but whilst these lands should not frighten her, Gyda can't help but feel a thickness in the air.

It's heavy on her chest, the air tinted with something...unnatural.

"Rohan." Aragorn whispers. "The home of the Horse Lords." He pauses, catching her eye, and Gyda knows he feels it too.

"There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures." He scans his surroundings as if the answer will reveal itself. "Sets its will against us."

Gyda clenches her jaw, her fingers dancing on the pommel of her sword. "We must not dwell on such things now." Gyda speaks through clamped teeth. "Not now were are so close to finding them. Whatever awaits us in these lands. We shall face together."

She's the first to move forward, but Legolas quickly passes her and their shoulders brush.

"Legolas." Aragorn calls out. "What do your elf-eyes see?"

"The Uruks turn Northeast." He states. "They're taking them to Isengard."

A shudder runs through her. No.

"Saruman."

"We must make haste if we are to catch up to them!" Gyda instructs hurriedly and the group quickly takes off again.

Their journey continues as the run through the valley of Rohan's plains with no time to waste and no time to stop moving. Gyda ignores every ach in her body, ever jolt of pain that shoots through her leg as her feet pound on the ground. She pays no mind to the time that passes or what the others say. She can only focus on the landscape in front of her. Not even the slowly setting sun deters her.

"Keep breathing." Gimli pants behind them. "That's the key. Breath."

"They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them." Legolas mutters with pinched brows.

"Then we shall not rest until we'll catch up to them." Gyda demands firmly.

*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝘣𝘺
𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝘪𝘴? 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧, 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙢 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘴
𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝙢𝙖𝙙

─ anna akhmatova

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IT'S DAWN AGAIN AND STILL GYDA DOES NOT ALLOW HER BODY TO STOP MOVING. THE NIGHT HAD PASSES QUICKLY and Gyda could only hope that they had grown closer to the Uruks that were marching through the Horse Lord lands. These plains were their last shred of hope, for if they reached Isengard, there would be no chance at getting them back.

The sun was beating down on her back, sweltering her skin as her cloak captured the warmth of the sun.

Gyda falters in her pace as she feels the ground shake beneath her feet. Elven ear picking up to fast pace and neighs of horses in the distance. "Something is coming." She hisses worriedly and the group of four wedges themselves between the rocks of a large hill.

Without meaning to, Gyda finds herself pressed against Legolas, the Mirkwood prince, resting his hand on her shoulder to bring her closer to him, and out of sight.

The pounding of hooves grows louder, closer. And Gyda holds her breath in anticipation.

But no enemy appears, instead bannerman of Rohan ride passed them, a group of thirty, perhaps even more men descend down the hill in a fast pace, but Aragorn quickly stands up and into view.

"Riders of Rohan!" He bellows. "What news from the Mark?"

Gyda watches as they carefully turn their horses around, but they do not answer Aragorn, and instead begin to circle them. Gyda narrows her eyes, fingers lacing around the handle of her sword as they become surrounded and spears are aimed at them.

Gyda, despite her better judgement draws her own sword in warning, the steel glinting in the light of day as a single rider comes closer. "What business do two elves, a man and dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

Her sword is aimed upwards at the rider and her knuckles turn white as she juts her chin up defiantly, but Aragorn places a hand on her arm and pushes it down.

"Give me your name, horse-master." Gimli rumbles out. "And I shall give you mine."

The horse master climbs down from his stead and approaches Gimli with quick steps. "I would cut off your head, dwarf. If it stood but a little higher from the ground."

But before he can come closer, Gyda steps between them, her own sword up once again and the man halts. "Dare harm him, and I shall cut off yours!"

The other riders swivel their weapons at her, and in turn Legolas aims his bow.

Aragorn slams Legolas' bow down with one hand, and pushes Gyda back with the other and turns to the horse lord. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin. Legolas of the Woodland Realms and Gyda of the Queensguard of Lindon."

She puffs out her chest as she glares at the man in front of her.

"We are friends of Rohan." Aragorn continues. "and of Theoden, your king."

"Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." The man states...almost sadly before carefully removing his silver helmet. "Not even his own kin."

Gyda glances sideways at Legolas just as the other rides bring back their weapons and stand down before turning back to the man. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands."

Gyda frowns, tense shoulders slouching.

"My company are those loyal to Rohan and for that, we are banished." He grits his teeth as he speaks those painful words. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say as an old man hooded and cloaked." He pauses as he takes them further in. "And everywhere, his spies slip past or nets."

"We are no spies." Gyda spits out, squaring her shoulders.

"We track a pack of Uruk-hair westward across the plain." Aragorn explains calmly, "They have taken three of our friends captive."

"Including my Queen." Gyda adds bitterly but her firm stance falters as she catches the man's downward gaze, the way his shoulder tense before he looks up again.

"The Uruks are destroyed." He informs them, "We slaughtered them during the night—"

"But there were two Hobbits and an Elf." Gimli interrupts worriedly. "Did you see them!"

Gyda feels her hands trembling again, her heart hammering in her chest, and a haze falls over her, ever surrounding sound fades away until she can only hear the banished horse lord speak.

"We left none alive." He admits remorsefully, before pointing behind them. "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

He has not finished his sentence before Gyda is pushing through the body of horses, leaves everyone behind. Ignores it as Legolas shouts for her to wait. Her thoughts are racing as she fixates her eyes on the white smoke in the distance. She stumbles forward, clumsily carrying her forward.

A sobs racks through her body as she glimpses the pile of burning bodies, and she stumbles, falling to her knees and without caution she stars digging through the remains in a frantic manner. Her whole body is shaking now as she tears through the bodies of the Uruk-hai. "Please." She begs. "Please let them have escaped."

Her pleads continue as her pale hands become darker and darker with ash, and hope keeps her from completely breaking down.

Her breath hitches, and her whole body seizes up. Shaking hands frozen like stone and that sickening feeling in her chest spreads across her whole body like a vice. "no..." Her face twists, lip trembling.

There in the pile she sees it, clear as day; one of the scabbards she had given to the Hobbits. "no. no. no—no!" Her volume rises with each spoken word, blinking as if it would make the sight in front of her disappear.

But it does not.

Her trembling fingers reach out for the charred leather, and they curl around the fabric and she desperately gasps in a breath of air.

Her lungs feel like they are collapsing, and there is a ringing in her ears.

She lets her head fall onto her hands, the burning smell horrid, but she ignores it as she clutches the scabbard tightly. Another sob falls from her parted lips, as she cradles it close to her chest and before she can even control it a glutaral scream that shreds through her very soul escapes from her mouth as she faces the sky above her.

The sound so haunting, it could rattle the very stars in the sky.

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