*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ GONE WHERE WE CANNOT DWELL  ❫ ❞
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT THREE ── face et spera 🏹 ⁺⑅

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CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄.
♯ ❝ I SAY I'D BEAT THE BOTH OF YOU ❞
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
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━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺
𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝘢𝘵 𝙙𝙖𝙬𝙣 ❞

AMIDST THE CHAOS GYDA RIDES UPON HER HORSE WITH HER SWORD GLEAMING IN THE DAPPLED SUNLIGHT THAT FILTERS THROUGH THE DENSE CANOPY OF CLOUDS IN THE SKY. The air was thick with tension and the metallic tang of impending battle. With a guttural roar, the orcs charge upon their vicious beasts, eyes glowing with cruel malevolence.

Theoden was ahead of the convoy, raising his sword high, rallying his comrades, "For Rohan!" He cries out, voice cutting through the chaos.

Legolas, who Gyda notes is close to the front of the group, swiftly nocks an arrow and lets it fly, felling an orc before it could really reach the front lines. The growls of their enemies grew louder, shrieks and wrenching yips as the two opposing sides met in the middle of the field.

Gyda swings her sword, watching as the orc topples from the imposing beast, squealing in fright.

The battle was fierce and unrelenting. Swords clashed and arrows flew, and the ground shook with the force of the combat. Aragorn moves with grace and precision, his sword dancing in his hands as he fought off multiple orcs at once. Legolas advances like a wraith, his arrows faithfully finding their targets. Gimli's battle cries are a thunderous roar above the screams of his victims.

Gyda grunts as her own horse is brought down, knees digging in the rocks and dirt as she rolls away from the onslaught. Dust follows her like a smoke trail in the wind. She coughs, eyes glaring up and brows furrowing in concentration to see who dared to approach her.

The creature was a tall, imposing figure, clad in dark armour that seems to absorb the light around him. His eyes glow with a malevolent red light, and his sneer reveals a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth.

With a guttural roar, the orc lungs forward, his massive sword swinging down in a deadly arc. Gyda, nimble and graceful, dodges the blow and counters it with a quick strike to the orc's side. It howls in pain, retaliating with a swift backhand she can barely duck away from in time.

Producing the dagger from her side, Gyda strikes, cutting the back of its leg. The Orc snarls in frustration. The battle rages on, the clash of metal-on-metal echoing through the clearing.

Gyda fights with all her might, her every move fuelled by the knowledge that she was not just fighting for her own life, but for the fate of the people of Rohan they were protecting. She ducks and weaves, her sword flashing in the sunlight as she desperately sought an opening in the orc's defences.

Finally, it is distracted by an arrow whizzing past and with a swift feint, followed by a powerful thrust, Gyda finds her opportunity. Her sword piercing through the orc's armour, sinking deep into his chest. The Orc staggers backwards, dropping its sword as she twists her sword before pulling it out.

The Orc falls to his knees.

Gyda pushes herself back up to her full height, elven eyes keenly looking around. Her eyes flash with worry at the sight of Gimli, with his double-headed axe glaring at the terrifying beast snarling at him.

It pounces, and Gyda is about to flick her dagger, when an arrow pierces it skull. Legolas passes the dwarf with a small grin, dismounting his horse to stand beside his companion.

Cutting through the field, Gyda joins them quickly. She notes Legolas worried gaze take her in and she nods in assurance. Her own eyes taking in his unharmed features with relief.

"Ha! That one counts as mine!" Gimli grunts indignantly as they all look at the fallen creature.

Gyda furrows her brow. "Are—are you two having a competition?!" she sputters.

Legolas' meets her gaze with a sheepish smile, one that makes her heart unexpectedly stutter in her chest. "What would you say if it were so?"

"I'd say I'd beat the both of you," she replies surely, hazel eyes twinkling.

Gimli grumbles in his mother-tongue at her confidence while Legolas' smiles warmly at her words.

She shakes her head, letting the dwarf continue to march into battle as instead she and Legolas focus on the approaching horde.

"It seems as if for ever one we take down, two take its place," Gyda worriedly admits, fiery gaze overlooking the battle.

"I fear we are greatly outnumbered," he states.

"But not outmatched," Gyda denies, fingers curling tighter around the handle of her sword as she raises her beloved weapon with both hands.

Legolas and Gyda fight back-to-back, covering each other's flanks with seamless precision. Legolas' arrows whistle through the air, finding their marks with unerring accuracy, while Gyda's sword swings in deadly arcs, creating a barrier of death around them.

"Gyda--!"

She yelps, side stinging and her hand automatically reaches to put pressure on the inflicted wound.

In her distraction she is unprepared as the orc lashes out once more. She tumbles roughly to the ground, skin tearing over the rough stones. Her fingers curl into a fist as anger courses through her veins. She spits out the blood gathered in her mouth and glares up at her assailant—despite the dizziness that makes the world blur together.

Its dark teeth are pulled into a sinister snarl as the orc raises its sword for the final blow.

Gyda moves her own sword up in a futile attempt to block the orc, but before it can strike down on her, an arrow burrows itself in the side of its head.

Blonde hair falls in her vision and then an outstretched hand.

Her vision clears as Legolas pulls her back to her feet, a hand cradling her face in worry, his warm fingers bringing her a small semblance of peace in this moment. "Are you alright?" he whispers, voice soft and gentle.

She heaves in a deep breath, calming her stuttering heart. "I am, thanks to you." She nods.

For a moment they remain standing close before the shrill battle cries of the orcs shatter their moment once more.

Gyda looks down at her side again, to see the blood soaking through her tunic. She grits her teeth before disregarding the pain for now and focuses on the horde of orcs up ahead.

In her hand, her father's sword shimmers with the ethereal glow of ancient magic in the gleaming sun as before her the hulking shadow of another orc appears. His eyes filled with a feral hunger for blood as the creature swings his massive, jagged-edged sword.

Gyda moves lithely, her steps barely making a sound. The clash of steel echoes as Gyda parries the orcs heavy and ruthless blows with effortless grace. With a swift movement, she lungs forward, her blade singing in the air. The orc blocks the strike with his sword, the impact sending tremors through her arms.

The sting surges through her body and the orc sneers in cruel pleasure. "You elves think yourself so clever with your fancy swords and pretty words," he growls, spit flying from his lips. "But orcish steel is stronger than your delicate blade."

Anger simmers through her, undiluted fury; the sword of her family's legacy. The sword her father carried and his before him. The sword her eldest child would one day claim.

Her eyes glitter with determination as she counters, her blade moving in a blur of silver. "Strength is nothing without skill and purpose!" she spat out.

With a sudden surge of power, Gyda disarms the foul creature, sending the orc's sword flying. The orc roars in rage, fists clenched, but before he could act, the Elleth surges her sword right through his heart.

Collecting herself, Gyda looks up. Spotting Legolas with Gimli in the distance. Her eyes dance around the chaos before she finds the last of their Fellowship.

"Aragorn!" Gyda shouts fearfully, watching as one of the foul creatures jumps, pouncing on the man and toppling him from his horse. She is sprinting through the thick of battle before she can even think about it.

Heaving in a deep breath, she barrels into one of the orcs, sword swing and blood gushes from the cut in its neck. "Aragorn!" Gyda yells out again, watching as the man backtracks from the orc. With a determined glint in his eyes, he squares his shoulders before their swords clash.

With a battle cry, Aragorn lunges forward his movements fluid and precise. But Gyda could also see the fatigue in his eyes and the way he favoured his right leg slightly.

She grunts, her blade dancing in the air as she tries to cut through the orcs between them. She cannot let him fall. Not when Boromir is no longer here to fight for Gondor, not when Elgarain needs him like she needs the air she breaths.

It feels awfully familiar, the heat of battle, the fate of Middle-Earth. A faithful guard and a king.

She shakes away such thoughts.

Aragorn met the orc's attack head-on, their swords clashing with a deafening clang. The force of the blow sent shockwaves up Aragorn's arm, but he stood his ground, his eyes locked onto his opponent's. With a swift parry, he counters, aiming for the orc's exposed flank, when out of nowhere another orc appears.

Aragorn's sword is sent flying to the ground as he rolls out of the way. He staggers back to his feet, hand clutching his right arm with a hiss. His eyes rise up, stance wavering.

Breathing heavily, Gyda defeats the last orc that stands between them, just as the orc moves to attack Aragorn.

"Aragorn!" she screams fiercely, and without thinking, Gyda throws her most prized possession through the air. Her sword goes flying, and as if it has a mind of its own, perfectly lands in the awaiting hand of Aragorn.

The clash of their swords echoed through the air, a symphony of metal on metal. The orc was a formidable opponent, his strength matched only by his cruelty. But Aragorn fights with a skill born of years of experience and the blood of Númenor running through his veins. And the elven sword carried by the guard of the High-Queen.

Their swords met in a shower of sparks, and Aragorn locks eyes with the orc, his gaze unwavering.

Gyda produces her daggers from her sides, twirling the blades made by the finest elven smiths in Lindon and focuses on the orcs around her. She's so preoccupied by the dangers close to her that she only notices what is happening when it is too late.

Frozen in shock, Gyda looks over her shoulder, back at Aragorn as the man in question get's dragged over the grass, feet kicking and sword-arm swinging in desperation. But he cannot seem to land a blow on the foul beast that hauls him and its rider.

Her heart drops to her stomach as the rider, the beast and Aragorn all topple over the edge of a broken cliff.

"Aragorn!"

She is sprinting to the edge of the cliff, falling to her knees to peer over the edge, praying, hoping that he's still there, hanging on.

"Aragorn!" She calls out, but all her eyes can see is the wild and violent river below that swallows all. "Aragorn!"

Enraptured by the situation, Gyda doesn't even notice that the last orcs have been slain and an unsettling quietness grows in the clearing.

A hand curls around her arm, and frightened she yanks her arm free, hand reaching for her sword only to remember.

Aragorn had her sword. Aragorn who...Aragorn who's gone.

Unexpectedly, tears brim in her eyes, a heavy feeling that makes it heart to breath develops.

"—da? Gyda"

She blinks, remembering the presence next to her. Tearfully she looks up, defeat plainly written in her eyes. "He's gone," she breaths out.

Legolas' frowns and from behind him, she can make out Gimli and Theoden.

Her voice cracks as she speaks again.

"Aragorn has fallen."

*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝘣𝘦 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙,
𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝙬𝙚𝙥𝙩

─ anne carsons

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THE JOURNEY TO HELM'S DEEP IS SPEND IN GRIEF. THE ACHE HAS NOT SETTLED IN GYDA'S HEART and despair is palpable in the air as they march on. The painful moans of the wounded fill the air, in a way it is reminiscent of the day they had defeated Sauron during the Last Alliance of Men and Elves.

"Gyda?" A warm hand curls around her wrist, before gently moving to unfurl her fingers.

There is a sting as he does so, and it is only then she realizes she had drawn blood with her nails.

"We've failed him," she whispers guiltily, gnawing on her bottom lip.

Legolas doesn't rebuttal her claim and instead shares her sentiment with a solemn nod.

She sniffles, pulling her hand out of Legolas' to wipe away the tears that had fallen from her eyes. "Legolas...how must I tell Elgarain?" She cries out.

Gyda remembers, remembers so vividly as she stood before the former High-Queen, just a young Elleth, barely past her Elfling years to tell her, her husband had fallen. She remembers the way Elgarain had stood in her white dress, her innocent eyes, the way the news had stolen a part of her.

How could she stand before her High-Queen, her friend and tell her the man she loved was dead. That she could not save him?

"Tell her truthfully, and be there for her." Is all Legolas could respond with before his own eyes drifted to the empty scabbard at her side. "Your sword, where is it?"

Never had he'd seen her without it. Never would he forget what she told him about it when they met so many years ago in Mirkwood. Her father's sword. The last piece she had of him...gone?

Legolas' watches the heartbreak that befalls on her face. "I gave it to Aragorn."

The admission surprises him slightly, he had rarely seen anyone else touch the elven sword. He knows despite their differences, Aragorn and Gyda were more alike than they would admit. Their sense of duty and value of honor and righteousness. The way they would give anything for the people they cared for.

He knows she had given it to him, in hopes of protecting him when she could not...when they could not. She'd sacrificed her most prized possession for him.

"I'm sorry."

She gifts him a watery smile. "I will live."

"Helm's Deep!" A shout from ahead draws their attention. "We've arrived!"

They look up to see the towering structure carved in the mountainside, painting an imposing shadow on the ground.

As they near the gate, nerves rattle her and Gyda reaches out for Legolas. "Stay with me?" She softly begs, "stay when I talk to her?"

"Always."

Together they move through the cobbled paths and winding archways. The people of Rohan gleefully shout at the sight of their king. And Gyda's heart breaks just a little more.

She feels Legolas squeeze her hand as they reach their destination.

Up ahead, Elgarain stands blood soaked cloth in her hands as she hovers above a wounded soldier. Gently she finishes stitching up an ugly gash on his arm, then offers him a reassuring smile as she turns to leave.

Elgarain falters when her gaze falls upon them, pausing for a single second before she comes running.

Gyda braces herself as the Elleth flings her arms around her, whispering quietly in relief. "You're back."

Gyda squeezes her just a bit tighter at the sound of her gleeful tone, afraid to break the spell that settles around them.

Elgarain gracefully moves back, warm smile looking at Legolas, keen eyes surveying the both of them for any serious wounds. She frowns noticing the wound on Gyda's side, her own hand subconsciously moving to her own side.

She shakes her head, as if disregarding something, sparkling green eyes looking up, as if waiting for something else. Someone else.

Gyda clears her throat.

Elgarain's eyes snap up to her, the brightness dimming at the solemn look of defeat on Gyda's face. "Gyda?" She whispers. "Gyda where is he? Where is Aragorn?"

A chocked sob escapes Gyda's mouth, unable to voice it. Unable to see the light fade from her eyes.

"Gyda, please?" Elgarain continues, "Where is Aragorn?"

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

Her gaze darkens, as if a cloud moves in front of the sun and then she cries out. Gyda moves forward, able to catch her before she collapsed onto the ground. The two Elleths sink to the floor together as Elgarain clutches Gyda's arm, gut-wrenching sobs falling from her lips.

"Please no," she cries, burying her head in Gyda's shoulder. "No, I can't..."

Gyda's own grief makes it hard to speak, guilt and pain building in her heart. Her hand burrows into Elgarain's hair, pulling her closer. "I'm so sorry nesa."

The celebration of the people of Rohan upon the return of their warriors had quieted, and the city fell silent as the grief of the Elven queen reigned through the walls of Helm's Deep.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE; 🫶🏼🥲