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Title: Sûlnûr (#4454)
Author: Sulriel
Chapters: 2
Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: ~ As the Eorlingas prepare for battle, one rider makes his choice ~
~ Many heartfelt thanks to Lady Aranel for her help with this. ~
Published: 08 Jan 2013
Updated: 08 Jan 2013
Warnings:
Type: Drama
Characters: (OCs) a Rider of Rohan, Sûlnûr
Chapter 1 - The Choice
~
Pleased with the richness of the length cascading past the proper number of errant ringlets, she tossed her midnight curls. Another shake of her head and the black silk settled still untamed, falling well past her shoulders with a few delicate tendrils caressing the off side of her neck.
She whirled around, her breath quickening at the sound of his approach.
He was here!
He came to her as she had feared he would not.
He paused at the entrance. Magnificent! Proud and brave with bright eyes. Even his most casual movements spoke of deadly strength controlled by skill; bought with a lifetime of hard training. She took a moment to still her racing heart. Her mind touched on thoughts of his lightness and strength in the way he moved with her.
It would not do to appear anxious. She managed an air of casual indifference as he approached her. She looked away as he came near and without a sound leaned lightly against her. He pressed to a firm contact, begging for her attention, and nestled his face into her neck. He took a deep breath of her as if he would hold the scent of her inside him.
She could smell the other on him. She hardened her heart. He did not love her or he would not use her and another -- how many others? -- She wondered. She braced herself against the pain at rejecting him and moved away, away from his traitorous touch and false love. She could choose another, she reminded herself, any other! But, as he stepped toward her and moved the warmth of his cheek strongly against her, his heart sang with hers through the match of their beating pulses. She savored the feel of him.
Finally she turned her face to him, to bathe in his sight, to touch her lips to his cheek and throat, to breathe in the taste of his soft breath. With a heavy sigh she pressed herself to him. This night, at least, she must be his.
Take me, she pleaded with her heart.
It will break me to be left behind, her eyes spoke to his.
My beloved. His whisper caressed her with his breath; she tasted the salt of tears on his cheek. Without knowing what foe we face, I feel your plea to stand with me. Know now though we ride to our deaths, I will have none other bear me in this."
~
Arise, arise, Riders of Thoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
A sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!
~
* Slnr = Wind Racer
Chapter 2 - The Chosen
Unable to see their captain, they follow glimpses of his standard floating before them. The muffled steps of unshod hoofs in the depth of the night give a feel of weightlessness to the riders, their vision drifts as if in and out of consciousness. Soft dark shapes mingle with darker figures, indistinct, each moving alone, shifting against the horizon.
Subdued voices touch in the silence, finding reality in the familiar rhythm as the hoofs increase speed. Bits champ, hoofs stamp; restrained excitement resonates in the mares. Quieted snorts and nickers mingle in the air with the soft scuff of armor brushing leather. The shapes ahead, beside and behind; comrades -closer to the heart than family, but sight doesn't distinguish them in the dark as does the quicker cadence of a light hoof or the muted jangle of a jeweled bridle.
Now raised in challenge, voices are lost under the thunder of hoofs as the mares charge. The whispers of swords being drawn are unheard in the clamor as they follow the King to battle in the dawn.
~
Slnr trembled with fatigue but held her ground as the front pressed on and the edge of the battle swept past them. She stood over her fallen lord; he would not be taken while she still drew breath. Screaming her rage, she lashed out, striking with killing blows any man or beast that came too near. The dead littered the ground about her. Her lord moaned and tried to rise but he had not the strength. Slnr wheeled, instantly at his side. She caressed his cheek with her lips, tasting blood rather than the salt of his silent tears.
She couldn't lift him, but if he could rise, she would help him to safety until the healers came searching in the aftermath. She knelt, willing her strength to him. His arms rose to clench around her neck, his hands tangled in her thick mane. He cried out in pain as she stood, but he held tight and leaned against her, trembling.
One step, then another. One more, and a moment to rest. He murmured to her and cried her name, cursing the gore that covered her. "My proud beauty", he called her, and "my champion".
"You must leave me," he finally sighed, and collapsed; still too close to the slaughter."Seek the battle and offer yourself to another if you will not flee to safety."
But she refused and stayed by his side.
The battle waned. Fearful and hateful beasts challenged her as they passed by in their retreat. Any that came too close lay broken and strewn in her fury.
Then Slnr could see walkers on the field of battle, checking for those that might be saved and having them sent to the city. She nudged her lord. He was able to rise again, with her strength, and they slowly made their way to the gates where she delivered him into the hands of the healers.
~
"They say she's ill, fevered from her wounds. I must go to her," the young captain shook with the effort of pulling up his boots.
The healer glared at his distressed patient then nodded a grudging assent. "You may go." He lunged to support the captain's attempt to stand and held him a moment. "They say her injuries are severe, that she'll not lead another charge," he said quietly.
The captain shrugged off the hold. "All the more reason for me to go to her." He paused, seeking balance in his weakness, and took a deep breath. "She stood over me when others might have run. If I must walk beside her back to Rohan, I'll do so gladly rather than suffer her loss." He took a slow step, then another, and the healer rushed to take his arm again.
"I'll go with you," he said. "It may be that I can be of some assistance to her."
~ The End
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