The Dare

March 12
My dreams were full of death and destruction. My loved ones dead. My hands covered with their blood. A sense of helplessness seemed to overwhelm me. Since sleep gave me no rest, I got up had some tea and a bite of food. The other women were also awake. Having the same forebodings, we tried to comfort each other. But comfort was hard to find.

We made ourselves ready and went to the Houses. I took along my sword. I hoped I would not have to use it but I would be ready if I needed to be. I hung them up by a door with my cloak. The brown cloak still had a stain from where I had held it against Dior’s bleeding side. A messenger brought the dreaded news. The enemy had taken the River. Faramir and his company were falling back. What wounded that could be saved would be coming soon. We were also told that Mithrandir had gone to help the beleaguered defenders.

By afternoon, Mithrandir returned with the first of the wounded from the Causeway Forts. Now our hands were busy. The wounds were grievous but worse was the sense of hopeless that radiated from the men. “There were so many. We could not hold them. They will be here soon.” I joined Master Ciren and began treating the wounded. I stitched and cut. I applied compresses and bound up cuts and slashes. The number of wounded seemed to grow by the hour.

“My lady, Eolindë.” I looked at the man whose arm I was dressing. It was Penedir.“What is it?” He spoke through the waves of pain. “Your brother…”
“What about my brother?” I asked apprehensively.
‘He stayed with Faramir and the rearguard.”
“Then he lives.”
“When I saw him, he did.”
“Thank you. Now rest. I will send someone with something to ease your pain.”

Day slid into night, though no one could tell the difference. Sleep and food were grabbed in snatches. I changed aprons several times but blood soaked through to my dress in spite of my efforts.

March 13
A few hours later, I went to the storeroom to fetch some more comfrey. I had the jar in my hand, when a sharp blow hit. My breath seemed to leave my body. I felt fear and desperation. A wave of nausea and pain passed through me as it had two days before. I dropped the jar and fell to my knees, gasping for breath. Alina heard me and came over to see what was the matter.
“Eolindë, what is it? What’s wrong? You’re pale as a sheet. Here sit down.”
‘It’s nothing Alina. I just need to rest for a moment.”
“You are not well. I am fetching someone.” She said resolutely.
I closed my eyes. I knew it was Elred again. He was under the Black Shadow fighting for his life. I pictured my carefree brother and tried to send him strength and courage. The ill feeling eased.
I slowly stood up and went over to the shattered jar. I began cleaning up the mess.
“Eolindë.’ I looked up and Dior was standing over me.
“Dior. What are you doing here?”
”I was helping bring some of the wounded in. I was coming to fetch some comfrey for one of the healers. The woman who just left, she said you had some kind of spell.”
“‘Twas nothing. I probably need to eat something.” I said avoiding his eyes. He hauled me up by the shoulders. “Look at me! It was Elred again wasn’t it?” His eyes were full of concern.
“Yes.” I said softly.
Dior put his arms around me and gently stroked my hair. “Have hope. He will return, alive. He would not leave behind a sister so dear.” For the first time in many days, my fear and dread eased a little. There was something safe about being held in his arms. I looked up at his dark eyes. He brought his lips down on mine and I was lost in his kiss. It was sweet and gentle with a hint of fire underneath. My mind whirled. Then I remembered Faramir and the wounded. I pulled away. I smoothed my skirt.

“Thank you, Dior. We must get back. There will be more wounded soon.” He nodded his head and we parted in the main courtyard.

The young Bergil kept us informed of what was happening outside the City walls. The men were retreating and the enemy was swarming the field of Pelennor. I could stand it no longer and went out. The air was choked with dust. There was more noise than I had ever heard in my life. I dodged the wagons and reached the Gate. I saw the knights of Dol Amroth and the Guards of the Tower readied to make a sortie. I thought absently that Dior’s father must be one those going out. The fresh troops stopped the advance of the enemy and the retreating forces were able to enter through the Gate.

I called for Elred, looking for him among the men. Then I saw him. He walked like a drunken man. He was covered in dirt and blood.
“Elred!” I ran to him and hugged him fiercely.
“Eolindë.” He touched my face as if in a dream. His eyes looked dead. “Artamir is dead. Beleg was cut out from under me. He was such a good horse. So many dead. Captain Faramir.” he said dully.
“What about Captain Faramir?” At that moment, the prince of Dol Amroth rode by with Faramir in his arms. My heart ached to see my noble Captain. I saw the arrow wound in his shoulder. And he moved not at all.
Elred sagged against me. I saw he was bleeding from many slashes. His eyes misted over. “ Oh no Elred. You have not come this far to die on me now.” I grabbed a bystander.”You! Help me get my brother to the Houses!”
When I reached the houses, Dior was helping bring the wounded in on stretchers. “Dior! Help me, please!” I cried. He looked up, saw me and came at once.
“Elred my friend, well met”
“Well met, Dior. I think you got the better bargain.” he whispered. He was insensible by the time we placed him on a cot.

He had many cuts and wounds. I cleaned and dressed as best I could. But the worst injury was one I was powerless to heal.
“Why does he feel so cold?” I asked the older healer, Caroc, helping me wrap Elred’s arm.
“He has been under the Black Shadow.” he replied. “There is no cure for the Black Breath.” Elred stirred and murmured in Rohirric.”
“Mistress Eolindë. We have more patients!” called Master Ciren.
“I must go.” I looked at my pale brother.
“Go, there is nothing more you can do here.” Caroc said sternly. I kissed Elred’s forehead and met Master Ciren in the courtyard where more wounded lay on pallets.
“Mistress, check them. The worst you send on to me. Treat the others as best you can.” Master Ciren said.
“Has Captain Faramir been brought here or is he dead?” I asked quickly.
“No. He has not been brought here. They took him to the Citadel to his father. His condition I do not know. But we have others that need care here. See to them.” He replied sternly.
My world shrank to the wounded around me. I did not see men but legs, arms, torsos and heads. My boots and clothes became soaked with blood. Blood mingled with other fluids and ran in rivulets over the cobblestones. The stench in the air was foul and wretched. I tucked a small handkerchief soaked in lavender oil in my bodice to stave off the some of the smell. Bergil and a few others would periodically pour buckets of water over the area to wash it down. It did little to wash away the horror that surrounded me. The worst was the moaning of the wounded. A constant low keening that blackened my spirit. If I had known the nightmare that awaited me, I might have gotten on Halan’s back and rode away. Somehow, I was able to push all my fear and revulsion into a corner of my head. I simply refused to think about what was happening around me. I focused on my duty to the wounded.

Dior found me when the numbers of wounded had slowed. He pushed bread and water into my hands.
“You should get some rest.” he pleaded.
“What about you?” I asked. Dior had blood and dirt all over his tunic. He had helped carry men in and fetched supplies.
“I must go help man the walls. I just wanted to make sure you were well.”
I laughed almost hysterically. “Well? In this madness? Surely you jest.”
“Tis no jest. You need rest. You will not help anyone if you are asleep on your feet.”
“I must check on Elred.” I replied. Annith was wiping his face.
“No change?” I asked. She shook her head and went to the next cot.
I took his cold hand in mine.“Elred, come back to me. Please.” I pleaded. My pleading was in vain and he did not stir.
I leaned against the wall near Elred's cot. Somehow my eyes began to close. As I was drifting off, Dior laid his cloak on me and whispered “Sleep well.”

While I slept, the army of the Dark Lord advanced to surround the city.


March 14
I felt someone shaking me, calling my name. My gritty eyes opened. “Mistress Eolindë, Mistress Eolindë. Wake up. The Warden is calling for you.” I shrugged off my cobwebs. I glanced at my pale brother. My blood soaked clothing had stiffened overnight. I felt filthy. But there was no time for a bath. A quick scrubbing of my face.
The attendant who had woken me up handed me a clean frock and an apron.
I found a small room and changed quickly. Then I went again to bind and stitch.

It was a wretched and black day. The air was noxious with fumes and the odor of a charnel house. Bergil gave us news as he could. Grim faced, with a look far older than his years, he told us what he saw. The Enemy was not catapulting rocks but the heads of the dead. Defiled and made hideous. “Mithrandir tries to rally them but it is hard to have courage when your brother’s head lands on you.”

The screeching scream of the Nazgul could occasional be heard above us. The sound made me ill but I fought through it and kept moving on to the next man.

As we labored to save, the enemy sought to destroy. By the middle night, the city was completely besieged and the First Circle was on fire. When I had a moment, I thought of Dior trying to help defend the Second Gate, my brother whom lay cold and still, and Faramir in the Citadel, was he still alive? I heard the distant crashes and booms of the siege engines. It reminded me of a violent thunderstorm, like we had in the spring at home. Only this storm would not clear off and reveal blue skies.