LOTR fic: Long Falls
Sep. 10th, 2008 11:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cairistionaDid a little work expanding and revising a prompt fic I posted on the AA list quite a while back ... enjoy!
Long Falls
Or, The Relative Uselessness of Wargs
by cairistiona
Summary: Movie-verse, The Two Towers gap-filler ... a look through Aragorn’s eyes at the moments from his fall from the cliff until his arrival at Helm’s Deep. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Arwen and Brego are not my own; all honors to Professor Tolkien and Peter Jackson et al. Expanded version of an originally posted AA list prompt fic for “Apart”.
Hannon le – Thank you.
~~~<<<>>>~~~
Apart from being somewhat efficient at breaking long falls, wargs are useless creatures.
I obtained this knowledge firsthand, so to speak, as orcs, riding wargs like fleas on curs, attacked us on the way to Helm’s Deep. As I rode atop one, to better kill its rider, the orc tried to knock me off and would have had I not made a desperate grab for one of the straps on the warg’s tack. We struggled and at one point I shuddered to feel his grimy hand closing around my neck. In a last burst of desperation, as my sight wavered, I flung him from his seat. He bounced away where hopefully he landed on his head and broke his stringy neck. But the exultation I felt soon turned to horror, for as I was dragged along like an unwanted piece of loose baggage, I discovered my wrist was trapped. As the warg galloped wildly across the rocky ground, I cast a fearful glance to see where it was headed, and even from my blurry, nearly upside-down view, what I saw drove terror through my entire being, for the bluffs above the river were approaching with dismaying speed. And beyond those cliffs was a drop of hundred feet or more to the river below.
I struggled all the harder, trying to ignore an ever-rising tide of panic, but jostled and bounced as I was, I could neither pull myself atop the warg nor work my wrist free.
And then time ran out. The addlepated warg ran straight over a cliff, and dragged me along with him.
I remember thinking, as time seemed to freeze in that way it often does when calamity is at hand, that this was a singularly stupid way to die.
Then time raced beyond count to make up for the breathless moment when it seemed I hung suspended in emptiness, and as the river rushed toward me, I braced for death. I shut my eyes, waiting for the pain as my body crashed on rocks, then if I still lived to be drowned as the wretched beast’s weight pulled us to the bottom of the river. But the Valar looked on me with kindness, for somehow the warg stayed beneath me and broke my fall. It hit a rocky outcrop and the cord holding my wrist snapped. I bounced painfully off him, grazing another boulder, and then a third before I slammed into the river. For a moment the world went black, but instinct kicked in and I clawed to the surface, chilled and disoriented but alive. Thank the Valar, I was alive. I had a chance, slim though it was.
I tried to swim to the bank, but the flow was too strong and my arms and legs too feeble and weighed down by my clothing. I struggled for a moment more, but it was impossible. Surrendering, I floated wearily with the current and what followed is hazy in my mind.
I remember ...
Sinking ... no strength ... burning lungs ... fighting ...
Air! Great gulps of it before sinking again and fighting and burning lungs ... and another gasping lungful of air ... and sinking again ... endlessly repeating ...
... and strength finally failing. Drowning ... waters closing for the last time over my head ...
No! I will not drown ... I will not ...
~~~<<<>>>~~~
Shallows ... rough stones ...
A sudden strange and shimmering light ... Arwen!
Her lips brushing mine ... her voice ... something about grace ... and the Valar ...
I opened my eyes ... wanting her ... but after the merest glimpse, the vision disappeared. I stared at the sky and took a gasping breath and life crept back into my body. I managed to hitch myself out of the water before exhaustion stole my thoughts once more...
~~~<<<>>>~~~
... hooves crunching, hitting my hand. Hot breath against my cheek. A gentle nudge rocking my head ...
Hurts ... stop it ...
Bristly lips against my face ... an insistent rush of hot breath into my nose, and I opened my eyes and realization came.
“Brego,” I sighed.
Arwen’s breath had smelled better, but I could hardly complain.
Brego knelt beside me, jostling me. I shut my eyes again and wanted only sleep but he let out a high pitched, insistent grunt and nudged me again and I finally opened my eyes. He waited patiently as it only reluctantly dawned on me that he wanted me to mount him. It took me even longer to summon the will to move but he remained steadfast. A kingly horse, indeed.
Slowly I grasped his mane in my left hand, but that arm held little strength, so I slung my right up and heaved myself across him. Whatever thoughts Brego had of me clambering aboard him in such a absurd fashion, he kept to himself. As he rose to his feet, all my efforts nearly came undone as a wave of dizziness hit.
Do not fall off!
I sagged against his neck, but he shifted and helped me find my balance and somehow through the hours of travel, I did not fall.
Strength ebbed and flowed and ebbed again, but Brego carried me steadily onward and did not seem to mind when suddenly I would keel forward against his neck as dizziness overtook me. He did not seem to mind, either, when just as suddenly I pulled myself up to try to look around.
In one of those lurching moments where strength returned, I lifted my head and saw we approached a rocky hilltop. I heard a sound, then, a rhythmic noise that at first instant gave me a surge of hope. The Rohirrim! I had caught up! Then, as the wind blew my hair in and out of my eyes, my relief turned to horror.
It was an army. A vast army, coming straight toward me, darkening the valley like some horrible serpent. I heard the stamp of their feet, felt the vibration of their approach in my very soul. I stared, trying to estimate its size. Ten thousand? More?
I felt sick. Sick with fear and the first probing of the icy fingers of despair. How can Rohan survive such a force? How can we defeat that?
Shaking myself, I pulled Brego back. It was unlikely anyone would notice one lone horseman on the hillside, flanked as I was by tall outcroppings of rock, but as feeble as I still felt, I dared take no chance. Each passing hour was finding me stronger, but I was in no shape for hand-to-hand combat with even a small enemy patrol.
Still trembling with fear that seemed impossible to conquer, I turned Brego and we rode on. I felt an urgency in my gut, a need to gallop at full speed, but Helm’s Deep still lay hours before me and I knew neither I nor Brego had the strength and endurance for such speed. So I held him back, against all instincts that screamed for me to hurry. And it was well I did, for as the sun started its downward journey in the west, my strength seemed to wane with it. It took all the willpower I possessed to stay upright in the saddle, and even then I felt my head drop time and again.
But I dared not give in to weakness. Too many lives were at stake. And so on I rode.
Finally, we traversed one last ridge and before me spread the vista of the great valley and the mighty fortress tucked against the wall of rugged mountain. Relief brought a smile to my face and fear lost a bit of its hold. Hope, shaky thought it was, rose again in my heart. Helm’s Deep would be no easy fort to breach and well I would be to remember that, lest my own panic infect the men around me. Théoden King deserved far more from me than to have me return with such a spirit of despair.
I leaned forward with Elvish words of gratitude and patted Brego. “Mellon nin,” I smiled and guided him toward Helm’s Deep.
We would make it, and somehow Rohan would survive. It had to.
We clattered up the long ramp to the gate, and I was still not entirely steady in the saddle, still reeling a bit and hating for so many to see such weakness in me. I heard a few people cry out in surprise and welcome, and it warmed my heart and leant me strength so that when I dismounted in the courtyard, I felt, if not strong, then at least capable of standing on my own two feet.
As I looked around, a gruff voice yelling death threats my way cut through the air, and a short, sturdy figure forced his way through the crowd. He accused me of being everything from lucky to canny to reckless and then gave me a fierce hug that nearly fulfilled his promise to kill me. In all my dealings with the children of Aulë, few I had met whose hearts were as great as Gimli’s. He was becoming a fast and true friend. I smiled, grateful, but my need to find the Théoden King was great. At my question, Gimli nodded the way, and I strode forward, intent on the news I had to bear, and I nearly collided with another friend, an Elf who stared at me intently and then had the audacity to accuse me of being late. He looked at me, taking in the rips in my coat and the blood on my arms and pronounced, in his usual understated way of speaking forth the obvious, “You look terrible.” I felt a slow smile come to my face, and I chuckled. Then my friend held his hand out and returned to me the token that I hold dear and feared lost forever, the pendant of the Evenstar.
I looked at him for a moment, unable to speak, then finally composed myself. “Hannon le.”
Hannon le, my friend. May you see in my eyes all the things I cannot say in words.
I clutched the pendant, but more pressing matters than reunions were at hand, for I had to bring news of a terrible army approaching to a king who had too few men to fight it.
I thrust open the doors to the King’s hall. By the grace of Valar, I had returned, and battle awaited.
Long Falls
Or, The Relative Uselessness of Wargs
by cairistiona
Summary: Movie-verse, The Two Towers gap-filler ... a look through Aragorn’s eyes at the moments from his fall from the cliff until his arrival at Helm’s Deep. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Arwen and Brego are not my own; all honors to Professor Tolkien and Peter Jackson et al. Expanded version of an originally posted AA list prompt fic for “Apart”.
Hannon le – Thank you.
~~~<<<>>>~~~
Apart from being somewhat efficient at breaking long falls, wargs are useless creatures.
I obtained this knowledge firsthand, so to speak, as orcs, riding wargs like fleas on curs, attacked us on the way to Helm’s Deep. As I rode atop one, to better kill its rider, the orc tried to knock me off and would have had I not made a desperate grab for one of the straps on the warg’s tack. We struggled and at one point I shuddered to feel his grimy hand closing around my neck. In a last burst of desperation, as my sight wavered, I flung him from his seat. He bounced away where hopefully he landed on his head and broke his stringy neck. But the exultation I felt soon turned to horror, for as I was dragged along like an unwanted piece of loose baggage, I discovered my wrist was trapped. As the warg galloped wildly across the rocky ground, I cast a fearful glance to see where it was headed, and even from my blurry, nearly upside-down view, what I saw drove terror through my entire being, for the bluffs above the river were approaching with dismaying speed. And beyond those cliffs was a drop of hundred feet or more to the river below.
I struggled all the harder, trying to ignore an ever-rising tide of panic, but jostled and bounced as I was, I could neither pull myself atop the warg nor work my wrist free.
And then time ran out. The addlepated warg ran straight over a cliff, and dragged me along with him.
I remember thinking, as time seemed to freeze in that way it often does when calamity is at hand, that this was a singularly stupid way to die.
Then time raced beyond count to make up for the breathless moment when it seemed I hung suspended in emptiness, and as the river rushed toward me, I braced for death. I shut my eyes, waiting for the pain as my body crashed on rocks, then if I still lived to be drowned as the wretched beast’s weight pulled us to the bottom of the river. But the Valar looked on me with kindness, for somehow the warg stayed beneath me and broke my fall. It hit a rocky outcrop and the cord holding my wrist snapped. I bounced painfully off him, grazing another boulder, and then a third before I slammed into the river. For a moment the world went black, but instinct kicked in and I clawed to the surface, chilled and disoriented but alive. Thank the Valar, I was alive. I had a chance, slim though it was.
I tried to swim to the bank, but the flow was too strong and my arms and legs too feeble and weighed down by my clothing. I struggled for a moment more, but it was impossible. Surrendering, I floated wearily with the current and what followed is hazy in my mind.
I remember ...
Sinking ... no strength ... burning lungs ... fighting ...
Air! Great gulps of it before sinking again and fighting and burning lungs ... and another gasping lungful of air ... and sinking again ... endlessly repeating ...
... and strength finally failing. Drowning ... waters closing for the last time over my head ...
No! I will not drown ... I will not ...
~~~<<<>>>~~~
Shallows ... rough stones ...
A sudden strange and shimmering light ... Arwen!
Her lips brushing mine ... her voice ... something about grace ... and the Valar ...
I opened my eyes ... wanting her ... but after the merest glimpse, the vision disappeared. I stared at the sky and took a gasping breath and life crept back into my body. I managed to hitch myself out of the water before exhaustion stole my thoughts once more...
~~~<<<>>>~~~
... hooves crunching, hitting my hand. Hot breath against my cheek. A gentle nudge rocking my head ...
Hurts ... stop it ...
Bristly lips against my face ... an insistent rush of hot breath into my nose, and I opened my eyes and realization came.
“Brego,” I sighed.
Arwen’s breath had smelled better, but I could hardly complain.
Brego knelt beside me, jostling me. I shut my eyes again and wanted only sleep but he let out a high pitched, insistent grunt and nudged me again and I finally opened my eyes. He waited patiently as it only reluctantly dawned on me that he wanted me to mount him. It took me even longer to summon the will to move but he remained steadfast. A kingly horse, indeed.
Slowly I grasped his mane in my left hand, but that arm held little strength, so I slung my right up and heaved myself across him. Whatever thoughts Brego had of me clambering aboard him in such a absurd fashion, he kept to himself. As he rose to his feet, all my efforts nearly came undone as a wave of dizziness hit.
Do not fall off!
I sagged against his neck, but he shifted and helped me find my balance and somehow through the hours of travel, I did not fall.
Strength ebbed and flowed and ebbed again, but Brego carried me steadily onward and did not seem to mind when suddenly I would keel forward against his neck as dizziness overtook me. He did not seem to mind, either, when just as suddenly I pulled myself up to try to look around.
In one of those lurching moments where strength returned, I lifted my head and saw we approached a rocky hilltop. I heard a sound, then, a rhythmic noise that at first instant gave me a surge of hope. The Rohirrim! I had caught up! Then, as the wind blew my hair in and out of my eyes, my relief turned to horror.
It was an army. A vast army, coming straight toward me, darkening the valley like some horrible serpent. I heard the stamp of their feet, felt the vibration of their approach in my very soul. I stared, trying to estimate its size. Ten thousand? More?
I felt sick. Sick with fear and the first probing of the icy fingers of despair. How can Rohan survive such a force? How can we defeat that?
Shaking myself, I pulled Brego back. It was unlikely anyone would notice one lone horseman on the hillside, flanked as I was by tall outcroppings of rock, but as feeble as I still felt, I dared take no chance. Each passing hour was finding me stronger, but I was in no shape for hand-to-hand combat with even a small enemy patrol.
Still trembling with fear that seemed impossible to conquer, I turned Brego and we rode on. I felt an urgency in my gut, a need to gallop at full speed, but Helm’s Deep still lay hours before me and I knew neither I nor Brego had the strength and endurance for such speed. So I held him back, against all instincts that screamed for me to hurry. And it was well I did, for as the sun started its downward journey in the west, my strength seemed to wane with it. It took all the willpower I possessed to stay upright in the saddle, and even then I felt my head drop time and again.
But I dared not give in to weakness. Too many lives were at stake. And so on I rode.
Finally, we traversed one last ridge and before me spread the vista of the great valley and the mighty fortress tucked against the wall of rugged mountain. Relief brought a smile to my face and fear lost a bit of its hold. Hope, shaky thought it was, rose again in my heart. Helm’s Deep would be no easy fort to breach and well I would be to remember that, lest my own panic infect the men around me. Théoden King deserved far more from me than to have me return with such a spirit of despair.
I leaned forward with Elvish words of gratitude and patted Brego. “Mellon nin,” I smiled and guided him toward Helm’s Deep.
We would make it, and somehow Rohan would survive. It had to.
We clattered up the long ramp to the gate, and I was still not entirely steady in the saddle, still reeling a bit and hating for so many to see such weakness in me. I heard a few people cry out in surprise and welcome, and it warmed my heart and leant me strength so that when I dismounted in the courtyard, I felt, if not strong, then at least capable of standing on my own two feet.
As I looked around, a gruff voice yelling death threats my way cut through the air, and a short, sturdy figure forced his way through the crowd. He accused me of being everything from lucky to canny to reckless and then gave me a fierce hug that nearly fulfilled his promise to kill me. In all my dealings with the children of Aulë, few I had met whose hearts were as great as Gimli’s. He was becoming a fast and true friend. I smiled, grateful, but my need to find the Théoden King was great. At my question, Gimli nodded the way, and I strode forward, intent on the news I had to bear, and I nearly collided with another friend, an Elf who stared at me intently and then had the audacity to accuse me of being late. He looked at me, taking in the rips in my coat and the blood on my arms and pronounced, in his usual understated way of speaking forth the obvious, “You look terrible.” I felt a slow smile come to my face, and I chuckled. Then my friend held his hand out and returned to me the token that I hold dear and feared lost forever, the pendant of the Evenstar.
I looked at him for a moment, unable to speak, then finally composed myself. “Hannon le.”
Hannon le, my friend. May you see in my eyes all the things I cannot say in words.
I clutched the pendant, but more pressing matters than reunions were at hand, for I had to bring news of a terrible army approaching to a king who had too few men to fight it.
I thrust open the doors to the King’s hall. By the grace of Valar, I had returned, and battle awaited.
