Post by Admin on Jan 2, 2021 22:10:19 GMT
Author: ShadowTravel
Summary: What place does unconditional love have in war? Inspired by a teenage sister and baby brother. I love you both :-)
Rating: K+
The fight had begun suddenly, leaving Edmund no time to find his brother Arlice. He swore under his breath, angered that he could lose the most precious thing he had left. The tirade also helped to shake off the thought that he had always been one to fail those that needed him. Distractions would not benefit him now.
He had been endowed with the curse and blessing of slightly unusual height. This he used now to his advantage, straightening to see above the chaos. Something about a movement or a certain weapon caught his attention and he fought his way towards the faint hope of his brother.
“Edmund.” It was Grimbold, his commander. “Defend the Prince!” Beyond his pointing finger, Edmund could see that Théodred was fighting a mighty orc that he would not easily overcome and that he was closer than Grimbold.
“But, sir, my brother, he-”. Edmund had expected ire at this reluctance, but the commander’s sharp gaze softened and he nodded assent. With that, Grimbold crashed away towards Théodred.
The sound of a blade whistling downwards made Edmund drop to the ground and roll aside. He came up with his sword, sending it deep into an orc’s chest. Then he plunged away, still searching frantically.
There! That knife, it was familiar, Arlice’s. Edmund picked it up to replace his lost dagger, a deep dread settling into his stomach. It had been their father’s when he was in the infantry. Arlice would not easily abandon it. A drawn out scream caught his attention. Searching for the source, he saw found Arlice.
A large orc was grinning wolfishly as he carved delicately along Arlice’s cheekbones. Red sprang from the tip of the dagger, bright and ominous on skin gone pale.
Edmund growled, searching for a way to his brother. Another orc caught his eye.
“Come to ruin our fun, eh?” The Uruk held its broad sword ready. It roared a challenge and charged. Edmund was watching his brother but turned aside in time to deflect the edge of the blade. But the orc followed up with a slap by the flat of the blade. He stumbled back for a moment, anger rising in thick waves to lend him strength. His view took on a red haze, his eyes narrowed. Barely a minute later, the orc had lost its head. The other orc that had Arlice turned.
“Put him down,” Edmund commanded, his voice low.
“A good idea, that.” The orc dropped Arlice in a heap on the ground, making the poor young man moan and curl into a ball. Edmund ran to him with teeth bared, sword in one hand and knife in the other. He ignored the pain when the orc lashed out to punch him hard in the jaw, when the punch sent him flying onto his back. The pain made him vicious and he used his sword to sweep the orc’s feet from under it.
Its face registered faint surprise before it was dead.
Edmund rushed to his brother’s side. His eyes were closed, the lids darkened and slightly translucent. There were slim trails of blood covering his face, his hands. His breaths came shallowly and his shoulders hunched as if he were afraid of another blow. “Arlice? Arlice!” The Man did not respond. “Wake up!” Edmund took his brother by the shoulders and shook him hard, panic stricken.
Arlice gasped with pain and opened his eyes, croaking out one word. “Edmund?”
“By the Horse Lords, Ar, I thought you were dead!” Edmund pursed his lips and got to his feet again. “You rest, I will protect you.”
He fought with the fury of a thousand men and the speed of as many. The only thing that could have dragged him away was the terror in the sky. A legion of men could not have made him afraid.
When he was protecting his brother, he was never afraid.
~~~
Edmund watched Arlice in the peace of sleep, sitting at the foot of his bed in the Healers’ Hall of Edoras. It was good to see him well. He had been unconscious for a time due to blood loss. Almost delicate scars meandered their way along his face, healing well. Now he slept.
A nurse came nervously to him. “Sir, the commander wishes to see you.”
“Which one?” He could guess which but dared hope otherwise.
“Grimbold.”
“Ah. Okay, then. Please summon me if I am away when he wakes.”
Edmund worried that perhaps his brother would take punishment for his own selfishness. Hopefully Grimbold would see that it had been all his fault. He could not think Ar would ever hesitate to die for royalty.
His feet had found their way towards the door decorated with the fine black horse standing on a background of one slim stripe of brown beneath a blue expanse. Grimbold’s family crest had always been fascinatingly beautiful to Edmund. He could not comprehend why, but it was.
The room’s interior was a muted grey, and Edmund took a while to spot his commander in the strange lighting. “Sir! You summoned me?” He forced his back into a ramrod straight position, standing stiff as stone. For a moment, the ground bucked and twisted. He almost stumbled but dug his toes into the leather of his shoes and managed to stand still.
“Rest easy, soldier. Come and sit.” It took a moment for Edmund to process that he was being spoken to and that he should move. He blinked the sparks from the corner of his vision, smiled tightly and obeyed. “I understand that you value your brother’s life highly. Loyalty is a good thing to have. But do you understand that you were trained to protect the kingdom and its royalty? That is your function. That is the function of all our soldiers. Théodred is dead.”
Edmund was shocked by the words. His shock was displayed as agitation. “May the earth take me if I let you hurt Arlice because of my folly!” He had spoken more sharply than he had expected. Still, he refused to break eye contact.
“I was about to suggest that you and your brother guard the elderly, women and children if ever there is need. There is trouble in Gondor greater than our own and we may be required to help.”
“Oh.” Edmund blinked, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. “That is kind of you. Excuse me.” He hurried out, then bent over and retched. It felt as if his gut was being wrung dry. He retched again, and again.
Someone came behind him and spoke gently. “-Edmund, can you hear me?”
It felt like a disconnected movement, but he forced his head up and back down. “Do not be afraid. All will be well.”
Why would anyone say that to him? Was he sobbing? Certainly his breath felt shallow, and there was wetness on his cheeks. “I- I think that I am fine.”
“You are not. Come, the healers will be wanting to see you.” Edmund followed docilely. He felt steadier in the tight grip of- well whoever that was. He was not very sure. The world was fading in and out of focus. At last, it disappeared into blackness.
~~~
Night had fallen by the time Edmund woke. He sat up, head aching fiercely, and peered around. The starched sheets and rows of beds told him he was in the Healers’ Hall. On the bed beside him was Arlice.
As if summoned by the thought, the young man woke up. “Ed? What’s going on?” Edmund swung his legs over the side of the bed to face his brother.
“You lost a lot of blood so the healers had to take a look at you. Everything should be okay soon.”
“And why are you here?”
Why was he there? He tried to remember, but the memory was faint. Discomfort, a horse, a man. Well, of course there was a horse. Wasn't he in Rohan? “They gave me a bed so I could wait until you woke up.”
Arlice gave his older brother a long look. He nodded and sat up slowly. “Now tell me what is truly happening. I know that look in your eyes, like perhaps they could break. You're hiding something from me.”
“I promised you that everything will be fine. Would I lie to you?” Arlice met his brother’s eyes for a brief moment before looking away.
“Yes.” The plastered smile faded from Edmund’s face and he sighed.
“As you will. During the battle, Grimbold asked me to go to protect Prince Théodred. I was closer than he. But I had to look for you, and he gave me leave to do so. He himself went to defend the Prince. Who has now passed.”
Arlice was pale and he trembled slightly. “You did what? Do you not understand what they could do to you? It could be considered treason, or-”
“Grimbold told me that he would only have us guard the innocent people if there ever is a muster of the soldiers. That is all.”
“There is no honor in that! You should not have saved me, even if there is little consequence. I would not have minded dying in the place of the Prince. You know this!”
“Ar, do I have to tell you again? The only thing we have left is each other, so there is nothing I would hold back if your life were at risk. Nothing. I do not care if you hate me for it, but I choose to protect you always.”
“No. You do not care about me,” Arlice snarled, “you are just afraid that when I have gone you will be alone. We were supposed to be the good guys, Ed! We should be doing the right thing. Not just helping ourselves.”
“In my mind, saving you is the right thing, no matter the cost. I know you will do plenty of good things, but me? I have never quite understood right and wrong. If you are, are dead and I am alive, I do not know what wrong I will do.” Probably he would become insane if ever his brother died.
“Yet you do the wrong thing for my sake. If I were dead perhaps you would be less swayed in your judgement.”
“Do not say that.”
“I wish to speak only the the truth to you, brother,” Arlice muttered.
“It may be the truth for you, but not for me. I know that you hate me. You hate me now, maybe always have. But know that my love will be enough for both of us. And that is our truth.” Arlice shook his head and turned away, refusing to speak any more.
~~~
“They do not even need us here,” Arlice complained. “Who knew civilians could guard so well?”
Edmund flopped down onto his cot, pushed to the opposite side of the room as his brother’s. “If you wish to be doing something, you might try to find a patrol to join. I need some sleep.”
“And when you've roused your lazy bones, you can use my tools to polish your sword.” The offer was like a peace offering, considering the two had not talked that much for a while.
“Thanks, Ar.” Edmund leaned his head back and closed his eyes. When he woke up later, there was someone knocking on the door. “Whatizzit?”
An older man stood in the doorway. His stance said that he had seen many battles in his youth. Edmund hazily remembered that he was the informal commander in this place. Tor- something was his name.
“The patrol your brother was on is a half hour late coming back. We have people out searching, perhaps you would like to join them?” Edmund was instantly awake. His brain raced for a moment to understand everything that had just been explained.
“Yessir. Where were they heading?”
“Downstream following the Snowbourn, I believe. Take a horse and be careful out there, boy. Whatever stopped them could be dangerous.”
“Thank you, sir, I will.” With that, Edmund rushed out, boots skidding on the stone floor.
The rolling hills were reminiscent of home. They slowed the pounding pulse that leapt in his throat.
He came to the top of one hill and saw perhaps a dozen scrawny orcs surrounding three Rohirrim. They, too, saw him.
“Halt,” one of the orcs screamed, “halt or they die!” Edmund stopped dead in his tracks. He dismounted and cast an eye over his people. A boy of maybe twelve years and slender young woman were unconscious. Arlice was bleeding from his nose. Broken? He struggled against the grip of the orcs, clearly repulsed.
The orc that had spoken to Edmund turned and saw Arlice struggling and clicked its tongue. “Kill him already. He is making a nuisance of himself.”
“Wait! No. What do you want?” Edmund ground his teeth sideways over each other until his jaw ached. Arlice sent him an angered look.
The orc strode up. “I want information. Tell me something important and your friends might leave with their heads.” The creature’s ugly face was twisted into some semblance of eagerness.
“We know nothing. They were punishing us by leaving us without knowledge!”
“They? Leaving?”
Edmund bit his lip. The orc did not know about the Muster of Rohan? Perhaps it would be better if he did not say anything. There had to be something else he knew, something that seemed important. “A small company of Rangers and a few others set out a while ago upon the Paths of the Dead. They might wish to help the situation in Gondor.”
“The Paths of the Dead?” The orc licked its lips, staring for a moment. Then it turned away and uttered words that sounded like rocks being scraped together. Edmund tensed, worried that it was a ruse, but the orcs began to march away. He ran slipping down the slope, checking the young boy’s pulse. Alive. Arlice did the same for the woman.
“They should wake soon,” the younger brother said. “It has been at least a quarter hour since they were knocked out.”
“And you? How are you doing?”
“I am fine, Edmund. But you shouldn't have told them that.”
Edmund was exasperated. “You think anyone will ever leave the Paths of the Dead alive? More likely than not it will just take the time of some of the troops to check. A diversion to an already well spread army.”
“Can you not understand? It is not that you gave information or even what that information was. The problem lies in the fact that you gave it so easily! Perhaps you did not need to say anything. The situation could have turned out the same way through different means.” Arlice took a deep breath. “It does not matter now. We should get these two back. You have a horse? Ours were frightened away.”
“What? Oh, yes.” Edmund led his mount down the slope, helping his brother to get the boy and woman onto the horse. He began to lead the horse towards their temporary home while Arlice made sure no one fell off.
He could not quite understand why Arlice kept on rebuking him for something that was supposed to be good, for loyalty. “If I were in danger, would you do the same for me?”
“Edmund, you know I-”
“Answer the question!” Edmund was afraid to hear his brother say no, to know once and for all that his brother did not care about him.
“If there was no way out except jeopardizing the side of my people in a conflict that could change the world? Would I save you?” Arlice looked up at his brother, clear blue eyes fierce. “Every time.”
They were silent for the rest of the walk back.
The commander took care of his scouts, personally overseeing the healer he called for them. Edmund wandered into the kitchen for a late dinner. He came back to his and Arlice’s room munching on some sort of meat pie. Arlice was not there, but he had expected that.
A full stomach and invitingly uncomfortable cot prompted him to finish what he had been interrupted from. A good long nap.
Edmund was awakened again and he sat up grumpily. His brother was pulling on a small pack and he looked as if he was going to head out.
“Where are you going?”
Arlice jumped guiltily, then turned around. “I am going to help out in the battle, whatever it is.”
“Why? What are you talking about?”
“I want to make up for all the damage I have caused. You did all this harm for me, maybe I should have stopped you. Now, I feel that the coming fight for Gondor will decide the fate of this world. Torald, the man in charge here, he is clever and a good fighter. This place is in good hands. Come with me or let me go, but do not keep me here.”
“Fine, I will come with you. But you owe me a lot when we come back.”
“Deal.” Arlice felt strangely pleased that his brother was coming. He felt safer, perhaps, and the long ride would be less so with someone beside him.
“Minas Tirith is at least a hundred leagues away, so I guess we should leave soon. I would have wished to sleep more,” Edmund added longingly.
“You sleep too much, Ed.” They both laughed. Together they made their way to the library, Torald’s stand-in office.
“Sir,” Edmund began.
“We would like to go to the aid of Lord Denethor with our kinsmen,” Arlice added.
“Perhaps you could spare some horses so we could get there with great speed?” Edmund finished.
Torald sized them up. “Luckily, you two are the smaller kind of soldier, to be diplomatic. Yes, I can think of six horses that would relish the chance to run so far.” He went out into the hallway and called to a passing servant. “Please pack supplies for a three or four day journey. Make sure it is light. Thank you.” He came back into the library. “Come along, boys, I will show you your rides.”
The horses he chose were finely built with proud tails and arched necks. Their eyes took in the two men with a sort of intelligence and a pair of them seemed to dance with impatience. These two, Torald pointed out, had meara blood in them. One was a flaxen chestnut color with a tiny star and the other was a yellow dun. “You will find that they run quicker and more readily than the others, but know that they will also run themselves into the ground, so be careful.”
Both men thanked Torald profusely. A servant hurried out with a surprisingly light pack, and Edmund checked through it, then went back to his room for his sword and new dagger. When they left, the sun was just coming up, a stripe of bright yellow bordering the horizon.
The ride was not a particularly difficult one. The land was flat, or barring that, only slightly sloped. But the long hours of riding were exhausting, even for men who had grown up on the backs of horses.
By Arlice’s navigation, they had grown precariously close by high noon of the third day. After a couple of hours, they were forced to dismount for fear of being seen by the wrong creatures.
“How do you feel about running?” Edmund asked his brother, breaking the long silence.
“It is preferable at this moment to getting back on a horse.” Arlice grinned. “Let us run as the wind.”
At last, sweating and relieved, the two came over a hill and froze. Not too far away, a great battle was being waged. The clash of swords and shields created clamoring music which was punctuated at times by voices.
“Wait, Ar. Just one second. If one of us is to, to die, let it be me.”
“I cannot promise anything,” Arlice replied, “for in battle there is often only reflex with no time to think.” He turned towards his brother to speak but something in the distance caught his eye. His expression grew tight with despair.
Edmund turned to look and swore to himself. A large fleet of dark ships was coming. “What devilry is this? There are already so many that fight for the darkness. Can we even hope to win?” Edmund saw a fey gleam in his brother’s eyes. “Arlice, those ships could hold thousands of creatures, whatever they be. Two men could do little to stop them. Please do not spend your life so rashly.”
“If we take them by surprise, perhaps we can make a difference in the fight,” Arlice said distantly, “and if we fall, we fall!”
So Edmund stood with his brother. They were both taut like bowstrings, every muscle quivering in anticipation. Half a mile away, a quarter, a couple of lengths. This close to the ships, he could see the lead vessel begin to loft a new standard. This one was unexpected: it showed a White Tree, the Tree of Gondor, and seven stars. Could it be that these were not enemies?
Arlice had sprang from his hiding place already, and Edmund ran after him, halting him. “Look, brother, do you see the banner?”
His grimness turned to awe. “The device of the King,” he breathed. “Who would have such a thing?”
From the ships came a tall man with grey eyes, an elf, a dwarf and hosts of Gondorians. Edmund was awed, but Arlice grabbed his arm like an eager kid. “It is the Lord Aragorn returned from the Paths of the Dead! Let us join them!”
These troops were fresh and so had quite a bit more energy to put into their fighting. They managed to cut straight through the host of orcs, a furious, spreading tide of men.
The orcs threw up a hasty shield wall, but the Rohirric cavalry cut through it. Edmund was proud to watch his kinsmen for a moment before fighting his way back to his brother’s side.
“It looks to be an even fight now,” Arlice panted, “though maybe we have the upper hand.” It seemed to be so as most of the orcs had fled or were killed. Arlice and Edmund rushed to the forefront of a group that was trapping the last significant force of orcs against the river.
A particularly ugly, pale orc shouted orders and half of his kind came forward. They fought with a surprising ferocity, as if they knew they would die and were unafraid.
Arlice tripped one and Edmund stabbed it through, but then he was off again and Edmund had to hurry to keep up. It seemed that another orc was dogging Arlice’s footsteps. It bowled past Edmund, too fast for him to catch.
“Arlice!” Edmund howled, “behind you!” But it was too late. The orc plunged its blade into the Arlice's stomach, holding him upright to leer in his face. He gasped, but with trembling fingers drew a dagger. With an angry slash, Arlice slit the orc’s throat. They both sank to the ground.
Edmund threw aside the orc and looked down at his brother, scooping him up. His eyes were unfocused, almost dreamy. “Arlice, stay awake. I'll get you to a healer. You just stay awake.” His heart pounded with real fear. The Men parted to let him pass, some giving him a sympathetic look. “Arlice, look at me, look me in the eye. I love you, and you're the only thing left that I love in this world. Please do not leave me.”
“Am I going to die?” Arlice’s voice was trembling, almost like a child.
“Am I going to die?” Arlice was three years old, and sometimes painfully advanced at speaking. His face was flushed with fever, his pupils dilated. “Where are Da and Mum? Ed, where are they?”
Edmund was seven years old, afraid, unsure. His father had asked him to protect his brother, always and forever. He had agreed, though he didn't know how he could ever do that.
And then his father had succumbed to the same sickness that had just previously taken his mother.
“You are all I have left,” Edmund murmured to his brother. “I will not let you die.” And then he had a slightly crazy idea. The closest village was reputed to have one of the greatest healers in the area. It was only five miles away, he had walked that far before.
Not carrying a baby, though.
Arlice was getting older, a toddler that would normally not have minded walking. But he was sick, weak. And nearly half Edmund’s weight. Could he carry him that far?
Thebattlefieldfeltendless as Edmund stumbled swiftly over it. He had to get Arlice to safety in time, just as he had years ago. If he could, at least there would be hope.
Edmund’s legs were buckling when he finally got to the village. He managed to catch up to a passing woman. “Ma’am, my brother is sick, and I heard that this village has a good healer. Please, my parents have died already.”
She had smiled at him, taking Arlice into her arms. “I am the healer, and I will help you.”
“But I cannot pay-”
“It is of no consequence. I will make do.”
Behind an entrenched line of soldiers was a healer station. A couple of men moved to help Edmund, but he refused to let go of his brother. He came at last to the station and set Arlice down gently.
“I need help!” Edmund called urgently. “My brother is hurt.” A nurse hurried up and took Arlice’s pulse.
“Sir, I am sorry, but he is already gone,” the nurse said quietly. She watched his face carefully. “Are you well? Sir? I will leave you with your brother for a half hour if you wish. He will need to be cremated, there is no room in the cemeteries. If you like, I can get you his ashes.” Edmund nodded numbly in response to the note of question in her voice.
He looked down at the still form of his brother, pain coursing through his veins. Was it possible that he was dead? Edmund could not imagine a world without him. But he was dead, Edmund had felt for himself that there was no pulse.
His breaths came faster and faster until his chest burned. Jerkily, he pulled Arlice’s body to himself. “Ar, you have to come back. I'm supposed to die before you. That's always been true. Please. Arlice.” The last word was a painful whisper, and he began to rock back and forth a little.
When the nurse came back to take Arlice away, Edmund barely noticed. He kept on rocking.
When she came again, curling Edmund’s fingers around a small, dark container, he barely noticed. He kept on rocking.
Light fingers on his arm brought him back to a fuzzy consciousness of the world. “I saved your brother’s weapon for you, if you wish to keep it.” The nurse shoved a bundle wrapped in soft linen into Edmund’s arms. “I must go and help with cleaning now. You should go up to the City.”
The battlefield was mostly deserted, though some stragglers still found their weary path towards the looming Gate. Edmund followed a distance behind them, allowing his body to move automatically.
~~~
Edmund looked down from the outer wall of Minas Tirith, turning his face up and westward. “Remember, Arlice, you wanted to fly? You told me that one day you would. Now I guess you get to.” He held the container of Arlice’s ashes and prepared to empty it, but stopped for a moment. “I am so sorry, Arlice. I know I failed you. Just like I failed Mum and Da. I probably could have helped them like I helped you. And now you have gone too. It feels like everyone I love gets hurt, and it is always my fault. You might say you forgive me, if you were still alive, but the truth is that I can never forgive myself. I am sorry. Goodbye, my dear brother. Perhaps I will see you soon.”
Edmund emptied the ashes over the wall, where a light breeze caught them. He peered over the edge. The height of the wall was dizzying, more than two dozen yards. If he hit the ground from this height, there was no chance he could survive.
Would that be better for the world?
If he could love anyone again, they would probably end up dead. He was done hurting people. Edmund leaned forwards. His arms flailed out as the sensation of falling caught him.
And something else. Something held onto the back of his tunic. “I would not do that were I you.”
Edmund shook his head and turned around. “You do not understand.”
“That may be so, but I do understand that we would dishonor those that died for us if we took our own lives so cheaply.” The man who spoke looked familiar, those grey eyes noble and confident.
This was Aragorn. “My Lord,” Edmund said, unsure of this man’s importance. Just in case, he bowed deeply.
“Do not despair, young man, and let Eru go with you this day,” Aragorn said, walking away. Edmund looked over the edge of the wall, but the idea of taking his own life sickened him now. Aragorn was right.
So many had given their lives because of his. This, he realized, was not a reason to die, but a reason to live. A reason to do good, to give all of himself for something good, to use every moment. Edmund hurried off after Aragorn.
“My Lord, if you have need of a loyal sword, I offer mine to your service.” Edmund was afraid that the noble, as great in learning as he seemed, would not understand that he no longer wished to die. He might even think that this was a desperate attempt to do so.
Aragorn gave him a knowing smile. “I believe that there will be one last great battle to fight ere the end, and if there is, I would have you at my side.”
Summary: What place does unconditional love have in war? Inspired by a teenage sister and baby brother. I love you both :-)
Rating: K+
The fight had begun suddenly, leaving Edmund no time to find his brother Arlice. He swore under his breath, angered that he could lose the most precious thing he had left. The tirade also helped to shake off the thought that he had always been one to fail those that needed him. Distractions would not benefit him now.
He had been endowed with the curse and blessing of slightly unusual height. This he used now to his advantage, straightening to see above the chaos. Something about a movement or a certain weapon caught his attention and he fought his way towards the faint hope of his brother.
“Edmund.” It was Grimbold, his commander. “Defend the Prince!” Beyond his pointing finger, Edmund could see that Théodred was fighting a mighty orc that he would not easily overcome and that he was closer than Grimbold.
“But, sir, my brother, he-”. Edmund had expected ire at this reluctance, but the commander’s sharp gaze softened and he nodded assent. With that, Grimbold crashed away towards Théodred.
The sound of a blade whistling downwards made Edmund drop to the ground and roll aside. He came up with his sword, sending it deep into an orc’s chest. Then he plunged away, still searching frantically.
There! That knife, it was familiar, Arlice’s. Edmund picked it up to replace his lost dagger, a deep dread settling into his stomach. It had been their father’s when he was in the infantry. Arlice would not easily abandon it. A drawn out scream caught his attention. Searching for the source, he saw found Arlice.
A large orc was grinning wolfishly as he carved delicately along Arlice’s cheekbones. Red sprang from the tip of the dagger, bright and ominous on skin gone pale.
Edmund growled, searching for a way to his brother. Another orc caught his eye.
“Come to ruin our fun, eh?” The Uruk held its broad sword ready. It roared a challenge and charged. Edmund was watching his brother but turned aside in time to deflect the edge of the blade. But the orc followed up with a slap by the flat of the blade. He stumbled back for a moment, anger rising in thick waves to lend him strength. His view took on a red haze, his eyes narrowed. Barely a minute later, the orc had lost its head. The other orc that had Arlice turned.
“Put him down,” Edmund commanded, his voice low.
“A good idea, that.” The orc dropped Arlice in a heap on the ground, making the poor young man moan and curl into a ball. Edmund ran to him with teeth bared, sword in one hand and knife in the other. He ignored the pain when the orc lashed out to punch him hard in the jaw, when the punch sent him flying onto his back. The pain made him vicious and he used his sword to sweep the orc’s feet from under it.
Its face registered faint surprise before it was dead.
Edmund rushed to his brother’s side. His eyes were closed, the lids darkened and slightly translucent. There were slim trails of blood covering his face, his hands. His breaths came shallowly and his shoulders hunched as if he were afraid of another blow. “Arlice? Arlice!” The Man did not respond. “Wake up!” Edmund took his brother by the shoulders and shook him hard, panic stricken.
Arlice gasped with pain and opened his eyes, croaking out one word. “Edmund?”
“By the Horse Lords, Ar, I thought you were dead!” Edmund pursed his lips and got to his feet again. “You rest, I will protect you.”
He fought with the fury of a thousand men and the speed of as many. The only thing that could have dragged him away was the terror in the sky. A legion of men could not have made him afraid.
When he was protecting his brother, he was never afraid.
~~~
Edmund watched Arlice in the peace of sleep, sitting at the foot of his bed in the Healers’ Hall of Edoras. It was good to see him well. He had been unconscious for a time due to blood loss. Almost delicate scars meandered their way along his face, healing well. Now he slept.
A nurse came nervously to him. “Sir, the commander wishes to see you.”
“Which one?” He could guess which but dared hope otherwise.
“Grimbold.”
“Ah. Okay, then. Please summon me if I am away when he wakes.”
Edmund worried that perhaps his brother would take punishment for his own selfishness. Hopefully Grimbold would see that it had been all his fault. He could not think Ar would ever hesitate to die for royalty.
His feet had found their way towards the door decorated with the fine black horse standing on a background of one slim stripe of brown beneath a blue expanse. Grimbold’s family crest had always been fascinatingly beautiful to Edmund. He could not comprehend why, but it was.
The room’s interior was a muted grey, and Edmund took a while to spot his commander in the strange lighting. “Sir! You summoned me?” He forced his back into a ramrod straight position, standing stiff as stone. For a moment, the ground bucked and twisted. He almost stumbled but dug his toes into the leather of his shoes and managed to stand still.
“Rest easy, soldier. Come and sit.” It took a moment for Edmund to process that he was being spoken to and that he should move. He blinked the sparks from the corner of his vision, smiled tightly and obeyed. “I understand that you value your brother’s life highly. Loyalty is a good thing to have. But do you understand that you were trained to protect the kingdom and its royalty? That is your function. That is the function of all our soldiers. Théodred is dead.”
Edmund was shocked by the words. His shock was displayed as agitation. “May the earth take me if I let you hurt Arlice because of my folly!” He had spoken more sharply than he had expected. Still, he refused to break eye contact.
“I was about to suggest that you and your brother guard the elderly, women and children if ever there is need. There is trouble in Gondor greater than our own and we may be required to help.”
“Oh.” Edmund blinked, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. “That is kind of you. Excuse me.” He hurried out, then bent over and retched. It felt as if his gut was being wrung dry. He retched again, and again.
Someone came behind him and spoke gently. “-Edmund, can you hear me?”
It felt like a disconnected movement, but he forced his head up and back down. “Do not be afraid. All will be well.”
Why would anyone say that to him? Was he sobbing? Certainly his breath felt shallow, and there was wetness on his cheeks. “I- I think that I am fine.”
“You are not. Come, the healers will be wanting to see you.” Edmund followed docilely. He felt steadier in the tight grip of- well whoever that was. He was not very sure. The world was fading in and out of focus. At last, it disappeared into blackness.
~~~
Night had fallen by the time Edmund woke. He sat up, head aching fiercely, and peered around. The starched sheets and rows of beds told him he was in the Healers’ Hall. On the bed beside him was Arlice.
As if summoned by the thought, the young man woke up. “Ed? What’s going on?” Edmund swung his legs over the side of the bed to face his brother.
“You lost a lot of blood so the healers had to take a look at you. Everything should be okay soon.”
“And why are you here?”
Why was he there? He tried to remember, but the memory was faint. Discomfort, a horse, a man. Well, of course there was a horse. Wasn't he in Rohan? “They gave me a bed so I could wait until you woke up.”
Arlice gave his older brother a long look. He nodded and sat up slowly. “Now tell me what is truly happening. I know that look in your eyes, like perhaps they could break. You're hiding something from me.”
“I promised you that everything will be fine. Would I lie to you?” Arlice met his brother’s eyes for a brief moment before looking away.
“Yes.” The plastered smile faded from Edmund’s face and he sighed.
“As you will. During the battle, Grimbold asked me to go to protect Prince Théodred. I was closer than he. But I had to look for you, and he gave me leave to do so. He himself went to defend the Prince. Who has now passed.”
Arlice was pale and he trembled slightly. “You did what? Do you not understand what they could do to you? It could be considered treason, or-”
“Grimbold told me that he would only have us guard the innocent people if there ever is a muster of the soldiers. That is all.”
“There is no honor in that! You should not have saved me, even if there is little consequence. I would not have minded dying in the place of the Prince. You know this!”
“Ar, do I have to tell you again? The only thing we have left is each other, so there is nothing I would hold back if your life were at risk. Nothing. I do not care if you hate me for it, but I choose to protect you always.”
“No. You do not care about me,” Arlice snarled, “you are just afraid that when I have gone you will be alone. We were supposed to be the good guys, Ed! We should be doing the right thing. Not just helping ourselves.”
“In my mind, saving you is the right thing, no matter the cost. I know you will do plenty of good things, but me? I have never quite understood right and wrong. If you are, are dead and I am alive, I do not know what wrong I will do.” Probably he would become insane if ever his brother died.
“Yet you do the wrong thing for my sake. If I were dead perhaps you would be less swayed in your judgement.”
“Do not say that.”
“I wish to speak only the the truth to you, brother,” Arlice muttered.
“It may be the truth for you, but not for me. I know that you hate me. You hate me now, maybe always have. But know that my love will be enough for both of us. And that is our truth.” Arlice shook his head and turned away, refusing to speak any more.
~~~
“They do not even need us here,” Arlice complained. “Who knew civilians could guard so well?”
Edmund flopped down onto his cot, pushed to the opposite side of the room as his brother’s. “If you wish to be doing something, you might try to find a patrol to join. I need some sleep.”
“And when you've roused your lazy bones, you can use my tools to polish your sword.” The offer was like a peace offering, considering the two had not talked that much for a while.
“Thanks, Ar.” Edmund leaned his head back and closed his eyes. When he woke up later, there was someone knocking on the door. “Whatizzit?”
An older man stood in the doorway. His stance said that he had seen many battles in his youth. Edmund hazily remembered that he was the informal commander in this place. Tor- something was his name.
“The patrol your brother was on is a half hour late coming back. We have people out searching, perhaps you would like to join them?” Edmund was instantly awake. His brain raced for a moment to understand everything that had just been explained.
“Yessir. Where were they heading?”
“Downstream following the Snowbourn, I believe. Take a horse and be careful out there, boy. Whatever stopped them could be dangerous.”
“Thank you, sir, I will.” With that, Edmund rushed out, boots skidding on the stone floor.
The rolling hills were reminiscent of home. They slowed the pounding pulse that leapt in his throat.
He came to the top of one hill and saw perhaps a dozen scrawny orcs surrounding three Rohirrim. They, too, saw him.
“Halt,” one of the orcs screamed, “halt or they die!” Edmund stopped dead in his tracks. He dismounted and cast an eye over his people. A boy of maybe twelve years and slender young woman were unconscious. Arlice was bleeding from his nose. Broken? He struggled against the grip of the orcs, clearly repulsed.
The orc that had spoken to Edmund turned and saw Arlice struggling and clicked its tongue. “Kill him already. He is making a nuisance of himself.”
“Wait! No. What do you want?” Edmund ground his teeth sideways over each other until his jaw ached. Arlice sent him an angered look.
The orc strode up. “I want information. Tell me something important and your friends might leave with their heads.” The creature’s ugly face was twisted into some semblance of eagerness.
“We know nothing. They were punishing us by leaving us without knowledge!”
“They? Leaving?”
Edmund bit his lip. The orc did not know about the Muster of Rohan? Perhaps it would be better if he did not say anything. There had to be something else he knew, something that seemed important. “A small company of Rangers and a few others set out a while ago upon the Paths of the Dead. They might wish to help the situation in Gondor.”
“The Paths of the Dead?” The orc licked its lips, staring for a moment. Then it turned away and uttered words that sounded like rocks being scraped together. Edmund tensed, worried that it was a ruse, but the orcs began to march away. He ran slipping down the slope, checking the young boy’s pulse. Alive. Arlice did the same for the woman.
“They should wake soon,” the younger brother said. “It has been at least a quarter hour since they were knocked out.”
“And you? How are you doing?”
“I am fine, Edmund. But you shouldn't have told them that.”
Edmund was exasperated. “You think anyone will ever leave the Paths of the Dead alive? More likely than not it will just take the time of some of the troops to check. A diversion to an already well spread army.”
“Can you not understand? It is not that you gave information or even what that information was. The problem lies in the fact that you gave it so easily! Perhaps you did not need to say anything. The situation could have turned out the same way through different means.” Arlice took a deep breath. “It does not matter now. We should get these two back. You have a horse? Ours were frightened away.”
“What? Oh, yes.” Edmund led his mount down the slope, helping his brother to get the boy and woman onto the horse. He began to lead the horse towards their temporary home while Arlice made sure no one fell off.
He could not quite understand why Arlice kept on rebuking him for something that was supposed to be good, for loyalty. “If I were in danger, would you do the same for me?”
“Edmund, you know I-”
“Answer the question!” Edmund was afraid to hear his brother say no, to know once and for all that his brother did not care about him.
“If there was no way out except jeopardizing the side of my people in a conflict that could change the world? Would I save you?” Arlice looked up at his brother, clear blue eyes fierce. “Every time.”
They were silent for the rest of the walk back.
The commander took care of his scouts, personally overseeing the healer he called for them. Edmund wandered into the kitchen for a late dinner. He came back to his and Arlice’s room munching on some sort of meat pie. Arlice was not there, but he had expected that.
A full stomach and invitingly uncomfortable cot prompted him to finish what he had been interrupted from. A good long nap.
Edmund was awakened again and he sat up grumpily. His brother was pulling on a small pack and he looked as if he was going to head out.
“Where are you going?”
Arlice jumped guiltily, then turned around. “I am going to help out in the battle, whatever it is.”
“Why? What are you talking about?”
“I want to make up for all the damage I have caused. You did all this harm for me, maybe I should have stopped you. Now, I feel that the coming fight for Gondor will decide the fate of this world. Torald, the man in charge here, he is clever and a good fighter. This place is in good hands. Come with me or let me go, but do not keep me here.”
“Fine, I will come with you. But you owe me a lot when we come back.”
“Deal.” Arlice felt strangely pleased that his brother was coming. He felt safer, perhaps, and the long ride would be less so with someone beside him.
“Minas Tirith is at least a hundred leagues away, so I guess we should leave soon. I would have wished to sleep more,” Edmund added longingly.
“You sleep too much, Ed.” They both laughed. Together they made their way to the library, Torald’s stand-in office.
“Sir,” Edmund began.
“We would like to go to the aid of Lord Denethor with our kinsmen,” Arlice added.
“Perhaps you could spare some horses so we could get there with great speed?” Edmund finished.
Torald sized them up. “Luckily, you two are the smaller kind of soldier, to be diplomatic. Yes, I can think of six horses that would relish the chance to run so far.” He went out into the hallway and called to a passing servant. “Please pack supplies for a three or four day journey. Make sure it is light. Thank you.” He came back into the library. “Come along, boys, I will show you your rides.”
The horses he chose were finely built with proud tails and arched necks. Their eyes took in the two men with a sort of intelligence and a pair of them seemed to dance with impatience. These two, Torald pointed out, had meara blood in them. One was a flaxen chestnut color with a tiny star and the other was a yellow dun. “You will find that they run quicker and more readily than the others, but know that they will also run themselves into the ground, so be careful.”
Both men thanked Torald profusely. A servant hurried out with a surprisingly light pack, and Edmund checked through it, then went back to his room for his sword and new dagger. When they left, the sun was just coming up, a stripe of bright yellow bordering the horizon.
The ride was not a particularly difficult one. The land was flat, or barring that, only slightly sloped. But the long hours of riding were exhausting, even for men who had grown up on the backs of horses.
By Arlice’s navigation, they had grown precariously close by high noon of the third day. After a couple of hours, they were forced to dismount for fear of being seen by the wrong creatures.
“How do you feel about running?” Edmund asked his brother, breaking the long silence.
“It is preferable at this moment to getting back on a horse.” Arlice grinned. “Let us run as the wind.”
At last, sweating and relieved, the two came over a hill and froze. Not too far away, a great battle was being waged. The clash of swords and shields created clamoring music which was punctuated at times by voices.
“Wait, Ar. Just one second. If one of us is to, to die, let it be me.”
“I cannot promise anything,” Arlice replied, “for in battle there is often only reflex with no time to think.” He turned towards his brother to speak but something in the distance caught his eye. His expression grew tight with despair.
Edmund turned to look and swore to himself. A large fleet of dark ships was coming. “What devilry is this? There are already so many that fight for the darkness. Can we even hope to win?” Edmund saw a fey gleam in his brother’s eyes. “Arlice, those ships could hold thousands of creatures, whatever they be. Two men could do little to stop them. Please do not spend your life so rashly.”
“If we take them by surprise, perhaps we can make a difference in the fight,” Arlice said distantly, “and if we fall, we fall!”
So Edmund stood with his brother. They were both taut like bowstrings, every muscle quivering in anticipation. Half a mile away, a quarter, a couple of lengths. This close to the ships, he could see the lead vessel begin to loft a new standard. This one was unexpected: it showed a White Tree, the Tree of Gondor, and seven stars. Could it be that these were not enemies?
Arlice had sprang from his hiding place already, and Edmund ran after him, halting him. “Look, brother, do you see the banner?”
His grimness turned to awe. “The device of the King,” he breathed. “Who would have such a thing?”
From the ships came a tall man with grey eyes, an elf, a dwarf and hosts of Gondorians. Edmund was awed, but Arlice grabbed his arm like an eager kid. “It is the Lord Aragorn returned from the Paths of the Dead! Let us join them!”
These troops were fresh and so had quite a bit more energy to put into their fighting. They managed to cut straight through the host of orcs, a furious, spreading tide of men.
The orcs threw up a hasty shield wall, but the Rohirric cavalry cut through it. Edmund was proud to watch his kinsmen for a moment before fighting his way back to his brother’s side.
“It looks to be an even fight now,” Arlice panted, “though maybe we have the upper hand.” It seemed to be so as most of the orcs had fled or were killed. Arlice and Edmund rushed to the forefront of a group that was trapping the last significant force of orcs against the river.
A particularly ugly, pale orc shouted orders and half of his kind came forward. They fought with a surprising ferocity, as if they knew they would die and were unafraid.
Arlice tripped one and Edmund stabbed it through, but then he was off again and Edmund had to hurry to keep up. It seemed that another orc was dogging Arlice’s footsteps. It bowled past Edmund, too fast for him to catch.
“Arlice!” Edmund howled, “behind you!” But it was too late. The orc plunged its blade into the Arlice's stomach, holding him upright to leer in his face. He gasped, but with trembling fingers drew a dagger. With an angry slash, Arlice slit the orc’s throat. They both sank to the ground.
Edmund threw aside the orc and looked down at his brother, scooping him up. His eyes were unfocused, almost dreamy. “Arlice, stay awake. I'll get you to a healer. You just stay awake.” His heart pounded with real fear. The Men parted to let him pass, some giving him a sympathetic look. “Arlice, look at me, look me in the eye. I love you, and you're the only thing left that I love in this world. Please do not leave me.”
“Am I going to die?” Arlice’s voice was trembling, almost like a child.
“Am I going to die?” Arlice was three years old, and sometimes painfully advanced at speaking. His face was flushed with fever, his pupils dilated. “Where are Da and Mum? Ed, where are they?”
Edmund was seven years old, afraid, unsure. His father had asked him to protect his brother, always and forever. He had agreed, though he didn't know how he could ever do that.
And then his father had succumbed to the same sickness that had just previously taken his mother.
“You are all I have left,” Edmund murmured to his brother. “I will not let you die.” And then he had a slightly crazy idea. The closest village was reputed to have one of the greatest healers in the area. It was only five miles away, he had walked that far before.
Not carrying a baby, though.
Arlice was getting older, a toddler that would normally not have minded walking. But he was sick, weak. And nearly half Edmund’s weight. Could he carry him that far?
Thebattlefieldfeltendless as Edmund stumbled swiftly over it. He had to get Arlice to safety in time, just as he had years ago. If he could, at least there would be hope.
Edmund’s legs were buckling when he finally got to the village. He managed to catch up to a passing woman. “Ma’am, my brother is sick, and I heard that this village has a good healer. Please, my parents have died already.”
She had smiled at him, taking Arlice into her arms. “I am the healer, and I will help you.”
“But I cannot pay-”
“It is of no consequence. I will make do.”
Behind an entrenched line of soldiers was a healer station. A couple of men moved to help Edmund, but he refused to let go of his brother. He came at last to the station and set Arlice down gently.
“I need help!” Edmund called urgently. “My brother is hurt.” A nurse hurried up and took Arlice’s pulse.
“Sir, I am sorry, but he is already gone,” the nurse said quietly. She watched his face carefully. “Are you well? Sir? I will leave you with your brother for a half hour if you wish. He will need to be cremated, there is no room in the cemeteries. If you like, I can get you his ashes.” Edmund nodded numbly in response to the note of question in her voice.
He looked down at the still form of his brother, pain coursing through his veins. Was it possible that he was dead? Edmund could not imagine a world without him. But he was dead, Edmund had felt for himself that there was no pulse.
His breaths came faster and faster until his chest burned. Jerkily, he pulled Arlice’s body to himself. “Ar, you have to come back. I'm supposed to die before you. That's always been true. Please. Arlice.” The last word was a painful whisper, and he began to rock back and forth a little.
When the nurse came back to take Arlice away, Edmund barely noticed. He kept on rocking.
When she came again, curling Edmund’s fingers around a small, dark container, he barely noticed. He kept on rocking.
Light fingers on his arm brought him back to a fuzzy consciousness of the world. “I saved your brother’s weapon for you, if you wish to keep it.” The nurse shoved a bundle wrapped in soft linen into Edmund’s arms. “I must go and help with cleaning now. You should go up to the City.”
The battlefield was mostly deserted, though some stragglers still found their weary path towards the looming Gate. Edmund followed a distance behind them, allowing his body to move automatically.
~~~
Edmund looked down from the outer wall of Minas Tirith, turning his face up and westward. “Remember, Arlice, you wanted to fly? You told me that one day you would. Now I guess you get to.” He held the container of Arlice’s ashes and prepared to empty it, but stopped for a moment. “I am so sorry, Arlice. I know I failed you. Just like I failed Mum and Da. I probably could have helped them like I helped you. And now you have gone too. It feels like everyone I love gets hurt, and it is always my fault. You might say you forgive me, if you were still alive, but the truth is that I can never forgive myself. I am sorry. Goodbye, my dear brother. Perhaps I will see you soon.”
Edmund emptied the ashes over the wall, where a light breeze caught them. He peered over the edge. The height of the wall was dizzying, more than two dozen yards. If he hit the ground from this height, there was no chance he could survive.
Would that be better for the world?
If he could love anyone again, they would probably end up dead. He was done hurting people. Edmund leaned forwards. His arms flailed out as the sensation of falling caught him.
And something else. Something held onto the back of his tunic. “I would not do that were I you.”
Edmund shook his head and turned around. “You do not understand.”
“That may be so, but I do understand that we would dishonor those that died for us if we took our own lives so cheaply.” The man who spoke looked familiar, those grey eyes noble and confident.
This was Aragorn. “My Lord,” Edmund said, unsure of this man’s importance. Just in case, he bowed deeply.
“Do not despair, young man, and let Eru go with you this day,” Aragorn said, walking away. Edmund looked over the edge of the wall, but the idea of taking his own life sickened him now. Aragorn was right.
So many had given their lives because of his. This, he realized, was not a reason to die, but a reason to live. A reason to do good, to give all of himself for something good, to use every moment. Edmund hurried off after Aragorn.
“My Lord, if you have need of a loyal sword, I offer mine to your service.” Edmund was afraid that the noble, as great in learning as he seemed, would not understand that he no longer wished to die. He might even think that this was a desperate attempt to do so.
Aragorn gave him a knowing smile. “I believe that there will be one last great battle to fight ere the end, and if there is, I would have you at my side.”