Melting a Heart of Ice

Triina stood at the shoreline facing fast approaching ships filled with hired murderers, pirates, and in her eyes walking scum. Legolas was at her left with Gimli beside him, and Aragorn at her right, all four of them staring sternly and preparing for a fight. “If you have to run, or charge, or anything like that, please warn me? I don’t like falling.” The young faerie pleaded from his place on Aragorn’s shoulder.

“Of course.” Aragorn nodded without removing his eyes from the ships as they stopped a short way from the shore, unable to continue in the shallows that Triina had created by moving the waters.

“You may go no farther! You will not pass into Gondor!” Aragorn announced firmly, making Triina smile as for a second she saw him as the King of his land, and less of a ranger with royal blood.

“And who are you to deny us passage?” A filthy captain sneered.

“May I suggest we fire a warning shot?” Triina suggested, hinting to Legolas who readily strung his bow.

“Aim just past his ear.” Aragorn ordered.

“Mind your aim!” Gimli reminded.

Legolas shook his head in annoyance at being given shooting advice by a dwarf and took aim to fire, carefully calculating his shot. Just as Legolas released the string, letting the arrow fly, Gimli nudged him and skewed his aim. The arrow whistled through the air and struck a sailor in the chest. “Gimli!” Triina gasped scornfully as he feigned shock and covered his mouth, and Legolas quickly looked down at him in anger and awe.

“That’s it! We warned you! Prepare to be boarded!” the dwarf shouted, earning laughter from the filthy crewmen.

“You and what army?!” one of them taunted.

“This army.” Aragorn answered calmly, but confidently as the King of the Dead appeared with his soldiers behind them. The sailors cried out in terror and Triina had to grip Legolas’ arm in search of something to hold her steady as the dead ran THROUGH the Fellowship and rid the ships of the living with a swiftness unlike any she had seen before, save from the Water Wraiths.

Aragorn stood at the helm of one ship, leading a fleet of empty boats filled the bodies of slain pirates and assassins as Triina used her control over the water to guide the other ships behind. In a small hammock tied between two ropes beside him the young faerie slept peacefully, his wing occasionally flickering or twitching as Gimli leaned on his axe watching over him. Behind them Triina was seated atop a large crate, lazily guiding the water to steer the ships as Legolas stood at her side with his hand on her shoulder.

“The water is thankful for the deaths of these men.” Triina spoke quietly.

“And it should be!” Gimli nodded, spitting on one of the bodies that lay beside him.

“It knows where we are sailing. The waters warn us of the battle we steer ourselves into.” She explained.

“And what warnings does it give?” Aragorn asked, curious and open to any guidance offered to him in such a dark time.

After a short while of focusing she opened her glowing eyes and looked up to the sky for a moment, blinking back several tears.

“What is it?” Legolas demanded worriedly.

“I am learning the ancient language of the waters. It is a joyous moment… in the least it would be if I were not hearing such troubling messages.” She answered, “The grassy lands surrounding Théoden’s camp cry out to the rocks. The rocks sing into the wind, and the wind carries their song to sing to the river.

“Our friends ride into peril, they say. The faeries are filled with fear that is laced with a small excitement as they take their places on the shoulders of Men. And the ‘Small One’ they say, whom I can only guess to be Merry, rides with a woman into battle. Her place there is secret; she is disguised as a man.” She answered.

“Any news of the other hobbits?” Gimli questioned quickly.

“Yes, but only of Pippin. The lands of Gondor cry out as war tears them apart. Battle rages across the city, and its surrounding plains. Pippin is a guard of Gondor it seems; they say he wears the White Tree on his chest as he fights.” She answered.

“Nothing of Frodo?” Aragorn asked as she felt his disappointment.

“The River knows nothing of him, or if it does, it dares not convey news.” She sighed and continued the ride in silence, eventually falling asleep and leaving the boats to drift on their own as Legolas moved her to rest more comfortably.

She awoke to the feeling of small feet walking on her chest. Opening her eyes she saw the small faerie standing with his hands on his hips, looking down at her and grinning ear to ear. “Jokhi! Did you wake her?” Gimli demanded, earning an enthusiastic nod from the faerie before he hopped from her chest and walked to Aragorn.

“Jokhi?” she questioned, slowly sitting up and watching as Aragorn picked the faerie up and placed him rightfully on his shoulder.

“Kayo Jokhi is this little creature’s name.” Aragorn explained as the faerie nodded happily.

“It means ‘Little Stick’!” He explained proudly, making her laugh as Legolas helped her to her feet. “We will be fighting soon… or, YOU will be fighting soon. I don’t know how to fight. Aragorn tells me that I will be safe with him, but I am not sure. I’m very little, and I can’t fly because my wing is still hurt!”

“Don’t worry, Aragorn wouldn’t lie to you Jokhi.” She smiled as Legolas readied his bow and she drew her swords.

They finally came to the shores of the Anduin River, near the city of Minas Tirith. Triina could sense the rage of battle very nearby, and took a deep steadying breath as Aragorn ordered Jokhi to hold onto his cloak.

“Come on, ya sea rats! Get off your boats!” the throaty voice of an orc ordered. Aragorn looked back at his small company for a moment before jumping ship with them close behind.

The moment the orc army laid eyes on their small attack raspy laughter rang out all around them. “There are plenty for the both of us, may the best Dwarf win.” Gimli announced.

“The both of you? Suddenly I no longer exist? We’ll see who the victor is at the end of the day when you stand envious of my numbers.” Triina smirked as they charged with the army of the dead appearing behind them.

“Oh! Watch the left! AI! AND THE RIGHT!” Jokhi cried, clinging to Aragorn’s cloak for dear life as he dodged one orc to slay another before turning back and hacking into the first again.

“Seventeen!” Legolas announced.

“Twenty-nine!” Gimli shouted, “Triina?!”

“Well, ah, eight.” She grunted, “Nine!” she corrected when the orc fell.

“NINE!” the dwarf howled, aggravating the Til’Arin as her eyes began to glow and clouds formed in the sky.

“No water magic!” Legolas teased, earning a growl as the clouds disappeared.

Triina fought with all her strength as their small party pushed through countless orcs to the city of Minas Tirith. Her number steadily grew to be greater than Legolas’, but she was still behind Gimli.

“Eitilt go gasta!” a woman cried over the battle. She wore a brown dress and no shoes, and her long auburn hair was tied back into a braid that reached the middle of her back, falling between two dark red wings with golden veins. She was beautiful, and fierce, and for a moment Triina’s company was distracted by her presence until she turned to face them. “An bhfuil tú ag súil mé chun tú a chosaint? Bain úsáid as do airm nóbás!” she snapped and went back to her battle.

“What?” Gimli questioned confusedly.

“She asked if you expect her to protect you, and says to use your weapons or die!” Jokhi answered over the shouting of Men, Orcs, Til’Arin, and Faeries.

“You can understand her?” Aragorn asked, clearly astonished.

“Of course I can! It was only common Faerie dialect. All of our kind, half-breeds, water faeries, woodland faeries, rock, earthen, we all speak the same language but in different ways! She speaks it very angrily!”

Aragorn shook his head and gave a laugh before charging an orc who was swatting away at a swarm of faeries. Before he could reach them the orc fell dead and the faeries scattered, cheering excitedly before finding new foes.

The half-breeds were very few in numbers, but fought with great strength and cunning, often “disappearing” and becoming the normal size of a faerie and reappearing behind their enemy to slay them. The closer to Minas Tirith they fought, the more Til’Arin they could see, screaming and roaring at their foes. To Triina’s heartache, their numbers too were very low. Only possibly a hundred fought alongside the Men of the West.

Triina fought with renewed rage as she channeled the emotions of her fellows in battle. Completely caught up in the moment as she screamed and sliced through an orc, letting her swords cut through his face, sending blood spattering across her own, she did not notice the great tusked creature that was charging straight for her.

“TRIINA!” Aragorn roared, catching her attention just in time for her to roll to safety. Sitting up in the blood-soaked grass she saw Legolas gracefully climb up the creature’s large body, firing arrows into his opponents and counting off as he went. Once at the top he cut a strap, letting the small tent-styled saddle fall to the ground, killing the man inside it. He then casually walked to the head of the beast, and fired an arrow into its skull before sliding down its trunk and landing with a smirk in front of her.

“What are you grinning about? It still only counts as one kill!” she scoffed as he pulled her to her feet.

“And how many have you killed?” he demanded, dodging a blow before firing an arrow into an orc’s eye right as she stabbed it in the throat.

“Counting that one-”

“That doesn’t count! I killed it!” he interrupted.

“You did no such thing my blade sliced the throat before your arrow hit his eye!”

“It did not! You didn’t even swing until I had already fired my arrow!”

“AS I WAS SAYING!” she shouted, turning and blocking an attack before killing an orc and turning back, “Counting that one I have thirty-nine and a half!”

“And a half!”

“We’re going to split that kill, or you can leave it out of your numbers!” she declared, earning a loving laugh from him as he nodded in agreement and ran off, knowing that she would follow as the army of the Dead swarmed the city itself.

Legolas and Triina were separated as the fight raged on, though finding and staying beside the elf was still her top priority. Distracted by a group of three snarling orcs she did not see the fourth behind her until his mace had already made hard contact against her side, sending her a few feet to the left before she fell to the ground, wounded and in agony. She screamed in pain while swinging her sword and stabbing through two of the orcs, and was able to cut the third in the leg, leaving him unable to reach her for the time being, but the mace wielding orc was beyond her wounded strength.

As the battle died down around them Gimli saw Triina lying on the ground staring up at a hideous orc who was smiling in triumph and taunting her with death. Shouting her name he ran to her side, only for her to scream to stay where he was.

“I’ll not leave you to die because of some dream!” He spat and charged the mace wielder, but was cut off by the orc who still had Triina’s dagger sticking out of his leg. Gimli did him in quickly before turning his attention to Triina just as the mace came down towards her head, only missing by a few notches in her braid. Before the orc could lift his mace again Gimli took a chunk out of his stomach with his axe, finishing him off by leaving a few notches in his skull once he hit the ground.

One last group of orcs came to fight Triina and Gimli as she forced herself once again to her feet. Running down a slope from the city Legolas could just barely catch a glimpse of her hair now and then. He could see that she was wounded, and exhausted beyond any battle she had seen yet, but beyond that nothing more. He had tried to the best of his ability to find her, dashing to the aid of many Til’Arin women on the battlefield only to receive the news that they did not know where she was. Finally, with the help of Jokhi he could see where she was though even with his elvish grace and light feet he could not seem to reach her in time.

Gimli killed one of the last remaining orcs, leaving only one at last. She screamed and stabbed through it, falling with its body as her strength began to give out. But both Til’Arin and Dwarf gave a cry of relief at their survival. Laughing and joining hands in the strongest hold they could manage they celebrated with relief as Gimli took notice of the Elf running at his highest speed to their location with Aragorn close behind.

Suddenly Legolas cried out and fired his bow, confusing the dwarf when a cry of pure heartache came from him, and Aragorn’s pace tripled. Gimli looked over to Triina to see if she knew what was wrong but found her staring at him in blank shock. Looking over her shoulder as Aragorn reached them, gracelessly falling to his knees with a thick thud and pulling her against him, he saw an orcish arrow sticking out of her back.

She grunted as Aragorn hushed her and Legolas fell to her side afraid to touch her, and then all was quiet. The King of the Dead appeared standing with his men around them as Gandalf and Pippin joined them.

“Triina,” Pippin breathed, choking on a sob when Gandalf placed his hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“I’m all right, Pip.” She answered weakly.

“Shh, save your breath.” Aragorn ordered as Legolas took her from him.

She looked at the King of the Dead and smiled before thanking him for his assistance, though he replied that he was only fulfilling his debt.

“Release them.” She pleaded Aragorn.

“Bad idea!” Gimli cut in, “Very handy in a tight spot, these lads! Despite the fact that they’re dead.”

“You gave them your word.” Triina reminded in a stern whisper, narrowing her eyes at the dwarf after receiving a nod from Aragorn.

“And they shall have peace.” He nodded while turning to the King, “I hold your oath fulfilled. Go, be at peace.”

“Hail, the King.” Triina smiled to Aragorn and fell to her exhaustion and injury, lying weak and unconscious in the arms of the elf that held her. His heart ached a deep pit in his chest as tears slid from his eyes to her fair and icy face before quickly standing and announcing that she must be taken to water. With that he was gone, leaving the others to follow if they wished but stopping for no one.