Author’s Note: Hey everybody! Sorry it took soo long to get this next one done! School, and stuff, you know. But now i have some Beat reader people Ringskeeper being one of them..(i know her in real life) and ive asked some other of my friends if they would be too, but they haven’t replyed yet. But now, hopefully my chapters will start getting better!
Ive tried to remember what everyone said! Thanks!
I reached out a hand and pressed my fingers to her wrist.It was cool and smooth against my skin; cool like coldness of death. I closed my eyes, and concentrated. A faint beat could be felt, and I sighed in relief.
“She’s alive. Barely.” I said, releasing her and turning to look at the Captain. Borimir gave me a thin smile, and nodded, and reached down and, with ease, picked her up. He glanced over at me; worry clouding his gaze.
“She’s too light; they must have been starving her.” He walked slowly over to Darkmoon, grabbed the front of the saddle and swung up onto Darkmoon’s sweaty back. I watched him walk away, and I felt sudden compassion for our Captain. Most of the other captains at Gondor, would have ordered me, or one of the others, to carry her, but Borimir was willing to carry her himself. I smiled as I saw that the other men, were also watching him, and I could see in their eyes that they were thinking the same thing I was. Borimir had no idea how loyal his men were to him. He would be a good King, no, Stewart, to Gondor. I started in confusion. Never before had I even though of the fact that they were not Kings, everyone thought that the line of Kings had vanished. I stared thoughtfully at the trees. I wonder what made me think that I stood up and walked over to my own horse, and swung up onto his back. “Men. This woman needs immediate care, so I shall ride to Gondor now. Flerian, you are in charge. Take them home safely.” Borimir said, turning his head glance at me, before spurring his horse into a gallop.
Darkmoon’s hooves pounded against the earth as we galloped toward Gondor. We were almost there; the spires of the White City rose up against the sky, growing bigger as I neared them. I glanced down at my burden. Her face was smooth, despite the bruises and cuts. Her hair was long and jet-black, but now mingled with blood. Her pointed ears rose slender from her head, and there was a look of sad despair on her face. I gritted my teeth in anger. No matter how many times I saw the Orc’s victims, it still angered me.
We thundered through the gates of Gondor, and through the streets. People turned to stare as we galloped past. We slowed to a stop as we came to the front of the Houses of Healing. A stable hand ran out and peered anxiously up at me.
“What happened, my lord?” he asked me in a small voice, but I did not answer. I swung down off my horse, and ran toward the House. The Elf had begun to cough, a racking cough that came from deep in her throat, and she started to cough up blood.
I burst in, and all the Healers stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me. A lone Healer stood against the wall, surveying what all the other Healers had been doing. That was the lead healer, Arakin. His mussed brown hair and clear blue eyes made him a favorite among the women. He ran over to me, his eyes surveying the coughing Elf in my arms.
“Have you been wounding ladies again, Lord?” he asked teasingly. I glared at him.
“Shut up. No, I have not. She was a prisoner of the Orcs. We found her, and can you help her?” I said sharply. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He reached out and took the Elf from me, and he looked up at me, his bright blue eyes staring into mine.
“We will do what we can.”