Summary: The year is TA 2959 and Thengel has recently returned to Rohan as King after the death of his father. Further north, it has been roughly twenty years since Smaug decimated Lake-town, which relocated and renamed itself Esgaroth. The Lord of Esgaroth sends a duplicitous envoy, a woman disguised as a messenger, to encourage an alliance between Rohan and Esgaroth. At the agreement of King Thengel, Rohan sends a company of men back with the female envoy only to encounter disagreements and peril along the way. And when they arrive in Esgaroth, the Rohirrim discover the lady is not what she seems. But a greater danger threatens them as Sauron seeks to build his strength, using the greed of Men.
Chapter One
I pulled anxiously at the chain that kept the dark cloak secured, my fingers working their way along the cold links. It was a recurring habit and my skin was all too familiar with the contour and idiosyncrasies of the chain. I'd probably toyed with this item at least a dozen times in the span of a morning, my other hand allowing the reins to slide effortlessly slack as the gelding extended his neck to snatch a bite of grass. Regaining a firm hold on the leather I discouraged further grazing as we turned back to the well marked path. Edoras rose before me, leagues yet but close enough to enjoy the impressiveness of the hill. The missive that would allow me admittance lay tucked away in a saddle bag, kept safe from wind and rain during my journey. My heart beat wildly in my ears as I encouraged the willful horse onward, each step taking us closer to potential disaster.
It was not without preparation that I made this passage across Arda. Lord Ruarc was explicit in his instructions and left no detail unimagined. I was assured I would find good company among the men of Rohan for I bore a letter of companionship and alliance. I prayed my presence would be well received and that the message from Lord Ruarc would be taken well. Indeed, it appeared foolproof. Yet I had a nagging feeling sitting firmly in my gut as Edoras loomed above me. What if I was not convincing enough? Would Thengel send me back to Esgoroth empty handed… or worse?
I steeled myself against the pin pricks of doubt, reminding myself I'd been riding weeks for this very purpose. Allowing any suspicion of failure cloud my thoughts was unacceptable. With this enlivened reminder, I encouraged the gelding into a steady canter. We made a bee-line for the city, crossing the ground smoothly until we were upon Edoras, the walled hill gazing down upon. A sentry stood silhouetted against the setting sun, his decorated helm catching the dying light. He called me forth as I halted the horse, his tone implying I was not yet welcome.
"I am Hadyn of Esgaroth, emissary of his Lordship Ruarc son of Torin. I come bearing news from the north as well as a letter for your King." Silence followed my words as the man disappeared from the tower. Though I'd spoken Westron I was fully anticipating beleaguered translating, as I understand very little Rohirric. The gelding was not pleased to be delayed, his hoof sending ripples of dust into the air as he pawed the ground. I could hardly care for his discomfort, my attention focused on the wooden stockade that presently barred my entrance. Finally, the guard returned, peering down at me.
"Hail, Hadyn of Esgaroth. Thengel King allows you entrance into Edoras," as he spoke the heavy doors were pulled open to admit me. "Follow the lane until you are met with his majesty's guards. You will seek his audience in Meduseld."
With a courteous cant of my head I allowed the gelding to surge ahead, his forward walk nearly breaking into a trot as we traversed the wide road up the hill of Edoras. I knew very little of this land, owing most of my knowledge to tales and occasional drawings of the Land of the Horselords. But by all accounts the stories did not do the place justice. It was simply magnificent, the thatched houses and well made barns making the wattle and daub houses I was accustomed to pale in comparison. Folk were out and about this spring day, their blond tresses glinting in the fading light. As far as I could see these people were well looked after and in healthy condition. I felt entirely foreign with my dark hair and roughly hewn clothing, the scent of weeks travel lingering upon me, despite a bath in the river only days before.
They stared silently at me as I rode past, their eyes boring into me. I could not tell if it was disgust or merely indifference with which they regarded me but no one smiled or offered a welcoming gesture. I felt the doubt creep back up my spine but I forced it away as we neared the steeper incline toward the top. Here I was met by mounted guards, clearly informed by their comrade that I was to be escorted to the king. They said nothing but simply flanked me, riding at an extended jog up the hill. Before me stood a spectacular hall, a grand veranda and carvings of fine woodwork issuing forth from the building. It was truly an impressive sight and one I would not soon forget. This must be Meduseld.
A guard came forward as my small party halted, his hand grasping the reins beneath my horse's mouth. Whether it was to allow me a moment to dismount or to keep me from doing something dangerous I couldn't tell. These men had the facial expressions of statues, their bright eyes following me without revealing emotion. I felt immediately unwanted but I ignored it if only for the purpose of my visit. Removing my satchel from the tack, I followed the men up the stone steps to the imposing entrance of Meduseld. We were met by the Doorward who indicated he would like to examine the contents of my sack. I opened it for him but made clear I would not be relinquishing it. With a glance to his fellow Rohirrim, the Doorward nodded. I was thankful he did not strip me of my weapons, likely figuring I had no chance if I was stupid to unsheathe them. He stepped back and bade me enter Meduseld with my close-at-hand guards.
If the façade was stunning, the interior was breathtaking. Stone and wood was interwoven as if they were the same substance, the equine carvings blending effortlessly into the stone framework. The hall was long and wide, lit by sconces and iron-wrought chandeliers. We had nothing of this magnificence in Esgoroth. Despite my admiration I tried to maintain a composed if not determined expression. The last thing I wanted this king to see was a mystified country girl in awe of Rohan's architectural prowess. We strode purposefully down the long aisle, Rohirric men and women on either side pausing in conversation to look. I imagined these must be the courtiers and nobility of Rohan. As we continued down the length of Meduseld I became increasingly aware of the majesty of these people. Having never known the Rohirrim until this moment I was temporarily envious of their finery and ancient holdings. After the desolation wrought by the dragon Smaug, Lake-Town had been moved from its original foundation and renamed. We had nothing of the history of this place.
We stopped just short of a raised throne, a man seated thereupon preoccupied with a golden-haired child of perhaps ten standing next to him. A crown sat neatly upon the King's pale hair, the stones within glinting in the firelight. Beside him sat a regal looking woman, his Queen no doubt, her eyes cast serenely upon me. Of all the folk I'd encountered she seemed the least austere. Both were dressed in ceremonial garb, their robes and buckles bearing the profile of a horse. The sword at the king's side drew my eye immediately, my appreciation for its fine craftsmanship nearly visible had I not averted my gaze.
"Hail, Thengel King," the leader of my entourage greeted the king with a bow. I was momentarily surprised that they spoke Westron here, my belief that Rohirric was the primary language of Rohan clearly incorrect. The monarch looked away from the boy at his side, hazel eyes assessing without concern. "I bear to you Lady Hadyn of Esgoroth. She seeks an audience with his majesty."
The king waved his hand slowly to indicate I would be admitted as the boy retreated to his mother's side, his blue eyes watching me with guarded interest. Judging from the boy's appearance and interaction with the king, I guessed he was Thengel's son, Prince Théoden. I stepped forward and offered a deep bow, as instructed by Lord Ruarc many weeks ago. As I raised my eyes to the sovereign seated before me, I caught the image of a dark haired man seated nearby the king. This man's eyes watched me with no apparent intrigue but his gaze did not stray. I returned my attention to the king, who nodded.
"Many greetings, honorable King Thengel," I began, my voice sounding louder than intended. The hall had become hauntingly quiet, the numerous stares that fell on my back making my insides turn. "Lord Ruarc of Esgoroth sends his warmest regards to you and yours. I bear to you this letter," I reached into the fold of my bag and retrieved the precious missive. Knowing I could not rise to his level, I handed the letter to a guard to ascend the few steps to give it to his king. "Within you will find the intention of my journey as well as my lord's hope for your response."
I waited for him to read the letter, knowing full well what it said. As the king's eyes skimmed the finely scripted page, I read silently with him
His most esteemed King of Rohan,
Warmest greetings and many blessings upon you, Thengel King. Long has it been since our two lands had reason for communication and exchange. Not since the days of our forefathers have our people known one another – a regrettable state of affairs. On this day I extend the hand of renewed friendship to you, Thengel King. Many seasons have turned since Rohan and Esgoroth (then Lake-town) shared a purposeful alliance. Therefore, I propose we revive the days past when we called upon your people and you called upon mine.
Shadows stretch far these days and I fear the evil leaking across Arda. The Necromancer has at long last been dispatched from Mirkwood but we now know he intends to stay and plague our lands from his seat in Mordor. I sense danger stirring from many angles and it seems prudent that Men not stray from friends. We were once allies in the days of Éothéod and though you have maintained your lands a great distance from us, Rhovanion is your ancestral home.
I send my most skilled and trusted guide and envoy, Hadyn whose father perished valiantly during the slaying of the dragon, Smaug. If it is to your agreement, she will accompany an emissary from Rohan to stay in Esgoroth. We invite you, Thengel King, to journey north but we know you are much involved in the activities of Rohan.
If you find this alliance favorable, send a man back with Hadyn to Esgoroth, where he may take rest and discuss with myself how we might assist one another.
I pray this letter finds you in good health and free from the darkness that shadows our beloved home.
Blessings of the Valar upon you,
His Lordship
Ruarc, son of Torin
TA 2959
The King's eyes rose to meet mine as he handed the letter to the dark haired man behind him. I waited patiently, resisting the urge to fidget under his gaze. Surely Thengel would know of the history between the Rhovanions and his people. It would be unwise to refuse an ally so far north with strong trade ties to numerous areas throughout Arda. Although the letter was penned in a humbling tone, it was clear (to me at least) that Rohan should not pass this offer up to reestablish ties with the north.
"You are welcomed into my hall, Lady Hadyn," the King intoned gently his expression softening to that of a father. I felt immediately at ease with the kindness in his eyes. It seemed all too insincere. But I nodded my head politely in response. "Sojourn here as my guest while I consider a course of action in response to your lord."
"I am most grateful, majesty," I replied with a bow of supplication. He nodded to a servant who materialized from the shadows. It appeared my meeting was complete the king's attention turned now to the child who'd been waiting patiently, his gaze upon me. As if by some unspoken command the hall was alive again, the sound of chatting and quiet music replacing the dead silence of my initial meeting with King Thengel.
I glanced at the men who had been flanking me to find they'd disappeared amongst the small crowd. The servant curtseyed politely to me and indicated that I ought to follow her away from the hall. Readjusting the satchel, I gave a courteous nod to both the King and Queen before following the girl. I couldn't help but glance at the dark haired man, who still held the letter. His gaze was piercing and I felt intense disquiet when he looked at me, as if he could see within my heart and identify deception. Turning away from him I felt his eyes follow me until we exited the hall, my heart still pounding drum-like in my ribcage.
A/N: Greetings! Fear not, fans of Heartlines (formerly Smoke and Shadow), I continue to work on that story, but this one popped into my head and I couldn't say no.
I hope you like this first chapter. Obviously it is set before the War of the Ring, during the spring of 2959 in the Third Age. King Thengel has taken up residency in Rohan after the death of his father and his son is little Theoden (such a cutie). As for Esgoroth, formerly known as Lake-town, it was nearly destroyed some 20-ish years ago by Smaug. It relocated elsewhere on Long Lake. Ruarc and Hadyn are obviously my creations. Rhovanions are the people of Rhovanion (duh) and a long time ago, the people of Rohan descended from the folk of Rhovanion, so that's what all the "former alliance" and past heritage is about. Now then…who is this mysterious dark haired man, I wonder?