Chapter Twenty-Three: The Looming of Battle
I was wandering the halls aimlessly when Gandalf found me later that day.
"You have much on your mind, I know," he murmured, "Come, sit with me a moment on the balcony."
Once we had sat down, he turned to me: "I know you have many questions about your past, Amira, and though I answered them perhaps terribly brashly earlier, they are the best I can provide you. With this said, I know there is also something else troubling you. Now, my dear, is the chance to speak of it. It is the least I can do for all that you have experienced in my absence."
I frowned, "You know well that it is not your fault such things came to pass, Gandalf, so do not lay the blame on yourself."
He sighed, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. A flash of remorse burned in his eyes before it faded. "Fate cannot be changed, though I might wish to change it." He turned and smiled sadly at me, "For no one have I wished to alter Fate more than for you, child."
Looking away from the intensity of his gaze, I felt tears come to my eyes. His genuine care and love for me was overwhelming. I sighed, "I know."
Gandalf patted my shoulder gently. "The things that are set in motion now will go on, to whatever end that might be." He shook his head, "It is a sad day indeed when all that is within my heart are dark wanderings. Tell me of your thoughts."
I hesitated. "I'm afraid they are as dark as you describe your own, Gandalf," I admitted quietly, shading my eyes against the brightness of the setting sun, "I felt the growing power of Mordor when I looked to the East today." I shuddered slightly at the memory, drawing my Mentor's concerned gaze. "Visions come to me unbidden, Gandalf. I cannot determine where they come from, but they..." I swallowed the lump in my throat, "they haunt me at times."
Gandalf's brow was furrowed deeply at this news. He was silent for a long moment, staring as it were out across the expansive golden land surrounding us. The setting sun was casting its rays upon the glimmering blades of grass, setting them afire with radiant light. Finally he spoke in a slow voice: "It is as I feared…" he murmured, almost to himself.
I looked at him alarmed. "What do you mean?"
His eyes found mine, "Galadriel warned me of the link between you and Frodo, that the Ring would attempt to break your will thusly." Gandalf stood suddenly, his robes swirling around him. "What did The Eye say to you, Amira? For it did speak to you, did it not?"
Nodding, I found my voice again. "It did. It asked the whereabouts of Frodo and the Ring." Gandalf began to pace along the balcony, "I told him nothing."
The wizard relaxed slightly, slowing his reckless movement. He exhaled heavily. "Sauron is devious indeed if he seeks to find answers through you," he muttered, turning to me. "How many times has he spoken to you?"
I couldn't hold his gaze for long. I looked away, "Twice."
He sighed, coming to sit next to me again. There was silence for a long time. Finally, I was unable to keep the question subdued in my mind. "Gandalf," I blurted, "what am I to do? Lady Galadriel warned me of this when we were in Lórien, and I admit I did not think as much of it as I do now."
"Dear girl," he said, taking my hand, "your will is strong, you know that as much as I do. The power tingling through your veins also speaks of this." He smiled a little as he looked down at our hands, but that faded after a moment of silence. "The Lady showed me many things in her mirror, Amira, things that I believe you too saw when you looked upon the water. Some will come to pass, and others not. Some will be through choice, others by Fate. If I had any counsel to give, it would be this – trust in your own strength."
Gandalf smiled again, more fully this time. "Only twenty-two years of your life have gone by, and yet so much weight is on your shoulders."
I watched him rub his beard, shaking his head. I sighed, "More weighs on the Ringbearer's shoulders than any that could ever weigh upon mine."
He looked sharply at me, regarding me for a long moment before returning his stare out to the sun. The last rays were lighting up the edges of the mountains. Soon that light was gone, fading away into hues of dusty pink. Finally, Gandalf took a deep breath and pulled out his pipe.
"If Frodo had gone alone," he began slowly as he lit the pipe, "I would have had no hope. But knowing Sam went with him fills me with confidence."
I smiled and watched him blow a calm smoke ring into the air. "I have never known anyone as reliable and true as Samwise Gamgee," I said, and then my smile failed. "Gandalf?" He turned to looked me. "Where are they now?"
He blew another smoke ring, sending a smaller one to fit into it. "They should be approaching the marshes by now," he murmured lowly. "Marshes filled with the dead. A dangerous place indeed…"
I couldn't repress the shudder that ran down my spine. "Dead?" I whispered, "From what?"
"Dead from wars gone past, where Elves' long lives met their end. The Battle of Dagorlad was fought there, when the Last Alliance stood together in the Second Age," he said, "The dead haunt the marshes, their ghostly images lying in wait in the still waters to seduce wanderers into their clutches."
Gandalf glanced sideways at me. "You think I am fooling you? Nay, I am afraid not."
Shuddering again, I looked at the sunset colours painting the sky. We were silent for a time. I tried to focus my thoughts on the beauty before my eyes, but images of whatever horrors laid in wait for the Hobbits made my skin crawl. Mostly, it made me want to undergo the impossible: find them and protect them on their journey into the fires of Mount Doom. I had promised Frodo I would help him lighten his burden that day on our departure from Lórien, and now I could do nothing but hope…
After another moment or two, Gandalf stood. Holding out his hand for me, he spoke: "I know you feel responsible, Amira, but Frodo and Sam are both beyond our reach now. Like Pippin and Merry, their paths have been chosen for them, as ours have been chosen for us."
I nodded, swallowing thickly. He was right, but I still could not help feel the twinge in my heart when I thought of leaving the Hobbits to whatever end laid in wait for them. I took his hand and he pulled me up so that I was standing.
His smile was soft now, a particular smile he reserved only for me. "If only there were more of your kind walking on this earth," he murmured, almost to himself. There was something the way he said this that rekindled something within me that I had never noticed before, but the sensation was gone before I could analyze it. I smiled at him. He was, of course, being too generous. He chuckled and patted my arm. "Come," he said, "I believe food waits in the Hall."
The feast that had been ordered was a noble effort on the part of the King, but it was clear that the Household was nervous in the wake of all that had occurred. There was slight tension between the members of Théoden's guard, a sense of foreboding as though their very souls were weighted with despair and anxiety. Everyone was ill at ease, as though feeling the reaches of Sauron even here, even now.
I sat next to Lady Éowyn, having been invited next to her, and I watched across the table as each of my friends politely turned down the pig's meat that had been offered to them. I caught Ehlon's eye and smiled at her. It was an Elven tradition not to eat of other living and breathing beings, and this gentle way of the Elves had been passed down to me from Gandalf. Aragorn took a sip from his wine goblet, watching keenly while Gimli hesitated over his own plate of meat. It went against a long line of tradition for the Dwarf to have ever considered eating anything different than that which was common, but to my surprise, Gimli had never complained once throughout our journey when our meals failed to include some form of meat, which we had yet to provide. It was an unspoken rule that had stood among the Fellowship. Only in times of great emergency would we kill another living animal, and until then, they would be spared for their own sake.
Needless to say, I was deeply impressed and faintly shocked when Gimli sheepishly pushed away the plate of pig's meat with a small, embarrassed frown. I watched Legolas grin from the corner of my eye, but to his credit, he said nothing that betrayed his notice of Gimli's un-Dwarf like action. Aragorn nodded to me, smiling a little before returning to his conversation with Théoden next to Gandalf. I watched my Mentor lean closer to the King, his eyes serious in whatever council he was giving him.
I wondered suddenly what lay ahead in the coming days. The power of Sauron was growing, there was no denying that. What would be our path now, now that we had seen the weakening state of Rohan? I thought of Frodo and Sam, imagining them struggling on toward the fires of Mordor, toward the ever-watchful Eye. I shivered, feeling The Eye reach for me again, flashing hot in my mind briefly before receding. I realized I was breathing rather quickly, and when I looked down, I saw the fingers on my hand clenched into a fist. I relaxed my hand, but the feeling remained. I remembered Lady Galadriel's words as we departed from Lórien, and they ran within my mind:
The stronger you forge ties with the Ringbearer, the stronger he is but the more are you bound to his fate. Do not forget, dearest Amira, that a time will come for you to rise to your own power!
I took a small sip of wine to distract myself. I had forged ties to Frodo's destiny, and it was becoming clear that I had also taken a small portion of the burden upon myself, judging by the attention of The Eye on me.
I glanced at Gandalf again. I still had many unanswered questions…
Questions of lineage and destiny were simmering in the back of my mind, but I shut them away from myself. Now was not the time for my past to haunt me, of all times, not now!
I was beginning to feel my exhaustion creep back when I felt a hand fall on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw that it was Ehlon. I excused myself from the company of Éowyn, following Ehlon to the darkened hall further away.
"Éowyn has made up rooms for us all…" she said quietly, "You should rest."
I sighed, "Yes, I should." She led me across another courtyard, walking quickly down an empty hall toward an end door. Pushing it open and me inside, she shut the heavy oak door behind her. In the murky darkness, I could see Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, and Gimli seated in the room, talking quietly amongst each other.
Legolas stood immediately, stepping forward to grasp my uninjured arm. "You look well, Amira.."
I nodded. "I am, Legolas. Hannon le." (Thank-you)
Ehlon pulled me toward the chair next to Aragorn, moving to stand directly behind me as Gandalf spoke. "Much has happened here in Rohan that all of you should be aware of," he began, "and I thought it prudent to piece any stories we have heard separately together as one before tomorrow dawns. I hope our stop here may be of rest, but we also must form a plan for when we step away from Edoras…" My Mentor caught my eye, smiling softly at me. "As Amira spoke of in the presence of Théoden, Gríma Wormtongue did more than poison the King's ear," Gandalf's expression darkened as he stood, "he poisoned the King's household."
The wizard began to pace in front of the small hearth, upon which was glowing a fire. His silhouette cast strange shadows upon the walls as he went on. "He exiled Éowyn's brother, Éomer, and desired the Lady Éowyn herself. Now he has been exiled, at the mercy of King Théoden, and will, more likely than not, return to the clutches of Saruman to tell his tales. He will speak of our coming – of the heir of Isildur, who laid the re-forged Andúril at Théoden's threshold." Gandalf paused a moment, staring at the flames. "When that reaches Saruman's ears, it will spark a new search…Not only for the One Ring, but for Aragorn." He turned to the Ranger as he spoke, "You will be under the gaze of the Lidless Eye as much as anyone, Aragorn son of Arathorn. The last days of Kings of Númenor rests in you, and that will be what Sauron fears, what he will wish to destroy at any cost."
Aragorn straightened his shoulders but did not speak. We were all staring at the flicker flames in the hearth, too deep in thought to speak. Gandalf exhaled slowly, rubbing his eyebrow absentmindedly.
"Even as we gather here tonight, I am afraid the power in Mordor is growing. Orc armies are being formed, and they are forcing the people of Nurn into slavery to feed those armies. Sauron is building up the Darkness, and when it is unleashed…" the wizard paused a moment, looking suddenly at me, "…chaos will reign in all of Middle Earth. As Lord Elrond spoke of it in Rivendell, no one will escape Mordor's wrath if the free people stand divided. As Frodo and Sam saw in the waters of Lady Galadriel's mirror, no one will be shown mercy by Sauron's forces."
I was startled by the expression in his eyes. It was almost…suspicion.
"To speak of these times as dark does not even begin to describe it," he continued, keeping his strange gaze on me. He began to pace suddenly, "We will all need to remain on our guard. Yes, we must be very careful from here on…Not a chance can be taken against the Eye, I'm sure you all understand."
He turned from me as he spoke his last words, sighing. I felt a foreign guilt weight on my heart, but he was speaking again before I could determine the source of it.
"Treebeard will be taking Merry and Pippin to Isengard as we speak, and who can know what they will find when they arrive…Although the gathering Ents will be a surprise for Saruman, I think." He turned his back to the fire, facing us again. "And here we are in Edoras. I know that Saruman's forces are marching toward Helm's Deep, and it will be only a matter of days before the last strongholds of Rohan will be laid siege by the black forces. We will need to speak further with Théoden to hear his plans for Helm's Deep, but until then…" Gandalf nodded toward me, "Amira will gather her strength as we gather ours as well. We will need much of it in the coming days."
"We shall leave then," Aragorn said quietly, a statement rather than a question.
"Not we," Gandalf returned, "but me."
We all glanced at each other in confusion and surprise. Only Aragorn was composed enough to speak: "What is this you speak of, Gandalf?"
He smiled at Aragorn but it was not one of good humour. Indeed, Gandalf looked far more tired than I had seen him in a long time. "It is time I went to find Éomer. I feel that Helm's Deep will be shaken to its stone foundations before long, and many good sword arms will be needed."
Ehlon shifted uncomfortably, "And you go alone? Wouldn't that be, well, unwise, wizard?"
Gandalf raised his eyebrows at her and she coughed slightly, hiding her suddenly sheepish expression. He laughed, making her flinch. "Ah Ehlon, you speak well, but I am confident that Éomer will see that a stand must be made against Saruman at Helm's Deep."
"But you go alone?" Aragorn repeated Ehlon's earlier question.
My Mentor nodded, "Yes. I go to bring the 2000 banished Riders to my banner, and good it will be, too, for I can feel it in my bones that Saruman's army is growing. To what numbers, I cannot say, but I know we will be battling a foe beyond any of our reckoning."
Ehlon stepped forward, frustration apparent on her face. "What are you talking about? How long have you known about this?"
He shot a sidelong glance of irritation in her general direction, turning back to the fire. He began to pace again, "I know Saruman's mind, and it is in this unfortunate knowledge that I have known of his general plans for the land of Rohan. He believes it to be weakest, weaker even than Gondor, so what better way than to usurp the House of Théoden with the help of a certain spy-" Legolas made a disgusted sound at the mention of Gríma Wormtongue – "I have thought long and hard about this, and now that I have seen the condition of Théoden's lands for myself, I know we will need Éomer's men more than ever."
Legolas was frowning, an expression uncharacteristic to an Elf. "I don't suppose there will be any good archers to man the walls of Helm's Deep, then?"
Gimli poked the butt of his axe into the Prince's ribs, "It's no good, princeling. We are not in Elf-lands anymore."
The Elf shot a look of irritation to the Dwarf: "I think only of strategy, Dwarf, not longing."
"I do not know what defense there will be, but good archers there are among the Rohirrim, that much I can say, Legolas," Gandalf answered with a slightly amused grin. The amusement was gone shortly thereafter as his thoughts proceeded ahead of him: "I leave before the break of dawn. You all would do well to rest yourselves now before matters of battle are upon you."
Aragorn caught his arm as he turned to leave. "When can we expect you?"
"I will return soon," he promised, "Look to my coming on the first light of the fifth day." He clasped Aragorn's shoulder, "At dawn, look to the East."
The Man nodded, and Gandalf passed his gaze over the rest of us. When his eyes rested on me, he nodded almost to himself. "Rest well, Amira," he said, and then he was gone.
Ehlon pressed her fingers lightly to my forehead as the others murmured their own farewells. "I had your sword moved to your bed," she informed me quietly. The thought was comforting, and I was thankful for her care in the wake of what news had befallen me that day.
I turned to her, watching the flickering flames shed light over her face. "Hannon le," I whispered, my voice cracking shamefully.
She smiled, gathering me into her embrace. "Rest well," she breathed before pulling away.
"Peace, Ehlon," I returned, bowing my head slightly.
And then she was gone, shutting the door softly behind her.
I let out the breath I had unknowingly been holding in my lungs. Turning from the light of the fire, I tread quietly toward the bed. Just as Ehlon had spoken of, my sword was lying there in its sheath, gleaming beneath the mix of moonlight from the window and the light from the fire. Leaning forward, I picked up my sword, drawing it slowly. The firelight brought the Dwarfish runes on the blade to life. Once more, I felt myself pulled back to a memory from Lórien of Gimli and me cleaning our weapons in the pavilion.
"This is no Elven blade. It reads here..." he trailed off, clearing his throat, "Fear not, child of light, for even in the darkest times...there is always hope."
Child of light? What did it all mean? I slid my finger lightly over the inscription, allowing the questions fluttering up inside of me to settle down into silence. There was no use fighting for answers, I realized. It appeared that fate would have me know answers little by little as time went on, and as much as this was to my dismay, I knew it was best. Too much truth at once, it seemed, could do harm…
My thoughts turned to Théoden and what he had been through as of late. So much news had come to him and so quickly, it was no wonder he had cracked under the pressure. My heart went out to the King, and to Lady Éowyn. They had both been through much suffering in the past years, and who could know if the tide was about to turn in our favour?
It was time I cast aside my own darkness and look to strength for the coming days, I decided. There were others less fortunate than me who were standing upon a crumbling foundation, and it would be my concentration and focus on the present that might help them to stand a little longer.
I sheathed my sword, patting the hilt lovingly. I could feel exhaustion taking over me more fully, so I set my sword against the wall by the bed and slipped out of my dress.
When at last I climbed into the bed, the moon had risen far into the sky, shimmering like a river stone among the stars…
My awakening the next morning was a confusing affair. For a moment, squinting against the sunlight pouring in through the window, I thought I might be back in the safe haven Rivendell. When my eyes adjusted, I realized I was indeed in Edoras, and that all that had occurred had not been a mere dream. Aragorn, Legolas, Ehlon, Gimli and I had truly run all that way from the River Anduin to the plains of Eastemnet in pursuit of the marching Uruk-hai. Just thinking of the grueling journey set aches in my muscles. I sighed, glancing to the wall where my sword was leaning. I could not let my battle readiness go slack; today I would train and build my strength once more.
In the past, whenever there had been despair in my heart, some light footwork in the training circles of the Rangers had always done the trick. Fighting took my mind off dark things, it seemed…
There was a knock at the door, and I bid them come in. It was Lady Éowyn, resplendent in a light green dress.
"I am sorry if I wakened you," she apologized softly, nudging the door shut with her hip. In her hands was a pile of folded clothes. "This is your Ranger gear, all clean and repaired," she said, setting my gear upon the nearby chair.
My mouth dropped open. Such kindness and thoughtfulness dwelled within Edoras! "Thank-you, my Lady, for your unending generosity."
Éowyn laughed quietly, "It is but a small thing…" and so she trailed off, her eyes glowing with wonder as she stared at the wall. I followed her gaze to my sword. She looked at me with a rekindled interest in her sky blue eyes, "That is the sword you wield, Amira?"
I smiled, "That it is."
She blinked rapidly for a moment before tearing her eyes away from the sword. "It seems like a good one. I trust it has taken you far," she said quickly, and I watched a flame dance in her eyes as her mind travelled outside of this room and beyond my sight and knowing.
I slid out of my bed, gripping the sword and handing it to her hilt-first. "You may draw it, if you wish…" I murmured, and her pale face appeared almost frightened for a moment at the prospect. That was soon gone as a look of determination replaced it. Grabbing hold of the hilt, she slid my sword out of its sheath smoothly, so smoothly that it was unmistakable that she had had experience with swords before. I smiled as she backed away and swung the blade in a graceful arc. She did indeed have some skill with a blade, it was clear. As much as I was pleasantly surprised at this moment, a feeling in my heart told me that I had known all along of that inner strength within Lady Éowyn, that sharp edge that existed beneath the layer of innocence and beauty of the White Lady of Rohan.
After a few more swings, she slid my sword back into the sheath. "It is a sound blade," she said quietly, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear.
I gazed at her in wonder, shaking my head as I leaned the sword up against the wall again. "Only a fool would underestimate your skill with the weapons of Men, it seems, Lady Éowyn," I said, and I watched her blush lightly at my words.
"And the same applies to you, as I have heard, Amira," she remarked seriously, and upon catching sight of my grin, she smiled back.
"I will begin my training for the journey ahead, my Lady. Would you spar with me one day before we depart?" I asked, and immediately after I had voiced my question, I winced, realizing I might have overstepped my boundaries. Instead, to my surprise, her smile widened further.
"It would be a great honour and pleasure to do so," she returned, backing toward the door. "Until then, however, I will leave you to dress and eat the breakfast waiting for you in the small dining hall."
She left with one last smile, her green dress swirling and shimmering around her like the green tinged sea lapping up against the island of Númenor so far away.
After breakfast with the others, with the exception of Gandalf who had long ridden into the morning light, I voiced my proposal to train and ready for the coming days of travel and battle to Aragorn. Grinning as though he remembered those faraway days of training in Rivendell, he clasped my shoulder.
"I would be glad to spar with you," he said, a happy smile on his refreshed face.
Gimli chugged back whatever liquid he was given – was it ale this early in the morn? – and brushed the crumbs from his beard. "Orcs bear axes too, you know," he piped up. "Might be good to train with a good, strong Dwarf just in case, lass."
Legolas pressed his lips together in a tight line as though he were attempting to keep a straight face. Ehlon did not have to treat the scene with the same seriousness, and snorted.
"Giving lessons, are we Gimli?" she provoked him, and the Dwarf just pulled his bushy eyebrows together to create a malice-filled glare.
"You never know when it might save a life, Ranger," he shot back gruffly, setting down his mug. He stood, gripping his axe and looking expectantly at me. "Well? It is a go or not, then, lass?"
In the end, it was primarily Gimli who sparred with me and Aragorn who watched in amusement from the sidelines in the fighting square in Edoras. Gimli was shorter than anyone I had ever fought before, but his method of attack was forceful and, to be quite honest, quite frightening. He was not a quiet fighter like Legolas. With every swing or two he would add a battle cry, a jeer, a curse, seemingly all to intimidate the one he was attacking. I had seen him in battle, but I had never fought one of his kind face to face before. It was a strange, challenging initiation into the world of Dwarfish warfare.
"Hah!" Gimli yelled as he gave a mighty sideways strike with his axe. I jumped backward just in time, parrying his next blow and forcing him to the side. "Careful now, lass! Don't get too hasty. Keep your speed up, keep your head up. That's it!"
I heard Aragorn laugh from the sidelines as I twirled around the Dwarf, coming extremely close to slicing his helmet. "I am never too hasty, my friend," I shot back as calmly as I could, but in all truth, I was beginning to tire. Gimli's strokes fell hard against my blade, and I knew he was not holding back his strength for the mere reason of my gender. I admired him for that as I fought against him.
Sweat dripped into my eyes as we continued on beneath the afternoon sun, stirring up the dust as we jumped forward, backward, sideways, dipping and diving like dancers locked in a trance, at the mercy of an unheard song. Gimli had me down on the ground twice, but I always retrieved my sword or picked myself back up in time to counter his attack. The clashing of my blade against his axe rang in the fighting square, ringing out brightly and flashing in the sunlight.
Finally, the Dwarf caught me on my unprotected side, and I heard a cry of caution from Aragorn moments before the butt of Gimli's axe connected with my hip. The blow forced me to the ground, and a cloud of dust billowed up around me as I struggled to right myself.
"Ahah!" Gimli cried, raising the axe above his head for the kill stroke. I kicked out with my feet, launching myself backward. It turned out that I had moved just far enough, for in the next moment, Gimli's axe head was buried in the space between my ankles. I heard laughter from Aragorn as the Dwarf struggled to tug the axe from the earth, and I took the opportunity to rise to my knees and thrust forward, holding the point of my sword to his neck.
There was clapping and cheering from the sidelines, and when I looked over, I saw that a small crowd had gathered around a smiling Aragorn. Had they been watching our antics this whole time? I felt myself blush when I spotted Lady Éowyn among the group. Her regal dress had been replaced by a dark green short linen tunic, embroidered along the bosom, and beneath it, off-white skirts.
Gimli sighed, and I drew my sword away, sheathing it. I offered him my hand, and with a surprised grin, he took it and I helped him stand. "Well done, lass, well done," he said gruffly, patting my arm with his gloved hand. "You certainly are an accomplished warrior!"
I smiled at him, and we began to laugh. His gleeful Dwarf guffaw filled the fight square and made me laugh all the more. We shook hands before walking away from the centre of the fight square. When we reached the sideline, Aragorn came and slapped me affectionately on the back before bumping his knuckles against Gimli's helmet. "Good fighting, you two," he declared, a mischievous grin creeping over his face. "I do not think I have had the honour of watching a Dwarf and a woman spar together in all my years."
Gimli gave Aragorn a narrow-eyed look, as though checking to see if the Man was joking. When he found that for all the Ranger's grin he was indeed serious, the Dwarf chuckled: "I have never experienced the likes of it either, Aragorn," he said, leaning his weight on his axe. He nodded toward me, "You'll be alright, lass, you'll be alright. Mind you, I wouldn't be counting on axes sticking in dirt next time,"
Aragorn laughed, and I wiped away the sweat from upon my forehead, surprised upon seeing the smear of mud on the back of my hand from the merging of sweat and dust. I caught Lady Éowyn's eye, and I saw her chuckling lightly, her golden hair shining beneath the sun.
"I believe she will be more than alright, Master Dwarf," Aragorn was saying lightly.
The small crowd of men that had gathered was dissipating, but Éowyn stayed. Walking over to her, I bowed my head before meeting her eyes fully. "Have you come to spar with me, my Lady?" I asked quietly, and she smiled in amusement.
"Aye," she said, "but I do not know if it would be well to fight you, having seen you against the Dwarf."
I laughed. "I was tiring quickly, my Lady, and would have lost had it not been that Gimli's axe stuck in the ground."
Éowyn smiled, bringing out the hand that had been behind her back and revealing the sword she held, still in its ornamental sheath. "If you would have it, I would spar with you," she announced, and I nodded.
"It would be an honour, my Lady," I said, bowing my head again and backing away as she stepped into the fighting circle. Aragorn and Gimli had halted their conversation and were watching the Lady as she drew her sword and set the sheath upon the ground. The sunlight fell over her shining hair and blade as she swung her sword in an arc, and it was truly a sight to behold. I knew at that moment that I was in the presence of a Shieldmaiden of Rohan...
Éowyn turned to me expectantly; the fire I had seen before in her eyes when she had seen my sword was dancing there now. I nodded, drawing my sword and stepping into the square. Out of the corner of my eye, Aragorn and Gimli sat down upon the long wooden bench nearby to watch us. From my quick glance at them, it appeared as though Gimli was attempting to place bets on the match.
I grinned and held my sword straight as I faced her, taking a deep, calming breath before angling it toward her. Nodding, she crossed her sword with mine as was common before a spar, and then stepped back. We began to circle one another, eyes locked as both of us waited for the other to make the first move.
My concentration broke when I heard Gimli's call from the sidelines: "Don't take all day about it, ladies! Give us the sound of clashing swords, not quiet footsteps!"
I grinned at his words, and then Éowyn attacked. Swift and accurate was her movement, but my years of training and experience in battle was on my side – my reflexes, as well as my ability to move quickly, had served me well and served me well now as I dodged her blows. Catching her blade neatly with mine, I threw her own blow back to her. Now that the spar had been set in motion, Éowyn did not pause or hesitate. She did a fast spin and aimed for my shoulder.
Our blades met in a harsh clash, and I heard Gimli yell something, though the words I did not hear. I threw away the force of her sword over mine and decided to change the tactic of my involvement in the spar. Moving quickly away from the defensive, I dodged her attacking blow and sliced at her exposed side. Quickly she recovered and blocked my blade just in time, dodging when I whirled my sword at her head.
The speed of our fight quickened, and the dust rising from our feet became thicker. I could hear Gimli's hoot of delight when Éowyn hooked my knee with her foot and brought me down hard to the ground. With a small cry, she brought her sword over my head, and I rolled quickly away, successfully drawing more dust into the air in the process. Standing immediately, I countered her oncoming strikes with my own. I forced her continually backward as my advantage grew, but the sun was shining into my eyes and making my attack difficult. Seeing this, Éowyn cleverly turned her blade and blinded me for a moment when the sun struck the metal. Utilizing this moment, she pushed me back and nicked my hand with her sword when she brought it scraping down to the hilt of my blade. We stood like this for a moment, breathing hard as we strained to overpower the other.
Instead of what I expected she might do, I watched in surprise as Éowyn quickly turned away, effectively breaking the strain of our two hilts. Unprepared for the sudden lack of resistance, I fell forward, out of balance. To compensate, I reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her down with me to the dust. Up again instantly, I fought her on her knees as she overcame her own surprise. Flinging herself forward, she crashed against me in a bold move. I did not even have the chance to dodge her. There was an excited cry that rose from the sideline as Éowyn pushed me onto my back. Fortunately, I hooked her ankle with my foot on the way down and she fell too. Too concentrated on my task to laugh at the hilarity of the situation, I heaved a breath and stood, meeting her blade just in time.
Spinning and dodging, we went on and on, evenly matched. At one point she caught me out on a feigned strike and nearly beheaded me, but I always recovered. She was getting tired, like me, but she still fought valiantly against me. My admiration toward her grew as she battled on, strands of her hair sticking to her skin as the sun beat down on us. Our blades glinted and flashed in the light until, with one final dodge and stroke, I had the tip of Lady Éowyn's sword against my neck. She sighed in relief, and I heard clapping and whooping from the sidelines.
She drew my sword away from me and pulled me up from my knees. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and shook the dust from the bottom of her skirt with grace. I sheathed my sword, and picked up her sheath from the dust. She looked up at me, and I bowed my head, holding out the sheath to her. Smiling, she took it and sheathed her own sword neatly.
She gasped when she saw the small trail of blood on my hand. "Oh! I did not mean to hurt you!" she breathed, lifting my hand in hers and inspecting the miniscule cut. I laughed a little.
"It is nothing," I insisted. "It was a fair match."
"You are very adept in the art of sword-fighting, my Lady," I commented, hoping she would here the sincerity in my voice. She must have, for she smiled beautifully.
"As are you," she returned smoothly as we walked slowly toward Aragorn and Gimli. To my surprise, I saw Ehlon smiling beside Gimli. She must have arrived when I had been intent on the spar. Éowyn's voice brought me back to the present: "I see now that you have fought in many battles."
I frowned a little, "Not a good many, my Lady, but enough to teach me how to survive the battlefield."
Gimli jogged up to us and took Éowyn's hand. "You are quite skilled, my Lady," he declared, "I think the spar was well-matched, don't you think Aragorn?"
Aragorn smiled, nodding. "I believe so."
"You are both very swift," Ehlon put in.
Éowyn turned to me with a radiant smile. "I would not want to meet you on the battlefield, Amira. You would be a foe to contend with."
I smiled back, "Thank-you for the honour, my Lady."
"The honour is mine, Amira," she then looked over her shoulder and sighed. "I must return to my duties, but I hope we might do this again before you depart."
She left with a slight nod, and Ehlon touched my shoulder.
"How do you feel?" she asked with concern in her voice, and I turned to her.
"Very well," I answered quietly, "I feel stronger than before, but I require more training. I was tiring quickly out there."
Ehlon scoffed and grinned, putting her arm around my shoulders. "It is very hot out. You did well."
She pulled me over to the bench by Aragorn and Gimli, and we sat down. We were all quiet for a moment as we watched the dust settle over the fighting square, the sun shooting through the air and lighting up the small particles of earth. I could feel my heartbeat settling down at last, but my body was still trembling slightly with energy. A crow cawed in the distance, and the breeze flapped one of the Rohan flags upon the flagstaff.
Ehlon broke the silence that had descended. "Is there any strength left in Rohan, Aragorn?"
The man glanced at her, a furrow in his brow. He sighed, "Orcs have been raiding these lands for some time now, burning villages and leaving trails of blood behind them. Whatever strength that is left is difficult to see, but Gandalf seems to believe there is still hope. I believe it as well, for in despair there is no strength."
Gimli grumbled something to himself in his own tongue but said nothing more. Ehlon gave him a sharp look before speaking once again: "What of Gondor? Together they might have more of a chance of expelling Saruman's army, if the numbers are not in great disparity."
Aragorn did not speak for a moment, but when he did, his voice was grim. "Gondor and Rohan have had a tenuous relationship as of late, I am afraid," he said, "The black force of Mordor senses this, and Saruman knows it. He seeks to weaken them both from the inside until there is little hope for defending their own countries, let alone unite together."
My mind flashed back to Gríma Wormtongue and King Théoden's trance. I shivered. "What goes ill in Gondor, Aragorn?" I asked quietly, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.
His grey eyes found mine. "Gandalf says that Denethor will not easily relinquish his claim to the throne, though he is but a Steward. Some say he has slowly lost his mind, but I do not know for certain. Either way, uniting Rohan and Gondor will be an arduous feat, I fear."
We were all silent for a long moment. The reality was grim, and I wondered once more if it was futile to hold onto Hope when Darkness was so close to overtaking all of Middle Earth.
Finally, I spoke: "This waiting is ill for the nerves," I admitted, "Is there nothing we can do in the meantime? Is there any hope we can give?"
Ehlon let out a sigh. "There will be a burial tomorrow, and that will be a very tragic and dark affair."
"It is too bad Meriadoc and Pippin weren't here. They would make the Hall merry again," Gimli muttered, and I winced. Where had Treebeard taken them? I could only hope and wish to the Valar that they were both safe.
A movement caught my eye, and when I looked up, I saw Legolas standing at the far end of the fighting square. Lithely, he jogged toward us until he was standing before us.
"Luncheon waits, if you are through with your dark talk," the Elf said, a twinkle in his eye.
So we followed him to the small dining hall, aware that time was moving swiftly…
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the outside of the palace and through the streets of Edoras. I had been tempted to bring along my sword or a dagger, but after bathing and putting on a dark blue dress of Éowyn's, I decided I would relax and walk in peace without weapons at my side.
The wind blew my hair and rustled the fabric of my dress around me, but it was not a cool breeze. It was warm and gentle, comforting in its nature. Despite the acute lack of grand trees such as I had so admired in Rivendell, it was as though I had re-entered that sanctuary again in this golden land of Men. Edoras was enchanting in its own way; expansive and yet delicate in the way the light settled on individual blades of grass and the rough bark of twisted oaks. I had climbed to the tallest tower by now, and took in the sweet air and rolling landscape in front of me, storing it away as memories I would never forget.
The sky was smooth and soft, as fair as silk where it brushed the subdued edges of the distant mountains. I leaned my palms against the warm roughness of the wooden rail. Gazing out across the town, I watched the people go about their day, the slanting afternoon sunlight casting shadows in the twisting alleys. I stood there for a long time, watching the lives of the Rohirrim unfold below me. It was peaceful, and I was fully relaxed as the sound of children's laughter met my ears.
At long last, I sighed and pushed myself away from the scene, turning instead to the East. The black, smouldering clouds above the mountains swirled in slow revolutions over the lands of Mordor. I stared at those clouds, feeling suddenly uneasy. Echoes of Sauron surfaced in my mind, and I shook myself to be rid of it. All knew that the power of the Eye was growing, and it was at that moment that I finally allowed the fear take me. My stomach twisted as nausea rose up, unable to be quelled. A vision of Wildmen storming peaceful villages and slaughtering men, women, and children flashed across my eyes, unbidden. I sucked in a breath, unable to tear my eyes away from the boiling mass of clouds that pushed themselves over the jagged mountains. It was though I was in a trance. My eyes blurred, and another scene was played out before me: swarms of training Uruk-hai in Isengard, their blacksmiths working thousands of red hot lumps of metal into deadly weapons. And there upon the tallest black tower of Orthanc, Saruman. Without warning, the Eye flashed in front of me, drawing me toward it to bend me to its will. Amira, Amira.
I jerked away with all my force, landing on my back with a painful thump. I gasped for breath, having had it knocked out of me. I pulled myself up slowly, leaning on the wooden railing to stare out toward the East again. My heart pounded loud in my ears. I rubbed my eyes, taking a calming breath. My head ached. The visions were beginning to haunt me, and their source was something of concern to me. Something had happened when I had sworn to protect Frodo, something the Lady Galadriel had warned me about in Lórien: I already knew I had linked my fate in some way to his, but were these visions proof of the Ring's power over each of us? Was it reaching to me through him, through my oath? Was it my past, my side of dark magic, surfacing within me?
Shaking my head, I focused my gaze on the clouds again. The fear that had taken me rested deep within my being, but I had faced it and knew it would not return with such strength again. I closed my eyes, remembering the images I had been shown. I would not be able to forget them, I knew. They were burned into my memory, as hot as the very power of The Eye itself. Would it be my fate to be so plagued by them? I opened my eyes again. I would need to speak to Gandalf again, should the battle be in our favour…
I turned away from the stormy East and took a calming breath before descending the stairs of the rampart. I forced myself to think practically and logically. I had not had a chance to rest in a village or city since Lórien, and I knew there were things I would need to secure before I left Edoras. I thought of my supplies: my sword, being Elvish, was ever sharp; my arrows were plenty, thanks to the goodness of Legolas for retrieving them on Amon Hen; my boots and Ranger gear were being repaired by the graces of Lady Éowyn and her women – and then I remembered the dagger I had lost fighting the Uruk-hai before the fall of Boromir those days ago. My heart clenched painful at the memory, and I forced myself to move past the image of those arrows in the Gondorian's dying body.
Sighing sadly, I walked along the alley I knew would take me toward the main marketplace of Edoras. I always carried two daggers. It would be well for me to purchase one now while I had the chance. So deep in my thoughts was I that I did not notice the little boy running happily past the stalls until he bumped directly into me. Unexpected as the blow was, it nearly knocked me over. I fell to my knees, holding the boy's shoulders so that he wouldn't fall to the ground. His eyes were wide when he looked up at my face.
"Are you alright?" I asked him, giving him a smile to let him know that all was forgiven.
"Arnidor!" a man's voice called, and I turned, watching a young man about my age lope toward us. His sea blue eyes were apologetic as he touched the little boy's head. "I'm very sorry, my Lady. My brother tends to not watch for whom he might run into." He held out his hand, blackened by soot. I took it unquestioningly. He let my hand go slowly, and then I believe he realized his hands were dirty, and he blushed noticeably. "My Lady, forgive me, I seem to have forgot my hands are still dirtied with soot from the forge."
I smiled. "I forgive you, sir-"
"Daen," he provided quickly.
"Daen," I repeated. "And, forgive me if I ask wrongly, but…you spoke of a forge. Are you a practicing blacksmith?"
"He makes lots of swords!" the little boy, Arnidor, piped up with a beaming smile.
Daen seemed surprised by my question, but he nodded good-naturedly. "Yes, my Lady, it's the small store on the corner." He paused, seemingly wondering why I had queried him so.
I laughed sheepishly, "I actually wish to purchase a good dagger, if I might, since it seems I am one short for the journey I undertake."
Daen's eyes widened comically, "J-journey, my Lady?" and then he seemed to recover. Blushing slightly, he rubbed the short beard on his chin. "My apologies, I did not expect…" he stopped, and then blushed again, the colour of it nearly matching his reddish hair. "Please, I will show you my wares."
Gesturing with his hand, he led me over to the corner of the square market. Arnidor skipped along with us, "My brother makes the finest swords in all of Rohan!"
Daen ruffled the boy's hair. "My brother thinks very highly of me, as you can tell. I only just undertook running the business our father left for us."
I smiled, "I am glad to hear that you are successful." I had just said this when we arrived at the shop. Daen turned to his little brother, beseeching him to leave us and go on with his play.
The shop itself was small and humble, but once I had passed through the wooden door, I knew that Daen's skill was indeed great. There was a wide wall of glimmering swords on one end of varying sizes and styles, and shields, helmets, and armour on the other.
"The daggers, my Lady, are over here," he said cheerfully, leading me to the corner by the heavy broadswords. A collection of daggers were strewn across the oak long-table, and they gleamed beneath the light of the open window. Daen lifted one of the slimmer ones, its blade curved inward at the middle. "Perhaps this might serve?"
Holding it out to me delicately, Daen allowed me to take the dagger from him. I weighted it carefully in my hand, but it seemed a bit too light. It seemed he had read the thought on my face, for he had another dagger in his hand the moment I was about to speak. "What about this one?"
I tried it, too, and it was much better than the other. The handle was comfortable and felt right in my hand, but the blade was not quite long enough to match the length of my other surviving dagger. I raised my eyes to his, "If you had one a bit longer-"
I had just begun to explain this when he suddenly beamed. "I know just the dagger for you, my Lady." He gave me a signal to wait there, and he disappeared behind the small counter and through the heavy curtain into a hidden room. There were sounds of scuffling and searching, and then he reappeared. He laid the dagger down on the counter, smiling at me confidently. "I forged this one just yesterday..."
I looked down at it. The blade was the perfect length, and the etching along the one edge was like a vine growing up the side of a tree. I tested it in my hands, smiling when the weight was just as I remembered my lost dagger. I gave it a small twirl and then made up my mind. "This is indeed perfect," I agreed, reaching for the small purse of coins at my waist. His smile was bright, and I couldn't help but smile in response.
Once the purchase was made, he seemed to hesitate before speaking: "My Lady, if it were not too much to ask, would you tell me your name?"
"I am Amira," I answered simply.
He nodded, "That is a beautiful name." He seemed to want to say more, but he closed his mouth instantly. And then he blushed slightly, turning away for a moment before regarding me again. "Well," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "I hope the dagger serves you well, Amira."
"Thank-you ,Daen, they will," I said, moving toward the door. He bowed his head slightly.
"Farewell!" he called as I passed through the door. I smiled to myself, looking down at my newly acquired dagger as I walked toward the Hall of Meduseld. Daen's smile flashed in my mind momentarily, and I bit my lip. I would not be able to deny that the young man had been handsome, unlike other men that I had met in that Daen was not assuming or brash in any way.
I shook myself from these thoughts as I scaled the steps up to the Great Hall. Such a time was not for such feelings, however fleeting they were. Still, though, I could not entirely vanquish his kind face from my mind…
I searched long for Ehlon in the many halls, but my search did not find me success. I was about to give up when I saw her walking briskly in my direction down the hall. She smiled when she saw me. "Amira!" she called, "Where did you get to this afternoon? I was beginning to worry."
As she neared me, I smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I needed some time on my own. And I needed this as well…" Here I held up my new dagger.
"I see," she nodded with complete understanding, turning over the blade with an approving smile. "What happened to the other?"
I winced. "I lost it during the scrimmage that took Boromir's life."
Ehlon flinched slightly, looking irritated at herself. "My apologies-"
I waved her comment away. "It's alright," I promised her, "I think to the future now."
Catching her composure again, Ehlon nodded seriously, returning my dagger to me. "It is good to begin preparations. As far as I know, it is not long before we must leave this place. I do believe Aragorn is speaking to Théoden now, if my assumption regarding his notable absence is correct."
"I do not like to think about the weight that must be on Aragorn's shoulders at this time," I admitted quietly.
"He is a born leader, Amira, he has dealt with darkness in the past,"
I shrugged, sliding my dagger into its respective sheath. "I know…I just," I paused with a sigh, "I believe in his strength. That is not in question. It is just that I struggle to understand the full reality of something so dark and powerful set against him, against all of us. I marvel at his composure in the face of the onslaught of Mordor that is sure to be unleashed in the coming days…"
Ehlon smiled, taking my hand and squeezing it. "We all marvel at him for this reason, I think, but I have seen him struggle and so have you. Despite his composure he is a Man, and all Men feel some degree of despair at times. Rivendell is not so far away, where he wondered somewhat at his own strength."
"Well said," I murmured, running my fingers over the frayed banner of Rohan hanging over the wall.
She sighed, "I do suppose I should alert you that our departure has been somewhat postponed until the burial."
I looked up: "Théodred."
"Yes," came her sad reply.
Well, at long least, here is another chapter...though much longer this time. Things are about to pick up and get interesting. For those of you who have not enjoyed the personal drama of Amira's life right now, you can know that some fun action is about to begin! Be prepared for in-depth battle sequences all around, with some twists of course...
Amira has seemed to shut away her troubles, which is good for now I suppose. Who can know what will come of it? I guess you will have to wait to find out.
Thanks for tuning it and staying with me. I have been incredibly busy with assignments and have been preparing for final exams, so this has been my first chance to entertain thoughts of this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, as always, reviews make me grin like crazy! :)
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