Reviewers:
Cavalia: Here is more, as requested! And see my email for the list of stories and their order.
Mommints: (laughs) Well, under the circumstances, I can understand you hating Celia. If it's any consolation, I'm jealous of her, too. I would love to find my own Ardeth. Glad you liked the way Eowyn was written. . .she was one of my favorite characters in the last two movies of the trilogy. I particularly loved her confrontation with the Witch-King in 'Return of the King.' And as for Aragorn. . .well, I left most of those scenes intact. Here's more!
Deana: I thought you might like the 'pointy-eared menace' line. It had Gimli written all over it, so to speak.
Sailor Elf: Yes, you are a bit crazy in a good way. And of course I care. Celia will be worried until the day Ardeth is back in her arms, but she'll be getting some relief.
In all honesty, I'm not pleased with this chapter, but after reading it multiple times, I can't figure out what to fix. So, consider this a transition chapter, until we get to the heavy-duty action (including the warg attack).
Part Eight
As the niece of the king and a shieldmaiden of Rohan, it was Eowyn's responsibility to organize the evacuation and packing of the castle. Organize and oversee. However, there was more to it than that. Eowyn needed something, needed a focus. A way to deal with everything that happened today. Her uncle returned to them on the same day that she lost her cousin and her brother. A day of joy, balanced with an equal amount of sorrow.
Eowyn looked around the Hall, trying to decide what else should go with them. They were instructed to take only what they could carry. After all, they intended to return. But as she looked around, her eyes fell on something else. A trunk. Eowyn looked around, then knelt in front of the trunk. When she was a little girl, she liked to pretend that she was finding buried treasure. How many other children played games? Eowyn never really knew. She was a child of royalty. Her brother and cousins were her only companions.
She opened the trunk and smiled with delight at something familiar, something she thought she might never see again. A sword. Eowyn withdrew the weapon from its protective cloth. It was so long since she handled a sword, a weapon of any kind. Eomer didn't want her to practice within sight of Grima Wormtongue. . .he feared that she would be viewed as a threat. As ever, he was trying to protect her, forever the older brother.
But Grima was gone, as was Eomer, and there was no one left to protect Eowyn, save Eowyn herself. Yes, her uncle was back, but now, his mind was on protecting their people. The young shieldmaiden felt sure that her uncle was choosing the wrong path. However, if he would not listen to Gandalf the White, or his companions, he most assuredly would not listen to her. Even if she did live in this reality for the last few months.
But such thoughts were unworthy, and Eowyn immediately banished them, chastising herself at the same time. Instead she focused on the familiar, comforting feel of the sword in her hand and the equally comforting familiarity of the motions. It was almost like a dance, she thought on more than one occasion. A beautiful, deadly dance.
She held the sword aloft, eyes drinking in the beauty of the weapon she held. A weapon, and a friend. But few friends shone as this sword did, shone despite the years since it was last held, since it was last wielded. A quick glance around told her that no one was watching, and so, Eowyn gave into her desire, her need, to use this weapon once more. If only to go through the familiar, comforting steps. The sword was comfortable in her hands. Not an extension of herself, but not alien, either.
Eowyn lost herself in the beautiful dance of the sword, a dance of the feet and a dance of the hands. So lost, in fact, she never even heard one of the newcomers approached. So as she turned, the shieldmaiden was startled to cross swords with the man who held her back earlier. . .the same man who stopped her uncle from killing Grima Wormtongue. Lord Aragorn. They stared at each other for a few moments, then Aragorn remarked quietly, his dark brows arching ever so slightly, "You've some skill with a blade."
This man helped to save her uncle. . .helped to free him, if only by protecting Gandalf the White from disruptions. But Eowyn didn't know him. She didn't know if she could trust him. And worse yet, she wasn't sure if he was patronizing her or not. Feeling more than a little defensive at being caught like this, Eowyn whipped her sword around in an arc, as if to disarm him, but he raised both hands, lowering the long knife at the same time.
She maintained her position a moment longer, holding the tip of her sword at his throat. Then she stalked away, angry with both him and with herself for being caught. As she knelt in front of the trunk once more, Eowyn answered bitterly, "Women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain." She grew even angrier with herself for saying that.
Especially when Lord Aragorn asked in that quiet voice, "What do you fear, my lady?" Eowyn froze as she returned the sword to its rightful place. What do you fear, my lady? This morning, she feared Grima Wormtongue and being forever robbed of what remained of her family. This afternoon, she feared seeing her entire country destroyed, when her uncle and Gandalf the White found those poor children.
But now? Now, Eowyn felt sure that Lord Aragorn was asking her what she feared for herself. She wasn't entirely sure why she answered. Perhaps she no longer had the energy to hold back. The day was one of joy and sorrow, despair and hope. She lost her brother only a few days earlier, she lost her cousin that day, and she saw her uncle returned to her. Now they faced an enemy who hated them for reasons Eowyn didn't fully understand. Just as she didn't understand fully why she answered the question with a quiet vehemence, looking up at Aragorn, "A cage. To stay behind bars until use or old age accept them, and all chance for valor has gone beyond recall or desire."
Lord Aragorn shook his head gently, almost sadly. He replied, "You are a daughter of kings; a shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate." He gently inclined his head to her as he sheathed his long knife, then departed from the Hall. Eowyn stared after him, turning the words over in her mind, but she didn't stay distracted for long. Two of the girls were discussing the strange young man who accompanied Gandalf the White.
Eowyn gently broke that conversation up, then looked around, to make sure everything was packed. She really needed to check on their guest. As she made her way toward the room where he rested, she thought about his wife. He came from a different world than her own, but Eowyn felt a kinship with the woman who waited in her own world for her husband to return to her. For some reason, she felt like she had something in common with her.
. . .
He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, and he did not care. In his dreams, he was home again. In his dreams, his wife slept in his arms. She smelled of fresh soap and shampoo, and honeysuckle. She loved honeysuckle. When they were married but a few weeks, she told him about the honeysuckle that grew on her grandparents' farm. It was a smell that always reminded her of her grandparents, and probably would for the rest of her life.
He could almost see the expression on her face as she told him about those days. Her eyes were at half-mast, and she wore a faint smile. As time passed, he would realize she always wore that smile when she spoke of her time with her grandparents. In many ways, they were more like her parents than the couple who actually gave her life. Ardeth understood that, because he actually met them while he was comatose.
It was later that he learned that Annabelle and Thomas broke a few rules in contacting him while he was comatose. Not so much because they contacted him, but because he wasn't of their blood, and they never met him while they were alive. This was something he didn't altogether understand, but it seemed the Afterlife had rules of its own. From what Ardeth learned from his distant ancestress and namesake, who had a habit of showing up when she was needed most, there were specific rules that had to be followed.
His ancestress didn't think Annabelle and Thomas were punished. And if they were punished, the punishment surely was not severe. After all, while they broke some rules, they didn't actually DO anything wrong. They did nothing to hurt anyone, and indeed, helped him through the coma. They were good people, and gave Ardeth a new understanding of his wife. Unfortunately, Lady Ardath added, rolling the dark hazel eyes that re- appeared every few generations in his family, understanding O'Connell still required work.
Ardeth didn't bother to answer, because he and his wife were still working out the whole situation with O'Connell. This was before they were captives of Lock-nah and Nizam Toth, before Celia accepted once and for all that her fellow American could be trusted. Ardeth came to realize that he did not like being caught in the middle when O'Connell and Celia started arguing. And in those early months, that happened quite frequently.
However, in this dream, he had none of that to worry about. She was asleep, peacefully dreaming. He could tell it was a peaceful dream, because of her smile. He knew all her smiles. He knew the smile that meant someone should beware. He knew the smile that meant she was happy. He knew the smile she wore when she wanted someone to think the opposite of what she was thinking about. He knew all of her expressions by heart.
Celia shifted in his arms, and Ardeth shifted with her, then moaned as pain tore through him. He awoke with a jolt, the jolt sending a fresh spasm of pain through his already aching body. The king's niece, Eowyn, stood at his side, wearing a rather chagrined expression.
"I am so terribly sorry. I was trying to make you more comfortable. I did not mean to wake you," the girl apologized, looking genuinely penitent. Ardeth adjusted his position until the pressure was off his ribs and chest once more, and gave her a tired smile. Eowyn continued, almost timidly, "Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps some food or water? You have had little to eat, and your body took some terrible punishment."
"I cannot yet eat, Princess Eowyn. But you may talk to me. . .tell me a little of your country. There are so many things I should know about this land, if I am to help you," Ardeth replied. It was only common sense, at least from a warrior's perspective, and from the perspective of a leader. Know the territory, know your allies, and above else, know your enemy. He knew very little of his enemy, even less of his allies, and that could result in death.
"Please, just call me 'Eowyn.' And it would be my pleasure. We are called the Horse Lords. You should have met my brother or my cousin, Theodred. They were. . .my brother still is. . .an incomparable horseman. He has been banished from Rohan. Trying to protect me, as brothers do. Do you have sisters, my lord?" Eowyn asked in all innocence. Ardeth winced at the title, and hoped she didn't notice it.
"If I am to call you 'Eowyn,' you must call me 'Ardeth.' I am no one's lord. I serve my people. And yes, I have two younger sisters. Acacia is ten months younger than I, and Aleta is twenty-six years of age. And you are correct. . .brothers do protect their sisters. Even when our sisters would prefer we did not," Ardeth observed. That won him a smile, and Ardeth continued, "Perhaps I will yet meet your brother. Gandalf has left Edoras in search of him."
Eowyn bowed her head, replying, "I know. You believe my uncle is wrong, for evacuating and going to Helms Deep." Ardeth didn't know how to answer that question. Aywa, he did feel that way. He didn't like having his back to a wall. That left him no place to go. He was a warrior and a chieftain, and he knew the need for strategic withdrawals. He called one seven years earlier at Hamunaptra.
Eowyn continued, "You do. I can see it in your eyes. What do you know about the enemy we face?" Ardeth grimaced. Not enough. Not nearly enough. Eowyn sighed, "I know that the orcs bear the hand print of Saruman the White. I know he has become our enemy, though I do not know why. And I have heard stories about Sauron."
Sauron. The one pulling the strings of his puppet, Saruman. Ardeth remembered something Gandalf said, while Ardeth was half-conscious. Something about. . .Sauron shares power with no one. Saruman obvious thought he was Sauron's equal. Maybe it wouldn't be necessary for Ardeth to kill him. . .on the other hand, it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if he stood back and let Saruman destroy himself.
Eowyn bowed her head, adding, "I am sorry, you must have questions, and I cannot answer them. I do know some things. . .but not enough. Not the kinds of questions you must have, in a strange world. I know enough for myself. . .I know that I will fight and die to protect my people. I am certain you can understand that." Ardeth smiled at that. Yes. He could understand that very easily. He felt the same way.
"Aywa. You must not apologize. In truth, while I have questions, I do not have the words with which to ask them," Ardeth admitted. That won him another smile, then Ardeth continued, "Would you like to know of my time?" Eowyn mouthed, 'his time?' The chieftain smiled faintly, explaining, "Yes. . .I come from this world, but from a time far distant. Based on what Aragorn and the others have told me, I come from thirty thousand years in the future."
He saw the girl's eyes open wide, and Ardeth almost smiled. Almost. He didn't want Eowyn to think he was laughing at her. Eowyn breathed, "That. . .is a very long time. Yes. I wish to know about your time! I would like that very much!" The amazement was still in her eyes, along with questions and eagerness. Ardeth wondered briefly how old this girl was, guessing that she was about the same age as his sister Aleta.
"There are many terrible and wonderful things in the world, in the time, that I know. In my time, it is possible to speak with someone a long distance immediately. There are actually several ways. The first is by a machine called a telephone. I wish I knew how to explain it. It is something with which I grew up, even in my part of the world. Even in the desert, telephones have become common," Ardeth replied.
Eowyn's expression became even more entranced, though Ardeth believed it was not possible. He continued, "Another way is a machine, similar to a telephone. . .called a cell phone. It is a small phone that can fit nearly anywhere, and can be taken anywhere. A telephone is much larger. . .perhaps two or three times the size of a cell phone; and it usually stays in one building, if not in one room."
"What are the other ways?" Eowyn asked, her eyes shining. She seemed not to care that Ardeth was providing so little information about how such things as cell phones and regular telephones worked. He was quite thankful for that, because he wasn't entirely sure he knew how to explain such things. In part because, it was never necessary for him to know these things.
His younger brother was the one always fascinated with such gadgetry. It was Anatol who proposed the idea of setting up a website for the Med- jai. Ardeth was dead-set against it at first, fearing that it would bring unwanted attention to their people. However, Anatol explained that it would be a website for the Med-jai, only. A website for the Med-jai all over the world. They knew from Celia that the Legacy had something similar.
When Anatol promised him that only the Med-jai would be able to view this website, Ardeth finally gave his consent. He still wasn't totally comfortable with the whole idea, but Anatol jubilantly reported that the idea was welcomed by Med-jai in other parts of the world, particularly the United States. Ardeth grimaced in spite of himself. Thirty years earlier, when Ardeth was just a toddler, his father sent five families to the United States to find the American Med-jai they now knew to be Rick O'Connell.
The result? They now had some thirty American Med-jai families, and the numbers were growing. The times were changing, and the Med-jai had to change with them. There were times, though, when Ardeth wished he was living in a different time. Being chieftain to the twelve tribes was hard enough. . .but what about those living in other countries? How exactly did he take care of those people?
A soft voice said, "It is time we left. . .will you continue your stories on the journey to Helms Deep?" Ardeth blinked and looked at Eowyn. He realized that he was silent for several moments, and nodded with a smile. The princess continued, smiling back, "That is actually why I came up here. It is time for us to leave. Shall I call Lord Aragorn to help you, or will I be sufficient?" Ardeth detected a slight hesitation when she spoke of Aragorn, but decided not to call her on it. In some ways, perhaps because they were close in age, she reminded him of Aleta.
"Let us test my strength and learn for certain, hmm?" he asked. She slipped from her position and put her arms around him gingerly. Ardeth couldn't help himself. . .if it was a lovely young woman holding him, he wanted that lovely woman to be his wife. But Celia wasn't here, and he would be a fool to turn assistance of any kind away. Instead, he allowed himself to lean on her, though not too much. There was work to be done yet.
. . .
They looked like a stream of refugees leaving Edoras. . .carrying only what they could carry, as they were instructed. At the insistence of the King, Ardeth rode a horse. He didn't trust the young man, but Theoden could hardly deny Ardeth was badly injured. On the other hand, Theoden found it difficult to trust any of the newcomers, even if Gandalf did trust them. Just as Gandalf trusted the dark-haired young man.
Perhaps there was a reason for that. It could hardly hurt to learn more about the boy, could it? Ardeth rode alongside Aragorn, the two men quietly talking. Ardeth stiffened ever so slightly as Theoden joined them, then dipped his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. He started to hang back, as if to allow Theoden to speak with Aragorn. Obviously, Ardeth realized that Theoden didn't trust him, and he wasn't willing to trust Theoden, either.
That thought didn't please the king. He said, striving for a pleasant, unthreatening tone, "I thought it time to learn more about our unexpected guest in this world. My niece tells me that you've been in this world, in this time, for a short time, young Ardeth. How are you finding it?" Well, that wasn't so bad. Although, judging from the irritation he saw in the man's face, perhaps he should refrain from mentioning his youth in the future.
But to Theoden, he was young. . .Aragorn was young as well. Young and reckless. However, Theoden couldn't fault the newcomer's politeness, as he replied, "In some ways, it is very much like my own time. In other ways, it is very different. I come from the desert, King Theoden. The forests and the trees are alien to me, though I am certain my wife would find herself at home here. The land from whence she came has everything. . .deserts and forests, mountains and plains. And in her life, Celia has visited almost all of them."
Such a country sounded immense to Theoden, and he said so. Ardeth answered with a small smile, "Indeed, it is immense. In some ways, Celia has seen and experienced more than I, and she is three years younger. We balance each other out, I believe. What I lack in experience in one area, she has. . .and what she lacks in education in another area, I have. What neither of us know, we learn together."
Well, that gave Theoden an opening he wasn't expecting. The king of Rohan asked, "And how old are you, Ardeth?" That gained him another reaction he wasn't expecting. There was a pain in his young guest's eyes. Not anger. Not irritation at a possible rudeness on the part of the king. But pain. For the first time, Theoden wondered exactly what kind of position this young man carried in his homeland.
"I am thirty-two. I became chieftain of my people, a small nation of warriors, when I was seventeen years old," Ardeth replied quietly. Theoden stared at him in shock. Thirty-two. . .seventeen when he became a chieftain? Theoden knew that among the Easterlings, the desert people, a chieftain was roughly equivalent to a king. This boy ruled a warrior nation for his entire adult life, and half of his years on this world.
Then it was possible that he wasn't a foolish, reckless child. Theoden would have to think about that. Aragorn, perhaps sensing a pain that hovered just below the surface, "How long have you been married to Celia, Ardeth? You speak of her. . .the way in which you speak of her, it is almost like you have been married for many, many years. And yet, you say she comes from a different land from your own, from a land immense beyond imagination."
"Aywa," Ardeth said, using that strange word which Theoden thought meant 'yes' in his language, "she does. We have been married two years, but those two years have been most. . ."
"Interesting?" Aragorn asked, a smile appearing. Ardeth laughed, then grimaced, pressing a hand to his side. Aragorn grimaced in sympathy, and not for the first time, Theoden wondered at the connection between these two young men. At first, in spite of the tattoos adorning Ardeth's face, Theoden thought he might be Aragorn's cousin from the East. There was a slight resemblance between them, though Aragorn's eyes were considerably lighter.
"Interesting would be an appropriate word, yes. Others would use 'traumatic.' It sometimes feels like we slide from one crisis to another, usually with no interim, no time to. . .to catch our breath," Ardeth answered. He paused, shifted in the saddle, then continued, "A perfect example would be the beginning of our marriage. In the six months between our first meeting and our honeymoon, we had two kidnappings, two near-death experiences, a wedding, plus several conflicts within my people and the transition of an ancient enemy to a new ally. In addition, some were not pleased that I was taking an American bride."
Two kidnappings and two near-death experiences? 'Interesting' was a misnomer from Theoden's perspective. And there were some who were displeased with Ardeth's choice of a bride? Theoden asked, wanting to know more, "Why? Was she displeasing in some way? Unmannerly? Unfit to be a queen in some way?" Theoden ran through all the possibilities in his head. Ardeth was shaking his head.
"La. If anything, Celia was too polite, tried too hard not to offend anyone. No, they objected to her, because she was not one of us by birth. They forgot that one of our greatest heroines was not Med-jai by birth," the young man replied. Theoden knew that he looked surprised, and Ardeth continued almost gently, "Is it so different, King Theoden, than the objections that might be raised to the marriage between an Elf and a human? Or a man of Rohan and a woman of Gondor?"
He was painfully close to the truth there, but Theoden instead chose to ask, "You said a moment ago that your wife was too polite, tried too hard not to offend anyone. I take it something changed that?" Now Ardeth's smile was genuine, and, in all honesty, a little on the wicked side. Aragorn arched his eyebrows at the somewhat younger man, looking rather interested in this particular story.
"You. . .could say that. One of the women, who is fortunately no longer among us, made two mistakes. First, she made the mistake of harming Celia's daughter Miranda. Secondly, she made the mistake of attacking Celia without provokation," Ardeth replied. There was a quiet pride in his voice as he continued, "Celia had her on her knees, with a knife at her throat, in a matter of seconds."
Theoden wasn't entirely sure if he approved of this young woman, but it was hardly up to him. And Aragorn had the next question, asking, "You said that she was no longer among your people, Ardeth? Did you cast her out?" Now that was a very good question. Theoden looked at his youngest guest. . .and immediately wished he had not. Ardeth's smile was still there. . .but it was a different smile now. It was cold. In fact, it was almost frightening with the utter lack of warmth, of any kind.
"Aywa. . .she tried to kill Celia and our son. We returned to our city, about three weeks before Celia was scheduled to give birth. It was a three day journey, and to spare Celia the trauma of riding a horse while eight months pregnant, she rode by camel instead. We have cars, but I do not entirely trust them in the desert," Ardeth explained. Theoden had no idea what a 'car' was, but he could not argue with the chieftain protecting his wife in any way we could.
"Something happened," Aragorn stated and Ardeth nodded, fury blazing in his eyes. For the first time, Theoden realized that he really, truly, did not want this man as an enemy. Of any kind. Unlike Aragorn, Theoden learned from his niece, Ardeth had absolutely no qualms whatsoever with killing Grima. He, in fact, feared that allowing the sycophant to go free would only lead to more trouble. Grima knew too much. Entirely too much about Rohan.
"Something happened. Sanure. . .she cut the cinch on Celia's camel. It was only a little cut, but as the days wore on, the cut grew larger. . .until it tore and the seat fell from the camel's back, taking Celia with it. It sent her into premature labor. If not for our enemy turned ally, she would have died, and our son with her," Ardeth related in a tight voice. Theoden closed his eyes. The young man continued, "We did not know at first what Sanure did. . .until her niece told us. Her niece, you see, was nursed through an illness by my wife."
"You cast her out," Theoden stated baldly, opening his eyes once more. He looked at the young king, saying, "You cast out that serpent of a woman. Insults to your wife you could tolerate, but when she tried to kill your queen and your son. . .that was something you could not and would not tolerate." The young man shook his head grimly, his expression promising that there was far more to this awful tale.
"La. My concern was with my wife and son. I promised myself that I would deal with Sanure once I was satisfied that Celia and Andreas would be all right. And that is what I did. No one told me that I was wrong. No one told me that my first priority should be punishing Sanure. But my mother and sisters decided that mere banishment wasn't enough. And so, in the hours before she was to appear before me for her sentencing, they beat her," Ardeth explained.
Well. . .perhaps that shouldn't have been such a surprise. Ardeth did come from a nation of warriors. It appeared that the women were warriors, as well as the men. Something Theoden found difficult to comprehend, despite his niece's skill with a sword. Ardeth continued, "I did not punish them. They love Celia, you see. My mother had her doubts about her in the beginning, but my mother has had doubts about every spouse taken by her children. She is a mother first, and she wanted to make sure that her children married someone worthy of them."
That was something Theoden could understand. Didn't he want the same thing for Eowyn? Hadn't he wanted the same thing for Theodred? And didn't he still want the same thing for Eomer? The thought of his nephew caused a pang in Theoden's heart, for it reminded him that he betrayed Eomer, a betrayal made all the more painful by Theoden's knowledge that his nephew remained loyal to him. He didn't deserve that loyalty. Theoden knew that. But if this world was about deserving, Eomer would not still be loyal to him, Grima Wormtongue would now be dead, and his lovely niece at least affianced to a man worthy of her.
And it seemed that there was still more to this tale, for Ardeth added, "I cast her out, and she ran to her father, who was also a traitor. He used her. . .and then he killed her. We found her body, her face still frozen in horror and despair, her hands still clutched around the knife he had driven into her body. I saw her. . .and could feel nothing. Only relief that she could never hurt my wife or children again."
Compassion flooded through the older king, and he replied quietly, "It is a natural reaction, Ardeth. This woman did terrible things. She betrayed your trust, and the trust of your people, just as surely as if she attacked your wife physically while she was pregnant. That does not make you a monster. . .only a protective husband. You love her. She loves you. And this woman threatened that."
Again, there was that hollow laugh. Ardeth replied, "It was not the first time she did such a terrible thing. When she was a teenager, almost twenty years ago, she almost ran over a pregnant woman in our village, because Anissa had the husband she wanted. Anissa lost her baby. My brother, who was chieftain at the time, did not have the ability to cast her out. . .so he did the next best thing. In our village, among our people, marriages are chosen by the young people. My brother gave the right to choose Sanure's husband to Anissa's husband."
Theoden's blood ran cold. While he didn't understand the significance of allowing the injured party to choose the husband of the villainess, he did understand one thing. Ardeth's brother could have just as easily condemned her to death. He asked, "And did this Sanure realize the mercy which your brother was showing her? He could have had her killed, or worse, for what she did."
Ardeth's smile lacked any warmth as he replied, "She did not. He could have taken her life. . .but instead, the husband of Anissa gave Sanure to a man who could not sire children. A death in and of itself. However. . .they still had children. And he refused to condemn her as an adulteress. Perhaps because her mother was a member of the Council. Perhaps. . .for many reasons, but neither Sanure nor Tamar appreciated that my brother was merciful."
"And for your brother's mercy, your wife and son suffered," Theoden said quietly, and Ardeth inclined his head in acknowledgment. This explained why Ardeth opposed the release of Grima Wormtongue. The man understood that mercy and compassion was a double-edged sword. Theoden had no doubt that if the young man had the energy to do so at the time, he would have killed the betrayer himself. He understood their unexpected guest a little better now.
To say that he trusted him. . .that was something else entirely. It was nothing personal on Theoden's part. It truly wasn't. But he knew Ardeth for barely more than a day. Was it fair, was it right, to simply give his trust to a man, when it took months, nay, years, for others to win that same trust? It was not. But while Ardeth rode in his company, Theoden would not raise his hand against him. . .and he would fight at his side. That was all he could offer.
Aragorn had fallen silent during the course of the story, but Theoden could tell the other man was listening intently to every word that was spoken.
The king wasn't entirely certain what to make of Gandalf's reckless young associate, and Aragorn came from his own world. The other man said now, "And that is why you disapprove of Grima Wormtongue being permitted to escape." Ardeth shrugged, as if his opinion was of no interest to anyone there. Theoden wouldn't say that his opinion was of no interest, but as he told Aragorn. . .Theoden ruled Rohan. He made the final decision.
Something to which Ardeth alluded, though he was not present during that meeting. He was asleep or unconscious, one of the two. Another reason for him to dislike the young man. He was wounded and survived. Theoden's son was also wounded, but he died. Theoden immediately chastised himself for thinking such a thing, but he couldn't help himself. The grief was still too fresh. His son was gone, lost to him forever. How dare this young man still be alive, when his wound was almost as bad as Theodred's own wounds!
"My opinion is of no consequence. I have concerns about this Grima Wormtongue, yes. But yours is not my time nor is it my place. It is not my place to judge," Ardeth replied, his voice showing some strain when speaking of Rohan. . .nay, this entire world. . .as not being his own. Theoden tried to see things through his eyes. A young man, pulled back in time, by Saruman's sorcery, away from his home and his family, away from his people.
What was this like for him, this young chieftain from the future? Theoden didn't like the way his thoughts were heading, and he struggled against the compassion that surged through his soul. It was too soon after Grima, and this young man, no matter how honorable, was still a stranger to him. For all he knew, Saruman could be using Ardeth, the way he used Theoden. That was something he simply was not prepared to allow. It wasn't that Theoden thought Ardeth would betray them deliberately.
But Theoden knew all too well about betraying one's family, one's people, against his will. He only threw off Saruman's spell with Gandalf's aid, but the stink of that violation remained with him, and likely would continue for some time. Theoden would not trust so easily in the future. He struggled to find something to say, but was distracted from his meaningless observations by laughter he had not heard in some time.
The dwarf. . .Gimli, son of Gloin. . .was even more reckless than Aragorn, from Theoden's point of view. However, Theoden also could not argue that he made Eowyn laugh. The dwarf was explaining about the differences between dwarf men and dwarf women. Or rather, the lack thereof. Aragorn smiled mischievously, saying very softly as Eowyn looked over her shoulder at him, "It's the beards." And indicated his own. Eowyn's eyes lit up with laughter all over again, then turned her attention back to Gimli. . .not a moment too soon.
The dwarf lost control of his horse and tumbled from the saddle. Eowyn ran lightly over to the fallen Gimli, who was sputtering, "That was deliberate, that was deliberate. . .nobody panic!" Eowyn began laughing as she helped the dwarf sit up and started brushing him off. She looked over her shoulder at Theoden and Aragorn. . .and smiled. Theoden saw the way she was looking at Aragorn. Theoden swallowed very hard, recognizing that expression. How could he not? Oh, sweet, sweet Eowyn!
Eowyn was his niece. . .but she was also as dear to him as any daughter could be. And Theoden felt a little piece of his heart break, because Eowyn was no longer simply his and Eomer's. If Eomer could bring himself to forgive Theoden. There were no such guarantees in life. There were no guarantees of anything, save death. And looking at his beautiful young niece right now, Theoden died a little death. Eowyn was falling in love. And he had no idea how the exiled king of Gondor felt about his niece.
. . .
As the caravan heading for Helms Deep prepared to stop for the night, the sun was rising over the city of Tiri, Egypt. At the request of the Med- jai queen, Rick O'Connell and his family spent the night at her home. Celia offered the room she and Ardeth shared, but Rick turned her down. That was just a little too. . .weird for him. Instead, he slept in a recliner and Evy slept on the sofa, while Alex slept on the floor.
A special little bed was made for Nefertiri on the floor as well. She was not quite two years old. . .not big enough for a 'big girl' bed, and not young enough for the 'baby' crib. Evy and Celia compromised with the little girl. . .the two mothers promised to build a special 'Nef' bed. Rick allowed the corners of his mouth to quirk. Nef and her two mothers. It was cute in the beginning, Nef's habit of calling Celia 'Mama'. . .then somewhat irritating.
Evy took pity on him and clued him in. Nefertiri, she explained, was the reincarnation of Rameses and Ardath's daughter Miriam. The child who died before she had a chance to live. . .thanks to Khaldun. That confused Rick. Miriam. . .the un-named baby daughter whom Ardath miscarried when she was five months pregnant? But. . .she was never even born. Evy agreed. . .however, her soul was eventually reborn as their daughter.
There was a part of Nefertiri that remembered that long ago bond. Rick tried to deny it. He always did. Nefertiri was only two years old, and Miriam died three thousand years earlier. However. . .a visit from Anck-su-namun quickly straightened him out. Rick supposed he got off lucky. She could have sent Lady Ardath. Rick barely survived the last encounter with the long-dead concubine. He didn't think he would be that lucky this time.
And Alex was now ten years old. His little boy was growing up. So fast. Too fast. Rick heard him and Ardeth's nephew Darius talking about girls the other day. They were ten years old, hardly more than babies. . .they were too young to talk about falling in love! At ten. . .all right, so that wasn't such a hot idea. At ten, he was scrambling to survive. He didn't want that for Alex. He didn't want that for either of his children. And yeah, he now knew that Jonathan was Alex's birth father. . .but Rick raised Alex. Rick was his father, in all the ways that counted.
Shuffling noises drew Rick's attention, and in spite of himself, he stiffened. Call him paranoid, but he had been through too much over the last seven years not to be a little freaked out. He half-expected to see a passel of mummies come through the living room. No mummies. Just a very tired-looking mommy, wife, and queen. Celia smiled at him wearily, saying, "I'm just about to fix something to eat. Come with?"
Rick nodded and followed her into the kitchen. He sat at the table, and Celia continued, as if this was a common thing, "Miranda slept with me last night. She had a nightmare around nine pm, and crawled into bed with me. I haven't told her a lot. . .just that her papa was missing, and we were trying to find out what we could about the bad man who took him." She looked up at him with a haunted expression, asking, "How exactly do I explain something like this to a little girl, Rick?"
Rick released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. There were times when it was easy for him to forget that Celia's husband was just a flesh and blood human. There were times when it was equally easy to forget that about Celia herself. Until he saw her as he was seeing her now, as a tired and haunted young wife and mother, who couldn't figure out a way to tell her six year old daughter why Papa was gone.
"I dunno, kid," he answered honestly, and ignored the poisonous glance she shot in his direction. She was only four years younger than he was. . .but it helped him to maintain his composure. If he looked at her as a kid sister. . .a somewhat annoying kid sister who helped her husband to bail Rick's family out of trouble. . .it helped him keep it together. He continued, thinking about the day before, "Thanks for not reaming my ass."
"Wasn't your fault. You couldn't do anything about it. This Saruman, based on what I learned from you, from Anck, from Evy, and from Imhotep. . .we're talking about a creep who was worse than Khaldun, Imhotep, and the Scorpion King put together. Far more powerful, most assuredly, and even more evil. There was nothing you could have done, Rick. Let it go," Celia advised as she handed him a glass of orange juice.
Rick drank down the contents, then put the glass down, saying, "Ain't that easy, Cele. I made a promise two years ago. This creep made me break my promise." Celia sighed as she sat down next to him. He regarded her with a combination of affection, irritation, and compassion. No one would ever believe she was the Med-jai queen. She wore a tattered old terry cloth bathrobe, and Rick wondered how she stood it in the heat.
Her dark hair was tousled, and there were circles under her eyes. Even more damning, Rick could see the evidence of tears on her face. She cried herself to sleep the previous night, he was willing to bet, and felt a wrenching in his chest. He knew how that felt. Too many times after Ahm Shere, he woke up sobbing. And only holding his wife's warm and breathing body comforted him. Best not to go there. Two years wasn't nearly enough time for that particular wound to heal, even though he got Evy back. Rick said to distract himself, "You know, after we got out of that cave, I half-expected Lady Ardath to show up and kick my ass for laying a hand on her child. That's how she refers to him. . .to Ardeth, I mean."
A tired smile lit Celia's face as she replied, "I know. She's part of me, Rick. I remember facing Khaldun in Hamunaptra, the two of us sharing a body. I could feel her rage when she 'thought' about her child. I thought she meant her son, and her daughter, at first. Then I realized she meant Ardeth. . .our Ardeth. And she wasn't angry with you. Trust me on that. She wasn't angry with you, or with Evy. Only Saruman."
"Well, that's a relief. She may be a ghost, and she may be small, but that lady ain't somebody you want as an enemy," Rick replied, and that smile brightened a little. For the first time since Ardeth was taken, he saw a mischievous gleam in Celia's eyes. A few moments earlier, she spoke about joining forces with Lady Ardath in Hamunaptra, to defeat Khaldun. Their present conversation reminded Rick of another event, which occurred just before then.
He was judging Celia because she wasn't in hysterics over Miranda's kidnapping. Because she didn't fall apart, the way he and Evy did immediately after Alex was kidnapped from the double-decker bus after their escape from the British Museum. And he judged Ardeth for helping her stay focused. Now here he was, two years later, doing the exact same thing. He understood now. It wasn't a matter of love. It was just the way some people coped.
And, it was part of the Legacy. As the daughter of a precept, Celia and her younger brother Jason were often targeted by the enemies of the Legacy. It was Celia's firm belief that her older brother Galen was initially kidnapped by one of those enemies. Galen remembered little of that time. There was a big blank spot where those two years were supposed to be. . .and he would probably never get his memories back.
Celia, because she wasn't particularly important or interesting to the Legacy itself, rarely had to worry about incursions by their enemies. She wasn't particularly special (read: psychic). Nor was her daughter. But she saw what happened to those who were either psychic, or their children had a variation of the Sight. A built-in defense mechanism. Focus on dealing with the situation, and try not to think about your child being hungry or frightened or in danger.
"Where did you go?" Celia asked, distracting Rick again. He looked at her, blinking when he realized she was on her feet again. Celia said with a half-smile, "I have coffee ready, if you want it." Rick nodded, trying to figure out when he lost track of the conversation. Celia provided the answer for him, saying, "I never figured you for the zone out type, much less for nearly five minutes, much less with coffee steaming. You like surprising me, O'Connell."
"Coming from you, that's funny, Celia," Rick answered wryly. She smiled and poured coffee into his mug. He recognized the mugs, of course. They were a wedding anniversary from Evy, picked up when the O'Connell family went to Ireland. Himself and Herself. Celia laughed over the mugs for a good ten minutes, then spent the next fifteen minutes trying to explain the joke to her husband.
Again, Celia's mischievous smile flashed, as she replied, "Hey, I'm not nearly as good at surprising you as Anck is. Just out of curiosity, have you given up on trying to predict what she'll do next?" Rick glared at the young woman, without any real heat.
"Predicting our ghost in residence? Hey, I gave that up when she fell on her knees, begging Seti's forgiveness if he would heal Ardeth," he retorted, then immediately wished he kept his mouth shut. The last thing Celia needed right now was another reminder of those awful days. The smile faltered somewhat, and Rick said, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Celia, you didn't need a reminder of that. I wasn't thinking."
"No need to apologize," Celia replied quietly, "and you didn't remind me. It's always there, Rick. Like. . .I don't even know how to describe it. But the most I can hope for is. . .is that it goes away and hides for a little while. I remember what those monsters in human flesh did to my husband. I remember every time I see one of his scars. But I also remember what Anck did for my husband. . .just as I remember that you and Imhotep joined forces with your worst enemy to rescue Ardeth. I won't forget that."
Rick was more than a little uncomfortable with this topic of conversation, and he mumbled, "You know, I almost prefer the way it was before. When you and I used to argue. I mean, really argue, not banter the way we do now. That was easier." Much to his surprise, Celia didn't seem angry. If anything, really, she looked amused. And that was enough to frighten Rick all over again.
"Yup, it's easier. . .but this is better. This way, we don't have Evy and Ardeth worrying about us, as if we were a pair of children," Celia replied. Rick could hardly argue with that. In fact, it was hard to argue with this woman about much of anything. Not because she was always right, but because it just wasn't worth it. They bantered and teased each other, but any desire to really argue with her died two years earlier.
It was a subject that remained painful to them both. Rick couldn't imagine what she went through in the three days before he and Imhotep arrived with Anck-su-namun and Beni. Five months pregnant, and having to keep silent while her husband was tortured and beaten. Having to keep silent to protect herself, her husband, and her unborn child. There were times when Rick almost wished someone would bring back Lock-nah again. Almost.
He hated to admit this under any circumstances, but he actually envied Imhotep. The asshole demanded the right to kill Lock-nah himself. Because of what he saw in Ardeth's mind while he was healing him at Hamunaptra. . .what Lock-nah and Nizam Toth did to Ardeth when he was their seventeen year old captive. Evil things, Rick knew, because he saw the same things in Ardeth's mind. The will of Horus and Isis, and Rick carried those images in his mind forever.
Those three days, and their climax, continued their influence to this very day. Perhaps he should have expected it, knowing what he did of his own previous life. Talk about far-reaching consequences, though. Rick shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the revelations over the last two years. Just when he became used to one revelation about his own past, boom, here came another. And surprise, surprise. . .his fate was always woven with the fates of Ardeth, Evy, Imhotep, Celia, and Anck-su-namun. Three thousand years earlier, they were part of the magic circle. Three thousand years ago, Rameses. . .Ardeth. . .was Imhotep's best friend.
Rick would have never admitted it to anyone, much less his wife, but he actually felt a little sorry for Imhotep when he stopped and thought about it. His best friend was reborn as his worst enemy, as a Med-jai. Sure, Rick and Ardeth didn't get off to such a great start, but time revealed the truth. They were friends. . .they were brothers, in more ways than one. Rick had an advantage Imhotep didn't.
And here again, Rick couldn't believe he was actually sympathizing with the asshole. But it was true. Imhotep hated Ardeth in the beginning. As time passed, the hatred was replaced by respect. . .then affection. . .then finally a fierce protectiveness that took Rick's breath away. He didn't like admitting that Imhotep had any good in him. Imhotep put him and his family through hell. But on that scorched desert sand, two years earlier, Rick O'Connell was forced to finally bow to the inevitable.
Imhotep cared just as much for Ardeth as Rick did. Perhaps even more, though Rick would never believe that. He could admit that Imhotep cared as much for Ardeth as he did, but more? Nah. Too much history, and not the kind shared by Rick and Ardeth. For all the ancient affection that Imhotep held for Rameses, and for all the new respect he had for Ardeth, the first thing Imhotep still saw when he looked at Ardeth wasn't Rameses. . .it was his tattoos.
"It's okay, Rick, you can talk about that. I won't fall apart," Celia said quietly, and Rick looked up at her, feeling more than a little guilty. She continued, as if unaware of his reaction, "That time changed us all, I think. Most people don't know. . .well, Altair, Anatol, and the girls know, because they're family. Garai knows because he's Garai. But I don't think Ardeth was comfortable for the next three months if I was out of his sight. And I was the same way."
Oh yeah, Rick had a great big amen for that. He was the same way after Ahm Shere. He couldn't bear to let Evy, or Alex, out of his sight for more than a few minutes. Serious separation anxiety, and then some. He told her softly, "I guess I'm so used to protecting Evy from that. . .I just got into that habit. There were times, Cele, in those three days while we were looking for you guys. . .there were times when I didn't think the three of us would make it. I was afraid we would kill each other."
He was favored with an impish grin, and the man continued, "The only thing that saved us, and by extension, the three of you, was Anck-su-namun. You have no idea how weird it is, to feel beholden to someone you have reason to hate. But she kept us from killing each other. . .she kept us sane. . .and she kept us in line. If the three of us started squabbling, which happened at least every few miles. . .she butted right in."
Celia said nothing, allowing Rick to get it out. And he desperately needed that purging. Telling Evy was out of the question, because she worried about Ardeth so much. Celia worried, too, but this was distracting her from the current situation. Rick went on, "Save it for Lock-nah and Nizam Toth, she told us. And gave us a little bit in the way of detail. Just enough to know that those two bastards were torturing Ardeth. I don't know why Beni got so bent out of shape. . .much as I detest Imhotep, I can admit that he did care about Ardeth, and he does now as well. But Beni?"
Rick shook his head, not understanding at all. Celia replied softly, "Same reason as the two of you. Anck later told me. . .she told Beni about what Lock-nah did to Ardeth. . .what he did to Acacia. Beni may be a weasel, but he has certain limits, and Lock-nah passed those limits. Being a little guy, he knows all about being picked on and being bullied. What Lock-nah did to Ardeth enraged him."
"And then he fell in love with Acacia himself," Rick completed, and Celia nodded. It was just a little surreal to him, even after the last two years. Sitting in this woman's kitchen, talking about something that forever changed him. They clashed quite often in the early months of her marriage to Ardeth, for the simple fact that they were so much alike. Celia was just as protective of Ardeth as Rick was of Evy.
For that reason, they often butted heads. That was one thing that made this so surreal. The other thing. . .Beni was back from the dead. Not only was he back from the dead, but he was living among the Med-jai and married to the chieftain's sister. Rather happily, from what Rick heard. He couldn't believe it. Beni, that little weasel. . . happily married to a beautiful, classy lady like Acacia.
And yet. . .it was true. Not only was he married to Acacia, but he was devoted to her. He worshipped her, would kill for her without hesitation. And even more scary, at least to Rick, was how Acacia's two children adored Beni. Darius and Damara (continuing in the Bey tradition of all children having their name starting with the same letter) thought Beni was wonderful. Thought he was funny, for crying out loud!
Then, of course, there was Imhotep. Probably the biggest surprise of all during the last few years. Rick understood why things stabilized with Celia. While they sometimes got on each other's nerves, the pair understood each other, and there was some respect. Imhotep. . .he and Rick would never be friends, and likely, they would never trust each other. And yet, Imhotep was living among the Med-jai, an unofficial babysitter for Miranda and Andreas, and a silent protector to Celia.
He protected them both. Or maybe, more appropriately, he protected all four of them. Rick said softly, "There was a lot you didn't see, even after we arrived in the camp. Things none of us thought you should see." Celia looked up, surprised by this comment, and Rick went on, "You were five months pregnant, in shock from what you saw happen to Ardeth, and outright exhausted. You didn't need to see all of it. I've never seen anyone fight like that. . .not even when Imhotep and I went mano a mano in Ahm Shere did he fight like this. But Imhotep. . .it was like he was possessed."
At the time, Rick actually wondered about that. Anck, however, told him that she saw Imhotep like that in the past, before everything exploded in their faces. He fought like that when Khaldun insulted Anck-su-namun, something done at risk of his own life. No. . .no, Imhotep wasn't possessed, and he wasn't possessed by Lady Ardath or Rameses. While Rick wouldn't trust her either, he also knew in this case, she wasn't lying. She would have told him if either of those two joined them.
"Lock-nah couldn't understand why Imhotep was so angry. After all, Ardeth Bey was the enemy, and you carried the Med-jai spawn in your body. Anck made a comment about how Lock-nah worshipped Imhotep, but had no understanding of him whatsoever. Imhotep didn't just kick his ass, he totally humiliated him. I won't tell you what all he did to him. . .we'll just say that before Imhotep decapitated him, Lock-nah regretted ever touching any of the Bey family," Rick explained.
Celia's mouth twisted, and she replied, "That much, Anck told me. You weren't the only ones who decided I didn't need to see what was going on. Besides, I was more concerned with Ardeth at that point. I didn't play soccer with Lock-nah's head until later." Rick winced at the memory. Definitely not an image he needed in his mind, even now. Celia was silent, then said, "Is it helping you? Talking about this. . .does it help with not thinking about whatever danger he might be in now?"
"Does it help? Yeah. It does. Does it distract me from wondering what the hell is going on, and if there's anything we can do for Ardeth? Not even a little bit. We don't have Seti here this time," Rick replied. Celia made a face, and Rick figured that she was still shaken from that. Hell, he was still shaken by that. Even after all these millennia, there was still enough of Terumun left in him to be awed by the pharaoh.
"That is not true," a voice said, startling them both. Celia almost dropped her own glass, and Rick grabbed for her wrist. Anck looked at them, obviously confused, and said, "I did not mean to startle you. But it is true. We do have Seti. He has gone to this other place, this place with Saruman. He has gone there, to watch over Ardeth. Even if our brother does not know it, he will not be alone."
It wasn't Rick. It wasn't Jonathan. Hell, it wasn't even Imhotep. But there was someone in this other place, who would be watching Ardeth's back. Someone watching over him, someone who would do whatever he could to protect him. Rick looked at Celia. She didn't look as haunted as she did when she first came downstairs. Still worried, of course. But there was hope in her eyes now. Rick removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the table, then slipped his fingers around hers.
"If Seti is with him," Rick said quietly, "then he'll be all right. Seti didn't save him two years ago, just to watch him die. If there's a way to protect him, Seti will find it. Remember. . .that's his kid we're talking about. I know how far I would go for Alex, and for Nefertiri. Seti ain't no different in that respect." Anck inclined her head in agreement, a faint smile appearing. Rick squeezed Celia's hand, then said, "Let me help you with breakfast. . .I'm actually pretty good around the kitchen." That made her laugh, as it was meant to, and Rick quietly promised his missing friend that he would take care of Celia, in any way he could, until they found a way to bring Ardeth home. This was one promise he had no intention of breaking.
