After Theodred's funeral, Gandalf and Theoden stayed at the grave to spend some more time there with the memory of the king's son. Everyone else dispersed, and they were well taken care of in terms of baths and food. They even got their clothes washed and dried. Once they were all rested, Aragorn took an opportunity to speak with Rachel, outside in the shade.
"My lady… We travel a dangerous road. You handle those clubs of yours well, but it would ease my heart if you could also wield a blade. I can teach you the basics of swordplay, if you wish. I know you must be weary, but I know not when our next chance may be. And I would invite your friend Ariel to learn with you, but she needs to let her wrist heal- and she is a natural with the bow, anyway."
"You're right," Rachel agreed, even though she would have liked nothing more than to collapse onto a feather bed. "I could use all the sword practice I can get."
"Here- take my spare blade." He tossed it to her, and she caught it one-handed, as she would have caught a club in a rhythmic routine. She had to use her other hand to hold the sword steady, though. "Good," Aragorn praised her. "Let me see your stance."
Rachel shifted into what felt natural: she planted her feet and arms as if she were batting in a baseball game.
"Not bad," Aragorn said good-naturedly. "A little more like this…" He moved behind her and placed her feet, then angled her shoulders and waist. "A firm grip, there," he said quietly, putting his arms around her to re-position her hands.
Aragorn was standing close enough that Rachel could feel his heartbeat, and she couldn't help but notice that his arms were around her. Just like in the books, he was 6'6", and if she turned her head slightly and tilted it up, their faces would be inches apart… it was very distracting.
"Good," he said, snapping her out of her reverie. "Now, the key to using a sword is balance; and you need to keep your feet moving. Take one small step at first, and then speed up. We'll start with a parry and block."
They practiced for a while, leaving Rachel's arms and shoulders fairly sore, but she knew it was good for her... she'd rather have sore arms than an enemy sword in the gut.
After a few hours, they went back inside for another repast. While they ate, Theoden and Gandalf entered the Hall with two young children, a boy and a girl, who had ridden in from an outlying village. Rachel and Ariel recognized them from the movie as Eothain and Freda. Eowyn served the kids some food, which they ate ravenously, and draped warm blankets over their shoulders. She spoke to them quietly for a while as they ate- they found it easier to talk to a gentle young lady than to the King of Rohan.
"They had no warning- they were unarmed," Eowyn announced to everyone there- Theoden, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Rachel, and Ariel. "Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."
"Where is Mama?" Freda asked worriedly. Eowyn shushed her gently, soothing her.
On his throne, Theoden was resting his head in his hand, upset. Gandalf sat beside him and spoke to him, loudly enough so that his companions could hear as well, but somehow quietly enough that the children couldn't.
"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." Theoden lifted his head to listen as Gandalf continued. "All the more potent, for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children." He placed a hand on Theoden's chair. "You must fight."
"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn reminded him. "Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."
Theoden stood, troubled. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me... but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."
"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn told him.
"When last I looked, Theoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan," Theoden said stiffly. Just then, Gimli burped loudly and shrank in his seat, embarrassed.
"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf pressed.
Outside of the Golden Hall, Hama stood before the people of Edoras, with an announcement.
"By order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourselves with treasures- take only what provisions you need."
Gandalf walked through the busy people milling around, followed by the three males and two girls. "Helm's Deep," he muttered disapprovingly.
"They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight," Gimli grumbled. "Who will defend them, if not their king?"
"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn admitted. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."
They entered the stables and separated to check on the horses they had borrowed from Eomer. Aragorn followed Gandalf to the back, where Shadowfax was penned but untethered.
"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf pointed out. "Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety- what they will get is a massacre. Theoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you," he said, turning to face Aragorn. "The defenses have to hold."
"They will hold," Aragorn said faithfully.
Gandalf stroked Shadowfax's mane thoughtfully. "The Grey Pilgrim… That's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time. With luck, my search will not be in vain." He mounted Shadowfax, and Aragorn moved aside to make room. "Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."
Aragorn nodded. "Go." Gandalf rode out of the stables at full speed. Aragorn watched him leave, and then his attention was drawn by a spirited dark brown horse that was being held on either side by men with ropes. The steed was rearing and bucking, upset. Intrigued, Aragorn approached it.
"That horse is half mad, my lord," a stableman told him. "There's nothing you can do; leave him."
Still, Aragorn walked up to the horse, holding out a hand. He spoke in old Rohirric, the language that the horse-lords trained their horses with. "Fæste, stille nú; fæste, stille nú. Lac is drefed, gefrægon." The horse calmed down a little bit. The stablemen handed over the ropes, and Aragorn accepted them, gently patting the horse's nose. "Hwæt nemnað ðe? Hm? Hwæt nemnað ðe?"
Eowyn, who had been tending to her grey horse, looked over at him. She understood what Aragorn was saying, and since the horse couldn't speak, she answered for it. "His name is Brego. He was my cousin's horse," she said, meaning Theodred.
"Brego? Ðin nama is cynglic," Aragorn praised the horse. Eowyn came closer to him as he continued calming the horse. He switched to Elvish, which had a naturally soothing effect on both man and beast. "Man le trasta, Brego? Man cenich?"
"I have heard of the magic of Elves... but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North. You speak as one of their own," Eowyn said, awed. She recognized the sounds of the Elvish language, but did not speak or understand it.
"I was raised in Rivendell... for a time," Aragorn said distantly. "Turn this fellow free. He's seen enough of war." He took his saddle and went to go find his steed Hasufel, leaving Eowyn alone with a now-calm Brego.
[A/N: I usually find a way to work translations into the story, but since I didn't in this case, I'll add it here for you.
Rohirric:
Fæste, stille nú; fæste, stille nú- Fast, be quiet now; fast, be quiet now
Lac is drefed, gefrægon- A battle is stirred up, they heard
Hwæt nemnað ðe? Hm? Hwæt nemnað ðe?- What is your name? Hm? What is your name?
Ðin nama is cynglic- Your name is kingly
Elvish:
Man le trasta?- What is it?
Man cenich?- What did you see?
I know this chapter was shorter than usual, but I'll have the next one up soon. Thanks for reading!]
