Disclaimer: Grima, Théoden, Háma, Shadowfaxe and the members of the Fellowship belongs to Tolkien. The Pevensies belong to Lewis. Nim belongs to me :)
Author's Note: Introducing Théoden King!
Chapter 20 – Hall of Théoden King
On a hill – surrounded by flat plains, in the center of a valley – lay the hall of Théoden. The King of Rohan. Mighty had he once been, but as of late a strange illness plagued the king. His lands were cold and a bitter wind blew through them. The lands, almost as if a reflection of the king himself, had been forgotten. The king's appearance was not that of his age, but rather of an old man. He appeared to be on the very brink of death though he had only seen about fifty winters. His white hair and milky eyes suggested he was twice that age.
In his hall sat a young woman, holding her uncle's hand, wishing feverishly that her brother was there. Eowyn, a former lady in waiting to the deceased queen, sat at the foot of her uncle's throne. "Will you not go to him?" Her voice was a meek whisper. Her parents had died while she was still young, leaving her uncle to care for her like a father. But months of neglect had reduced the once strong-willed woman to a quiet subordinate.
Her laughter rarely filled these dark halls anymore. As she asked her question, she already knew the answer, though the knowledge was not a comforting one. She rose and left the hall. Her chest heaved and her hands shook. They had been cold since her brother, Eomer had been banished. She stopped on the terrace, overlooking her city and the Great Plains beyond. A stiff wind was ripping through the valley that day as it did most days.
A flag was ripped from its shaft and propelled into the air. It flew on the frigid winds like a piece of cloth, and not the proud standard of Rohan. It drew her gaze to it as it fluttered through the air.
In the distance she saw five riders approaching.
The day before…
They stepped into the open with a great exhale from the forest at their backs. Susan sighed with it and looked back. Though it was a dark forest, there was a strength there that reminded her of Narnia. She looked over at her brother who was looking in the same direction. She caught his eye and smiled.
"Our horses are still here," Legolas announced as he came pulling their three, borrowed steeds.
Aragorn gladly accepted Brego, and Axis bounced over to Peter with a soft whinny. "It appears Gandalf will have to ride with Aragorn." the elf said with his calm hands running over Arod's neck. He caught Susan's curious look and smiled. A sudden desire to share every detail with her arose. "I've renamed her." he said with a smile.
Instead of dismissing the relatively unimportant information she looked intrigued. "To what?" she asked.
"Ithilloth," He smiled when the mare whipped her head with another whinny. "It means Moonflower."
Susan smiled and scratched Ithilloth's poll, just between her ears. "It's beautiful."
"It's an unfitting name for a creature as ill-spirited as this," Gimli croaked. "You shouldn't get too close, Queen Susan. She might bite."
"She only bites you, Gimli." Legolas said with a smirk. The dwarf growled when Susan laughed.
"I have no need to ride with Aragorn." Gandalf spoke, as if he had only heard Legolas' first comment, and looked over the land. He pursed his lips and whistled. A shrill note changed to something deeper as it collapsed against the wind and boomed across the plains.
All the others stilled in awe. Suddenly two horses appeared on the horizon. One was the purest white and the other was sparkling silver. They approached with great speed. Almost as if they were ethereal creatures and not of blood and bone "Those are Maeras. Unless my eyes deceive me somehow." Legolas said in a reverent voice.
"Shadowfaxe." Gandalf said softly. The white horse stopped before him and nodded in greeting. "Master of horses. He has been my friend through many dangers." He ran his hand over its velvety muzzle. "And his daughter." He looked at Susan briefly and smiled.
"I already have a horse," she said, referring to Axis.
"You are under no obligation to let her carry you," Gandalf answered. "But it appears she sensed our need as her father did. Her name is Nimzülae,"
The silver mare trotted over to Susan and bowed her head as Shadowfaxe had for Gandalf. Susan placed a delicate hand on her soft muzzle and nodded in return. She had learned long ago not to disregard animals. When one first accepted the concept of talking Animals it was hard to ever look upon another animal and not think it talked. "Nimzülae," she whispered to the beautiful horse. "I would be honored if you would carry me?" Nimzülae nodded again, almost as if confirming Susan's question.
"You sure you're alright to ride bareback?" Peter asked with mixed concern and envy.
Susan rolled her eyes with her back to him. "I'm just as competent on a Horse as you are, Brother Dear."
"I could ride her and you could ride Axis?" he suggested, allowing some of his admiration for the silver mare to shine through.
Susan turned to him with a surprised smile. "By the Lion. . . If I didn't know better I would call that envy in your voice?" She let out a trickling laugh when Peter blushed. Without waiting for a response she moved to Nimzülae's flank. The mare bowed down on one knee to allow her an easy mount and rose with the Gentle Queen on her back. "You've had your magical steed. Now I think it's my turn." She smiled and turned Nimzülae around.
Her brother blushed deeper, but couldn't quite hide his smile. It was good to hear his sister laugh again and to see her smile. He only hoped her spirits would remain strong until their siblings were returned to them.
"What does she mean 'magical steed'?" Aragorn asked once all had mounted and were on their way.
Peter grinned when he saw his sister look back and flash a bright smile. "I rode a Unicorn to battle during our reign in Narnia."
"What's a unicorn?" Gimli asked from his spot behind Legolas on Ithilloth.
"A powerful creature, much like Shadowfaxe and Nimzülae. Only with a single, blue or ivory horn in their forehead. The strength of ten horses and the speed of an eagle in flight." He smiled. "His name was Stalon."
"And he had a coat so white and a muzzle so soft," Susan chirped in a sing-song voice. She sighed theatrically and batted her lashes at them.
"Oh shove it." Peter bit off with a smile.
That sent her off laughing wonderfully. Even Gandalf smiled and started laughing at her infectious mood. "I believe our luck remains strong," He smiled into the clean air. "How about a quick gallop?"
All shared inquiring looks with one another. Susan was the second to set off after Peter. The two raced across the plains with smiles plastered to their faces. Soon both were overtaken by Shadowfaxe and a wildly grinning Gandalf on his back. Susan laughed and spurred Nimzülae to go faster. The mare picked up speed as if she were flying and quickly outraced the remaining three horses.
So it went until late afternoon. Gandalf called for a halt and a good thing too. The horses ridden by Peter, Legolas, Aragorn, though spectacular and prime war-horses, were exhausted. But upon looking at Nim – as Susan affectionately called her – and Shadowfaxe they saw to their surprise that the horses had barely broken a sweat.
A fire was built and sleeping rolls unrolled. Peter, Susan and Gimli were asleep almost instantly. Peter on his side, facing Susan and Gimli on his back, snoring. Legolas had gone to scout the area and make sure there was no danger. Aragorn stood with Gandalf, watching a red glow in the east. "It's far too early for sunrise." he quietly said as he came to stand next to his old friend.
"That it is."
"What troubles you, Gandalf?"
The old wizard glanced at Aragorn and smirked. "You see much, my friend."
"I had good teachers." the ranger answered with a smirk of his own.
Gandalf smiled, but sobered. A somber expression fell over his face and his appearance darkened. "Worry for our friends, Aragorn. It gnaws at my stomach though everything I know is telling me to have faith. The ring bearer will fulfill what he set out to do."
"That is good. Why do you still worry?"
"I fear a shadow is rising in the east. Darkness is slowly swallowing the lands of Gondor. I see it in my dreams – what very few I have," he added with a grin before he once again turned serious. "I fear Saruman will attack the people of Rohan sooner than anyone is prepared for." He glanced down at the two Maeras. "I feel the faith in my path wavering. Stumbling."
Aragorn frowned and turned to look at Gandalf. "Trust in us," he offered. "Trust not in what cannot be seen, but in those who walk beside you."
"Oh I do." He smiled warmly and glanced at his friend. "I have more faith in all of you than I have ever had in anyone in my life," He looked into the east. "And I have had a very long life. But, Aragorn," Here he looked at the ranger again. ". . .most of all, I have faith in you."
Aragorn paled a little.
"Sauron fears what you can become. He fears the power you possess and the inspiration you could give to your people." He took a deep breath. "This is why he will strike hard and fast at the world of men. He will strike first at Rohan and therein lays your first challenge. Rohan is weakened by king Théoden's illness. Their once proud nation has become a sparrow. You could hold it in your palm and witness its beauty, but if you were to squeeze even a little, it would be crushed."
"You do not honestly believe that?" Aragorn asked with dread in his voice. He didn't like the minimal amount of trust Gandalf seemed to have in king Théoden and even less, the high amount of trust he had in him.
"The king's mind is enslaved, Aragorn," Gandalf turned to him fully. "It's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over Théoden King is now very strong. Both lords are sitting in their towers and have begun tightening the noose. All but one thing holds to our advantage," Gandalf raised a finger. "The Ring remains hidden." He smiled. "And that we should seek to destroy it has not entered their darkest dreams," His voice lowered as if he was telling a great tale.
"Is Frodo still safe?"
"He continues on his way to Mordor and Mount Doom. I have faith in that. I trust in him as we all should. Everything depends now upon the secrecy and speed of Frodo's quest."
Aragorn looked down and an indeterminable look crossed his eyes. "I should have stayed with him."
"Leaving Frodo was the right decision, Aragorn. He must finish this task alone."
"He's not alone. Sam went with him," he answered absently.
"Did he?" Gandalf smiled and turned his eyes towards the red horizon. "Did he indeed? Good," He hummed in the back of his mouth with pleasure. "Yes. Very good."
Early the next morning, the company of six set out towards Edoras. They made very good speed and arrived shortly after midday. The capitol of Rohan was silent as the grave. Only the wind could be heard as it ripped through thatch roofs and worn clothes. Susan sat high upon Nim and felt very self-conscious. The awkwardness came from feeling like a queen in a place not her home. She didn't want people to take too much notice of her here.
As an archer, that need was deeply instilled within her. But during her reign it had slowly been overshadowed by the duties that came with her royal title. She knew Edmund felt as she, and that he as well had had to overcome the impulse to duck every time someone recognized him. She had just gotten used to being a girl again before she was thrust back into a new role.
"I am Háma, son of Halberith, and I cannot allow you before Théoden King so heavily armed," a guard announced as the six of them stepped onto the terrace before the doors. "By order of. . . Grima Wormtongue." Even though Háma seemed less than pleased with the order, twelve men stepped forward to claim their weapons. Susan doubted that they needed that many men to carry the weapons of six, but chose not to make a scene. It was probably just to scare them. She handed over her beautifully crafted bow with a sigh. She neglected to mention the dagger from Lady Galadriel, tucked away in her boot. But Háma was more observant than he seemed.
"Lady?"
She arched a brow. "Yes?"
"Surely you do not think that we would not suspect a woman of treachery?" Háma looked at her evenly.
"Sir," Susan smiled and did what she had perfected at the tender age of thirteen. "Surely you would not suspect me of engaging in hand to hand combat?" She tipped her head and widened her eyes. "Being a woman and all," She felt Peter inch closer to her side and saw Háma stand down.
Instead he turned to Gandalf and cleared his throat. "Your staff." he said.
Gandalf acted surprised and leaned a little more heavily on the staff. "You wouldn't part an old man with his walking stick?"
Háma glanced from Gandalf to Susan to Legolas. Both were standing on either side of the wizard with pitiful expressions. Letting loose a deep sigh Háma allowed them to enter.
"Ahh, thank you." Gandalf said. Susan and Legolas grabbed an arm and made a show of supporting the old man through the door. All three of them missed the smirk Peter and Aragorn sent one another upon entering.
Inside there was barely any light and a smell worse than anything Susan could ever remember smelling. It was sweet and mixed with a stench of disease. Though none, save her and Peter, seemed bothered by it. She instinctively moved closer to her brother. People were moving along the sides of the hall, partially hidden by the shadows. Their eyes were following their strange, new guests with more than curiosity.
"Hail, Théoden King!" Gandalf called.
A slimy character leaned in next to the king and whispered something in his ear. No one answered the greeting. Having been raised into royalty herself, Susan found the behavior despicable.
"The hospitality of the king's hall has somewhat lessened as of late." Gandalf spoke in a loud voice.
The slimy character next to the throne leaned in and whispered to the king again. "Why should we welcome you, Gandalf Scarecrow?" King Théoden asked.
Susan was surprised his voice sounded so loud. He seemed on the brink of death, if not beyond. The slimy character, she pegged as Grima, stepped forward. "Ill news is an ill guest. Lathspell, I name him!" he spat out.
Susan frowned and shifted anxiously when the king's men started circling the Fellowship.
"Silence, Wormtongue!" Gandalf whipped out his staff which had been partially hidden until now. "I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm."
They all saw Grima's face fall. "The staff! I told you to get the staff!" He scurried away quickly just as his men attacked.
Susan was pushed in between Aragorn and Peter as the king's men continuously tried to get to Gandalf. She turned her back to the wizard as his last line of defense. Though she dearly hoped no one would get that far. She had meant what she said. She was not a fighter.
"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey." the king taunted.
Susan saw the armed soldiers of the king fall one after the other. Gandalf seemed not to notice anything around him as he whipped the staff towards the king. Théoden fell back with a snap against his throne. "I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." His voice was dead silent and a near whisper.
Susan flinched when one man slipped through the ring of defense around her. He stopped directly in front of her and paused only a second. Then he whipped out and caught her hand. He pulled her in and tried to pin her arms down. In a desperate attempt at freedom, Susan brought up her knee to the man's groin. He made a breathless noise and stumbled back. Behind him Peter came up and knocked him out before returning to the scuffle. He was in his element, Susan realized. Peter had made it a hobby of his of getting into fights back in England. The smallest things had set him off and it seemed that all that brawling was finally being put to good use.
Théoden laughed insanely and didn't appear the least bit intimidated. Susan's breath quickened. There was a strange electricity in the air. One she hadn't felt before. All around her she saw men fighting. Her companions were winning, as was Gandalf.
"I release you from this spell," the wizard whispered into the air. Théoden fell back against his seat again and clung to it.
"If I leave Théoden dies." The threat was hissed into the dank air.
Susan noticed Háma had begun pulling his men back. All were watching as Gandalf suddenly flung his grey cloak off. An otherworldly glow emanated from him in a way Susan had only ever seen few times before. Always in Aslan.
"Release him!" Gandalf ordered. His whispers were gone and his voice boomed towards the possessed king with the might of a tidal wave. With a quick blow to the head, the tension in the air seemed to lift. Théoden slammed his head against the throne one last time before he half closed his eyes and sagged in his seat.
A young, blond woman ran towards the dazed king and offered him a hand. "My lord?" The king blinked and looked ready to faint. "Uncle?" she whispered with so much feeling Susan almost wept. She sounded so lost.
All were watching Théoden. There was complete silence in the hall until the faint sound of weeping reached Susan's ears. It was Grima, caught under Gimli's foot. Susan sneered at the lowly man and turned her attention to the other occupants of the hall. All were either watching the king or the Fellowship.
"Gandalf?" The king's voice was a whimper at best.
"Breathe the free air again, my friend." The wizard smiled and allowed Háma to approach his king.
Théoden looked years younger already. His hair turned a glorious red and his eyes came back to life as he looked around. His back straightened and he drew a deep breath. It was truly as if he was breathing again for the first time in a long time. Susan smiled slightly.
"Dark have been my dreams of late," Théoden spoke as he looked around. He was holding onto his niece's hand like a lifeline. She was smiling brightly at her king and uncle. He flexed his free hand and looked at the appendage questioningly.
"Your fingers would remember their strength better if they were to grasp your sword."
A sword was handed to him. He slowly reached out. First, simply touching, then grasping with the desire of a thirsting man, reaching for water in the desert. Peter recognized the feeling quite well and smiled. It was a good feeling. "What ill fate befell me?" the king asked of the wizard.
Gandalf's face saddened. "Saruman." Nothing more needed to be said for the king to understand. First a look of loss passed over his face, but then came anger.
"Where is the coward who bewitched me so?" His voice was a low growl.
Susan glanced at Grima and almost felt sorry for the shady man. Almost.
AN: Thanks for still reading and (hopefully) enjoying.