Theoden turned to the Fellowship with a tight, mournful expression. His expression faltered, however, as he scanned them and counted only seven.
"Where are the others? The little Hobbit, and the Dwarf?" He asked.
"My Lord," Gandalf spoke. "The Hobbit has passed on to the next world, and the Dwarf, Gimli, seems to be missing."
Theoden's eyes fell to Merry's. "I am sorry," he said bitterly. "For your loss."
"As I am for your's," Merry answered humbly, looking at the ground.
"Indeed," the King said, staring at Aragorn. "The Ring has brought us all much grief. And even now its evil power is at work." He gestured across the room where two young children sat eating bowls of thin, brown soup. "Dunlendings are raiding the villages while Orcs are crawling across the landscape. They are laying waste to the whole countryside, leaving my people frightened in anticipation of their inevitable arrival. Rohan's forces are not strong enough to withstand their attack. I am at a loss of what to do."
Sam stared at the orphens, watching them eat hungrily. "Come on, Mr Frodo," he whispered. "Let's see if they'll fix us some." Sam grabbed onto Frodo's sleeve and pulled him away towards the table.
Merry smelled the food and though he didn't want to have an appetite, his stomach sure did. Reluctantly, he followed Sam and Frodo, feeling guilty.
"Stand your ground," Aragorn said suddenly. "Rohan's defenses are strong enough. They will hold until you call for reinforcements-"
"And who is there to reinforce me? Sauruman's forces are driving away any help that could have come."
Hesitantly, Boromir stepped forward. "Perhaps Gondor-"
"Gondor?" Theoden grew angry, whirling on Boromir with utter loathing. "You dare raise that name in my halls after such an affair? After they came to kill my people and steal the Ring away?" He shook his head. "No, no. Only when I am begging for the ruin of my city will I call Gondor to my aid."
Staring at the floor, Boromir trembled inside. As much as he hated Theoden's words, he knew them to be true, and it disgusted him to the core how easily he could have joined with his brother, and stolen the Ring... had he not been so drawn to another.
"Gandalf," Theoden straightened up. "What should I do? If I take my people away to Helms Deep, there is a chance we may be attacked. But if we stay here..." He sighed wearily. "You must leave," he said at last. "Before this battle comes. Whatever you think will help you to escape, I will do."
Gandalf and Theoden stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.
"If you will not call for reinforcements-"
"A waste of time," Theoden spat.
"If you will not," Gandalf went on patiently. "Then leaving would be the only option for you."
"Right," the King nodded.
"But," Gandalf said quickly. "I do not think it wise, for like you said, the Orcs are everywhere, along with the Dunlendings. They will find you if you, since you will be traveling with women and children."
"It is a risk we must take," Theoden decided. "Besides, Sauruman's forces will be scattered. Any that we run into will be mere patrols. My Men are enough to take care of them."
"But why would you take such a risk?" Gandalf pressed. "Remain here. Call for Gondor, call for-"
"Let us not argue, Gandalf," Theoden interupted boredly. "My mind has been made up. You find your... Gimby, and be off at once. Take whatever supplies you need. Horses are already waiting for you in the stables."
"My Lord," Aragorn said quietly.
Boromir's heartbeat quickened at the sound of Aragorn's deep, usually brusque voice, softened into meekness.
Theoden looked at Aragorn curiously, but alert, expecting a rebuff.
"You've been too kind to me through all of this, despite what I've done. I am most appreciative of everything, especially now. But Gandalf is right. Truely, there is no need for you to take this whole war upon your shoulders alone. You do have allies who will flock to your side. If need be, I will go to them for you and have them come to you."
Startled, Boromir flicked his eyes to Aragorn's face, but Aragorn was staring intently at Theoden. Boromir felt an unsettling pang of jealousy.
"Rohan does not need to fall. All you must do is extend your hand and ask for help, and you will receive it," Aragorn finished.
Theoden rubbed his face with his hands, then dropped his hands to his sides. "It is not that I am refusing help, Aragorn, you must know this." His voice was dejected and low. "But I will not waste what precious time we have left by waiting for a reply that I know will be "no." So I will take my people and we will flee to Helms Deep. If we are found and killed, then we will die but it will not be a waste because we will know deep down that because of our deaths, Frodo was able to escape with the Fellowship, and that he was able to make it to Mordor and destroy it!" Theoden's chest rose and fell excitedly as he was quite suddenly out of breath, his eyes wild and wet with emotion.
Aragorn bowed his head, understanding that he would be unable to persuade him.
"Go, now," Theoden said bitterly, turning away. "Please."
He looked towards the Hobbits, who were sitting with the two children, eating soup with them. "Such quiet times as these will be missed in my heart," he said sadly.
Gandalf went to Theoden and put his hand on his shoulder. "Missed, but not gone forever. These times will return, I assure you."
Theoden looked at Gandalf. "Aye," he said. "Good luck to you. All of you." He glanced from Gandalf to Legolas, then Boromir to Aragorn.
"Go," Theoden muttered, shoving Gandalf's hand away. Theoden turned sharply and walked out of the room, sighing something about announcing the death of Rohan to his people.
Gandalf went over to Frodo, Sam, and Merry. A servant girl had just ladled another helping of soup into Sam's bowl.
"Come," Gandalf said. "It is time for us to move on."
The Hobbits looked up.
Dutifully, Frodo got to his feet. Sam scrambled up after him. Merry laid his hand on the little girl's.
"Don't worry," he said. "Everything will turn out alright."
The little girl's eyes filled with tears, but she smiled.
Feeling rather intrusive, Gandalf watched their exchange quietly.
Merry stood up. He forced a smile back, then turned and followed Gandalf, who pretended he had not been watching, and the other Hobbits to where Legolas, Aragorn, and Boromir were waiting.
...
Within the hour, Gimli had been found.
It was made known to the Fellowship via angry drunkards that Gimli had become extremely drunk and proceeded to howl what he called an "ol' Dwarven shanty." When he refused to stop, the men began throwing punches and Gimli began throwing tables and chairs, which eventually ended with Gimli being thrown out of the bar, where he passed out in a patch of brittle grass where horses usually urinated.
Gimli was awoken with a quick douse of water and a smack on the cheek by Gandalf. He was then crudely strapped to the saddle of a horse on which Legolas also mounted to keep the drunken sod from falling off.
Supplies were packed and placed into saddlebags, and water flasks were filled to the brim. Weapons were hastily sharpened and slid back into their holsters.
Frodo sat behind Aragorn on a horse, Sam behind Gandalf, Merry behind Boromir, and Legolas behind Gimli, in order to keep him more secure.
Soon everyone was ready, and Rohan's gates were opened just for them.
Out they rode into the late afternoon sky, pounding the earth into dust behind them in thin, brown clouds.
Merry felt torn. He longed to stay in Rohan, to see Pippin buried, or even to take him back to the Shire. But he knew it could not be done. Rohan was being abandoned, and Pippin would be lucky if he were thrown in an unmarked tomb. He wrapped his arms around Boromir's waist, and, turning his face away from Rohan, pressed his cheek into Boromir's hard, leather-like back.
"What's going to happen to them?" Sam asked Gandalf, feeling braver to ask his questions, now that he felt like he was alone.
Gandalf didn't want to think about it. Though he knew Theoden would march his people straight into the jaws of Sauruman's beasts. He pretended he could not hear Sam over the rushing wind in their ears.
"What?" He said too loudly.
Sam was caught off guard, and he tightened his grip on Gandalf's cloaks. "Nothing," he called back.
The wind seemed to be striking Boromir in the most particular place, causing his eyes to water uncontrollably. Though no one else noticed, he was still ashamed. These cannot be tears, he thought angrily. Curse the wind and the dirt it flings.
When Merry curled his arms around him even more, Boromir indeed felt a deep saddness rising in his throat, that of which he did not wish to explain, not even to himself.
Legolas was having a bit of difficulty reigning the horse, seeing how he had to reach around Gimli as he rode, but it did not appear so. His movements were lucid and full of grace, making him and bobbling, grumbling Gimli quite an odd and amusing sight to behold.
Gimli had no real thoughts in his aching head apart from wondering how many drinks he had consumed, and whether or not he had given away his favorite throwing axe, or if someone had stolen it from him.
Aragorn was full of remorse. He wished he could have persuaded Theoden to stay in Rohan, to defend his city. But... he had made himself an outcast, a gulible Man easily thwarted by the whispers of the Ring. What did his word count for, anymore? He turned his head and spat off the side of the horse.
Frodo closed his eyes and hugged onto Aragorn. He was glad Aragorn was back. It didn't matter what the others said, how he killed Eowyn or somehow tricked Boromir. He was here now, and they were going to Mordor together. That was all that mattered.
The afternoon quickly fell away with the sun, turning into dusk and gradually dotting out the stars. With the dusk came a chill in the air, so the Fellowship paused in their riding to pull out jackets and blankets to bundle themselves. Then onwards they rode, cutting a path through the growing darkness, casting shadows behind them in the light of the rising silver moon.