DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters or the world he created. The only character of mine (Jorryn) has decided to take a holiday in Tolkien's Middle-earth. No copyright infringement on any of J. R. R. Tolkien's works is intended. In this chapter I own Léodthain, Dréorhyse, and Denuwyn.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, indeed, you have discovered a brand new chapter! About time, eh? Once again, I apologize for how long it took me to get this out... I've been working and traveling a lot for the last couple of months, and I haven't had time to do much on the side. I set about a million deadlines for myself before this chapter was finally done. Anyway, in case you've forgotten, Jorryn is still in Dunharrow. At the end of the last chapter, the people of Rohan received word that King Théoden was killed at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. This chapter starts five days after that. The poem at the beginning is the first stanza of a work called "Weep You No More Sad Fountains," by an anonymous author, and the title for this installment comes from the same poem. Please enjoy, and please let me know what you think!
Weep you no more sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste.
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lies sleeping
Softly, softly, now softly
Softly lies sleeping.
I watched the rain from just within the entryway to my tent, sitting cross-legged on my cot with a blanket wrapped around me to ward off the early morning chill. I had been like this since dawn, feeling as though the downpour had been going on forever, and I was beginning to grow tired of it.
"Why don't you give up?" I growled to the indistinguishable clouds above.
This particular storm had been hanging over Dunharrow for two days, and currently, it showed no signs of letting up; droplets had been pattering on my soaked canvas abode for forty-eight hours straight, leaving me with nothing to do all that time except lug my narrow sleeping pallet to the tent's opening so that I may amuse myself with the happenings of the Firienfeld. Unfortunately there was nothing going on outside, other than the despondent pacing of a horse tethered near the main path. Needless to say, I was very bored.
The rain had come just after I'd told the people in the valley that Théoden had died in Gondor. I'd been completely alone, and though it was extremely difficult news to give, I'd done so, feeling it was my duty to carry out a simple task and fulfill my only purpose in Harrowdale. As the word spread through the camp, I was met with a flurry of emotions — anger, disbelief, distress — and for a long time afterward I'd been unable to leave the Rohirrim, struck with a barrage of questions. How did it happen, who did it, where was the king now? Thanks to my knowledge of the Story, I was able to answer most of them despite the fact that Léodthain had told me nothing.
I winced as a crack of thunder filled the cold, heavy air, squeezing my head between my hands. My tent rocked unsteadily in the gentle wind, and I sighed, catching through the parted entryway a draft of mist on my cheeks, feeling sick as I remembered how horrible that day had been.
Yes, it was true that the Enemy's darkness had gone from Harrowdale the very moment that Théoden had reached Minas Tirith, but after the Rohirrim had heard that their beloved king had perished, the Shadow might as well have returned with full force over the valley. The people's joy of a few days prior was a sharp contrast to what everyone felt now — misery and hopelessness. Of course, the rain didn't help any, and I couldn't stop myself from wondering whether or not it was another device of Sauron to dampen the spirits of those fighting against him.
"Yep, I guess everything's dampened well enough," I murmured wryly, shifting on my cot to lie flat, turning away from the weak gray daylight.
Any day now, I thought, any day, this will all be over and I'll be with my hobbits again…
Closing my eyes and burrowing into my pillow, I tried to push those thoughts out of my head as another faint rumble of thunder came through the sunless sky. My attention was drawn for only a moment. Though it hurt greatly to ache for them so, it was too hard to forget my friends, and a now familiar prayer sprang from my heart to the front of my mind — please let Frodo still love me.
The fear had pounced on me, and now it refused to let me alone. Too often had I thought of all the things Frodo was suffering through in Mordor — torture from both the Ring and the Orcs, and the looming almost-certainty of his own death — and I could no longer convince myself that everything would be the same between us in the end. What would I do if he turned me away and sought comfort only in himself?
"Lady Jorryn?"
I rolled over and sat up to see Dréorhyse, standing drenched within the frame of my tent flaps, slightly bowed in order to better perceive me. He blinked against the trails of water running down his chiseled countenance and licked his lips. "Milady, Léodthain requests your presence in the pavilion, if you are not too busy."
I snorted, turning to Merry's cot (which, since his removal from Dunharrow, been serving as a space for my belongings) to retrieve the oversized cloak I had borrowed from Éowyn. Throwing it over my head, I told Dréorhyse, "No, I'm not busy at all, sire. Lead the way."
The two of us hurried through the shower to the Firienfeld's main tent, and though it was adjacent to mine, Dréorhyse and I were thoroughly sodden before we were allowed to enter. Léodthain greeted us amiably as we shook rain off ourselves like wet dogs, and I immediately went to stand next to the captain over the hot coals in a nearby brazier.
Shivering, I asked right away, "What is it, my lord?"
The man stood aside to allow me more room and said, "It seems that both the servants of the Enemy and your friends in Lothlórien are both more resilient that we imagined. The wood has been assaulted once more — two days ago. How long do you think the Elves can withstand such attacks?"
"That is all the news you have?"
"It is all."
I sniffed, shaking my head forlornly and stretching my hands toward the warmth of the coals. "My lord, I am not an authority on the art of war. I feel certain that the people of Lothlórien will survive, one way or another, because they have done so before without any outside aid. You must send help only if you think it is necessary, sire."
"My orders were to remain in Rohan," nodded Léodthain, reflecting, "and so I suppose I shall, if you are sure that your friends will hold out."
"I am sure, lord."
"Those under Sauron's service are cruel and relentless," said the man, a hateful growl edging the words.
"Where do so many attacks come from, my lord?"
"From Dol Guldur, in Mirkwood, I would guess. It is said that the Enemy had a stronghold there once, and his Orcs have obviously reclaimed it."
"Where in Mirkwood, sire?" I persisted, wanting truly to understand.
"Well, you must know how expansive Mirkwood is, and — "
"No," I said firmly, uncharacteristically interrupting him, "I have only seen maps that show parts of it."
Obligingly, he spread his arms to illustrate the size and said, "The wood stretches nearly the entire length of the Misty Mountains — an amazing distance. It is why it proved such a successful hiding place for Sauron and his supporters when he first gained power. Dol Guldur is in the southernmost reaches of Mirkwood."
"And… how close to Rohan is that?"
"Over three hundred miles," he said, catching the trace of apprehension that I had shown, "so there is no need to worry. The Enemy has already tried to invade Rohan, but he was thwarted by the Ents that had remained at Isengard, and I wager that his Orcs will not try again. You know of the Ents, I assume?"
"I have heard of them," I answered deftly, coughing.
His eyebrows twitched. "Anyhow, you do not need to worry," he reiterated. "We are not in any immediate danger here."
Free from anxiety, I expelled a lungful of air. I opened my mouth to say something, then stopped, briefly warning myself to hold my tongue and not reveal anything, but a second later giving a careless mental shrug and speaking anyway. "Well, I don't think we have to worry about the Enemy succeeding in Lórien or Rohan. And Mirkwood will be taken back from him for good, soon enough."
I sensed his confusion at my sudden confidence, and his gaze remained on me for several more moments, until at last he went on, "How are you, Lady Jorryn?"
I thought I heard genuine concern in the question, and I shot I look in his direction, musing, "Ah, I'm all right, but I'd be doing better without the rain."
"You are not alone — anyone here would say the same, no doubt."
"Well, all of Dunharrow has been somewhat sober since — for the last couple of days," I said, catching myself just in time. Théoden's name had not been mentioned once after the morning that we heard of his death, and I didn't want to risk upsetting Léodthain. I had never seen a man become so depressed as he had been on that dreadful day.
He glanced down at me, knowing exactly what I had meant to say. "Indeed… sober," he said darkly. He looked to Dréorhyse, who shuffled his booted feet uncomfortably behind us. "I wish at times," the captain said, "that I could have been as close to the king as you seemed to be, Lady Jorryn."
"I was his ward, that's all," I said, waving it off uneasily. "I begged for him to let me stay in his company and to give me some purpose to my presence in the meantime. I was in his way and bothering him constantly. I've made many friends that way, you know."
Léodthain gave a short, dry chuckle. "You are a mystery, Lady Jorryn. I have no doubt that it was because of these friends — these Elves, and Rangers, and wizards — the king had so much respect for you."
I didn't know what to say, so I coughed and rubbed my hands uselessly together over the dying coals.
In the late morning of the next day, the rain slowed enough for me to venture down into the valley to visit Denuwyn. There was a mist in the air then, and I could actually see the sky; it was still a violent sort of grayish-blue, darker at the undersides of the roiling storm clouds, which were low and moving sluggishly. From what I could see, the haze appeared to go on forever, both upwards and outwards. There was no break in them at the edge of the world, and the thunderheads were piled one on top of the other above us in varying shades of black and gray and white, like some wispy, majestically domed ceiling, but at the moment they seemed docile… almost brooding, as though they were waiting for something to happen. By the time I had reached the Rohirrim camp under the trees, the sporadic precipitation had almost completely stopped, and the air had grown thick and balmy.
My young friend met me at her family's tent and informed me that her mother was making stew, and that I should stay for an early lunch. I agreed, leaving Bronwe tethered near Denuwyn's mild-mannered dogs, and we soon found ourselves seated a short distance away from the camp within the trees on a mound of damp earth.
Denuwyn had, many times before, leapt into conversations with me by asking very curt and pointed questions. The girl was completely lacking in tact, and that day was no different. The moment we had plopped down on the ground, she demanded of me, "Are you in love, Lady Jorryn?"
Stunned, I could only blink at her and say, "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I told my mother that you were in Rohan to help your friends," Denuwyn informed me patiently, "and she said that you must be in love with at least one of them to want to come so far, just so you can be closer to him."
Oh, boy, I thought, sneaking a peek of the campfire where Denuwyn's weathered, but obviously astute, mother was stooped over a pot. I wasn't sure how I could respond to such a question, especially from a child.
"Who is he, Lady Jorryn?" the girl prompted, nudging me with both of her tiny hands.
I cupped my chin in my palm and tapped my fingertips upon my mouth. Perhaps it would be good to finally talk about Frodo with someone, even if Denuwyn couldn't possibly understand — the last time had been with Merry, and it had not been very comforting.
At last, after much internal debate, I removed my fingers and said to Denuwyn, "He is one of the Halflings."
She grinned gleefully and squeaked, "Is he the one who came to Dunharrow with you? I saw him riding beside you on a little horse behind the king when you came through the camp. He must be the one."
"No, no, no," I muttered quickly, biting my lip embarrassedly. "That was Merry — he's just a very dear friend."
"Then who is it, Lady Jorryn? Which of the Holbytlan do you love?"
I had never in my life had a conversation like this one, and despite the poise I had acquired so long ago from my hobbits (which would have helped in every other situation imaginable) I found myself blushing. For a second, I could only bumble over the words. "Well, he's — he's fighting against the Enemy, in the east."
"Who is he fighting with, Milady? Gondor, or Rohan?"
"He is further east than that," I said vaguely, not wanting to frighten her by mentioning Mordor.
At that instant, Denuwyn's mother appeared with two bowls of stew for us, not saying anything, although her dark eyes were flashing as she bent over me. She had probably heard what I had been telling her daughter.
I shook my head after her, still astounded, and concentrated on my meager lunch. The stew seemed to have the color of dirty water, but I was not surprised. The valley's food supply was running low, and I had survived on meals like this for days.
The girl beside me drank noisily from her bowl. "But he must be with someone, in the East," she insisted, after swallowing. "Even the greatest warrior of the Mark could not take on whole armies by himself."
"He's not fighting — in a normal way, exactly," I said, and I gave my stew a tentative sip. It was sharp and unpleasant, and as soon as I had swallowed, I felt indigestion hit me like a punch in the stomach. Setting the bowl aside, I went on swiftly, "He is striking at the Enemy from within. And no, he's not alone — he is with one of my other friends, another of the Halflings."
"Two Halflings against the Enemy's armies, all by themselves?" she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "How do you know they are still alive, Lady Jorryn?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out images of the two hobbits struggling up the side of Mount Doom — dirty, starving, and beyond hope, beyond help — and I gulped.
"Denuwyn…" I began exasperatedly, rubbing my forehead and staring directly at her.
But I stopped.
Something had changed in the few moments that I had closed myself off from the world, as I worried for my hobbits. Now that my eyes were open, I saw.
There was a hint of gold on the eastern horizon, glowing brightly behind the suddenly illuminated mountains. Rays of sunlight shot clear across the earth from the rising sun, coming visibly over the snowy peaks, through the trees, filling the valley with warmth and dazzling splendor, shining in Denuwyn's curls. All at once, the rain-soaked wood glistened fiercely as though it were covered in diamonds; light was on the leaves, in the grass, on my bare arms. A cool, fresh breeze washed over us, like the first breath of a new world, lifting the sagging tree branches and bringing the aroma of flowers and pine. Above us, the clouds were torn to tatters by the wind, and they were quickly gone, revealing a vacant blue sky. I felt a heaviness lift from my heart and the darkness leave my vision, and an elation like none I had ever experienced filled every part of my being.
And I knew.
"Oh, Frodo," I whispered, my gaze riveted on the beautiful sunrise. "Oh, my dear Frodo, thank you…"
Stunned, excited voices were rising from the camp behind us. Some of the Rohirrim had begun to sing, grateful for the sunshine. They were exultant, even though they were not aware, as I was, that it was all over, that the war was finally finished, and that Sauron had been defeated after so much despair, so much death —
"Frodo!" I cried, throwing my hands to my face and dropping to my knees on the spot, tears rushing to my eyes. Unable to stop myself, I sobbed violently into my palms, overcome with so many emotions at once that I was overwhelmed. All of the pain and the worry and the fear that I had borne for months had been taken from me in an instant, and I almost didn't know what to do with myself. I was numb with relief, but my spirit was soaring, and the smiling faces and shining eyes of my hobbits were at the front of my mind.
It is over, I kept thinking. It is over — dearest Frodo, it is over.
Denuwyn came to me, and I sensed the slight weight of her arm across my back. "Lady Jorryn, what has happened?" she asked.
My head came up, and I sniffed weakly, swiping at my nose with the back of my wrist. At the sight of Denuwyn's concerned expression, I realized how silly I was behaving, and a sudden laugh welled up in me, exploding from my lips in a burst that surprised and confused my little friend even more.
"Nothing has happened, little one," I quavered, rubbing wetness from my cheeks. "Everything is all right, now… that's all."
Leaping up, I spun about and took Denuwyn in my arms, and we whirled together around our little space in a blissful dance; and she laughed and cried with me, though she almost certainly didn't know why she was suddenly so happy.
Everything was too wonderful to grasp immediately. The magnificent banners of the Mark no longer drooped and sagged damply in sodden, dreary colors, but now flew proudly in a crisp breeze against the backdrop of clear sky. The trees were still dripping, yet it was pleasant, and the whole valley smelled clean and rich and new. I knew just what I would do when I returned to my tent — I would put on my best Elvish gown, leave Éowyn's cloak behind, and go straight to Léodthain to tell him of Sauron's downfall.
It was several hours after midday by the time I decided to start up to the Firienfeld, and I was bubbling over with pleasure. Like so many times before then, I had been forced to keep my knowledge of the Ring to myself, for no one in the valley was aware of what had transpired in Mordor that morning, except me. It was true that the people's hearts were filled with joy, but they did not yet know the source of their happiness. I guessed that none there even knew about Frodo and the Quest begin with, so there would have been little use in telling them of the hobbit's success anyhow.
Denuwyn and her family had persuaded me to celebrate with them for a good part of the day, and they later begged me to eat supper with them, but I declined. I was eager to return to the Firienfeld and give my news to Léodthain. The sooner the captain knew of our success, the sooner I would be able to see my friends. I wasn't certain how I was going to reach Gondor or with whom I would be traveling, but I would manage it somehow. Perhaps I could request a guide from Léodthain…
Practically drunken with happiness, I was unwilling to worry about it for long, and my ride up the snaking cliff path was an agreeable one. Even Bronwe's mood was lifted considerably, and she pranced skillfully up the inclined trail, dancing around pebbles without stumbling once. I hardly noticed the Púkel-men at every turn; they were no more than piles of ancient stone to me then. It took nearly half an hour to reach the top, and Bronwe and I came up to the Firienfeld in a blaze of sunshine. The mountain plain had become a basin filled with golden light, and I had never seen it look so glowing and welcoming, even on that morning so long ago when the first horrible Shadow had departed from Rohan.
My pony took me between the standing stones lining the wide trail, bouncing to a stop in front of the main pavilion and my smaller tent just beside it. As I brushed my windswept hair from my face, I heard a deep, familiar voice call to me from the pavilion.
"I wondered when you would return, Lady Jorryn," Léodthain said to me without delay, coming and raising an arm, offering to help me down.
I beamed at him and took it, sliding from the saddle. "I'm sorry, my lord, but I was celebrating with the people of the valley."
He arched his eyebrows and said, "We have done our own share of merrymaking here. I allowed an extra cask of ale to be opened, and the men have been enjoying themselves immensely, though none here know what has caused this turn of events. It is evident that Sauron's power has diminished."
"Yes, lord, it has," I said evasively.
The kindliness remained in his weathered countenance, and he gestured back toward the rest of the camp behind him. "The men have been singing all day," he informed me, "and I doubt that their energy will flag this evening. Will you join us?"
Something Hobbitish in me yearned to be dancing and singing with the Rohirrim, but I shook my head. "No, sire, thank you — I might just go get out of these dirty clothes. Where can I find you when I'm done?"
"I will be in the pavilion. I'm awaiting word from our scouts, and they should return before sundown."
He returned to the king's tent, and I went to my tiny quarters a short distance away. For a time, I relaxed on my cot, reveling in the happenings of that day, wondering what my friends were doing that moment on the other side of the world. I would be with them soon, and that thought was enough to make me want to weep all over again.
Like I had planned, I soon got up and peeled myself out of my soggy dress to change into the nicest and lightest of my Elvish riding garments. I felt refreshed and clean from the rain and the cool mountain air, and so I had no desire for a bath.
I was attempting to braid my untamed curls into a tail at the nape of my neck, when I caught a strange sound floating up from the valley. My hands stopped in midair, and I inclined an ear toward the faint buzz of noise. It was almost like a song, sweet and high, and I thought I discerned words within the little that I could hear.
The song faded a second later, and I finished my braid swiftly, wanting to discover the sound's source before it had gone from Harrowdale. Leaning over to pull on my boots, I glanced up at just the right moment to perceive a large shadow passing overhead, putting me in momentary darkness. The canvas sides of my tent fluttered in the wake of whatever had flown over me, and I froze.
There was rustling outside, near the pavilion, and I stood poised by my closed flaps, ready to yank them aside within a second. Straining to hear the weakest murmur, I put my head to the thick fabric and waited.
"I have brought word from the Captains of the West for the Rohirrim," came an abrupt voice, sharply, but not nastily. The words were very even and uninflected.
There was a moment of heavy silence, but then Léodthain spoke, and for some reason, he sounded very small. "I shall receive it gladly, my lord."
"The world has changed," the first speaker informed him. "The Realm of Sauron is no more, and his Shadow has been destroyed forever. His Dark Tower has been cast down; his Black Gate is ruined. There is a king in Gondor, and he has bade me to give these tidings to all the lands of the Riddermark."
What I perceived next could have only been Léodthain, as the full force of this news struck him. He expelled a jubilant and unexpected cry, shouting across the Firienfeld, "Sauron has been defeated!"
The shout echoed within all the crevices of the mountainsides surrounding us. I could remain by myself no longer, finally able to rejoice for our victory with someone, and I threw back the hangings to run out.
I nearly collided with the folded wing of the enormous Eagle that was standing over Léodthain.
I gaped, my jaw falling slack at the sight of the immense bird towering several meters over me. His feathers, gleaming of black and brown and gold, were sleek as glass, and his curved beak was sharper than a sword's edge. I glimpsed his scaled feet, which were big enough to smash me with one prompt, neat blow, and I took a stumbling step back. As I stared, the Eagle moved only to rotate his regal head, fixing a giant amber eye on me, and my breath caught in my throat.
And then, to my profound astonishment, he bowed to me and greeted, "Milady."
I opened and closed my mouth dumbly, unable to believe what the majestic creature had just done. In all my time in Middle-earth, I had never seen an animal that was gifted with the power of speech, and I had not imagined that such a thing was possible. To hear words come out of an eagle's beak was staggering.
"L-lord," I finally stammered in reply.
His knifelike talons dug deep trenches into the soil as the bird turned back to Léodthain and went on swiftly, "The King of Rohan and the White Lady of Rohan are awaiting their countrymen in Gondor. Shall I tell them to expect you there?"
"Yes," Léodthain answered at once. "But Harrowdale must be emptied, and my people must return to their homes. I will be in Minas Tirith in seven days, if not sooner."
My heart cried out in distress — a whole week!
However, the Eagle was satisfied, and he spread his wings to leave us, saying, "Very well."
"Wait!" I exclaimed, just before the great creature had lifted from the ground. When he paused, turning his piercing glare to me, I asked it falteringly, "So you — you're returning to Gondor, my lord?"
"Yes, Milady," the Eagle answered.
"Will you see Gandalf the White there?"
The bird shifted his weight from side to side, stooping to put our heads on the same height. His razor-like mouth hovered centimeters from my nose. "Do you have a message for Gandalf, Milady?" he asked.
"If you could only tell him, my lord, that I am…" I hesitated, forcing myself to remain under the Eagle's scrutiny, trying to think of something refined to say. After many seconds of consideration, I said, "Please, my lord… tell Gandalf that the Lady of the Shire is now in Rohan, and that she is coming to him in Gondor."
If the Eagle had been blessed with the ability to smile, I am certain he would have; at any rate, I noted the flicker of warmth that passed through his otherwise icy eyes. Without another word, he nodded once to me and shook out his broad wings, pushing off of the ground with a single, massive whoosh.
I watched the bird grow small against the radiant atmosphere. "I'm coming to you, Frodo," I whispered after him.
The following day was filled with wonderful frenzy as the people of Dunharrow prepared to return to the homes they'd abandoned. Léodthain ordered his men to begin tearing the camp apart, and within a few hours, nearly all the unused tents had been dismantled and piled together near the main road. Those that were still in use by the refugees were under the trees and would be taken down the next morning, when everyone was to depart. From my lofty height on the Firienfeld, the valley appeared barren and empty below me after the soldiers' work was finished. Excitement crackled palpably in the air.
There was less to be done in our smaller camp. My few belongings were packed in under an hour and arranged neatly on Merry's empty cot. I was also charged with gathering all of Éowyn's things, but since I had already begun that task quite a bit earlier, it was not difficult.
The second day after the Eagle had come to us, Léodthain woke me at dawn, and I found Bronwe saddled and packed just outside my tent. I had time enough to dress, roll up my blankets, and exit my little shelter before it was taken to pieces right behind me.
"Are you alert enough to ride, Lady Jorryn?" Léodthain asked me, climbing onto his horse.
I clambered drowsily into my own saddle, yawning, "Yes, Milord."
As we descended below the lip of the cliff on the narrow trail, I remembered just in time to look back on the mist-filled mountain plain, and something jerked a little in my breast. I became attached to places much too easily, I decided later.
"We will reach Edoras by noon," Léodthain told me, riding ahead of and below me on the slanting path, "where I must settle a few affairs prior to our journey to Gondor. We will ride swiftly, but easily, and we should reach Minas Tirith in the last hours of the fifth day. Can you ride dawn to dusk, Lady Jorryn?"
"I have before," I said.
"We will do so, then," the captain decided. "It will be a company of a few men, including myself and Dréorhyse, and we will be traveling lightly. But if you ever tire, Milady, please tell me, for there is no real haste — "
"Oh, but there is," I interrupted. "My friends are in Gondor."
Coming to a bend in the trail, Léodthain turned in front of me, and I caught a lighthearted smirk curling the corners his mouth.
We left the Hold of Dunharrow by the very road that had brought me into it, except that we turned to follow the rushing waters of the Snowbourn northward out of the valley. I recognized the high gorge cut into the mountainsides, above the waterfall plunging into the river; that way I had come with Théoden and Merry, so long ago. Now I was riding with Léodthain and his guard, with all the people who had been driven into the refuge following behind. The roar of their voices filled the valley.
Many of the Rohirrim left us as we passed the smaller settlements of Underharrow and Upbourn along the river, and no more than half of their original number went the rest of the way to Edoras. It was a long journey for the people to make, but I heard none of them complain — they were all too glad to be going home for that.
Just prior to midday, with the sun swinging high overhead, we came out of the mountains, and the beauty of the land before us astounded me. I had gotten my only other view of the Riddermark from Helm's Deep, and I had forgotten how breathtaking it was during my time in Dunharrow. The flat grasslands lay stretched out for miles, smooth and gray, broken occasionally by dark patches or masses of tumbled boulders. My old Misty Mountains were visible toward the northeast. Ahead, the Snowbourn leapt downhill like a silver ribbon, and as I followed its course down into the plain, I first saw Edoras, the courts of Rohan.
The settlement stood on a lonely knoll, mounting by itself over the even lowlands. There was a glint of gold on the hilltop — Meduseld, I thought, and I remembered Théoden's stories. We drew closer, riding fast along the river, and I could distinguish eventually the small dwellings scattered on the lap of the hill, and the taller rocky outcropping upon which the Golden Hall was perched.
We came to the high dike and toothy wall surrounding the hill, and we were forced to travel around its circle to the city gates. The road took us away from the Snowbourn and through the Barrowfield, where all the kings of Rohan were buried in small mounds covered with white flowers; Théoden would rest there soon, I knew. We approached the gates, and two grand, carven horses, facing each other in an arch with their noses together above the main entryway, welcomed us. Men in the watchtowers positioned down the wall shouted to Léodthain and hailed us merrily.
It was a short trek up a paved lane through the ancient city, past the simple houses, around the stony mount to its crown and to the steps leading to the Golden Hall. Thinking of how he had described it to me, I stared up at the king's court, a strong wind ripping at my cloak. Meduseld was thatched with yellow straw, and its façade was supported by many mighty archways and pillars. Much of the graying wood was etched with twisting knotwork and painted with burnished gold, and vibrant banners bearing devices of the Mark flew proudly at every corner of the hall's granite platform. The windows looked toward the east and west.
I suddenly realized that Léodthain was waiting for me, his gloved hand on Bronwe's bridle. "Welcome to Edoras, Lady Jorryn," he said to me.
I dismounted and followed the captain wordlessly to the broad steps, and we ascended to the terrace of the Golden Hall. The elegant doors were opened for us, creaking with old age; I was led into the dim chamber, and I quickly took in the flagged floors, the wooden columns decorated with black and red diamonds and circled with more golden patterns, the sunlight slanting in through high windows and dust-filled air, and the large iron hearth that rested in the center of the wide space. Standards hung from the beams running the length and width of the room — several others bedecked the wall behind the small dais where Théoden's throne was located.
"You may sit here, Lady Jorryn," Léodthain said, breaking into my reverie and indicating a table and chair near the empty hearth. "We will eat in a moment."
The man disappeared through a door to the right of the throne, leaving me by myself in the hall. Dazedly, I looked around, made silent by the sheer weight of the place. This was Théoden's home, an ancient dwelling, and at one time or another, many of my friends had been here. It was good to be sharing something with them again, no matter how belatedly.
Another soldier brought food to me, and Léodthain returned shortly afterward. I had been too hungry to wait for him and was going quickly through my soup — real, fresh soup, and warm, newly baked bread — as he set himself opposite me.
"I didn't have breakfast, sire," I said, wiping my chin embarrassedly.
"You're quite all right," he dismissed, placing a bundle on the tabletop next to my bowl. I could only tell that the unknown object was made of soft red material, for it was neatly folded over itself and tied with a frayed cord.
Léodthain's meal was deposited before him, and he started on it right away. Chewing on a bite of bread, I waited for him to explain his mysterious parcel, but he said nothing, so I pointed with my spoon and wondered, "My lord, if you don't mind my asking… what is that?"
The captain swallowed, barely glancing to the bundle. "I have a request, Milady," he said, choosing to ignore the fact that I had spoken first.
I frowned, both annoyed and curious. "What is it?"
"In the past, you have ridden in companies as a Lady of the Halfling race, as well as a Lady of the Elves," the man said, his fingers bending around the base of his wine goblet. The weak light of the hall threw his face into odd shadows, making his straight, thin nose even more distinct than usual. I felt his gaze pierce me. "Milady, I would have you ride now as a Lady of Rohan — if that is something you could accept. King Théoden gave you the title, and it is yours to bear however you will."
Perplexed, I continued to frown at him, and I said, "I'm not sure I understand, sire."
"This is a dress that belonged to the Lady Éowyn when she was younger," Léodthain said, pushing the bundle across the table, "along with a brooch carrying a symbol of the Riddermark. I am certain that you would honor my people by wearing them."
My mouth dropped open, and I reached slowly for the gifts. I had done so little in Rohan, and I didn't believe that I had earned the right to wear the colors of the Mark. "My lord," I breathed thankfully, "the honor is mine."
Once I had rushed through the rest of my lunch, I went into an empty room to change. I untied the cord around the bundle and allowed the gown to spill to the ground in a cascade of blood-red velvet. It was of simple design, with tight sleeves, a button-closed front, a low bodice, and a full skirt. The fabric gathered at the front of the v-shaped neck to form what was almost an oversized hood, draping loosely over the shoulders, lined with a darker shade of crimson, almost black. The bottom of the dress, the edge of the cowl, and the down-pointed hem of the bodice were all embroidered with thick swirls of pale yellow. I donned this new gown and pinned my old cloak over it with the Rohirric brooch — it was polished gold, the shape of a sun with a horse's head in the center.
I met Léodthain, Dréorhyse, and several others on the open stone terrace minutes later. Cloaked in green and girt with swords, they bowed low when they saw me coming, and I could not stop my cheeks from flaming.
"It suits you, Milady," one of the men told me.
"I deserve neither such gifts, nor such compliments, sire," I replied, twisting my hands together at my waist self-consciously.
The soldiers chuckled and returned to their previous conversation, and I quietly turned my focus on the horizon. From there, on Meduseld's front steps, I could finally see the mountains we had left behind. They were giant, ebony masses capped in white, rising very suddenly out of the earth from the otherwise level land, like jagged teeth. No gradual foothills preceded them… they were simply there, marching on in every direction. I loved them for all their rugged splendor.
"Lady Jorryn!"
I looked down to discover that Denuwyn was standing at the bottom of the long stairway below us, her arms open and waving to me. I picked up my skirts and ran to her, the two of us laughing for no reason whatsoever.
"You look just like a shieldmaiden," she said, gawping at my new outfit.
I giggled and embraced her. "It means a lot to have you admit that," I murmured into her tiny shoulder.
She pulled back and reached for my hand, crying in her little, lilting manner, "Come, Lady Jorryn, you must see my home! You can help us clean, and then my mother will make us supper!"
"Oh, Denuwyn, I don't — "
"Come on, Lady Jorryn, my family is waiting!"
I twisted about to see Léodthain and the others watching us, a couple of them coming down after me to their horses. I held Denuwyn's hand tightly, but did not move. "Little one, I'm not staying in Edoras."
"What?" she blurted, and relaxed her grip on my arm. "Where are you going?"
"To Gondor," I said, "and to the ones I love."
The girl stopped, her eyes growing wide and her lips trembling, though she tried to hide it. "You — you are leaving Rohan, Lady Jorryn?"
Kneeling to be level with her, I met her gaze and nodded.
She collapsed against me, her diminutive form wracked with long, shuddering sobs, and I sensed a damp warmth on my forearm. "You will go — you will leave us — and I shall never see you again!"
"Shh, Denuwyn," I murmured soothingly, brushing my fingers through her hair. "You know that isn't true. Even though the war is over, I will always be bound to Rohan. What's more, I still have to ask the Elves what you would be called among them. I will have to come back to tell you what they name you."
She sniveled and inquired, muffled, against my sleeve, "You are really going to ask them about me?"
"I'll tell them all about you," I promised. "Lord Elrond, even."
She dragged herself away from me, lifting her mussed head. Suddenly feeling extremely guilty about leaving my little friend, I wiped her tearstained cheeks with one corner of my cloak. Beyond her, I noted that Léodthain's men were atop their horses already. There were eight of them altogether, and all of them were unfamiliar except for Dréorhyse.
The captain himself came from behind us then, and he paused on the step that Denuwyn and I rested on. "Lady Jorryn," he said, the slight, expectant lift in his tone making it obvious that he wanted me to hurry.
It was time to leave. I coaxed one last smile out of Denuwyn by tweaking her nose, and I assured her, "I'll see you again, little one."
"Goodbye, Lady Jorryn," she burbled.
I pushed onto my feet and brushed by the girl, striding down the last few steps and going to where Bronwe was tethered. My pony had been watered and fed, but all my things had remained packed. "Ready for another long trip?" I murmured to the mare, patting the short hair on her neck.
Heaving myself onto my pony, I took up the reins and faced Léodthain, nodding to signal my readiness. The captain whirled his own horse around and raised an arm. "To Gondor!" he said.
And we rode.