The Rohan Pride Trilogy

Epilogue: Recovery

Book One

By: WhiteLadyOfTroy

Summary:
The War of the Ring is over, and it is time for Gúthwyn to return home with the children. Yet things are not as they used to be, and many changes are in store for her, whether she would welcome them or not.

About the Epilogue:
I have decided to do what Tolkien did with his books. The Fellowship of the Ring had two books within the text, as did The Two Towers and The Return of the King. The only change I have made is the first part in my Trilogy: Alone. That was divided into three books, the first book explaining how Gúthwyn got to where The Fellowship of the Ring started. Recovery will be divided into two books.

About Chapter Fifty-Three:
The upcoming events are based off of what I have learned from the appendices and various sources concerning the aftermath of the War of the Ring. I wish more was known, but unfortunately, it is not—thus, I have had to do much guesswork and fill in my own beliefs about what happened. Please bear with me.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Éowyn,

Thank you for your last letter. I am glad that you and Faramir are well—yet I pray that you will visit soon, for you must see Elfwine. He is simply adorable, though beware: He has developed a taste for playing with long hair, much to the annoyance of Lothíriel. Other than that, however, he is as perfect as can be, and Éomer could not be happier. I have seen the two of them often; it is quite an amusing sight, to see our brother fast asleep with Elfwine on his chest! I had gone into his room with the intent of asking him to accompany me on a ride, but I never got the chance, and I am all the more glad for it.

As for me, I have little to complain about. The children are both doing well in their lessons, and Hammel has begun to read about the trade of a blacksmith. This is because of Aldeth—I do not know if I mentioned it, but that is how her father makes his living. Alas, he has not yet spoken to her beyond a casual conversation; yet he is only twelve, and even if his heart seems quite set on her it is perhaps not what others would deem prudent to express his feelings so early.

In other news, Legolas is here. He arrived last night. Unfortunately, Éomer chose that dinner to discuss my marriage prospects. Éowyn, he has been doing this with alarming frequency, and was most angered when I resisted him. It is the reason I am writing to you now, especially since a visit from you will (hopefully) be in the near future.

When next you see Éomer, or even write to him, will you please tell him to stop asking me to find a husband? You know why I do not wish to marry, though he seems to have forgotten. I foolishly promised him that I would do my best to search for love, yet now I bitterly regret doing so, and I am praying that you will be able to convince him that it is not in my best interests to wed another.

Thank you so much, Gúthwyn

Éomund's daughter grinned in satisfaction as she lifted the quill off the parchment. There, she thought triumphantly, taking the letter and sealing it. Now I no longer have to worry about marriage.

She was in such good spirits that she decided to use what minutes were left before dinner by taking Heorot out for a ride. She had not exercised him in over three days; the two of them were long overdue for spending time together. Leaving her letter to Éowyn on her desk, reminding herself to send it off later, she quickly dressed into her riding gown.

A few moments later found her strolling down the stables, humming a tune as she went and feeling nothing but lightness in her heart. Éomer could lecture her about finding a husband until he was blue in the face; but once Éowyn spoke to him, she would no longer have to endure such trials. Her older sister's word, she felt, would be enough to inform him of his folly, and help him realize that ending it would be the best course of action.

Gúthwyn truly believed that this was the case, and in her naïveté she could not see how it would turn out otherwise. So her steps were nimble as she made her way into the stables, and she skipped a little before opening Heorot's stall door.

"Hello, my friend," she murmured, slipping in and stroking his mane. "It has been too long."

He snorted, but grew complacent when she produced a carrot and held it out for his inspection. Soon the offer was accepted, and he chewed contentedly as she began saddling him.

While she was working, someone stepped inside the stables. She glanced over and smiled when she saw Hammel. "Hello," she greeted him happily. "How has your day been?"

"Good," Hammel replied, as usual answering with only the minimum amount of syllables needed. He watched as she took a brush and ran it quickly through Heorot's mane.

"How was your class?" Gúthwyn questioned. From what Cobryn had told her, Hammel was not excelling the art of using a sword, but she had rarely heard the boy's perspective.

Yet Hammel merely shrugged. "Fine."

It would have been easier for Gúthwyn to attempt to take over Gondor than coax a more satisfying explanation from him. The less he said, the less he wanted to discuss it.

"Cobryn told me that he lent you a new book," she commented, setting aside the brush and observing him closely to see his reaction. "How is it?"

If she had hoped for a sign of his undying love for Aldeth in his eyes, she could not have been more sorely mistaken. They were as devoid of expression as ever as he responded, "Very interesting."

"I did not know," Gúthwyn said conversationally, "that you were interested in becoming a blacksmith."

For the briefest instant, something flickered within the twelve-year-old's gaze. Then he said calmly, "I will never be a warrior. It is time to look into other trades."

"What about becoming an advisor, like Cobryn?" Gúthwyn suggested, wondering just how seriously he was considering the profession of Aldeth's father. "I am sure that Éomer would accept you at an earlier age than most."

"Your brother has already done enough for me," was Hammel's reply. "As has Cobryn. I have no desire to be admitted to the council because of those connections."

Gúthwyn was momentarily astounded to hear someone of his age speaking so maturely. Her shock must have been evident on her face, for Hammel shook his head and said, "It matters not right now. Are you going out?"

Closing her mouth, which had opened of its own accord, she nodded. "Would you like to come?"

"Yes," he said simply, and that was the end of that.

She waited patiently while he prepared his own horse, a young stallion named Eadric. The skill of riding had not come as naturally to him and his sister as it had to Éomer, Éowyn, and Gúthwyn, but they had not begun to learn until far later in their lives. Now Hammel could manage his horse perfectly well, and while Haiweth was still afraid of urging the animal faster than a slow canter, she was not as terrified of them as she had once been.

When they were both mounted, Gúthwyn led them out of the stables. Hammel came up beside her as the road broadened, though did not speak for several minutes. They trotted down the main road, careful to keep out of the way of pedestrians, all the while enjoying a comfortable silence. The sun was already nearing the horizon, its bottom curve dipping below the mountains.

As they drew near to the gate, Balman hailed them from atop the watchtower. "Give the prince my compliments," he called, gesturing towards outside the walls. Having not the advantage of height, Gúthwyn was unable to see what he was referring to. Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What?"

"I have never seen a better archer, my lady," Balman replied cheerfully. "And that is a fact."

For a moment, Gúthwyn did not understand what he was saying. Why would he be pointing outside and talking about a prince? Her mind, knowing what the answer was before she was willing to accept it, froze. Her hands twitched, Heorot's reins shaking a little. The archery grounds had always been located out in the open, right in front of the city walls. And Éomer had offered Legolas free use of it.

She turned to Hammel, and suddenly perceived that he had known that Legolas would be there.

Dazed, distracted at the prospect of seeing Haldor—no, the prince of Mirkwood, an honored and distinguished warrior—Gúthwyn murmured absently, "Of course."

"Are you all right?" Hammel asked her in an undertone, steering Eadric towards the gates. As he did so, Gúthwyn noticed that he bore with him a knife that Cobryn had given him.

Blinking, Gúthwyn replied, "Yes. I am fine." She marveled that her voice was so steady, when her mind was reeling from the impact of this intrusion upon what had been meant to be a fun ride.

"Do you still want to go out?"

She frowned, trying to conceal the fact that she was taking deep, steadying breaths. "Why would I not?"

Hammel merely nodded, and with that Gúthwyn smiled at the guards. They had been waiting for a command; this was as good as any, and in too short a timespan for her frazzled nerves the gates were thrown wide open. She could not see the archery range yet, since the doors were blocking it, but she could see it clearly in her mind's eye. Legolas would not be there alone; there were bound to be other Elves there. Maybe even all of them.

Hardly aware that she was doing so, she nudged Heorot forward, remembering a time when she had been eight and had been playing a game of dare with Éomer. When it was her turn, Éomer had challenged her to go outside the gates all by herself—something Théoden had never allowed her to do. She had not wanted to go alone; she had wanted Éomer to come with her. But he had taunted her, calling her a coward, and of course she had accepted the dare.

One of the Riders, a faceless man whom Gúthwyn had never known, had been buried that day. There were no guards at the watchtower: They had all gone to pay their respects to the family, and afterwards to the mourning feast at the Golden Hall. Éomer and Gúthwyn had snuck out during the funeral, and he had escorted her to the gates. It had taken them several tries to open them, but at last they had done so, and she had strode determinedly outwards.

The original dare had been to take fifteen steps. However, Gúthwyn had been filled with such boldness that she had gone a sixteenth. She recalled thinking, That will show Éomer that I am not scared! Triumph was written across her face when she turned around, only to discover that Éomer had closed the gates on her. Hysterically, she had run towards them, but they had not reopened, not even when she had pounded on them and screamed at her brother. She was locked out.

Later that night, Théodred had gone searching for her. She had first heard his voice and thought it only her mind, speaking to her over the pitiful whimpering of her stomach, but when she had wiped her eyes fiercely enough she could see him running towards her. He had carried her back, holding her tightly as she sobbed, and explained that Éomer had come to him during the feast and told him, ashen-faced, that he had left his sister outside of the city walls. When he had gone back several minutes later to release her, he had not been able to open the doors.

For that, Théoden had spent nearly an hour yelling himself hoarse at Éomer, and had then tucked her into bed with gentle words and a mug of warm milk. He had even allowed her to stay up later than usual, telling her a story about how he and Théodwyn used to go on rides to the Snowbourn and swim until it was too dark to see each other. She had always liked hearing stories about her mother and father, putting actions and words to the blurred faces and loving embraces.

Now, fifteen years later, Gúthwyn rode out of the gates, half-convinced that they would shut behind her and lock her out with Legolas. They did not. Instead, she smiled meaninglessly at Hammel, thinking almost laughingly to herself that he was trying to protect her—he and his knife. She had seen Legolas wield identical blades at Helm's Deep, long and white and painstakingly crafted, and knew that the boy stood no chance against him. Not even Borogor did.

Borogor was her protector, and he was not here now… Well, it was time for her to step out from behind the shield. She had cowered from Legolas long enough. She had concealed her nausea at his presence one too many occasions. As her eyes caught a flash of golden hair, she willed herself to remain calm. Counting, deep breaths; all were exercises she had been taught, all of which she was using now.

It was to her relief that she saw only two other Elves alongside the prince: Raniean and Trelan. She would have thought them his bodyguards, had they not once joked about many assuming the same thing at a dinner long ago. The three of them looked as if they were engaged in an archery competition; at any rate, they were taking turns shooting, jesting with each other and laughing at a particularly bad shot.

Unbeknownst to her, she had slowed Heorot down so that she could watch them, mesmerized in spite of herself by the sight of the arrows whizzing through the air to land almost perfectly in the center of the target. One right after the other they went, only interrupted by the archers' chuckles and conversation. As much as she hated to admit it, Legolas was by far the best she had ever seen, with the exception of Haldor. She thought uneasily of how they were so identical, their limbs straining in the same way as they strung the bow and drew it back as far as they could.

Borogor did it differently, she thought to herself. He had always taken the time, even when it was a mere second or two, to narrow his eyes at the target just before he raised his bow. His fingers had always brushed up against his mouth—thinking of it now created an odd sensation in her stomach, as she wondered what it would have felt like to have him touching her lips—as he drew the string back, and there had been something about the way he had released the arrow… She could not now identify it.

Legolas was about to nock his bow once more when he happened to glance over and see her. He stopped, lowering the weapon. Gúthwyn was unable to see the expression on his face. Beside her, Hammel's eyes turned into slits as Raniean and Trelan also paused, and his hand drifted downward before returning to Eadric's reigns.

She had a message to deliver. Burying the last shreds of nervousness, she nudged Heorot forward. He approached the Elves easily, having none of the qualms that she did. Hammel followed, one of his hands suspiciously close to where the hunting blade was now concealed. She should have hissed at him to be reasonable. Legolas would not attack her in the open with Balman watching; nor had he ever attempted to. Yet something stuck in her throat when she began to.

"Good afternoon," Legolas bade her as she drew nearer, letting his bow hang unthreateningly by his side.

She nodded, silently returning the greeting. "Balman, the watchman, wishes for me to tell you that he has never seen talent such as yours."

Legolas smiled a little; not the arrogant smirk Haldor had given her as he pinned her to his bed, but almost the grin that Hammel had when someone complimented him on his studies. "If he were to journey to my home, he would see some who far surpass me."

Gúthwyn was unsure of what to say next; surprisingly, however, Hammel spoke up instead. "Are you winning?" he asked. When Legolas looked at him, he elucidated. "The contest."

Raniean and Trelan exchanged glances. "That is what he thinks," Trelan finally muttered. In a mock whisper, he added, "We are letting him take the lead—after all, his father is a king."

It was meant to be a joke, and Legolas rolled his eyes in recognition of the fact, but Gúthwyn felt her heart clench. She thought of how the Elves' banter had been painfully absent from the long, grueling training sessions in Mordor. Even Borogor and Beregil had not enjoyed themselves together like Legolas and his friends were doing.

"Where are you riding to?" Legolas inquired then.

Gúthwyn and Hammel looked at each other. "Not very far," Gúthwyn at last said, "for the hour of dinner is nigh. Shall you be joining us at the table, or will your contest last longer?"

She was amazed to hear herself speak so evenly, as if the only history she and Legolas had was their meeting this week. As if she had not been terrified of him for years, the horror only now beginning to recede. As if the War of the Ring had never happened.

"We will be there," Legolas promised, smiling.

Gúthwyn nodded. "Have fun, then," she said, and looked away.

She and Hammel turned their horses around, preparing to ride out through the fields. Although Balman would get concerned if she went beyond the hill a mile away from Edoras, she did not want to be able to see Legolas as he practiced archery. It was bad enough to hear the arrows thumping into the targets, trying not to cringe as she remembered how Haldor had shot the post with a carving of a child in it.

Neither she nor Hammel spoke much for the remainder of their trip. She was absorbed in her own thoughts, and he seemed more content to gaze at the mountains and keep his musings to himself than to initiate conversation. A part of her was hurt, even slightly angered, that he confided in not her but Cobryn; yet he had always kept a certain distance between the two of them. Even when she carried him at the age of five, he had never clung to her as Haiweth had.

Perhaps it was because, unlike with Haiweth, the lines of distinction between her and their mother had never blurred for him. Once or twice in a bleary state between sleep and waking, Haiweth had reached out for her and called her "mama." Yet Hammel had frowned at this, and turned away. He had never come to her after a bad dream, as Haiweth always had; he had never crawled into her arms at night, needing to know that she was there and he was safe.

It came to her then, as Heorot crested the hill with Eadric only slightly behind, that she had had next to no influence on Hammel's growth. She had rarely been with him in Mordor, for between the exhausting training practices and her sessions at Haldor's tent there had only been a few precious hours with which to see the children. He had always hung back from her. Haiweth would run over and embrace her tightly whenever they were reunited, but Hammel merely waved.

Why is that? she wondered. Why was he never responsive to me?

A chill ran up her spine as she answered her own question. It was because he knew too much. Dîrbenn himself had alluded to it: Do not be surprised if he is not so blind to what Haldor did to you as you think. He was only twelve; he could not have fully realized the implications of her going to the Elf's tent each week, nor her reasons for doing so, but he had sensed that something was wrong. He must have detected something different about her—the mark of a ruined woman, unlike his mother who had slept with only her husband.

The next instant, she shook her head of those thoughts. Hammel had been just five when Haldor had first taken her to his bed. No one of that age would have been able to understand what was happening.

But what happens when he is older, and begins forming his own explanation for why I was away so many nights?

Gúthwyn shivered, and wondered if he had not already done so.