Thennil sat among the Rohirrim, her back straight, and her hands clasped around a wooden mug filled with mead. Seated all over the room were the survivors of the battle at Helm's Deep. Immediately beside her were Merry and Pippin, who had missed her dearly, and had attached themselves to her hip the moment they were off the horses.
Upon arriving at Edoras they had all been ushered into rooms, the men in one, and Thennil another. Eowyn, the gracious host that she was, had prepared baths for them all, and set out clean clothes that were nearly a perfect fit for each one. Thennil had reviled in the hot water, soaking her dirt encrusted skin before using the soaps and oils on her body. The fire kept the bath hot for much longer than she should have been in it, but it had felt amazing after almost a month of rinsing in a cold stream. She took her time combing through the tangles in her curly hair, scrubbing her scalp with the soaps that Eowyn lent her. She missed the floral scents of her homeland, and the oils that they used on their hair, but was thankful even for the small, less potent mixtures that the Rohirrim offered.
After her bath, she had gone to pull out her spare tunic and trousers, but Eowyn had burst into the room, much like she had in Helm's deep, and pushed a handful of cloth into her hands before slamming the door behind her with a giggle. Unfolding the fabric, she had gasped at the creation. Though it was simple, it was magnificent. She ran her hand over the deep forest green, smoothing out the wrinkles of the gown as she looked it over. It had long, bell like sleeves that draped down much like those she would wear in her father's house. Slipping the underdress on over her small clothes, she layered the petticoats over it, then slid one the gown. She had a feeling that Eowyn had had someone make the gown for her, seeing as the woman was shorter than she was, and promised herself to thank the woman when she saw her.
She had sat on the bed in the room, and flopped back, eyes closed as she curled her fingers into the blankets. Her body was physically exhausted, the adrenaline running through her veins had finally left her. Laying back on the bed, she dozed softly, slipping into a deep sleep. Dreams did not greet her as she ascended into the stary sky, mind becoming blank.
Not long after she had been summoned to the hall with everyone else, and seated before the dais. The halls had been cleaned of the dirt and grime that had accumulated in the reign of Saruman, and the wood gleamed in the light of the candles and torches. She had spotted the others in the crowd, Aragorn at the front, Legolas and Gimli near the middle, and Gandalf was no where to be seen. She chuckled silently, assuming that the wizard was figuring out their next move.
From behind them all walked Eowyn, a cup resting betwixt her hands filled with mead. Her steps were slow and purposeful, and on her face was a look of joy. Walking up the steps, she knelt before Theoden, offering up the chalice. The king took the cup from her hand, nodding to her as she rose and walked off to one side. On his right stood Eomer, dressed in clean clothes, and looking better than he had in a long time. One every table rested a feast fit for a king, and the barrels of mead and wine rested on end, waiting for men to devour them. Raising his chalice, the king waited for them all to rise, then spoke.
"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country.' he paused, looking around at the remaining men. 'Hail the victorious dead!"
"Hail!" shouted the hall in one voice.
With that word, servants ran forward, meat was served, and the celebrations began. Thennil entertained herself watching the hobbits stuff themselves with rolls and meat like there was no tomorrow. They laughed and joked, pushing this food for that towards her to try as they talked merrily. Pippin filled her plate till it was piled nearly as high as his eyebrows, and she looked down at him in confusion.
"You really think I can put all this away?" she asked, pulling a piece of roast carrot from the stack as she watched it teeter precariously.
He shook his head, 'Nay, but if you can't, I can."
She laughed at his sneakiness, and dug in.
The night progressed slowly for Thennil, as she wandered through the crowds, watching. The men slowly began to loosen up, each cup of mead making them less and less stiff-necked and serious. The women of their families soon joined them, and laughter filled the halls as they merrily spoke to one another. She smiled at the joviality of the people, their smiles large and their laughter loud and genuine. Slipping between the pillars she watched Legolas and Gimli approach the table, both to get a drink when Eomer stepped up to the barrel.
"No pauses, no spills,' he said, handing the friends each a pint.
"And no regurgitation!" laughed the dwarf, taking the drink eagerly.
Thennil stepped up, and poured herself another put of the honeyed mead, sipping from it as she watched.
"So,' the elf said looking around, lifting a brow. 'It's a drinking game?"
"Aye!' cried the men around them, leaning on one another as they betted on who would win.
Joining their circle, Thennil handed two gold pieces to the keeper of the bets, 'Two gold pieces on the elf."
The men raised their eyebrows, "Are you sure about that, My lady? The dwarf is sure to leave your friend in the dust!"
She smirked, 'Trust me."
Gimli turned to Legolas, lifting his pint, 'Last one standing wins! Heh heh heh!"
The dwarf tipped back his head, guzzling down his drink in one go. Thennil gagged, remembering the many contests that would take place back at the mountain between the dwarves, drinking mugs upon mugs of ale into the night, their bodies littering the hall come sunrise. Then their women would come with buckets of ice cold water and douse them all. She had had to muffle her laughter, her sides aching at the amount of language and shouts that came out of such a small people.
Legolas leaned forward, sniffing his ale, before slowly downing it. Meanwhile Gimli had downed three more glasses and was starting on his fifth. It was not long before the dwarf was so imbibed with wine and ale that he began spouting randomly, and causing those around him to move further away, some holding their noses. She had stationed herself behind the barrel, leaning up against it as she watched the two down cup after cup.
Taking another mug, Gimli laughed, 'Here, here! It's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women!"
Legolas paused after finishing his chalice, looking down at his fingers dramatically, "I feel something."
Eomer raised an eyebrow.
"A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me."
"Heh, heh, heh. He can't hold his liquor,' chortled the dwarf. Then, as she watched, his eyes slowly began to cross, and the hand that was held up in the air stiffened. Then he was slumped out on the floor, snoring away.
Legolas turned back to Eomer, 'Game over." and walked away.
Thennil followed after him, bumping his shoulder as she looked up quizzically. "Slight tingle in my fingers? Seriously?"
He shrugged.
Later after those who had drunk their wine slowly had gotten those who were to drunk to be around home, the men began to pull the tables away from the middle of the room. A fiddle and drum were found and a tune struck up as the men dragged their ladies into the circle. Soon the music was swirling around them as they bounced and dipped, and even flipped their partners. There were line dances, square dances where the riders kept their partners close, and circle dances. Thennil tapped her foot, remembering her time among the hobbits and the dwarves and their dances, but couldn't find anything that could compare to these fast paced, jolly dances. She laughed, bouncing in time to the beat, and clapping her hands.
A tap on her shoulder had her twisting around, startled. There Eomer stood, hand out held and a smile on his face. "Join me?"
She chuckled, 'It would be my pleasure."
He took her hand, and led her onto the cleared out floor along with the other couples. The fiddles started up, and the couples began to move. They passed each other from one arm to the other, a hop to their step, then lady ducked under the arm of their companion, they continued this way for almost a full circle, twisting and turning. Thennil had watched many of the dances, and began to pick out steps that had been used before. As the music sped up, the men all grabbed their partner around her waist and swung her around in a large sweep. As they swung around, the men would lift up their foot and slap it every once in a while before grabbing their partners waist again. A few of the riders even swung their partners up into the air, making the women laugh musically. Eomer twirled her around, pulling her close before throwing her out again in sync with the other dancers. Faster and faster the fiddle played, and the men began twirling and grabbing their partners by the waist faster than the watchers could see. They bounced and skipped and swung in a blur of greens, browns, and golds. By the end of the dance all parties were breathless, gasping for air as they let other, more rested, dancers take the floor.
She stood with Eomer, breathing hard as they watched the other dancers fly past. From out of the corner of her eye she saw Aragorn approach. She had gotten a glimpse of him while she had been swirling around the room on Eomer's arm. He had had a curious look on his face as she saw her on the arm of another man. The musicians looked over at Aragorn, and one asked him something, motioning to the dance floor. The ranger smirked, stealing a glance over at her from under his lashes. She leaned over Eomer's arm, looking subtly at her friend.
Aragorn spent a few more minutes talking with the fiddler before he turned away and a new song began to be played. Those who had been dancing stopped, moving off to the floor. Aragorn stepped up into one corner. There was a bounce to it, and a beat that she had memorized by heart. He stomped his foot three times, bent his knee and slapped it back and forth three times, his eyes on her. The drums began to tap out their beat and the fiddler drew his bow across the strings, adding his melody to the beat. He moved a few steps forward, and leapt from side to side, swinging his arms up, then forward as he feet stomped in a circle. Then he squatted down onto his heels, bouncing up and leaping off the floor before turing in the air. When he landed, he held his hand out in her direction, beckoning her.
"Really?" she asked, cocking her head as she looked at him. He nodded, twitching his fingers. Rolling her eyes she released Eomer's arm and stepped into the square.
She curtsied to him, going nearly to the floor, stretching her leg out before her. With an elegant twist of her body she was standing, facing away from him. Taking her skirts in her hand she lifted them, showing her ankles, and began to do a jig, feet moving rapidly from the front of her leg to the back, then jumping in the air. After landing, she lifted her skirts so they fanned out, and turned to look at him. She circled, him, not looking at him for longer than a second. She hopped, twirled, and dipped around him before coming to stop in front of him, facing the crowd.
He stomped twice, tapped her on the shoulder, then spun her in to his arms. He bounced them, and she lifted her feet off the ground as he spun them in a circle, clasping her waist with his hands and setting her on the ground as light as a feather. Taking their hands, they placed the palm flat against the other's and walked in a circle, stopping twice to squat to the floor, her dress fanning out when he drew her up, twirling her with his hand. She laughed as the music sped up and they began to swing around the square, him grabbing her waist and lifting her up at the end. The drums pounded in their ears as she dipped her low, their noses almost touching.
The crowd applauded, and others began to join in, doing their own versions of the steps, bouncing and stomping enough to be heard throughout all of Edoras.
Thennil had followed Aragorn away from the dancing, parting to look over to the tables again for the hobbits. She found them sitting at a table, watching the Rohirrim sing. She watched as the men sang back and forth, reminding her of the contest that the hobbits would have back in the shire, their songs getting rowdier and rowdier. Pippin and Merry sat at the table, tankards of ale in their hands as they listened to the singers, goading them. The men finally turned to the halflings, arms crossed and cups raised.
"If we're so bad, sing us one of your songs,' one of them prodded.
Merry and Pippin smirked, and hopped up onto the table. They linked arms, full flagons in their hands as they began to sing.
"You can search far and wide
You can drink the whole town dry
But you'll never find a beer so brown
But you'll never find a beer so brown
But you'll never find a beer so brown
As the one we drink in our home town
As the one we drink in our home town
You can drink your fancy ales
You can drink em by the flagon
But the only brew for the brave and true..."
Pippin looked over at them, pausing when he caught sight of her and Gandalf.
"Pippin!" cried Merr, raising his flagon, the ale sloshing over the side. Pippin shook his head and began to sing again.
"But the only brew for the brave and true...
Comes form the green dragon."
The men laughed loudly, hitting their mugs together and drinking up. From around one of the pillars came Aragorn, a concerned look on his face as he watched the hobbit begin another song. She could feel the joy seep from the evening when she looked into his eyes now. Now they were not merry, but carried a heavy weight. Gandalf clapped in hands in appreciation to the song, smiling.
"No news of Frodo?" he asked in monotone.
"No word...nothing,' said Gandalf.
"We have time."
Gandalf turned to the man.
"Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor,' stated the ranger.
Gandalf searched the man's face, seeking reassurance. "Do we know that?"
"What does your heart tell you, mellonin?" she asked gently, placing a hand on the wizards shoulder.
He sighed, a small smile grew on his wrinkled face. "That Frodo is alive.' then to himself, 'Yes-yes, he is alive."
It was late that night that she guided the hobbits to their rooms, opening a window to let in a slight breeze, spring blowing in with it's sweet fragrance. She bedded them down, laying a blanket over each one before going behind a screen to change out of her gown while they began to snore away. She slipped on her sleeping tunic, which was almost like a dress, and pulled on the trousers, tying the chords loosened her hair from it's ties, brushing it out with her fingers so that it could fall free. She shook her head, enjoying the feeling of freedom that having her hair undone gave her with a content smile.
Walking out from behind the screen, she walked to the window, leaning against the sill and looking out into the night. She frowned at the dark clouds moving in the sky as she looked over the sleeping city. The mountains loomed above them, like the shadows of foes to come. She could feel the darkness creeping up from the south, and looked out towards Gondor, and further, to Mordor. Climbing up on the sill she balanced there, drawing her knees up to her chest as she looked out over the plains, her tired body letting sleep claim her.
Later, or rather early the next morning, Aragorn walked through the room checking on each one. In one corner on a pallet slept Gimli, his snores rumbling loudly throughout the room, like rocks grinding together. The hobbits twisted and turned beneath their blankets, their curly hair becoming tussled and messy. He chuckled the the innocent looks on their faces as they slept, like young children, but how wrong they were. He had seen the pranks that they had pulled while in Imladris, and hoped to never be on the receiving end of their mischief. He ruffled Pippins hair before feeling the chilly breeze that blew in through the open window. Turning, he saw that it was propped open. He shuffled forward, trying to avoid the sprawled limbs of the hobbits. As he came to the window, he smiled, shaking his head at the form balanced on it's sill. He slipped forward, edging his hand under her shoulders and knees, lifting her into his arms. He carried her precariously across the room, laying her out on his pallet and drawing up his cloak over her.
He looked down at her, brushing a stray piece of hair away from her face as she shifted, curling her fingers into his cloak. One of her hands hung limply over the side of the pallet, and her hair was splayed out around her like a red cape. Her upturned nose twitched, and she huffed, twisting in her sleep as she tried to find a comfortable spot. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting his libs trail over her skin for a few moments before pulling away.
"Pippin!" the soft, yet worried cry broke through her sleep, and the fog that she had rested in flew from her mind. Leaping up, she looked about her worriedly, her eyes scanning the room as she searched for the source of the cry.
"Help! Thennil! Gandalf!" came Merry's cry as her eyes landed on the writhing form of the hobbit. Jumping forward she snatched at the ball, and the hobbit let out a strangled cry, falling to the ground. There was shouting and movement, but she did not hear it. Time around her seemed to freeze as she was dropped into an immense darkness. Around her battlements rose, dark and cracked. Far away there were tiny stars that flickered in what she assumed to be the sky, but her mind was confused. Then the stars went out, and her heart lurched in panic, feeling their deaths as great winged creatures flew over them, their wings like bats wheeling through the darkened sky. Then flames surrounded her, licking at her clothes, devouring her. A voice spoke in her head, low, and slick, like that of a snake.
"So, I see that you have joined the halfling, child of Vanya,' it laughed in her mind.
She straightened, trying to pull away from the being as it took form. He was beautiful, like an elf, but twisted like an orc. From half it's head came flaming hair, brighter than fire, while the other half was dark black, like coal, and his ears looked like they had once been pointed. He stood taller than her, thin, yet powerful. She could feel the magic radiated out from him, dark and foul. Her jaw dropped as she gazed upon him, horrified.
"You are Sauron."
"Yes, child,' it, or rather Sauron laughed evilly. 'Tell me,' he stated gently, coaxingly, 'where is the hobbit, he has something in his possession that is dear to me."
She bristled, knowing that he spoke of the ring, 'I will not, Traitorous one."
His laughter ceased, and his presence grew. "Traitorous? How are you any different than I?' he chuckled darkly.
She froze, and without him having spoken, knew that he knew that she was fading. How could he have not known? He had been a Maia, known for his great wisdom before he turned evil. She frowned.
"I am no traitor if I keep secrets that will harm those I love."
"No traitor? Then what are you? A warrior? Hurmph, barely, you are nothing but a child swinging around a sword. A princess? Have you seen yourself?" he taunted.
"I am loyal, honest, caring!" she cried desperately.
"But unlovable. Ugly. Scarred. How you're friends even look at you is beyond me."
She felt herself begin to cave, all her self-doubts rushing back. Memories flowed through her mind like a river, all the negative comments replaying over and over in her head. The fire burned hotter around her, scorching her skin, turning it black as the pain in her mind grew.
Stomping her foot, she shook her head, grabbing it with her hands, and screamed in agony, feeling him page through her mind, pulling her out, then pushing her back in. Like taffy being pulled nearly to the point of snapping, stretching when it shouldn't have been stretched. "Stop it! Stop messing with my mind!"
"Tell me where he is!" he screamed, the darkness pressing in on her, overpowering her body as she collapsed to the ground. He lash out at her, darkness swirling around her, her fea shuddering within her. It was like being stabbed with thousands of sharp knives.
"Never! You will not break me!"
She felt herself being pulled away, but the voice spoke in her mind as her eyes were clouded with darkness. "Then you're fate is set in stone,' Images of a battlefield flashed across her vision, the reek of the dead heavy around her. Blood pooling at her feet, thousands of dead eyes staring up at her from empty bodies. Her body lying at the edge of a broken wall, armor rent and broken. A white tower was burning, and the flag that had been flying ripped from the pole, floating down to meet the blackened earth. 'Even you're f-
She jolted,opened her eyes wide, staring up into those of Aragorn, filled with fear. She shook, her hands trembling in Aragorn's hold as he cradled her in his lap. She could hear Gandalf talking, and the shaky voice of Pippin answering. Aragorn looked over her worriedly, running his hand up and down her arm, opening her clenched hands with his own as she tensed. Slowly she loosened her grasp, letting him splay his fingers over her own. Her body aches, shuddering in Aragon's arms as she feels her fea deteriorating more. She clutched his tunic in her hands, needing something solid to remind her that she was here, in Edoras, not in that dark world that was the Palantir.
"You have taken no harm,' Gandalf's voice stated from beyond her vision, and his deep voice brought the memories of Sauron back to the front of her mind.
Then Gandalf was kneeling over her, touching her head gently, like a grandfather. Turning, she stared up into his eyes, fear flooding her irises. Aragorn laid her back against his chest, leaning back so she was reclining as the wizard looked over her. "I assume you saw something like Pippin?"
She nodded, shutting her eyes as the images leapt into her mind. "It was dark, and their were flames, lots of them, everywhere."
She shuddered, breath coming in small gasps, reliving the Dark Lord's words. "He was awful, yet beautiful at the same time. He-he-
"Look at me,' Gandalf demanded gently, rubbing soothing circles on her arm. She stared into his eyes, letting him see everything, and was dismayed when she saw a great sadness flicker over his face.
She knew then that he had seen what the Dark Lord had spoken of. Her death.
Aragorn sat with her, holding her close long after all the other's left. She lay in his arms, drawing comfort from his closeness. He stroked her hair, running his fingers through it gently as they listened to the birds begin to sing through the window, the sun peaking over the mountains. He didn't ask her what she saw, didn't ask her if she wasn't alright, didn't ask her if he could get her anything. He held her, which was the only thing she really needed.
"It was awful,' she whispered against his chest. 'So dark."
He 'hmmhmm'd', but didn't ask.
"The stars, he wiped the stars from the skies. Stole the light from the earth,' she looked up at him, trying to stem the tears that welled up in her eyes. "I've never seen anything like it."
He hushed her, holding her tighter.
Taking a ragged breath, she slowly sat up, the collar of her shirt slipping over one shoulder. Looking up into his eyes, she smiled sorrowfully. "I can't believe you put up with me."
He frowned. "Put up with you? I love you."
She shook her head. "I'm ugly.' her scars began to seep through the facade that she had slipped into place like a second skin without knowing. The deep, crack-like lines grew from her eye as the pupil misted over. "Scarred."
He glared down at her. "You are wrong."
She twisted away from his grasp, standing. She hugged herself, unable to look at him. "How am I wrong? Look at ME!"
She whirled around, eyes blazing in irritation. He smiled up at her, looking her over from head to toe. Standing, he stepped towards her, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingers.
"You are breath-taking.' he let his index finger trace the scar around her eye. "I see strength here,' he kissed her scar, taking her hand and running over her callused fingers-'And hands that are quick to help'-up her arms he kissed her through the fabric-'Muscles hardened by labor of love.' He leaned in close, "A mind determined to protect those it holds dear,' he rubbed her ear between his thumb and forefinger. "And a heart beating in harmony with faith." He rubbed his hand along her collar bone, tickling the edge of the wide scar with his rough fingers.
Stepping back, he took her chin in his hand, staring intently into her eyes. "If that isn't the description of beauty, then I don't know what is."
She stood, now shaking for an entirely different reason. "Thank you."
He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Reaching up he slipped his hand behind her head, drawing her face closer to his and tangling his fingers in her soft hair. She tilted forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as he inhaled. His lips were gently, yet rough, dry from being out in the wind and weather. She pressed closer to him, impossibly so, as if they would meld into on being. In the silence around them the only thing that could be heard was the rustling of the curtains as the breeze blew in through the window while the light of the morning sun filtered through it, casting the couple in an unearthly glow, turning Thennil's red hair into gold and Aragorn's skin into a rich tan. His smelled like worn leather and the earth, fresh and clean, like a breeze sweeping in through wet pines. His nose brushed against her cheek, then over her own delicate nose. It was like nothing she had ever experienced, and it was beautiful.
They drew apart, breathing softly. Her eyes remained closed, the feelings that she had experienced rolling over her like the ocean, gently and sweet. She slowly opened her eyes, her arms still around his neck as she smiled up at him, but in the next instant buried her face in his chest, covering her face.
He laughed, pulling her away from him as a blush crept up her neck, all the way to the tips of her pointed ears.
"That was your first kiss?"
She blushed harder, if that was possible, covering her eyes with her hands and mumbling through them. "Was it awful?"
He burst out laughing, and she peeked out from behind her hands, frowning.
"You're asking me if it was awful?"
"What? You've never kissed anyone else?" she shot back.
"Only one, and it happened to be on an outing to one of the human towns when I was seventeen,' he chuckled, and she glared at him.
"Did Elladan and Elrohir take you when I was out scouting?" she asked, glaring out the window as she thought of her two mischievous brothers.
"Maybe, maybe not."
She huffed, turning away from them. Then a memory popped into her head, and she whirled around to look at him. "That was why Elrohir had a black eye?!"
Aragorn's face went blank, 'No..."
"It was, wasn't it?' she said throwing her hands up in the air. 'I knew Ada was mad at him for something, I just didn't realize it was something like that."
Aragorn smiled unsteadily, moving away from her towards the door as she ranted on.
He was nearly out when she turned towards him, 'I told- What are you doing?"
He shrugged, and bolted out the door, hearing her angry shouts behind him as she rushed into the hallway, only to realize that she was still dressed in her sleeping tunic. His laughter rang through the house.
Sorry for being a day late! I was scrambling to catch up on homework. My Professor put the wrong book on the bookstore for one of my classes, and then told us that it was the wrong one on the first day of class, so yeah...
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you guys next week!
Robin
