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-Five:
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-Five
When Gúthwyn next awoke, the sunlight in her room was directly where it should have been. It was noon, and for the first time in a week she had not had a nightmare. A relaxed smile came to her face as she lay there, curling up under the warm comforters and enjoying the feel of the soft pillow against her cheek. The edge of the blanket tickled her throat, and she brushed it against her lips briefly before lowering it.
I must thank Cobryn, she thought, sighing contentedly. What did I ever do to deserve him?
As the light from the sun played across her face, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sat up. Only a few of the candles were burning: The one resting on her nightstand, another on her dresser, and a third on her desk. The rest were not even dripping with wax—Cobryn had not lit them at all. Despite the fact that she had been drugged, she felt a sense of triumph that she had slept with so little light in her room.
Letting the blankets drape loosely around her, Gúthwyn absent-mindedly tugged at the shoulder of her nightgown and thought about what she would do that day. She would have to thank Cobryn; that was one of the first items on the list. Afterwards, she would get a satisfactory training session in… perhaps then she could pick up Haiweth's lessons, which had been temporarily suspended during Legolas' visit. Or maybe she could convince Éomer to go on a ride with her…
Before she had time to decide, all the while thinking that there was something she had forgotten, there was a knock on her door.
"My lady?" Mildwen's tentative voice called.
"Come in," Gúthwyn answered, after a quick check to ensure that her nightgown had not dislodged itself too much. Her hair was still tousled from sleep, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Mildwen entered the room, immediately closing the door behind her. "Begging your pardon, my lady," she said, her breathing slightly uneven, "but you have a visitor."
"A visitor?" Gúthwyn asked, mildly alarmed. She sat up straighter. "Who is it?"
"Prince Legolas," Mildwen said. "He wanted to say farewell, if you were awake."
"Oh!" Gúthwyn exclaimed, bolting out of bed. She had completely forgotten that the harvest feast was his last night in Edoras. "Is he… is he outside?" Hastily she opened her dresser, reaching for the nearest robe.
"Yes, my lady," Mildwen replied anxiously. "Would you like me to brush your hair?"
Gúthwyn looked at it in the mirror and decided that it was not worth the time. "No, thank you," she said, drawing the robe tightly around her.
Mildwen nodded, somehow managing to curtsy while she was moving towards the door. She opened it, and Éomund's daughter approached the hallway with no small amount of trepidation. As she stepped outside, instinctively clutching her robe around her, she felt her heart pound rapidly within her chest. Legolas was waiting outside, leaning against the wall and looking at a painting that had been hung there. When he caught sight of her, he bowed.
"I hope I did not wake you," he said.
"N-No, you did not," Gúthwyn replied, keenly aware of Mildwen hovering in the background. The maid was evidently trying to make sure that her lady was safe in the hands of the prince. Although, reasonably, she should have had nothing to worry about, Gúthwyn could not help but be grateful for her anxiety.
"Are you feeling well?" Legolas inquired, looking concerned. "I saw Éomer carrying you to your room."
"Oh," Gúthwyn said, blushing with embarrassment as she realized that he had seen her inebriated state. "Cobryn gave me a sleeping draught of some sorts. I did not know that he had until I had drunk half of the mug."
Legolas raised an eyebrow. "He mentioned that. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I am fine," Gúthwyn answered, smiling a little. "I did not have any nightmares."
No sooner had she said that than she flushed, for she had not intended to talk about her troubling dreams.
"That is good," Legolas said, inclining his head. "I am glad to hear it."
"Th-Thank you," Gúthwyn responded, not sure what else to say. There was an awkward pause until she mustered the courage to ask, "Are you leaving now?"
"Yes," Legolas confirmed. "As we speak, the horses are being readied."
Gúthwyn mulled this over for a few seconds, and then swallowed. "I will go with you outside," she announced, simultaneously shivering and clenching the fabric of her robe tightly.
"Are you sure?" Legolas asked, seeming surprised. "It would not be necessary."
"What kind of a host would I be if I did not bid my guests farewell in proper fashion?" Gúthwyn questioned, attempting to smile nonchalantly. "Let me just get some slippers on."
Before she could have second thoughts about her decision, she retreated into her room, and stuck her foot under her bed in search of some shoes. The first pair she pulled out did not match her outfit; nevertheless, she was about to put them on when she decided against them. You should at least look presentable, she told herself, and took out another pair. This time, they somewhat coordinated.
Once she was ready, she came back outside to where Legolas was still standing. Mildwen had departed, her cheeks bright red, upon the news that her lady would soon be traveling outside—there, she would be under the close watch of Éomer. "Shall we go?" Gúthwyn asked, looking up at the Elf.
"Your company is appreciated," Legolas said as they began walking. "Though I pray I have not inconvenienced you."
"No," she assured him. "Not at all."
As they entered the throne room, he asked with a lowered voice, "Would it be troublesome to you if I visited on the journey back? I will not stop if you say yes."
"It would not," Gúthwyn said, trying to convince herself that it was not wholly a lie. "I-I would like to see you again."
The words slipped out of her before she was even aware that her mouth was forming them. Her face turned red, and she looked down at her feet. It was the defiant part of her, the piece that would give anything to be able to have a conversation with him and not think of Haldor at any point, that had spoken—yet it had phrased her thoughts in a mortifying fashion.
"Thank you," Legolas said quietly, and held one of the doors open. She nodded her head in gratitude, a pink tint still coloring her cheeks, and went outside with her head bowed. The sun beat down on her brow, momentarily creating an uncomfortable sensation along her forehead. Soon, however, it dispersed, and she was able to clearly see the Elves and their mounts. A great crowd had gathered around them.
Éomer and Lothíriel were standing beside the departing guests, evidently waiting for Legolas. When the former saw her, he smiled. Her irritation with him for allowing Cobryn to drug her vanished, and she waved back, fully intending to thank him for her good night's sleep.
As they approached, Éomer called out, "Sister! I am glad to see you up at a reasonable hour!"
She grinned, although Lothíriel's face was stony. "As much as I hate to admit it," Gúthwyn said, "I must thank you and Cobryn. I have not rested so well in months."
"Let us hope that we never have to resort to sleeping potions again," Éomer murmured, the relief on his face evident.
At that moment, Gúthwyn was hailed by a high-pitched voice that she immediately recognized to be Haiweth. When she turned around, the girl was running towards her, keeping as far from Legolas as she possibly could.
"You did not talk to me at the feast," she accused, coming breathlessly to a halt in front of her. "And you did not see my dress!"
"I heard that you were the prettiest dancer," Gúthwyn said as means of consolation, and ruffled Haiweth's hair. "I am sorry, little one. Éomer and Cobryn were discussing politics, and I fell asleep."
Haiweth wrinkled her nose. "Boring," she declared. Then she glanced at the Elves. "Are they leaving now?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"They are," Gúthwyn affirmed, keeping her hand on Haiweth's shoulder as she looked back at Legolas. He was exchanging a few brief words with Éomer and Lothíriel, thanking them for their hospitality. The king and queen responded cordially, welcoming him to return whenever he desired.
When those goodbyes were carried out, Legolas turned to Gúthwyn and Haiweth. "Farewell, my lady Gúthwyn," he said, bowing.
"My lord," she replied, and curtsied. Her hand never left Haiweth; all too well she recalled Haldor threatening the child, saying that he would force himself on her if Gúthwyn did not do as he pleased. While Legolas had shown nothing but courtesy to the girl, Éomund's daughter could not help but feel protective of her.
As it was, when Legolas glanced at Haiweth, she instinctively clutched Gúthwyn's hand. "Goodbye, Haiweth," Legolas said politely, his eyes guarded as he beheld the child.
At a nod from Gúthwyn, Haiweth curtsied, stumbling a little when she dipped too low. "Goodbye," she muttered, edging closer to Gúthwyn.
Legolas gave a small smile, and then his gaze focused on something beyond their shoulders. "Farewell, Hammel," he said.
Gúthwyn started, and twisted around to see that Hammel was, indeed, just a few feet behind her. His eyes did not leave Legolas' as he bowed. "Farewell, my lord," he said, straightening. One of his hands briefly curled into a fist, and then unclenched.
Legolas bowed one last time. "Perhaps we shall see each other soon," he said, and with that he turned to his horse. Effortlessly he mounted, the last of his party to do so. The other Elves were all atop their steeds, managing them easily.
With numerous calls of farewell from the people, Prince Legolas of Ithilien departed from Rohan, and was not seen again for several more months. Gúthwyn watched him go, shivering despite herself. When his lithe form had disappeared from sight, she beckoned to Hammel and Haiweth, and the three of them retired to their chambers.
It did not escape her notice that the nightmares, in which Haldor and Borogor alternately caressed her and beat her, vanished within the week, and never plagued her again.
After Legolas left Edoras, things slowly began to settle back down. Gúthwyn fell back into her normal routine, and experienced a drastic decrease in the amount of nightmares that troubled her. She regained the weight that she had lost, as well as the color that had faded because of her nocturnal habits. Although she did not spend quite as much time on the training grounds as she used to, she found just as much pleasure in taking care of Elfwine, whom she was growing fiercely devoted to.
As Éomer and Lothíriel were kept busy by a spate of meetings that annually followed the harvest feast, in which the preparations for winter were discussed relentlessly, she began watching over her nephew, taking him around the city and showing him the various sights. He was appreciably awed by the horses, and significantly bemused by the sparkling fountain in the lower reaches of the main street.
The coming of November brought two things of importance. The first, and by far the most discussed amongst the Eorlingas, was the wedding of Lebryn to Gamling's niece Celewen, and their almost immediate announcement of her being pregnant with his child. Naturally, the gossip ran wild, as many (rightfully) guessed that they had been sneaking behind the stables long before they even gave a thought to marriage.
Secondly, and of greater meaning to Gúthwyn, was the arrival of two letters bearing the seal of Prince Faramir. They came on a chilly day, when the inhabitants of Edoras had awoken to find the ground white with frost. It would not be long until the first snowfall.
"My lord," the messenger said, and bowed before he handed the first envelope to Éomer. The king received it with a nod of thanks.
The second letter was given to Gúthwyn. "Thank you," she said automatically, but could not repress the shiver of excitement. Surely the parchment that Éomer held in his hands contained Éowyn's plea on her behalf. In less than an hour, she thought triumphantly, I will no longer have to worry about marriage.
She watched eagerly as Éomer opened his letter, ignoring the disdainful look from Lothíriel, but once her brother had finished all he said was, "She and Faramir will be visiting within the month."
Although it was not the news that Gúthwyn had expected, she nevertheless grinned and exclaimed, "That is excellent!"
"Aye," Éomer said happily. "She has not yet seen Elfwine."
The king's heir, currently residing on his mother's lap, yawned. Gúthwyn smiled at him, and then returned her attentions to her own letter. Éomer was a better actor than she thought, if he had concealed his displeasure so easily. Only somewhat mindful that there were numerous others in the hall with her, she opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment. Hastily she started reading it, scanning it for news that Éowyn had forbidden Éomer from making her seek a husband. Yet as her eyes moved further down the page, her face fell, and by the time she was done her good mood was effectively ruined.
Gúthwyn,
As you will know by now, Faramir and I are traveling to Rohan soon. I am excited to meet Elfwine; I feel dreadful for not have doing so immediately upon his birth, but Faramir was busy with a series of meetings regarding the commerce between Emyn Arnen and Minas Tirith, so we were unable to leave our home sooner.
It gladdens me to know that you and the children are well. I fear that I have missed much in their upbringing, and that there are many things you must update me on. If time permits it, I hope we will be able to take our horses out and go for a ride around the city. We have much to catch up on, and I am looking forward to doing so.
Regarding your entreaty—sister, I am sorry, but I will not ask Éomer to stop searching for a suitable husband for you. I know this is not what you wish to hear, but our brother is right. We both want what is best for you, and even if you do not realize it, I am hard-pressed to find a better course you could take. This is not easy to write down on paper, so I will explain myself more fully when we see each other, but you deserve to have the happiness that Éomer and I enjoy. Do not think that I forget what happened to you in Mordor, for I shall never be able to rid myself of it. The Valar only know how you feel. But I believe that having a husband would help you recover, though you do not agree with me.
I would have you dwell on these words, for someday you will see the sense in them. In the meantime, do not despair: Éomer would never have you married to a man that you hate. I promise you, whoever is chosen will do his best to ensure that you are happy and comfortable in your new life. Faramir has always been wonderful to me, and I know that your husband will treat you the same.
Send my regards to Hammel and Haiweth. Until then,
Éowyn
For a shocked moment, Gúthwyn stared down at the letter, hardly able to comprehend the fact that her sister had just abandoned her to her fate. No intervention, not a word—nothing, she thought numbly, the hand holding the parchment beginning to tremble. In one swift motion, she clenched her fingers and crumpled it up, taking no notice when her fingernails cut into her palm and drew blood.
"What is it, sister?"
Éomer's concerned voice broke in on her fury, and as she turned to face him she saw that both he and Lothíriel were watching her with narrowed eyes. Gúthwyn could not find the words to answer him. She stood there, gripping the letter so tightly that her fist became white, until Éomer got up from his throne and approached her.
"Gúthwyn," he said, putting his hand over her own. Though she resisted him, he uncurled her fingers, taking the letter out of her grasp and smoothing it out so that he could read it.
When he was finished, he looked at her. "You asked Éowyn to convince me not to find you a husband?"
"Yes," Gúthwyn muttered, not seeing any point in denying it.
"We had an agreement—" Éomer began, his eyes widening.
"We had an agreement?" Gúthwyn repeated in disbelief. "Yes, I told you that I would search for love. But what was I supposed to say? 'No, brother, I never want to marry, and any man I find will have to live with the fact that his wife does not love him?' 'No, Éomer, and I cannot believe that you are asking such a thing of me when you know about—about him?'"
"Gúthwyn, please, you are making more of this than—"
"Éomer!" she all but shrieked, trembling in fury. "For the last time, I do not want a husband! My vow meant nothing! Why can you not see that?"
A silence fell throughout the hall, and belatedly she realized that everyone in the throne room had been staring at them. Cobryn and the children were among this number.
"Listen," Éomer said, his voice deadly quiet. "This is not the place to be having this discussion. Tomorrow, I am calling my advisors, and we are going to have a meeting about this." Her mouth dropped, but he ignored her. "It will be in the afternoon, so you have no excuse to miss it. You will be present for it, and we will decide what is to become of this situation. Do you understand me?"
Gúthwyn's response was to toss the envelope of Éowyn's letter on the ground and storm away.
