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-Six:
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-Six
"Gúthwyn, wake up."
Éomund's daughter groaned, but otherwise made no attempt to obey the bothersome voice. She was only half awake; desperately, she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to recapture the sleep that had been so blissfully hers just moments ago.
"Gúthwyn!"
This time, the person that she now recognized to be Cobryn accompanied his words by rapping sharply on her head. Fully ready to murder whoever had given him his cane, she muttered, "What do you want?"
"It is time for the meeting," he said, and pushed away her hands when she attempted to ward him off.
As soon as her mind processed his announcement, her eyes flew open, and she sat bolt upright. Her head narrowly missed banging into Cobryn's. "Already?" she cried, leaping out of the bed. She nearly tripped on the hem of her nightgown as she scrambled towards the dresser.
"Yes, already," Cobryn called over his shoulder as he walked towards her door. "I will wait outside."
Gúthwyn struggled to conceal the panic sweeping over her as she nodded. If Éomer remained as adamant as he had been yesterday, her future would be decided perhaps within hours. She would know the name of the man she was to marry, and thus the place where she would live out the rest of her days.
What if it is not in Rohan? she wondered. Her fingers slipped on the ties of her nightgown. What if I am sent to some faraway realm, never to see my people again save for once or twice a year?
She did not wish to contemplate such a horrible concept. Yet it lingered in the corner of her mind as she undressed, and when she glanced into the mirror she could see fear written across her face.
Do not be ridiculous, she told herself sternly, putting on a shift. You are the sister of the king. You will not betray yourself in front of his councilors! Smile, and try not to look as if you are headed to your execution!
It was then that someone knocked on the door. "My lady?"
Mildwen. Gúthwyn grinned faintly, having taken a liking to the maid over the years. Maybe through conversing with her, she would be able to keep her thoughts off of what was to come. "Yes?"
The door was pushed open a crack, and Mildwen peered cautiously in. Upon seeing Gúthwyn in a decent enough state so that she could attend her, she stepped inside and curtsied. "Would you like help choosing a dress?"
"Thank you," Gúthwyn said, looking despairingly at her wardrobe. The doors were flung open, revealing an assortment of her less formal gowns. The white one that she had worn to Éowyn's wedding was on the far left, half-hidden behind another dress, but still managed to catch her eye more than any of the others.
"My lady," Mildwen began timidly, "I heard a rumor that they are to decide who your husband will be today."
Gúthwyn sighed. "For once, the gossip is correct."
Mildwen's eyes widened, and for a moment she forgot all about finding the perfect gown. "Are you not excited?" she asked. "In less than a year's time, you could be married!"
Trying to ignore the painful twinge in her heart, Gúthwyn replied, "I have no desire to wed another. Unfortunately, it seems that such a sentiment is not enough to get me out of the unhappy procedure."
"But… but, my lady," Mildwen said, looking shocked, "surely there are many nobles who would desire to be your husband—maybe even princes!"
"If I love none of them, it makes no difference whether they are kings or peasants," Gúthwyn said heavily, and swallowed. Borogor's status in Mordor had likely been more than anything he would have attained at home; yet she would have married him in a heartbeat, regardless of whether his family was wealthy or not.
Mildwen opened her mouth to speak, clearly appalled that her lady should not find the idea of being sought after by charming royalty appealing, but Gúthwyn quickly said, "I should be getting dressed."
"Of course," Mildwen said with swift nod, and scurried over to the wardrobe. "What about your favorite, the green one?"
The gown was currently residing in her trunk, and usually reserved for more formal occasions, but Gúthwyn debated for a moment about whether or not to wear it.
"Or the blue one," Mildwen suggested, shaking her head at the array of grey dresses Éomund's daughter so frequently used. "It flatters your features, and it is not one of the more uncomfortable ones."
"Wear white."
The voice of Cobryn rang out over Mildwen's hemming and hawing. Gúthwyn swiveled around, unable to see him through the small crack in the door, but knowing that he was just out of sight. Her face paled at his idea.
"Why?" she returned, trying to keep her voice steady.
"May I come in?" was his response.
"Oh, my lady," Mildwen said anxiously, "you are only wearing an undergarment, it is not appropriate—"
"Yes, you may," Gúthwyn replied, knowing that her friend had seen her in far worse states of dress than in her shift.
Mildwen could not restrain a gasp as Cobryn entered the room, and her cheeks turned a flaming red color. She muttered something about arranging Gúthwyn's gowns and retreated to the wardrobe.
"Wear white," Cobryn repeated when he saw Gúthwyn.
"I do not want to," she answered, trembling a little at the thought.
"It will put Éomer in a good mood," Cobryn said, his eyes fixing on hers. "He will be more lenient. You want as much freedom as you can get in these discussions."
Gúthwyn considered his words. "Cobryn," she spoke with a sigh, "I do not want to do this… Why is Éomer so insistent on going through with it?"
"Aldor finally wore him down yesterday," Cobryn explained. "I was not present at the meeting—without my objections, there was no one to stand in his way. Éomer's conscience was eased by the fact that you promised him you would search for a husband. To find out that you had not spoken truthfully only angered him, and made him even more determined to do what he believes is right."
"And why does it matter? It is only his sister's happiness that is at stake!" she cried bitterly, forcing down the lump in her throat. "Only her future that he is deciding, simply because he thinks it is right!"
"Éomer loves you," Cobryn reminded her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "I swear to you that, no matter what happens at the council, you will not be displeased with the results. I will make sure of it."
Gúthwyn bit her lip and was silent.
"My offer still stands," he said quietly, lowering his voice so that Mildwen could not hear. "We can end this now, if you wish it."
"I would not resign us to that fate," Gúthwyn whispered. "I cannot replace Feride, and while I love you as if you were my brother, you are not…" She trailed off. Only Faramir knew that the man to whom her heart was given had been called Borogor; it was a secret she guarded closely, wanting his name to be only hers to think of. To have others say it would be more than she could bear.
"So be it," Cobryn said, and nodded.
Five minutes later, Gúthwyn paused outside the door of Éomer's council chamber and took a deep breath. Her hands nervously fiddled with the sleeve of her white gown as Cobryn reached over and knocked three times.
"Good luck," he muttered to her. "I will do my best."
"Thank you," she responded, just as Éomer's voice called:
"Come in."
Cobryn paused only to smile reassuringly at her before turning the knob. He held the door open for her and she stepped inside, swallowing anxiously and surveying the scene. The room her brother's advisors met in when they wished to be undisturbed was sparsely furnished, and clearly not designed for comfort. A ring of chairs had been arranged about a table littered with charts; they were straight-backed and lacking cushions. The lighting was minimal, only adding to her edginess.
More intimidating than the chamber, however, were the people inside of it. All of Éomer's advisors—most of them close to three times her age—were now watching her, their eyes flickering over her like they would to determine the worth of a prized horse. Unlike with the guards and soldiers on the training grounds, they did not greet her with waves and cheerful speech. One or two of them nodded, but the rest were silent.
Gúthwyn glanced at the far end of the room, where Éomer and Lothíriel were seated side by side. The sight of the queen, looking at her as if she were two feet tall, did little to help her nerves. Éomer, however, smiled when he saw her; even more so when he noted that she was wearing the white dress he had purchased for her. She was suddenly glad that she had let Cobryn talk her into the outfit.
"Welcome, sister," he said, and gestured towards the empty chair on his right. "Please, sit."
Feeling as if she were five and about to be disciplined by Théoden, Gúthwyn approached her brother and gingerly lowered herself into the proffered seat. Cobryn settled himself not too far from her, directly across from Aldor. It gave her the impression that he was intending to fight the advisor as fiercely as he was able—this was the one issue that they disagreed on.
Éomer cleared his throat, and almost imperceptibly the councilors' eyes narrowed in concentration. "As you all know," her brother began, looking briefly at Gúthwyn, "we are here to discuss the prospects for Gúthwyn's marriage. It is our goal to agree on a suitable husband for her by the meeting's end. I know many of you"—he nodded at Aldor—"have given this much thought, and are eager to voice your opinions."
With that, he leaned back, as if to say to them let the games begin. Gúthwyn fidgeted slightly on her chair, unable to get comfortable.
"If I may, my lord," Aldor said then, and rose. Éomer inclined his head. "Forgive me for stating the obvious," the advisor began, making eye contact with each of his peers, "but the Lady Gúthwyn is most reluctant to even consider the idea of wedding another. It is to my knowledge that this stems from her love of this realm, which she appears to have no desire to leave. This in itself can be easily remedied: There are several fine men of the Mark who have availed of themselves to ask her for her hand in marriage, and would only need the slightest encouragement to try again. For instance, the two Marshals remain unwedded, as does Gamling, the Captain of the Guard."
"No," Gúthwyn said immediately. Éomer gave a sigh, as did many of the other advisors, but she would not be daunted. "I have already refused Elfhelm and Gamling. I shall not encourage them again. Erkenbrand has not spoken to me of marriage, but he will not, and I would never take him as my husband."
"Is that so?" Aldhelm inquired, not standing as Aldor had done, but remaining in his seat. "Perhaps the Marshal is merely waiting for the right time to ask you. And you could not do better, if you are considering men of the Mark."
"He is Tun's uncle," Gúthwyn said sharply. "I would not betray my champion or insult him for the world."
The tiniest sneer tugged at Lothíriel's lips.
"The boy has a wife," Aldor said dismissively. "I should think that he has quite forgotten your rejection. Nor would he have been the best match for you, in any case. He has not a high enough station, and he was always too forward in his attentions towards you."
"Excuse me," Gúthwyn snapped, glaring openly at the councilor. "I did not come here to listen to you discussing Tun's faults. If that is all you are going to do, then I shall leave. My champion is a wonderful man, and I will let no one say otherwise."
"It seems," Lothíriel began quietly, "that there are no men left in the Riddermark for Gúthwyn to take as a husband. Perhaps we should look elsewhere."
"Aye." One of the other advisors, by the name of Breowine, leaned forward eagerly. "There is no lack of nobility in Gondor. She is friends with King Elessar, and I am certain that it would not be too difficult to use that connection in order to secure a man of good standing."
"I would think that Aragorn has more important things to worry about than who I am to marry," Gúthwyn said bitingly. "Such as the ruling of the greatest kingdom in all of Middle-earth."
Many of the advisors muttered at this—the exception being Cobryn, who appeared as if he were tempted to laugh—but surprisingly, Lothíriel nodded. "My husband's sister is right. Elessar is a busy man, and we should not trouble him. If we are not to look to Gondor for marriage, there are always other realms."
There was a pause as the councilors ran through their heads a list of the other regions. Gúthwyn could only think of Bree, where Feride had been from, and Rivendell, from whence she had set out with the Fellowship. Now the Last Homely House was abandoned, perhaps with only a few Elves who had not heard the calling of the West. A shiver passed through her.
She lifted her gaze to Cobryn, and saw that he was watching Lothíriel's face carefully. The queen either did not notice his scrutiny, or paid no heed to it. Instead, she began smoothly, "I have heard from some old confidants that the ruler of Dorwinion has a son that is searching for a wife. Were Gúthwyn to be matched with him, there might be other benefits to be had from the union. Nowhere else do they make such wine—an alliance between our countries would make it easier to trade."
Gúthwyn's eyes widened as she tried to imagine how far away Dorwinion was. Other than the fact that it was considered by many to be the greatest source of wine, she knew next to nothing about the realm. It lay on the shores of the Sea of Rhûn, which was hundreds of leagues from her home. The region was directly north of Mordor, and was farther east than even where Barad-dûr had once been.
"Absolutely not," Éomer said, almost before his wife had even finished speaking. "That is too far away. I will not have my sister living out life in a place that she would have to navigate around Dagorlad and the Brown Lands in order to visit home. Not for all the wine in the world will that happen."
Lothíriel did not look abashed, but she bowed her head in submission and said quietly, "Then we should not even think of it."
Gúthwyn breathed a sigh of relief, but almost immediately Aldor remarked, "We are forgetting Dol Amroth."
There was a sudden spate of whispering amongst the advisors, but just as quickly it died away. Gúthwyn felt Cobryn's gaze on her. She knew what was going through his mind: Her correspondence with Prince Elphir.
"Aye," Éomer said, his eyes widening. Beside him, Lothíriel's were narrowed dangerously, but no one seemed to notice. "Sister, what say you? It is well known that you write frequently to Prince Elphir—almost as much as you do Éowyn."
"We are friends," Gúthwyn allowed, feeling her heart starting to race.
"The prince stands to inherit all of Dol Amroth," Aldor mused, lacing his fingertips together. "One could hardly find a better match for the Lady Gúthwyn."
"And our ties to Prince Imrahil are strong, thanks to our queen," Aldhelm added, with a respectful nod towards Lothíriel.
"Elphir has certainly paid enough attention to her," Breowine commented, looking pointedly at Gúthwyn. "One might have said that during his visits he was courting her."
"My brother is not so bold as that," Lothíriel answered tightly. Gúthwyn noticed that her fingers were white, while they had all the appearance of resting lightly on the arms of her chair. When she next exchanged glances with Cobryn, she could tell that he had seen the queen's manner also.
"Nevertheless," Aldhelm replied with a wave of his hand, "it cannot be denied that he took a liking to her. I have always thought that a double alliance with Dol Amroth would strengthen our kingdom."
"As have I," Aldor agreed. He raised his eyebrows at Cobryn. "We once discussed this, did we not?"
"We did," Cobryn confirmed irritably. "But perhaps Gúthwyn should be consulted, before you send envoys to Prince Imrahil. Ultimately, it must be with her good will that we act. I would hope that you were planning on seeking it in the near future."
Gúthwyn straightened, and turned to Éomer with panicked eyes. "You would not send me to the Sea if I did not wish it, brother, would you?"
"Of course not," Éomer said gently, and laid a firm hand on her own. It easily covered hers. She found herself comforted by its warmth, and wondered if Elphir would hold her in a similar way, should they marry. "But would you want us to press for a match between you and Elphir?"
Gúthwyn fell silent. Who else will they suggest if I refuse him? she wondered. Elphir was certainly courteous to her, and they never lacked for conversation or jest. He was always ready with a compliment on hand for her; he had danced with her, gone on rides with her, and dueled with her. He had not so much as widened his eyes at the sight of the children, and indeed had one of his own whom she knew she could cherish as if he were her son. But did she want to leave her people, her land, her home, her brother? The training grounds, little Elfwine, Hildeth, Mildwen? She would be so far from both of her siblings…
"Gúthwyn?"
She looked at Éomer, even as she made a noise of inquiry trying to imagine what it would be like to live without him.
"Are you feeling well?"
He was asking her to decide her future right here, right now? In less than five minutes, she was to determine her fate?
"I-I need some time," she stuttered, taking a deep breath. Her mind was afire. What should she do?
Would Borogor like Elphir? she asked herself. Since I have to choose someone, will he be angry with me?
And what of Elphir himself? Would he even want her as a wife? If he did, how would he treat her? Would he always be kind to Hammel and Haiweth? Would he see that they were properly educated, and love them as she would love Alphros? Would he let her visit Éomer and Éowyn often? Would he hold her at night when she awoke from a bad dream? Would he want to make love to her often? Would he simply do so until she had given him an heir? Would he realize that she was terrified of lying beneath him? Would he not begrudge her that she had loved another? Would she even tell him all of her secrets, or would he turn a deaf ear to her time in Mordor?
What if I marry Cobryn? she questioned silently. It would not be the end of the world—he certainly would not want to touch me like a lover would. Our friendship would continue, the only difference being that he would sleep with me. He is already a father enough to Hammel, and I would trust him with my life.
And what of Elfhelm or Gamling? Would it be so bad if she encouraged them once more? She was close to both of them, and by becoming one of their wives she would ensure the rest of her life's stay in Rohan. She would never have to be parted from her home, from the people she had grown to love as fiercely as if they were her own subjects. She would grow old in a realm that she had longed for all the seven years in which she was a captive, and never have to leave it.
So many possibilities were at her fingertips… and none of them the one that she truly wanted. Borogor was dead, never to marry her. She would never bear his children—a strong boy, a beautiful girl—and they would never have a home of their own. Their "home" had been their tent, a place in which he could only comfort her against what Haldor had done, a place in which he could only hold her hair away from her face as she vomited. That tent was now long gone, with just her, Dîrbenn, and the children to remember it.
Gúthwyn shivered, and looked at the advisors. They were all watching her intently, waiting for the slightest sign of a yea or nay. She felt as if she had been laid bare and was being picked apart by vultures, all preying upon her for their own gain.
The anxiety must have shown itself clearly in her face, as Cobryn said then, "For the Valar's sake, stop staring at her as if you can will her to decide! Let her be!"
Most of the councilors coughed, a precursor to fussing with their tunics and aimlessly gazing at the barren walls. The only person now willing to look at her was Cobryn. He had resumed examining his boots, but when he felt her eyes on him he lifted his gaze. With the smallest tilt of his head, he gave a silent inquiry. Gúthwyn knew that she had only to nod, and he would leap to her defense. He would successfully argue her way out of a marriage with Elphir. He would turn the discussions towards any man that she wished, or any man that he thought would be the best choice for her—and she knew that she could trust his judgment.
One nod of the head, and she would not marry Elphir.
Gúthwyn sighed. And so I seal my fate, she thought.
She shook her head.
The action was so imperceptible that only Cobryn noted it. He looked surprised for a moment, and then gave a small smile. She returned it sadly, knowing that there was no going back. Straightening, she turned to Éomer. He had removed his hand from hers and was now looking at her, waiting patiently for an answer. Over his shoulder, she could see Lothíriel watching her like a hawk, her eyes mere slits.
If she had not been an enemy of the queen now, she certainly would be. Meeting Éomer's eyes—and only Éomer's—she said, loudly and clearly, "If the Prince Elphir is interested in being my husband, then I shall not object. I will accept his offer if it is made."
She had to hand it to herself, Gúthwyn thought as relieved exclamations broke out amongst the advisors and a smile spread over Éomer's face. She was taking her own decision well. As a matter of fact, she could not feel anything now. Numbness was sweeping over her, from her head to her toes, clutching her heart in its grasp. A faint buzzing filled her mind.
Aldor was saying something, but she could not hear it. When Éomer cried, "The Valar be praised!" she found herself standing so that he could envelop her into a bone-crushing embrace. Yet though he must have been squeezing the very air out of her lungs, she hardly noticed. Instead, she smiled at her brother's delight, and then nodded as the councilors all wished her the best of luck. She listened with half an ear as they discussed how to best go about arranging the alliance, and did not even feel nauseous as it was decided to send a letter out the following morning.
And then the advisors were filing out of the chamber, each of them satisfied that the meeting had gone extraordinarily well, and she was following Éomer into the hall. He drew close to her, cupped her chin in his, and kissed her on the brow. "Thank you, sister," he murmured. "I swear to you, you will not be unhappy with him as your husband."
She nodded.
"You should write to Éowyn," Éomer continued, "and tell her the good news. There are still a few hours left until dinner."
Again, she nodded. That seemed to be enough for him, and with that he let go of her and slipped his arm around Lothíriel's waist. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled. The two of them did not return to the great hall, but instead went into their room. Gúthwyn was left standing there, trying to muster the strength to move.
"Gúthwyn." She felt a hand on her shoulder and stiffened, but it was only Cobryn. "Are you all right?"
"What did I just do?" she whispered suddenly, turning to face him with wide eyes. "What did I just do?"
"You agreed to marry Prince Elphir of Dol Amroth," he replied.
"By the Valar," she choked out, and stumbled against him. Just in time he caught her, steadying her with his arms and holding her tightly so that she could not fall. "What was I thinking?"
"You look awful," he said, addressing her as only he could. "Come, you need fresh air. Start walking."
In a daze, she did as he told her, unable to feel her legs. They wobbled beneath her as she somehow made her way down the passage and into the throne room, and threatened to give out when Cobryn left her side to open the door for her.
"What was I thinking?" she asked again, her voice rising to a cry as she staggered outside. The two guards looked concernedly at her.
"Careful," Cobryn hissed, gripping her arm. "Say nothing until my ears are the only ones to hear it."
She could barely understand a word he was saying, never mind follow his instructions, but she managed to keep herself conscious as he steered her around the Golden Hall. They were at the very clearing she had refused Tun at, the place where she had realized that she loved her champion but could not marry him. And now, if things went well for her brother, she would be betrothed to a prince of Dol Amroth.
"What have I done?" Gúthwyn cried when they were hidden from the view of the people. "I cannot marry, I am too young, I was never trained to be a princess—by the Valar, I am going to be a princess…"
She collapsed onto the soft grass and buried her face in her hands. Cobryn knelt down beside her.
"Things may not work out," he said, but without much conviction in his voice.
"They will!" Gúthwyn exclaimed, her voice hysterical. She felt as if she would faint. Her head was light; there was a numb tingling in her limbs. "And I will go to the Sea! I… I have never seen it before! I know none of the people!"
"It is not Elphir that is troubling you," Cobryn said softly.
Shaking, she met his eyes. "I will be married to another man," she responded hoarsely. "Instead of the one I love."
"Would that we all could marry whom we loved," Cobryn answered quietly. "The world would be a happier place for it."
Miserably, she nodded. He let her lean on him, and not a word did she say as her weight grew heavier. "I do not feel well," she whispered, recognizing the familiar coils of nausea within her stomach.
"You are in shock," he said. "Do not worry… Elphir will treat you well, if the marriage goes through. You made the best choice."
"I should never have had to make it in the first place," she murmured, and closed her eyes.
Moments later, they were wet with tears.
