Chapter 31: Rohan
Meduseld was in a state of uproar.
Over recent times the King had grown pale and his beard long. Théoden was overcome by weakness that accompanied this change and lost all apparent interest in most worldly matters, leading him to ignore the situation abroad and becoming prone to giving out strange orders.
All while ignoring wise council, listening only to the poisonous words of Grima Wormtongue.
Éowyn had never felt so powerless as she labored through every day trying to get her uncle to listen to reason.
To recall the Rohirrim and disregard Grima who she no longer bore trust for.
At the rate it was going, it seemed Rohan would fall under his rule.
Until yesterday when the King inexplicably lost control of himself and then fainted, his unkempt beard suddenly gone as if by some spell.
And then, as he was bedridden, his pale complexion turned for the better.
It was like a dream come true when he woke the following morning, his eyes clear as she once knew them, after which he, unsure and confused, ordered a full overview of what have transpired since the start of his strange lapse. Théoden returned to his throne and pored over stacks of reports that left him ever further horrified and incredulous.
Théoden groaned after being filled in at great length by advisers and messengers who crowded the hall, all of them beside themselves about his miraculous recovery, "So much has transpired since I lost my way..."
"It doesn't end there, uncle." Éowyn said, "War have embroiled the west from north to south. Orcs are swarming from the east alongside evil men, while barbarous wild men and dunlendings besiege us from the west. We are in a bad state at present."
"Forefathers help us…" the King looked miserable, "Where is my son, then? Where is Théodred? Where is Éomer, my nephew? I have neither seen nor heard from them since I woke."
"You sent them north, to Moria, before the war began."
"Moria?!" he sat up straight.
"Indeed, and as you may remember, our marshals have at length bemoaned the lack of an aetheryte in Helm's Deep…"
Théoden rubbed his temples in frustration, "I see… So a bulk of our forces are unaccounted for?"
"I'm afraid so, uncle."
"What madness…"
Éowyn felt as miserable as her uncle looked. More than anything she wanted to volunteer herself to help lead in their defense, burning as she did in her desire to be out there fighting for their people rather than stay and wait for whatever doom to claim them. Yet in awareness of how much he disapproved of such a notion, Éowyn kept silent.
Even in his clearest mind, Théoden wouldn't allow her to ride forth.
Yet, as she did so dearly cherish her uncle, she could never rebuke him.
"Uncle…"
"Where is he?"
Éowyn blinked as he looked up from his palm, his eyes seething, "Where is who, my uncle?"
"Where is my chief adviser, whose counsel should have averted this disaster?" Théoden fixed his gaze forward with such anger bubbling to the surface that those who looked on flinched as if struck, "Where is Grima Wormtongue?!"
OoOoO
Much as she would like to keep her opinion to herself, the auri was right about this place being drab and boring with not even a speck of inspiration to its name. Only a few minutes have passed since they arrived and already H'aerindu found herself bored of the place. It was a far cry of most other settlements she's been in.
Given the choice and lacking a reason to stay, she'd quit the place.
Without much delay, preferably.
But as if this was not enough there was a gloom in the air that thickened as they neared the top. The greater proportion of the population was dressed in dark garbs, and their collective mood was somber at best.
"Far as I can discern," Legolas observed, listening to the quietly chatting townsfolk with his uncannily sharp ears, "The reason for this lethargy is that the King collapsed just yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Gandalf quirked a brow, "What curious timing."
"That does sound like more than a coincidence." H'aerindu said, though, truth be told, whether it could be connected to what has happened of late was anyone's guess for now, "Moreover, it explains this horrid air we're having."
"Sure does…" Dagasi whispered, "Would say there's more cheer in a lichyard."
Their climb continued thereafter, until they neared the peak and saw the golden structure that stood upon the highest point of this mountain, which painted a garish picture when lined up with the sheer drabness that surrounded it. Just in time to see the door open wide to allow a small crowd of mostly guards to step out and throw a sickly wretch of a man down the stairs leading up to the golden halls like he was a special kind of filth.
One would think that'd be the end of it.
Except it did not as an irate old man garbed in expansive furs descended on him with a sword in hand.
Intent on his life.
H'aerindu furrowed her brows as she watched, wondering whether she should intervene or not in this apparent dispute and how it must have come to this. To her trained eyes the wretched man did not seem to be an assassin by any stretch, or a fighter for that matter. For that he seemed far too weak to pose any legitimate threat.
So what possibilities did that leave?
Gandalf frowned, "All of you, spread out and keep watch. H'aerindu, follow me."
"Sure, but shouldn't we intervene?"
"Of course." he said, "First, though, I have a question for you…"
OoOoO
After all that Grima had done, Éowyn was feeling a sense of extreme catharsis as the wretch of a man cowered at her uncle's feet, begging him for mercy he did not deserve, for the angered King to not deliver to him his demise he so well deserved. It would be an experience for sure to see him perish.
Not a tear would be shed for his pathetic self.
"Send me not from your side!" Grima pleaded, crawling on all four.
Théoden seethed as he refused to listen. For not only had he been negligent in his duty and dogged her steps, but he had also stolen more than a few precious artifacts and locked them away in his locker like some common thief.
One of those very items being the sword Herugrim.
An heirloom that has been passed down from generation to generation of Rohan's royal line for several centuries
Suffice it to say, Grima was beyond redemption.
Nothing more than scum, worthy of no compassion.
"Spare your breath, feckless worm!" Théoden growled as he held Herugrim aloft, preparing to deal the killing blow when someone surfaced from the throng of townsfolk who had gathered to watch what was for all intents and purposes a public execution.
It was the Gray Pilgrim.
Théoden paused upon seeing the wizard.
"Halt this madness," Gandalf declared, "Théoden King!"
"Madness?!" her uncle asked incredulously.
"Look to your people." the Gray Pilgrim held out a hand, gesturing to the assembled townsfolk whose expressions were more or less blank, "For your decisions of late, your people grieve. More blood spilled is not what they require now. Lower your sword and have the man incarcerated if he has indeed wronged."
Éowyn was struck by a certain presence of mind as she looked on the people, and found no light in their eyes.
Only a sense of melancholy.
It seemed her uncle had likewise noticed as his rage fizzled out, leaving a sad and broken man who through gritted teeth spoke. "Arrest this filth and place him behind bars." Théoden gave his order to the nearest guards, "I will suffer his presence no further."
They obliged, and Grima was taken away kicking and screaming.
Leaving only what would come next.
Gandalf nodded in approval as he paced in close to her uncle and placed a solitary palm on his shoulder reassuringly, "You did the right and compassionate thing, Théoden King."
Her uncle sighed sadly, "It does little to allay this guilt I feel, for mine own failures."
"P-pray, mind your tongue!" Éowyn called out, "My uncle, it is the malady you have suffered under that's at fault, not yours!"
Théoden gave her a pained look as she came to stand beside him, like he did not need or deserve such a vigorous defense. Gandalf on the other hand weighed her words with his eyes so narrowed they were hidden behind his bushy brows, "I would hear more of this malady you speak of."
"And you shall." Éowyn responded, "Just… let us take this to the hall. Our King still needs to rest."
Gandalf did not argue and nodded before they all moved back inside where her uncle retook his place on the throne, sitting down heavily. Just the short walk outside had taxed him, showing the consequences of his weeks of inaction and lethargy. Éowyn took her place beside him, and explained what happened, everything she could recall, and how the nightmare of Théoden fading in so horrific a manner ended.
"I see." Gandalf said after she finished, thoughtful and appearing rather miserable, "It would seem that the treachery of Saruman ran deeper than any of us suspected. Never could we have imagined that he would go so far to work against us…"
The words of his caused quite a bit of stir.
"You mean…" one of the advisers started, trembling and shivering in outrage, "You mean to say… that one of your order used our King like one would use a puppet?!"
"Regrettably."
Anger simmered throughout the hall as everyone within earshot reacted to the tacit confirmation, nearly starting a riot Éowyn was tempted to join before her uncle made a bark for silence that brooked no disobedience, putting a stop to the lynching before it could have a chance to start. Théoden directed his solemn gaze to the wizard next, inquiring; "Saruman was responsible for my sorry state?"
"That is my conclusion." Gandalf said, not having flinched, "As your recovery coincides with the recent events in Rivendell."
"What happened?"
"I could tell you the events, but there is one here who I believe is better suited for that."
Her uncle frowned, "Who else here can do that but you?"
"That would be me."
Almost everyone jumped when someone unseen suddenly spoke, scanning the hall for its origin when this certain someone proceeded to materialize as if out of thin air. It was a woman garbed in red with peculiar eyes of green and teal, and a long bushy tail. The sight of whom made Éowyn recall the old stories about the cat woman who played a part in the events that concluded at the end of the legendary Battle of the Five Armies decades past.
Particularly as this woman matched that warrioress' description, to a frightening extent.
Which made her either the very same, or someone related at least.
Éowyn was willing to settle for the latter given the span of time that has passed since, though she acknowledged that they are dealing with unknowns here considering how little they know of the other world and its people.
"Greetings." the brunette spoke, issuing a curt bow, "My name is H'aerindu Dhelh, and among other things I'm the designated ringbearer."
"Ringbearer?" Théoden blinked.
Gandalf inclined his head, "Indeed, she bears the Enemy's prize possession and the selfsame key to his demise. Having proven herself of late to be indomitable of will and spirit it was decided that she would bear the ring."
The old man frowned, settling back down as he looked back on the female, "I see. So you were the witness to what transpired?"
"In a matter of speaking…" H'aerindu countered, showing him a cryptic smile, "I was the one who put him down."
Moments passed as Théoden processed that, "Explain."
"Of course. To give you the whole of it, it all started on the morn of yesterday, far to the north, when my fellowship and myself approached the eastern gates of Moria for the purpose of relieving your troops at the location…"
Mutters of confusion spread throughout the hall.
"W-why…" Éowyn could not avoid sharing in the surprise, despite her yearning to know how her brother and cousin fares, "Why does it start in Moria?"
The brunette looked at her, "Listen and you shall know."
They did so as the story started in earnest, and then escalated as the fellowship fought through the armies of orcs that stood between those within the mines and their escape to rescue Théodred who was dying from wounds sustained till one Miana Mia rid him of them. After that, H'aerindu told them of the efforts made to prevent a decapitating strike in order to allow for a summary retreat.
Which was rushed into action when a balrog emerged.
To buy time for them to escape, H'aerindu engaged the dark creature in an incredible protracted battle.
This was a hard-fought battle by all accounts, yet she managed to fend it off.
Not about to leave it at that, they chased it down, which led to them dropping with it into the depths where the demon was by the hands of a participating cultist relocated to Rivendell. H'aerindu and one Aauron alongside gave chase, and after further struggle managed to wound the balrog severely enough that it had to be sent away lest she slew it.
This led to the confrontation with Saruman, who was consequently corrupted and sent against her.
After a fierce battle where Gandalf got involved, the white wizard was slain, though not before he manged to almost destroy Rivendell in its entirety.
Éowyn felt as though her head was spinning as she tried to imagine the battles H'aerindu so vividly recounted. So fantastical they were by the end that if it was not for Gandalf's presence lending credence to her words, people here would have all expressed their doubts ere now. Éowyn on her part believed it all, however. All of it so detailed and alive that it could not simply be a work of fiction.
If it wasn't, they'd know for sure when Théodred and Éomer returns home.
"Having defeated him," H'aerindu at last concluded; "I at last rested before being called over to the council where I was ordained the ringbearer... which brings us here."
None spoke up at first, digesting the information.
"That was quite the tale, lass." Théoden was the one to break the silence as he leaned a little forward, weighing an elbow down on his right knee, "I reckon that its like exist in myths of old alone. For which reason you must surely understand why I'll await the return of my son and nephew before I reach a conclusion about all of which the wizard cannot personally confirm?"
The brunette nodded, "I understand."
"Until then you may enjoy what hospitality we have to offer." the old man said, before giving a long sigh, "That being said, regardless of your tale's veracity you did barge in to this meeting without prior invitation from myself."
"I beg your par—" Gandalf started.
"Uncle…" Éowyn then intervened as a moment of clarity made her eye the opportunity that was all but apparent before the wizard could continue, "If you seek a suitable punishment for her, may I offer a suggestion?"
OoOoO
H'aerindu had a feeling things would turn out this way.
Yet she had gone through with it.
Just before Gandalf had approached the King in the first place he had asked whether she knew of a way to conceal herself, because apparently her grandmother did something like that early on in her adventure with Bilbo and the dwarves in his company. Being experienced as a miner and a ninja besides, doing so was well within her ability.
"Why?" she had asked.
"Given his apparent state of mind t'would be prudent to not tax him overly by revealing too much at once." Gandalf had replied, "Hide away and don't reveal yourself ere the time is right, or I call for you."
With that reasoning she decided to go along with his instruction.
After finding out what the King went through it turned out to be the right decision, though she now stood the risk of being punished for trespass. The miqo'te shifted her weight from one foot to another as the old man and her niece conversed, speaking under their breaths. This continued until they arrived at their decision.
"Now then…" Théoden spoke, "Let it be known first of all that we are beyond grateful for your slaying of Saruman, who has been the wellspring of much grief. Still, we cannot ignore your coming here without my expressed welcome. Your punishment thus, in consideration of your noble deeds, will be to tutor my niece for the duration of your stay here."
Of all the punishments she suspected, being given a tutoring job was not even in her top fifty.
She blinked repeatedly, "Tutoring her, in what?"
"The arts of combat, specifically." the old man said, "My niece has ever entertained certain notions in regards to her future prospects."
Certain notions… H'aerindu's ears twitched at the tone of faint disapproval coming from him when he said this, considering arguing with him before she thought better of it. For while on the surface their situation reminded her somewhat of the relationship Stephanivien had with his father before they reconciled, this one was arguably a different beast altogether.
Not due to any notion of rank or nobility, but context.
Lacking in the technological and magical prowess of Hydaelynic civilization that almost made gender completely irrelevant as a consideration when judging one's ability, the people of Middle-Earth simply did not have the luxury of including females in their armed forces for the most part as they could not measure up to males in terms of base strength.
What a conundrum this was.
Changing this would require introducing knowledge on an unheard of scale, which would be difficult as there is cultural inertia to consider.
Which was too much of a hassle for her alone to deal with.
Teaching one or a few some tricks, if possible within the time given, however…
"—Do you accept this duty and task?" Théoden interrupted her train of thought.
"Y-yeah." H'aerindu blinked in preoccupation, "I can do that, I think…"
Théoden nodded, "Very well. You may start at once."
"Now?"
"It is time we move on to matters of the state, for which I require Gandalf's counsel alone." the old monarch rumbled, "Éowyn…"
The blonde woman beside him curtsied and made for the door, only slowing her pace to gesture for her to follow. H'aerindu spared a look toward the wizard – who nodded with an apologetic look – before she followed her to and down the steps outside. "Apologies for the inconvenience." Éowyn said after they passed the guards who all gazed at her with mixed feelings, "After listening to your riveting tale I simply needed to partake in your wisdom."
"I take it this… task was your idea?"
"You surmise correctly."
"Not that I can blame you or anything, but why?"
"My dream for many years has been to fight alongside my brethren." Éowyn explained, "To that end I've traveled to many places since I learned how to use aetherytes in the hopes of finding one such as you, or a culture that allows its women to do combat alongside the men, all in the hopes of convincing my uncle. As you may guess, I was less than successful in that endeavor."
H'aerindu hummed, "So now you're hoping to achieve it through what I might be able to teach you."
"Indeed." the noblewoman nodded, continuing to lead on until they entered a courtyard, an open space betwixt buildings that included a large boulder. That and a whole lot of people who looked on what was to them a peculiar spectacle – several watchful guards among them. "This should be as good a place as any." Éowyn said as she turned to look at her, eyes glittering, "So what should we start with?"
Éowyn's eyes almost glittered with anticipation, "Shall we start with some sparring? If so, with sword, or perhaps spear?"
"Hmm." H'aerindu considered it as she looked around the courtyard, trying to find a good way to proceed when she noticed a well. That more or less gave her an idea for the path forward; "A bucket of water for starters…"
"… Eh?"
OoOoO
Osgiliath shook like an asp leaf. Not many days have passed and already half of the city was under occupation, with only the river halting the enemy from taking all of it in one go. Sixty thousand orcs and hundreds of trolls have so far assembled there, with yet more coming in by the day. Even with the last bridge broken barring their path, Faramir had no faith in that it'd slow them for very long as the attempted crossings grew in frequency every day.
Although it did not daunt him any.
"So long as we can keep them from gaining a foothold on our side of the river, we should be able to hold out until the reinforcements arrives."
Damrod muttered, "Provided that they are coming, of course."
"They must." Faramir said as more arrows fell and bounced off of the nearby roof, "All of the southern front depends on Osgiliath being held. If it falls…"
"It'd be bad for all of the west."
"Indeed, so it must be held."
"Captain!" Anborn entered, "Another crossing making for the southern harbor, sixty boats."
Faramir cursed under his breath, "Have the seventh and eighth in place to receive them."
"Got it!"
But the largest crossing of the day was not enough to still the tide of poor news as a runner burst in at speed; "Captain, I bring word from the outlook!"
"What did they say?" Faramir asked.
"They are requesting your presence at the soonest possible."
"Why?"
"Going by their words, it's because what they just saw cannot be conveyed in letter."
Faramir exchanged a look with Damrod before they each took up a shield for protection against the monsoon of crude arrows and made for the outlook. It was one of the tallest towers of Osgiliath that remained after all the strife it has suffered, making it ideal to get a good view of the battlefield as a whole. Faramir did not appreciate the long climb that came with it, but climb he did and arrived to meet with the outlooks who were clearly nervous.
"What do you see." he demanded.
"L-look there, Captain." the chief among them replied, pointing toward the east.
What he found in the far distance was most clearly an army of Haradrim entering the city, about ten thousand strong. There were no mûmakil in sight, but in their steads he found machines shaped like giant mockeries of men propelled through unseen means. Most of them small enough that they marched among the Haradrim, while the rest were large enough to fill whole streets. Faramir could not even guess to how they would affect the battle, unknown as they were, but he understood why his presence was requested now, for even as he now watched them he could not articulate or describe what he saw.
"C-captain!"
Faramir did not look away, "I see them, Damrod."
"N-no, Captain!" Damrod nervously said, "Above… look above!"
Fixated as he was by the previous sighting he did not notice as fear took his second and the outlooks who all looked up, their trepidation much in evidence. Faramir followed their gaze, and his jaw dropped as he found a great host of fangs and claws descend from the skies. Dragons of all shapes and sizes fell on the eastern Osgiliath, howling for blood. Most fearful of this cloud of many hundreds of winged monstrosities, however, was what came next. An enormous frame that crushed buildings underfoot, and whose tail smashes aside other ruins like they were made from parchment.
"Make way!" it roared.
The cry echoed across the city and made men quail in fear like it made the orcs howl in responding approval.
"Make way!"
Ponderously it turned to the west and it was almost as if it could see him, issuing another howl that made the crowds gathered beneath and around it cry out, thrusting their weapons at the sky that seemed on the verge of rain.
"Make way for the fall of Man!"
Author notes: Ended up rewriting this chapter multiple times because no matter how I wrote this I wound up displeased by the result. Did not like how it ended up either, but it was the only one that managed to go anywhere. Part of it being due to aspects of Théoden's personality that ended up being weighed on despite all my efforts not to, and me not being much of a conversationalist to begin with.
The bloody perfectionist in me didn't make stuff any easier either.
That said, I was really surprised a while ago while I was going on a round through Mt. Gulg as part of my effort to level up my healing jobs when the name of my character was recognized by one of those I ended up in a team with and I was asked if I was the author of this story.
Didn't expect to meet a fan in-game, so it was all a pleasant surprise.
Blessings of Babylon: To some limited extent. In the end the causes for the calamities were simply cover-up stories so people wouldn't try to find out the actual reason why the calamities took place. With the destruction of Ultima Weapon and the First's destruction all but imminent at the time, they were pretty much scrambling for a good cover. The question was only what.
With all of that out of the way, I apologize for the wait, and wish you a Merry Christmas.