Chapter 29: Ride the Wind

When Toven entered the main hall, most of the tables had been cleared away. Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Théoden stood around the iron-wrought hearth in the middle, while Pippin sat in a chair nearby, Merry standing at his shoulder.

"He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner," Gandalf was saying. "He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

Toven went to stand beside Aragorn and crossed his arms. He knew better than to expect that the fighting would end with Saruman's death, but hearing it from the wizard filled him with exhaustion.

Théoden's face was lined with a weariness fit for a king that had just survived one war and was on the precipice of another. But when he spoke, his voice was clear and measured.

"Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"Are you kidding…" Toven started forward, but Aragorn stopped him with a look.

"We have seen a glimpse of the Enemy's plan," Gandalf said. "It would be folly not to act on it."

"Gondor must be warned," Aragorn added, his own outrage barely concealed.

Toven couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "Boromir's riding out as we speak." He glared at Théoden. "After he risked his life to defend your people."

Aragorn put a hand on his arm. "Toven, that's enough."

"Understand this," Gandalf said, pulling the king's attention back to him. "Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith…" He turned to the hobbits. "And I won't be going alone. On your feet, Peregrin Took."

Gandalf motioned for Pippin to follow him as he swept out of the hall. Merry followed the two of them, his shoulders stiff. The remainder of their fellowship trailed after them, leaving Théoden alone.

Once they passed through the main doors, Aragorn put a hand out, stopping Toven.

"I understand your frustration," he said. "But we are still guests of the king. We cannot afford to antagonize him."

Toven nodded, swallowing back his anger. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand how he can stand by and do nothing—"

"He is still grieving the loss of his own people. But he knows if Gondor falls, there will be no hope for Rohan."

A flash of white appeared at the entrance of the stables, and they turned to watch as a horse trotted out with Gandalf and Pippin on its back. Even in the dark, its coat gleamed. Gandalf raised his staff in farewell, and they rode down towards the main gate.

"Gandalf will find a way to bring the armies of Rohan and Gondor together," Aragorn said. "You must trust in that."

"And what is Pippin doing with him?" Toven asked. "I thought Gandalf didn't like him very much."

"It is likely Sauron believes that Pippin is the hobbit carrying the Ring," Aragorn said. "Which may work in our favor if Frodo and Sam..."

"Right," Toven whispered. This would all be for nothing if the two of them had fallen before reaching Mordor. It still stung him, worse than the pain of his arrow wound, that the two of them were forced to continue their journey alone.

"They may still be alive and well," Aragorn said. "You must trust in that, too."

Toven blew out a sigh. "At this point, I might as well walk around with my eyes closed and trust that I won't walk into a wall."

Aragorn laughed softly at that and patted him on the back.

Merry was standing in the middle of the road, looking small and forlorn, and the two of them went to join him.

"He's always followed me," Merry said quietly, "everywhere I went, since before we were tweens." A nostalgic smile crossed his face. "I would get him into the worst sort of trouble…but I was always there to get him out. Now he's gone, just like Frodo and Sam."

Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder. "One thing I have learned about hobbits—they're a most hardy folk."

"Foolhardy, maybe," Merry said with a quiet chuckle. "He's a Took."

"Gandalf will look after Pippin," Toven said. "Frodo and Sam have each other. And you have all of us."

Merry looked up at him with a small smile. "I suppose that's true."

He crossed his arms and watched the shining silhouette of Gandalf's horse sail over the inky plains. "I think the worst thing that could happen to any of us now is being alone."

"So I was in a totally different body, right? I was this big buff warrior and I was fighting monsters and shit, and there were elves and stuff, and I was there for, like, eighty years."

Maddy was silent as Quinn spoke, her eyebrows inching upwards. Finally, she said, "Did you take DMT and not tell me?"

"No! I mean, I don't think so." Come to think of it, she couldn't really remember what she'd been doing before she woke up. "It was so vivid, though. I think I died at one point, but then I got resurrected…"

She squinted, staring at a faded sticker pasted to the inside of the truck bed. The more she tried to remember, the harder it was to recall any specific details from her dream. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something important.

"I still think that you took DMT." Maddy grabbed a half-empty water bottle and passed it to Quinn. "And I'm really mad that you didn't share."

She snorted and unscrewed the water bottle. The texture of the cap felt both foreign and familiar, and she rubbed her thumb along the little plastic ridges. "Where would I even get DMT?"

"That's what I'm asking you!" Maddy put out her joint and started gathering the empty wrappers littered around the truck bed into an already-overflowing trash bag. "Are you good to drive?"

"I honestly don't know if I remember how." Quinn hopped down from the truck bed and took a sip of water. It tasted like plastic.

"Wow, you are fucked up." Maddy got off the truck and closed the tailgate. "Okay, I'm driving."

Quinn climbed into the passenger seat and stared at the dashboard. She didn't feel high, but it was like she was looking at things for the first time. Or, at least, the first time in a long time.

Maddy plugged in her phone, and Joji's mumbling filtered through the speakers as she pulled out of the empty hiking trail parking lot. With a sigh, Quinn propped her feet up on the dashboard and leaned her head against the window.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Maddy asked.

"Huh?"

"If you start feeling really bad, I can just drive you to the hospital."

"I'm fine. I promise. I probably just need to sleep it off."

"I feel you." Maddy pulled onto the highway, and Quinn lifted her chin so she could look out the window.

The glowing red of the taillights was mesmerizing. It felt so alien, but like home at the same time. The more she stared out the window, the less weird she felt. By the time they reached Maddy's place, she felt more or less normal.

Maddy's father was some kind of executive in Hollywood, so her house was about three times the size of Quinn's. But her parents were almost never home, and more often than not it felt just empty.

The rooms inside were unlit, but Quinn could follow Maddy's steps even in the dark as they made their way to one of the guest bedrooms. She breathed in the familiar scent of clean hardwood floors with a hint of drifting dust.

Whenever Quinn stayed over, they usually shared a bed so they could show each other memes and talk until one of them fell asleep. Quinn stripped off her shorts and flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Maddy walked into the bathroom so she could take off her makeup.

A suffocating silence filled the room, even with the sound of water running in the other room. Quinn felt like she was missing some kind of ambient noise, though she didn't need a fan or anything to fall asleep. She tried to shake off the feeling as she leaned over the side of the bed to pull her phone from her shorts.

She settled back against the bed and propped her phone on her chest. The screen lit up, showing a few texts from friends, some game notifications, news alerts. At the top of the list was a missed call notification, and her thumb hovered over the name.

"My mom must've called me while we were out."

Maddy walked out of the bathroom, her damp face shining slightly and her hair gathered in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. "Seriously? Did she leave a message?"

"No." The screen went dark, and she frowned.

"Well, then it probably wasn't that important." Maddy flopped down next to her and took out her own phone. "Okay, I have to show you this tweet."

They spent a couple hours like that, scrolling and trading jokes and funny videos. Eventually, Maddy rolled onto her side, her eyes drooping closed. Quinn rested her phone on her chest and leaned back, staring at the black white ceiling.

"What if she's in the hospital or something?"

"Who?" Maddy mumbled. "Trampoline girl?"

"No, my mom. Or what if there was a home intruder and she was calling for help?"

"Why wouldn't she just call the cops?"

"Yeah, good point." She sighed and raised her phone. "But maybe I should just check—"

"Nope." Maddy pushed herself up and snatched her phone away. "Every time you try talking to your mom, you just end up feeling like shit. It's not worth calling her just to see if she got axe murdered or something."

"I guess you're right…"

"Just get some sleep." Maddy leaned over her to put the phone on the nightstand. "You're not even gonna remember this in the morning."

"Hey, now." Quinn looked up at her and changed her voice to a more sultry tone. "What's a girl gotta do to get her phone back?"

Trying to hide her smile, Maddy lightly smacked her on the face. "Shut up." She moved back into her original position. "Go to sleep."

"And starve," Quinn responded, then flipped over onto her stomach.

As she lay there, silence crackling in her ears, her longing for some background noise returned.

It was snoring, she realized. Weirdly, she wanted to fall asleep to the sound of someone snoring.

Toven wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but it didn't feel like enough. His eyelids were heavy, and his shoulder ached as he walked down the corridor and into the main hall. Quinn and Merry were still asleep in the room, and he assumed the others were already up and going about their business.

When he walked into the main hall, however, it was mostly empty save for a few guard and Éomer, who was sitting at one of the tables. When he noticed him enter, Éomer beckoned him closer.

"There is still some breakfast, if you are hungry."

There was a pot hanging over the hearth in the center of the room, with steam curling from within. Its contents looked to be some kind of porridge, and Toven spooned some into a wooden bowl.

"It's good for settling your stomach after a night of drinking," Éomer said as Toven sat down across from him.

"I didn't drink that much last night." Toven took a bite of the porridge and hummed in appreciation. There was cream or something in it, which gave it a bit of sweetness. "Did you hear what happened last night?"

Éomer nodded, his expression growing more serious. "My uncle told me Gandalf left us."

So did Boromir. Toven brushed his fingers along one of the bracers. They were a little stiffer than what he was used to wearing, but it was comforting at the same time. "Pippin touched the Palantír—that stone Saruman dropped back in Isengard. He saw a vision of Gondor's destruction, and Gandalf left to warn Minas Tirith."

He watched Éomer's expression closely. He was still angry over Théoden's refusal to send aid, but if Éomer thought differently, perhaps he would be able to sway the king's opinion.

Éomer only shook his head and muttered darkly, "Just when we have wrested our lands from the grasp of that wizard, we have a Dark Lord to contend with in the other direction."

Toven was ready to press him, but he paused at the sound of footsteps entering the hall. He turned to see Quinn walk in, her short hair sticking out in several directions.

"Good morning." She smiled at both of them and took a seat next to Toven.

"You slept well," Toven said, looking her over. She didn't look hungover at all, despite how drunk she'd been last night. "And you missed a lot."

She propped her chin on the heel of her hand. "Tell me about it."

He gave her a brief summary of everything that had happened after Pippin had touched the Palantír, trying to keep most of the irritation out of his voice when he explained that they were currently waiting for what to do next.

He half-expected Quinn to leap out of her seat and declare that she was going to Gondor, but she only frowned once he was finished. "So I did miss a lot."

"I must take my leave." Éomer stood up, the bench creaking as he did so. He gave a courteous nod to the both of them and walked out of the hall.

Once he was gone, Toven sighed and prodded at his porridge with his spoon. "It feels like we've been running for our lives since…before we left Rivendell, really, and now we're just supposed to wait here while Gondor is invaded by orcs. It's driving me crazy."

Quinn patted his arm. "I'm sure someone will figure something out."

He turned to her sharply. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just thought you'd be more upset by all this."

"I am." She raised her eyebrows. "I just don't think there's anything the two of us can do at the moment."

He stared at her, hardly believing his ears. "What the hell has gotten into you? You spend one night drinking, and suddenly you've forgotten everything that's at stake."

"Toven, I fully understand what's at stake. You just need to be patient—"

"I don't think I have it in me right now," he snapped as he stood up, breakfast forgotten. "And you're certainly not helping."

With that, he stormed out of the room.

Toven fixed his gaze on Amon Anwar, the snow-streaked mountain that loomed to the south of Edoras. Aragorn had explained to him that this was the last of the beacons of Gondor, and that a flame would appear on its peak if Gondor sent out the call for aid from Rohan.

He wondered what it would be like to man one of those beacons—to stare at a mountain peak, as he was doing now, waiting for a sign of life week after week in the unforgiving cold…

It had been four days since Gandalf, Pippin, and Boromir had left, and they had received no word or sign from Gondor. Toven's restlessness mounted with each day, and he found that sitting and watching helped abate some of it—or at least gave him an opportunity to stew in his thoughts. Aragorn would sometimes sit with him, and the hours passed more quickly with his company.

He still hadn't spoken to Quinn since the morning after the feast, and that stung him. Whenever they argued, she usually sought him out in a matter of hours to make amends. But he was still upset with her, and if she hadn't rethought her words, then he didn't think he'd be able to speak with her without losing his temper.

"I think you'll find that mountain won't be changing any time soon, lad."

Toven glanced over his shoulder as Gimli approached. "And what are the odds of it catching on fire?"

Gimli cuffed him on the shoulder lightly. "There's no sense in moping around. Come on. Let's get your blood moving."

"All right." Toven roused himself and stood up. Perhaps sparring would keep his mind off things for a while. Besides, he didn't want to fall out of practice if they were going to be riding off to battle soon.

Gimli seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "I'm eager as you to be out of this place, and my fingers are itching to drive my axe into the first orc I see. But I'm not so sure about riding into battle. These horses are a wee bit too high off the ground for my liking."

Toven thought back to the charge at Helm's Deep. The horse had kept him mobile and free from being swarmed, but he'd been moving too fast to really keep his bearings.

"Now, give me a war ram, and I would cleave through their ranks with ease," Gimli continued. "That is a good, stout beast meant for battle."

Smiling, Toven let him ramble as they walked into the training yard. There were a few men sparring with each other or throwing spears at targets. Éowyn was standing at the opposite end, swinging a sword with practiced ease.

"You know, you shouldn't train alone," Toven said as they approached her. "It'll only reinforce any mistakes you're making."

She turned to him and arched an eyebrow. "Does that mean you are offering to be my partner?"

Toven glanced at Gimli and shrugged. "I suppose we can take turns."

Gimli gestured with his axe for Toven to go first, so he drew his sword and stepped forward. He rolled his left shoulder experimentally, probing for any sharp pain. It had continued to heal over the past few days, but it wasn't completely better yet. He would have to walk a fine line between keeping his skills sharp and letting his shoulder heal properly.

Éowyn came at him. She was fast, and she knew better than to try and use brute force, instead redirecting each of his blows away with sweeping motions of her sword.

"You're good," Toven said as he parried her attack and went on the offensive. "Why don't you spar with the others?"

Éowyn twisted away from his vertical slash. "They usually don't think it worth their time."

"And you've never knocked any of them into the dirt to prove them wrong?"

A smile twitched on her lips. "Well, the fact remains. I am not a soldier of Rohan."

As she brought her blade up to block his downward strike, he grabbed the end of her sword and pressed his weapon downward, twisting the grip out of her hand. "But you want to be."

She fixed him with a slightly defensive glare. "I can fight. I see no reason why I should not be able to defend my country."

"Well, you'll hear no argument from me." He turned her sword tip down and handed it back to her.

"All right, that's enough." Gimli inserted himself between the two of them. "It's my turn."

Éowyn straightened and readied her sword. "I've never sparred with a dwarf before."

"I hope you'll find the experience enlightening," Gimli said, and Toven stepped out of the way as the dwarf raised his axe.

Gimli's fighting style was something different entirely. He had the strength for brutal, sweeping blows, and could take a strike in return while holding his ground. He wielded the axe as though it was an extension of his body, but he had enough experience not to actually hurt her.

Still, Éowyn looked to be out of breath by the time Gimli planted his axe in the ground and said, "Right, then. Toven, get over here. I haven't had the change to kick you around yet."

"Can't wait." Toven traded a half-humorous glance with Éowyn as he traded places with her, then immediately leapt back to avoid his legs being cut off.

He had a little more experience sparring with dwarves, and knew better where to look for openings and when to strike. He managed to get in a few hits with the flat of his blade, though Gimli retaliated with a strike from the butt of his axe that would probably leave a sizable bruise.

Toven scowled and dodged a second blow, and the two of them froze as an arrow struck the ground right between Gimli's feet. They turned to see Legolas perched on the fence surrounding the training yard, smirking down at them.

"Perhaps you should work on improving your footwork, Master Dwarf," Legolas said.

Gimli shook his fist at him. "I'll show you footwork, you pointy-eared prick!"

Legolas hopped down to the other side of the fence, and Gimli chased after him.

Toven shook his head, wincing slightly at the bruise near his hip. He still didn't fully understand what was going on between them, but it seemed to put them both in a better mood.

He turned to Éowyn. "You want to take five?" When she frowned at him in confusion, he blushed and said, "Five minutes, I mean. To catch our breath."

He tried not to say any of the stranger phrases he'd picked up from Quinn in front of other people, but sometimes they just slipped out. Thankfully, Éowyn didn't comment on it, and simply nodded. The two of them sat down on a bench in one corner of the training yard.

"You'll have to teach me that trick you used to disarm me," Éowyn said.

"It takes a lot of practice to perfect," Toven said. "I tried it on an orc once and sliced my hand open." He lifted his palm to show her the scar.

"Have you fought in many battles, then?"

He shook his head. "Helm's Deep was my first. I've only been in skirmishes before that." He leaned back against the fence and blew out a sigh. "Not really looking forward to this next one."

Éowyn ran a thumb along the pommel of her sword, which rested in her lap. "I have found sometimes that sparring leaves me with more worries than it should. But riding is usually a good remedy for this."

Toven snorted. "I can't imagine there being anyone here who doesn't enjoy riding."

"Would you like to?"

He turned to her, and noticed her eyes had lit up at the prospect. "Where are we going?"

She smiled as if he'd said something funny. "Nowhere. Some of the horses need a bit of exercise, anyway."

"All right." Toven stood up and followed her out of the training yard. He supposed he might as well get in some practice with riding as well, and…it was nice to spend time with someone his age for once.

Inside the stables, most of the stalls were occupied, and several of the horses nickered and tossed their heads when they walked in. Éowyn stopped by a few of them, stroking their heads and speaking softly in the Rohirric language.

Eventually, she stopped by a horse with a chestnut-colored coat and put her hand on its neck. "This is Léofwyn. She is quite gentle, but very swift."

Toven leaned against the stall door. "I think I can handle a gentle horse."

She raised her eyebrows. "Unless you have the same skill with horses as Lord Aragorn."

He blinked. "Does he?"

Éowyn gestured to a dark brown steed with black hair, the same that Aragorn had ridden to Helm's Deep. "That is Brego, my cousin's horse. After his passing, he became wild, and would let no one ride him. But one day, Lord Aragorn approached him and spoke to him in a strange language, and there seems to be a connection between them now."

"Huh." Sindarin and horse-taming—who would have thought? Toven turned to the chestnut horse and smoothed the hair just above her nose. "Mae govannen, Léofwyn."

She nickered softly and nudged his hand.

Éowyn turned to him, eyes wide. "You know it too?"

"Elvish. I only know a little," he said, and before he could stop himself, he added, "I know more in Khuzdul."

"You must be well-traveled." Éowyn retrieved a dappled gray horse from another stall, and the two of them led their mounts out of the stables.

"Well, I was raised by dwarves, and Aragorn taught me what little Sindarin I know."

"You were raised by dwarves?"

"In Erebor." He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying more. She seemed so interested in what he had to say, curiosity sparkling in her gaze, but it wouldn't take much more to cross the line. "I shouldn't talk too much about it. Dwarves are secretive about their homes, and it's not my place to share any of that."

"Then I shall not pry." They walked in silence for a moment before Éowyn continued, "Though Gimli has told me that dwarf women have beards as well, and that they are nearly identical to dwarf men."

Toven scoffed. "They're not identical. It's easy enough to tell—they just have a different way of showing it." He paused. "They don't have the same rigid view of it as men have here."

"I see," Éowyn said softly. "I hope you will forgive me. I have never left these lands before, and in some ways I am ignorant of the ways of the world."

"That's not your fault." His expression softened. "Well, if you could travel elsewhere, where would you want to go?"

"I do not know," she said. "I love Rohan, but I have always been curious about the world beyond." Her lips quirked into a smile. "Especially after meeting so many people from foreign lands."

Toven laughed. "I have a pretty diverse group of friends. I just can't believe it took me this long to see the rest of Middle-earth."

They passed through the front gate of Edoras and mounted their horses. The plains beyond seemed as endless as ever, but now that he was mounted, the expanse did not seem so daunting.

Éowyn grinned at him. "I'll race you to the river."

"I thought you said we weren't going anywhere," he said, but she was already taking off down the hill.

Toven shook his head and nudged Léofwyn into a trot. Before he knew it, she had broken into a gallop, and the two of them were racing across the golden grass. He grinned against the cold wind streaming across his face and into his hair. He had heard tales from Quinn of flying on the back of a giant eagles, and he imagined this was the next best thing.

By the time they reached the silvery band of the river, there was sweat cooling on the back of his neck and his legs were sore, but exhilaration glowed in his chest. Éowyn's hair had been tangled by the wind, but the same joy shone on her face.

"It does wonders for the spirits, doesn't it?" she said.

Toven nodded. "That was fun. I think I might have swallowed a bug, though."

"That is considered good luck among my people."

"I think you're just saying that to make me feel better, but…thanks." He reached up to push away the hair sticking to the back of his neck. It must have come loose at some point.

"Here." Éowyn nudged her horse closer and handed him a leather tie from her pocket.

"Thanks." He reached back and swiftly tied his hair into a tail at the base of his neck. He usually tried to keep it shorter than it was now, but there hadn't really been an opportunity to cut it.

"I want to return your question," Éowyn said. "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

Toven looked out over the shifting grasses, the dark shape of Edoras like a slumbering beast curled on its side. "I've always wanted to see the ocean again. But I think for the moment, I'm happy where I am."

"So am I," Éowyn said with a smile.

They took their time returning to the city, letting the horses go at their own pace and speaking of whatever came to mind—anything that wasn't related to the impending war. Toven was in high spirits once they reached the front gate, though he tensed when a bell began to toll from within.

Éowyn nudged her horse into a trot, and he followed her up the hill. Several people had stepped from their homes to see what was happening, and as they neared the hall, they could see soldiers moving about.

Toven glanced over his shoulder at Amon Anwar, and his eyes immediately found the orange flame at its peak. "Oh, shit."

He exchanged a glance with Éowyn, and he could tell she had come to the same conclusion—they were riding for war.

"Ribs" by Lorde is a really good song for Quinn's scenes in the next few chapters. Quinn's experience right now kind of reminds me of "La noche arriba"/"The night face up" by Julio Cortazar. Great short story if you want to check it out.

Also, the vine reference in this chapter is dedicated to themuse123 *salutes*