Chapter 30: The Wind of Dreams

Toven barely slept that night, and he doubted anyone else did, either. When he walked outside the next morning, the city was bustling with activity—men mounting horses, filling carts with supplies, sharpening weapons.

They were supposed to ride out today. And though he'd spent every moment since the feast waiting for it, all he could feel now was a rising sense of dread. There was no telling what they would face once they made it to Gondor.

With a sigh, he shifted the pack slung over his good shoulder. He was ready, Boromir's bracers on his arms and his sword at his hip, and now he just had to find a horse and his friends.

He moved towards the stables, weaving around rushing soldiers and stamping horses. As he passed the tack room, a figure stepped out of the shadows, making him stop.

"Quinn." He arranged his features into a neutral expression, watching as she moved closer.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said. "You were right."

"I know." He shifted his weight. She'd spoken the apology sincerely, but something about it still didn't sit right with him. "You're riding out with us, right?"

"I am. Though I don't really have the proper supplies." She patted the skirt of her dress.

Toven narrowed his eyes. "What is going on with you?"

She frowned back at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're not acting like yourself. Did…Did something happen the night of the feast?"

Quinn stepped forward and hugged him. Toven froze for a second, surprised, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You're really sweet to be concerned. I think we're all worried and afraid of what's coming next." She pulled back and gave him a sad smile. "You don't need to worry about me. Don't add that to the burdens you're carrying."

"Okay," he said softly, and released her. "Well, I'm still here for you. We stick together, right?"

"We do." She squeezed his arms, then stepped away and disappeared into the crowd.

He frowned at her retreating figure. She was hiding something from him, and Quinn was nothing if not an open book. He wanted to press the subject, but like she'd said, he had a dozen other things to worry about. He'd have to make time to think about it once they were on the road.

He started towards the stables again, then changed course when he noticed Gimli leaning against the fence, pensively chewing on his pipe. His head was bowed low, and since he was not wearing his helmet, Toven could see the furrow in his brow.

"Everything all right?" he asked as he approached.

Gimli straightened. "Oh, aye, laddie. I was just thinking on something Legolas said."

Toven hesitated. "Well, uh, if this is between the two of you…"

"No, nothing like that." Gimli waved him off. "But we've been so focused on Mordor and Isengard that I hadn't given much thought to the north. Then Legolas reminded me of Angmar and Dol Guldur. It seems, like as not, our kin may be facing a war of their own."

"Oh." Toven leaned against the fence and crossed his arms. "But Erebor is well-prepared for a siege."

"Aye, they were able to hold off an army with half of what they have now. But it will be a war nonetheless."

"I wish I could know how they are faring," Toven said softly. A deep-rooted part of him still considered Erebor his home, even if he hadn't been there in many years. It had always seemed untouchable, sealed away in rosy memory, and thinking of war reaching its gates felt like losing a friend.

Gimli let out a rumbling sigh. "I only wish I could be fighting with my own people. Not that I would abandon this lot, of course."

Toven nudged him with a small smile. "You are fighting with your own people. It just happens that none of us are dwarves."

He chuckled. "You make a fair point, laddie. Now, off to the stables with you. We'll be riding out soon."

"I'll find you before we leave," Toven said, and continued on.

The stables were mostly emptied, with just a handful of steeds left. He spotted Éowyn readying her own gray horse and headed towards her.

"Are any of these horses without a rider?" He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not really sure how that's supposed to work."

"You may take Léofwyn again," Éowyn said. "Her rider fell during the raid before Helm's Deep. I think she would be glad to carry you."

"Thanks." Toven found Léofwyn's stall and patted her head, making her snort softly. He wasn't sure if the horse actually liked him, but as long as she didn't buck him off, they would get along just fine. "You're coming with us, Éowyn?" he asked as he attached his pack to her saddle.

"I am." She approached the stall and lowered her voice. "And I would ask a favor of you."

Toven paused and turned to face her. "What is it?"

"I want to ride into battle with the men, though I know my uncle would never allow it," she said, her jaw stiff as though she was bracing herself for an argument. Then her expression softened. "We have not known each other for very long, but it would comfort me if there was someone I could trust who knew of my plan."

"So that I can…what? Help you sneak onto the battlefield?" Toven bit the inside of his cheek, searching her face.

"So that I can fight to defend the people I love," she said, nearly raising her voice. "You have said before that you would not oppose me in this."

"And I won't. I'll keep your secret." He stepped closer. "It's just…you're one more person I have to worry about dying, now."

"I'm sorry. I know it is a heavy burden to carry," Éowyn said. In her eyes he could see grief mingled with determination. She knew what loss was, but she had little idea of what was coming next.

And he knew only a little more than she did.

"Thank you for this," Éowyn said, resting one hand on the stall door between them. "It means the world to me."

Footsteps sounded at the entrance to the stables, and they turned to see Aragorn walk inside. He nodded to both of them and addressed Éowyn.

"Are you riding with us, my lady?"

"Just to the encampment," Éowyn said smoothly. "It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men."

"I see." As Éowyn turned to collect her horse, Aragorn turned to Toven and raised an eyebrow.

Toven shrugged, hoping he seemed nonchalant. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Almost. I will be riding at the head of the procession with the king. You are free to join us."

"Will do."

Aragorn made to leave the stables, and Toven grabbed Léofwyn's reins with a sigh.

Hopefully this secret wouldn't end up getting the better of him.

Quinn blinked at the bright white lights of the convenience store, and what seemed like a million colorful packages stuffed onto the shelves. Just looking at the labels made her head hurt a little.

"Yo, what are we doing here?"

"Just getting snacks." Maddy put down a magazine she'd been flipping through and glanced at her. "Why, are you not hungry?"

"No." She turned and glanced out the door. She had a vague memory of them waking up at Maddy's house, watching TV, driving here, but it all felt fuzzy and vague, like deja vu. "I mean, I am hungry. I…I just got turned around for a second."

"You'll probably feel better once you eat something."

Quinn looked around the store again. It was mostly empty except for the twenty-something cashier, who was playing games on his phone, and an old couple brewing some instant coffee. A kid was crying in one of the aisles, loud enough for it to echo in the small room.

"Ugh. Let's make this quick," Maddy said. "What kind of drink do you want?"

"Just get me a Cherry Coke." She scratched her head and scanned the shelves again. "What do you want?"

"Get me Twizzlers." Maddy nudged her. "Meet you at the register."

They split up. As Quinn moved towards the candy aisle, she could hear the crying getting louder, and suppressed a wince. Great. This'll definitely help my headache.

It was just her luck that the human siren was sitting a few feet away from where she needed to be. She tried to ignore the kid as she moved past the fifty different flavors of gum, but she paused when she noticed he was alone.

He couldn't have been older than four, and was sitting on the ground with tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. She lifted her head and looked around for an adult, but all she saw was the old couple struggling to unwrap a coffee stirrer and Maddy by the fridges.

"Hey, kid," she said. "What, uh…What's wrong?"

"I lost my mommy," he sobbed, wiping one eye with his sleeve.

"Oh." Quinn wasn't sure what to make of the gut-punch feeling that came with that statement. She didn't even like kids, and this sure as hell wasn't her problem. But she couldn't stop herself from sitting down next to him. "What's your name?"

He sniffled and wiped his face again, smearing snot all over his sleeve. "Tommy."

"Hi, Tommy. I'm Quinn." He looked like he was about to start bawling again, and she looked around helplessly. "Uh, here." She took a lollipop from the shelf, unwrapped it, and handed it to him.

To the person who might be watching this CCTV tape, please ignore the fact that I am literally a stranger handing out candy to kids.

Tommy stuffed the lollipop in his mouth, still sniffling, and quieted down a little.

"I'm sure your mom just had to run out for some reason," Quinn said. "Maybe she's in the bathroom. She'll probably be back soon."

"Okay," he mumbled around the lollipop, a few more tears leaking from his eyes.

The sight made her chest ache. She had the sudden urge to hug him until he stopped crying, though that definitely wouldn't be appropriate. If no one ended up coming soon, she would just have to tell the cashier and mind her own business.

She tried to distract herself from the bit of lollipop-infused drool running down his chin by looking at his shirt. "Oh, you like Legos, huh?"

"Yeah," Tommy said, finally taking the lollipop out of his mouth. "I have Star Wars Legos."

"Aw, nice." She grinned. "You have any light sabers?"

"I have two." He held up his fingers. "A green one and a blue one."

"Tommy!"

They both turned to see a woman coming down the aisle. She was clearly having a rough day—her makeup was smudged, and the top of her bra was peeking out of her cheetah-print tank top.

"Mommy!" He stood up and ran towards her.

"Where were you?" She glared at him, like it was his fault for getting left behind. "And what is this?" She took the lollipop from his hand and shoved it onto one of the shelves. "Come on." She grabbed his arm and began pulling him towards the door.

Before she knew it, Quinn was on her feet. "Hey, you mind watching your fucking kid?"

The woman flipped her off without looking back.

Maddy walked into the aisle and leaned her elbow on Quinn's shoulder. "Probably shouldn't swear in front of the four-year-old."

Quinn huffed out a sigh. "Well, I'd rather swear than be a shitty fucking parent."

"And that is why I'm never having kids." Maddy handed Quinn her soda. "You get my Twizzlers?"

"Uh, yeah." She scanned the shelves and picked up the appropriate package. "Here."

"Dope. Let's go." Maddy led the way towards the register.

Quinn rubbed her arm as she passed the half-eaten lollipop stuck to a package of trail mix. She felt almost guilty, though there was nothing she could have really done for the kid.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something.

The sun was setting by the time they reached Dunharrow. Hundreds of men were already encamped at the base of the mountain—apparently soldiers gathered from various parts of Rohan. Théoden called out to the captains as he rode past, and his expression fell a little more with each one.

Toven guessed he had been hoping for a larger force, though this was easily the most people he'd seen in one place since leaving Erebor. He stayed close to Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, half-listening to their conversation as he took in the rows of tents and campfires and crude corrals. If this army would not be enough to challenge the forces of Mordor, he couldn't even imagine what they were going to face in Gondor. He thought back to the dark, bristling horde of Uruk-hai with a shudder.

They did not stop to camp among the others, but instead took a winding path up the cliff to a cleft in the mountainside. Here, the tents were less tightly packed, and Toven guessed this spot was for the king and his guard to observe everyone below. He wasn't sure if he really belonged here, but being one of Aragorn's companions seemed to have worked well so far.

Sure enough, there was a tent set up for them, with more than enough room for the four of them. Toven dismounted his horse and looked around with a sigh. He hadn't seen Quinn since they'd left Edoras, and her absence needled at the back of his mind.

"Aragorn," he said, holding the other man back as Legolas and Gimli began carrying supplies into the tent. "Can I have a word?"

"What is it?" Aragorn asked, and the two of them began leading their horses away.

"Something's wrong with Quinn. She hasn't been herself these past few days."

Aragorn tilted his head. "Now that you mention it, there has been an absence of her usual…"

He seemed to be struggling for the right word, but Toven waved him off. "Yes. Whatever you're thinking of. She just…when I told her about what happened with Pippin and the Palantír, she didn't seem half as concerned as I thought she'd be. She's been strangely distant, but when I asked her about it, she acted as if nothing was wrong."

"You think she is hiding something?"

"I don't know. She's always been honest with me." He thought back to her partnership with Saruman and frowned. "About most things, at least. I have no idea what could be making her act like this."

Aragorn took a length of rope and tied the bridle of his horse to a nearby tree, with enough slack for it to be able to walk around. "I will speak with her, then. Perhaps she does not want you to worry."

"Well, I am." Toven tied Léofwyn to the same tree and let his hand linger on her neck. Perhaps it was just a result of her recent transformation…though she'd been acting herself at Isengard and the feast. Something must have happened that night, but he had no idea what. "I'll meet you back at the tent, all right?"

"Don't stay out too long," Aragorn said. "I suspect we'll be leaving early tomorrow."

"Of course, Lord Aragorn."

Aragorn rolled his eyes at that, and Toven wandered away from the tree, towards the edge of the cliff. They were higher up than he'd realized, and from here the tents below looked like nothing more than orderly rows of small white squares. They looked far fewer than they had from the ground, too.

"Toven?"

He turned and smiled as Éowyn joined him. "I was wondering where you went."

"My uncle charged me with organizing supplies, so I have been rather busy. But I am glad to have found you—I wanted to show you something." She gazed down at the tents below, hands loosely clasped together. "If I am to ride with the men tomorrow, I will need armor and a sword." She pointed at a tent near the base of the mountain, its canvas half-obscured by trees. "Most of the arms are kept in there."

Toven crossed his arms. "You need my help stealing from that tent."

"The camp will be busy tomorrow. I do not believe a few items would be missed."

He shrugged. "I think we can pull it off. I actually had an uncle who taught me how to steal."

Éowyn arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Well, dwarvish uncle. And it was mostly pickpocketing. But I think this shouldn't be too hard."

They shared a conspiratorial smile, but Toven reminded himself that this wasn't supposed to be fun. They would be riding to war tomorrow, and he was actively helping someone risk her life.

"This would be your first battle, yes?"

Éowyn nodded.

"That worries me."

She let out a short, irritated sigh. "You sound like my brother."

"Look, it's not…you'll freeze. You'll tell yourself you won't freeze, but you will." He remembered his first fight all too clearly. Terror had stricken him for a long moment, and had it not been for the Rangers fighting around him, he probably would have died. Worse than the fear had been the shame afterwards, though Aragorn had assured him it was normal. "There's nothing that can prepare you for staring death in the face."

"I do not doubt your words," Éowyn said. "But they do not deter me, either. I fear neither death nor pain."

Absently, he touched his shoulder. Spoken like someone who's never been injured. "Why are you doing this? I understand you want to fight for your people, but something tells me this is about more than just your principles."

Éowyn lowered her gaze to the shifting boughs of the trees below. "When I was a child, my father was killed by orcs. Soon after, my mother passed from grief. I could do nothing for either of them." Her jaw trembled. "I vowed to myself that I would not stay behind walls and grow old and idle if there was something I could do to protect my people."

"I'm sorry." His hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but hesitation kept him in place. "I want you to have a good idea of what we're walking into, how dangerous it's going to be, but…I think you're doing the right thing. I can't judge anyone for finding their own path in life."

Éowyn turned to face him, a small smile brightening her face. "I am glad that I met you. I admire your sense of freedom, that you let no one else define who you are."

"I, um…" His cheeks warmed. "Well, I guess I've been lucky. I've had a lot of people to support me."

A cool breeze swept over the cliff. Éowyn reached up and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of his face, and his skin tingled where her fingertips brushed against it.

"Well, how do I look? Ready for battle?"

Éowyn swiftly took her hand away, and they both turned to see Merry approaching, dressed in a slightly-too-large set of leather armor with the horse of Rohan emblazoned on the front.

Toven blinked. "Merry? What are you doing here?"

"King Théoden knighted me. Or something." He grinned and adjusted his helmet so it was no longer in his eyes. "I am now an Esquire of Rohan."

"That is a great honor, Merry." Éowyn smiled and went to help him with his helmet. "Though we will have to adjust some of this if you are to be fit for battle."

Now that his momentary shock had subsided, Toven realized his heart was beating uncomfortably fast. "I'll, uh, see you two later," he said, and began walking back towards the tent without making eye contact with either of them.

Quinn's comment from the feast came to the forefront of his mind. I think she likes you.

The heat on his face deepened. If Merry had not found them, would her hand have lingered? Would she have moved closer? Would he have wanted her to? He'd never allowed himself that kind of intimacy before, out of fear of being misunderstood or failing to be enough…

He didn't even know if he should want anything, not with war on the horizon. Perhaps, in a day's time, they would all be dead, and he wouldn't be able to think about Éowyn and her shining hair—

Mahal give me strength. Hoping his face wasn't too red, he ducked into the tent, almost relieved to hear Legolas and Gimli arguing inside. He would take just about anything to get his mind off things for a while.

A sharp pain in his shoulder woke him in the middle of the night, and Toven sat up with a muttered curse. It really only hurt when he stretched his arm too far in one direction, but apparently he must have slept on it wrong.

He looked around and realized the tent was empty. To have a few people wander away wasn't out of the ordinary—Legolas rarely slept, and occasionally Aragorn would sneak away to smoke or brood or something. But Gimli, at least, should have been filling the tent with his snores.

He stood and dressed quickly, then pushed open the flap of the tent. The camp was dark and quiet save for a few small fires and a handful of men smoking or speaking in low voices. Toven started his search at the perimeter of the camp, and it was only a few minutes before he found Aragorn near the back, quietly readying his horse.

"What is this?" Toven knew better than to suspect that Aragorn was planning to desert them, but if there was some other mission he had undertaken, this was the first he'd heard of it.

Aragorn turned to him. He did not look guilty, but some burden had clearly been placed on his shoulders, and his gaze was touched by something like grief. "I will come to Minas Tirith by another road. I must leave tonight."

"You're going to have to give me more than that." Toven stepped closer, prepared to stop him if he tried to leave. "What happened? What's so important that you have to leave in the middle of the night?"

"Lord Elrond arrived here about an hour ago. He brought word of Corsair ships sailing up the Anduin towards Minas Tirith. If the fleet reaches the city, our forces will be outnumbered." He finished tying his pack to the saddle. "Elrond advised me to seek the Army of the Dead in the pass beyond. I am the only one who can summon them to fulfill their oath."

For the first time, Toven noticed the longsword strapped to his hip. It was a long blade, with a hilt to match, and it looked strangely familiar.

"Is that…"

"Andúril. Forged from the shards of Narsil." Aragorn touched the hilt, briefly. "And proof of my lineage."

Toven decided to leave that topic in favor of another question. "And this Army of the Dead—is that the same one Quinn ran into?"

"I believe so," he replied with a grim glance towards the narrow passage at the back of the cleft.

At first Toven had only thought it to be a path through the mountains, but now he understood the uneasy looks it had received from the men in the camp. "I'm coming with you. If the dead are at the end of that pass, they might have some answers about what happened to Quinn."

"No," Aragorn said. "You should stay here—"

"You cannot keep trying to shield me from danger," Toven hissed. "We are riding to war tomorrow."

"I know." Sadness darkened his gaze, like a cloud passing over the moon. "I would always have you take the safer road, Toven. But I fear there is no such thing now." He clasped Toven's shoulders with both hands. "Stay here and watch over your mother…and Merry and Éowyn."

Toven swallowed. He'd almost forgotten his promise to help Éowyn. His friends would need him in the battle. But he did not want to abandon his captain, either. "You cannot do this alone."

"Oh, don't worry, laddie. He won't be."

They both turned as Gimli approached, his axe resting on his shoulder.

Aragorn shook his head. "Not this time, Gimli. You must stay."

Legolas stepped up beside the dwarf, leading the horse he and Gimli shared. "Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?"

Gimli moved closer and nudged his arm. "You might as well accept it. We're going with you."

Even Aragorn's feigned exasperation could not mask the gratitude in his eyes.

"I don't think you're getting rid of those two," Toven said with a slight smile. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

Aragorn nodded. "I will see you at the gates of Minas Tirith."

"And you'd better have a ghost army behind you." Toven stepped forward and embraced him. He breathed in Aragorn's familiar scent and tried to still the fluttering anxiety in his chest. This would not be like their last parting. He had to hold onto the hope that the next time they saw each other, it would be in victory.

"I will look for any sign of what may have happened to Quinn," Aragorn said, releasing him. "Fight well, and know that whatever may come to pass, you have already made me proud."

Toven nodded, unable to speak, and watched as Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli moved towards the back of the camp. He stood still, holding onto a thread of his own courage as his friends disappeared in the shadows between the mountains.

I thought about including the Gray Company, since it would have been cool to have Toven interact with more Rangers, but I already have so many goddamn characters to keep track of, so we're just sticking with the movie cast for now.

Next chapter is the longest I have written ever for anything, and things are gonna get CRAZY. I'm really excited to share it with you guys, so stay tuned!