On the top of the crags, nearer to her homeland than she'd been in months, Loena looked across the open earth around her. She breathed deeply, grinning as she did, fists clenched at her side for the joy bundled in her stomach. Above them the sky was an unending cerulean blue, and the sun shone white through her golden hair.
The gap of Rohan beckoned, and with it, a semi-homecoming. She knew that after two months of travel, her companions would be easily swayed to taking refuge for a few days in her city. There she could see her mother, each could tend to their wounds. The last meeting between Théoden and Gandalf weighed on her mind, but she dismissed it easily. They were each stately men, they would come to a lordly agreement, in the end.
"Loena! Come down here!"
Loena turned to where Boromir had called her. From her vantage point, she could see he had the Hobbits clustered around him, each of them clutching their own sword.
Loena grinned widely. "Back to our old tricks, then, Boromir?"
The travel until now had been hard-going, but far from exhausting. Loena slept well each night, and along the way there had been rivers and ponds enough for them to keep bathed, clean, and in high spirits. Each had spoken to the others in their group often, and deeply. Loena remembered a day when she spoke to Aragorn almost exclusively. He had taught her snares and traps to lay in the forest, and how to age a footprint by the amount of debris lain over it. It was often difficult for Loena to comprehend the ranger before her as the heir to Isildur. She remembered the tales that had been told of him, and the clever poem Bilbo had been singing about him in the weeks before they left.
The crownless again shall be king¸ she thought to herself, watching Aragorn mend a whole in one of his shirts, thread hanging from between his teeth. Crownless indeed.
She sometimes would wonder how he'd fare in the washed, white city of Minas Tirith, with no trees to camp in, and no deer to hunt.
He would not be a king who would desire other men to act for him, she'd finally decided. He would act for himself.
Boromir's laugh boomed up to her as she scampered down to meet them. "Our students require a new lesson, it would seem."
Loena alighted beside them, and worked to unsheathe her sword from her belt. "We'd better get started."
In the end, Loena took one hobbit for parrying, and Boromir took the other for blocking. They changed around quickly, as if it were a real fight. Loena focused tightly as Merry swapped to Pippin, who swapped to Sam and then Frodo.
"Good work," Loena congratulated Frodo, who'd always been the most determinedly good at sneaking through defences with his sword.
The weakest arm was Pippin's, who seemed at a loss with what to do with the pointy end of his stick. Second to him was Merry, who stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth when he concentrated, and was always too focused on what Loena was doing to pay heed to what he needed to do.
Soon enough Sam and Frodo had had their fill and wandered off. Gandalf must have lifted the no-fire rule for just a moment, for soon the smell of cooking fat and meat wafted over, as well as the cracking of burning wood. The smell of it made Loena's stomach turn in hunger.
Aragorn came to watch them after a time. Loena knew he and Gandalf had been discussing which route to take across the mountains. Loena was confident that the Gap of Rohan remained the most likely outcome, but she was worried that they'd seen something she had not.
She stood back while Boromir entertained Merry and Pippin.
"Two, one, five," Boromir instructed, and the steel clang out across through the empty space. "Good, very good."
"Move your feet," Aragorn called out to the hobbits, whose swords sounded out in the valley against Boromir's.
"And keep your feet light," Loena added, feeling slightly useless now that Aragorn had stepped in as sword-master. Not to be outdone, she added, "try to stay on the balls of your feet."
"Now I'm just-" Merry ducked a swipe from Boromir and fell back. He looked at Loena accusingly. "I was just thinking about your feet."
"Better than not thinking about them at all," Loena countered.
Merry pushed himself up and watched his friend, who seemed to be matching up well against Boromir's softer sparring approach. "You look good, Pippin."
"Balls of my feet and—" Pippin pushed back against Boromir's sword and side-stepped a swipe. "Everything!"
"There you go, Merry," Loena said drily. "It can be done!"
"Faster!" Boromir called, and Merry leapt into the fray. Both pushed as hard as they could, but they were no match for the blade Boromir held. Loena laughed as she watched them, as the furious fight of the hobbits levelled to the relatively standard intensity Boromir was applying.
"…long way around," Gimli growled loudly behind her. Loena turned to look, and saw the dwarf was sitting next to Gandalf. "We could pass through the Mines of Moria! My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."
"No Gimli," Gandalf said gravely.
Loena felt sufficiently satisfied that they'd maintain the road to Rohan, and left their conversation be.
Boromir nicked Pippin's hand, and the two hobbits stare at him, mouths wide open.
Boromir widened his eyes. "Sorry!"
Pippin let out a war cry and leapt upon Boromir, kicking him in the legs. Merry, not one to miss out, carolled into the fray, knocking into Boromir. With their combined weight they send him sprawling.
"For the Shire!" Pippin called.
Loena burst out laughing, holding her middle as she bent over. "Boromir!" she managed between bursts of laughter. She had no real thing to say to him, but he looked rueful as he made eye contact with her.
"Hold him!" Pippin called, like a Marshal mustering his knights. "Hold him Merry!" They bowed down on Boromir once more, their determination written in hard lines over their faces.
Aragorn strode in behind her, and clasped her on the shoulder as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. He crossed to where they were tangled in each other.
Aragorn pulled up Merry and Pippin by the scruffs of their neck, like a mother with her pups. "Gentlemen, that's enough."
Not so easily dissuaded, Pippin and Merry charged again, throwing Aragorn back and keeping Boromir down.
Loena burst out laughing again, clutching her sore stomach.
"Suppose you were to have a go?" Aragorn called to her.
"I know better than to challenge halflings of the Shire!" Loena called back, chortling still. "Nice work Merry, Pip!" Boromir met her with an exasperated look, and Aragorn picked himself up, dusting off the dirt Merry had kicked over his jacket.
From beside his fire, Sam, facing south, called out. "What is that?"
Loena turned to look with him. There was a strange dark curling of cloud far in the east. It moved quickly against the sky.
"Nothing, it's just a wisp of cloud," Gimli dismissed quickly.
Loena moved to agree, but she was cut off by Boromir, who'd heaved himself to his feet. "It's moving fast…and against the wind."
Legolas, who'd been standing watching the South as they'd fought, called back now in fear, "It's Crebain! From Dunland!"
Loena felt the blood and humour melt from her face. The Crebain had been a terror on the fields of Rohan, ever they spoilt harvest and starved the peasants who relied on them for food and money. They would pick at the dead carcasses of the Rohirrim before they could be buried, and had no fear of striking the flanks of horses with their cruelly sharpened talons.
"No—" she said, watching the small wisp with fear, mounting as it seemed to grow closer and closer. Sevants of Saruman, coming from the direction of her home. She could only imagine the evil that they had done there, and all the evil they would do next.
"Hide!" Aragorn snapped her from her reverie, and she move quickly.
She pulled her sword from where she'd left it and sheathes it quickly, and skipped the stones to their campsite, bundling as much as she could in her arms.
"Hurry!" Boromir called, for even now Loena could hear the stark, deep, wrench of their calls. She wanted to claw at her ears and press herself against the earth. She gritted her teeth, leaping over the now extinguished fire towards the bushes and rocks they could find shelter beneath.
"Take cover!" Aragorn yelled, and Loena obliged him quickly, pushing herself underneath the same rock Legolas had taken cover in. They pulled each other in against the wall of the rock, the bushes hiding their faces from the outside world.
There was a moment of silence, and then the flock descended. Twice it circled the camp, the Crebain's caws echoed like gravel in Loena's head. She closed her eyes to it, and pressed back as far as she could into the cave.
Then, as quickly as they'd come, they flew off, shrill shrieks carried off on the wind.
Slowly the fellowship pulled themselves up and out of their hiding places. She saw an old, oft-remembered fear on Gandalf's face as he turned to watch where the birds had flown to. "Spies of Saruman!" Loena cast her gaze amongst the fellowship, and saw the fear there. "The passage South is being watched! We must take the pass of Caradhras."
Loena processed what he said, and felt exhaustion and tears press heavily on the back of her eyes. "No!"
Her outburst was unwarranted, and all the fellowship turned to look at her with confusion.
It was Aragorn who spoke. "Why not, my lady?"
"We must hide from the eyes of Saruman!" Gandalf reminded her, and he seemed angry at her insolence. "There is no other way!"
"What of Moria!" Gimli demanded, but Gandalf silenced him with a frustrated glance.
"The Gap of Rohan is protected by my People!" Leona yelled. Suddenly she understood she would not see Rohan before the end of the quest, and the realisation hit her with more force than she cared for. "They will grant us safe passage!"
"The muster of the Riddermark is no protection against foul wizardry," Gandalf chastised her.
"We have defended our lands against the orc attacks of Saruman for years!" Loena countered, loud, and hot, and determined.
"You have survived Saruman because he dared not show his full hand," Gandalf said, hand tight on his staff. "You knew not of his treachery before I arrived in your lands!"
Loena, embarrassed, felt her eyes filling with tears. "We fought him nonetheless! And we fight him still! Let me call the muster! Let me gather the eored! Not even Saurman could defeat our collected forces."
"He would not need to," Gandalf said, his words slow, and Loena realised, deepening in sadness. "They would not come."
Loena felt her rage burn. "How dare—"
"They would not, Loena!" Gandalf cried, and she saw, through her grief and anger, him catch Aragorn's eye.
They knew something, Loena realised. And they'd kept it from her on purpose.
Frustrated, she turned to Aragorn now as well. "And what proof have you of this criminal claim! The king may be old, but he would not leave—"
"We fear Saruman's influence in Rohan has grown more than any had foreseen," Aragorn said, calmly, and with an air of finality. They would tell her no more than this. "In fact, we are sure of it."
"How so!" Loena refused to let up. She could see that their minds were set. "There are good men in Rohan still—"
"And there are evil men who control those good men's deeds!" Gandalf met her.
"Who is being controlled?" Loena demanded. "I would have seen it—"
"You were all blind to it, like frogs in hot water," Gandalf said, sounding rather sad, shaking his head and looking at her with a nauseating pity. He looked to Aragorn, and was affirmed, and looked to her again. "I did not want to burden you with this."
"Who?" Loena demanded, voice cold.
"Your King, Loena," Gandalf said gravely. "He has been taken, mind and bitter soul, by Saruman's forces."
Loena stared at him, her throat tightening. She felt her fingernails dig into her palms. Her head felt cold, and light. She looked around, and saw them all staring at her. She saw the wide eyes of the hobbits, and the slow curiosity of Gimli and Legolas. She saw a sore pity in Boromir, and that same pity in Aragorn. Lastly she saw Gandalf, and saw that what he said was true.
"I don't believe it," she said in a low, hollow voice.
"You must," Gandalf replied, simply.
And suddenly Loena felt a great wave of hopelessness descend upon her. For it was true, it must be true. The unnaturally aged and tired king, the way the orcs felt so free to wander across her lands. None had noticed the way the king had fallen, because it had happened so slowly, and so patiently, and so elegantly.
She felt suddenly very cold. She bowed her head, and a tear fell from her lashes and onto the ground below her.
"Come," Gandalf said finally, after a pregnant silence. "We cannot dally any longer."
Around her, the Fellowship fell in line behind him. Only Frodo waited behind. She watched them walk ahead of her, and found no strength to follow them.
Frodo came beside her, and reached up to hold her hand.
"I don't know how to bear it," Loena said, her voice almost silent.
"I do not know how to bear my burden, either," he admitted quietly.
Loena looked at him, momentarily shocked from her despair. He never spoke of the Ring, though sometimes he would look at it, with a strange focus on his face. Loena felt her desire for it even more, now. She imagined striding in to the Golden Halls of Edoras, presenting its power in front of the court, and banishing Saurman's influence from her home.
She remembered how it had felt seeing it for the first time, on the small stone table before the Council. It was nothing to the need she had now. The desire screamed inside her, and writhed, wicked.
The desire remained, even as she turned away from him and closed her eyes.
She ignored it as well as she could, and forced herself to look at Frodo and smile. "We shall bear it together, then."
They walked off together, a fair distance from the back of the Fellowship.
"I would have liked to have seen Rohan," Frodo said, a little wistfully. He looked vaguely south, towards the Gap that they had been making for.
Loena felt emotion clog the back of her throat. She cleared it roughly, and pushed her hair behind her ear. "I would have liked you to see it."
Loena woke the next morning, still emotionally exhausted, with a headache already at the front of her head. She roused herself drearily, and made the most of the small pond near their camp to wash herself before the snows of Caradhras. She found that the cool water did nothing for the pain in her head, and nor did it do anything to alleviate the heaviness on her heart.
She floated in the water, looking up at the pale blue early morning sky. Beneath her she felt something stir in the water. She paid it no mind. She stared unseeing, thinking about her walk with Frodo the day before. She thought of nothing in particular, but it absorbed much of her time. By the time she'd dried herself, dressed again and returned, the entire camp had come awake, and were eating through their breakfast.
Loena took hers from Sam wordlessly, sitting down at the end of her bedsheets, chewing on the old bread with an almost impressive disinterest.
When Gandalf announced that they were moving on, she picked herself up quickly, packed her bags with an unseeing familiarity, and stood.
They moved on, and Loena spoke to no one for the first half of the day. The headache did not cease, and it seemed as if with every step that it picked up in its intensity. By the time they'd sat down for lunch, it was nearly blinding.
"Would you like some lunch, Loena?" Pippin asked her.
She waved him off, closing her eyes and massaging her temple.
There was movement around her, but she was too disconnected to see it.
There was a mumbling.
She forced her thick tongue to speak. "What?"
"Are you well, Loena?"
She heard it now, Aragorn's soft voice pervading through the shadow.
She couldn't speak now, and the pain was stirring nausea in her stomach.
There was a sudden burst of clarity, and she burst her eyes open. She looked up into Aragorn's eyes, and saw that he was holding his hand on her forehead.
"Can you stand?" Aragorn asked her, and she nodded.
"It's a headache," she said, soft and without feeling. "I must have slept poorly."
Aragorn seemed unconvinced, but she turned away from him and eased her head back from his hand. The ache returned, but it was dulled.
After their rest, the exercise seemed to clear her head, rather than hurt it further. By the time she settled in for the night, she was almost back to her old self. She could ignore the pain at the back of her head, though it never really disappeared.
The air had begun to get colder as they climbed, and Loena huddled in her cloak whenever, during a rest, they sat around. It hadn't needed to be said – no one moved to light a fire.
The thought of Saruman, Rohan and his spies made Loena yearn for home more than ever. She wanted for her mother, for the hot fire in their hearth, for the strength of her mare Snowbourne beneath her. She fell into a silent, lonely sleep.
And woke with another headache.
The pattern copied itself over the next couple of days. Sometimes, in the grips of pain, she'd quietly ask Aragorn for some help. He'd hold the side of her head, and sometimes murmur something in Sindarin. The pain would alleviate, but it would never leave.
"I can give you something more," Aragorn had said. "Some herbs for the pain."
"It's fine," Loena would reply, somewhat sharply. It was, perhaps, unfair to be so dismissive of someone she relied on so much for her healing, but then, she had no desire to speak to him or Gandalf after their betrayal.
They should have told her. They should have never conspired to keep it secret. Of this, Loena was certain.
Their first day hiking up solid snow, Loena thought of Théoden often. She felt as though she were following the tradition of mourning, and even felt that same, great loss in her belly. She forced herself to watch her steps.
It snowed in Rohan, especially in the south, but never absolutely across the ground as it did on the mountain. If it weren't so cold, Loena could convince herself she were walking on a world of salt.
Loena was shocked from her reverie when, ahead of her, Frodo tripped and fell back, tipping down the mountain toward Aragorn, who walked before her.
"Frodo!" Aragorn called out, rushing forward. He caught Frodo, and pulled the hobbit to his feet.
Loena stopped up behind them, absently rubbing her head as she watched. The snow was slippery, and the hobbits still refused shoes, so she was relatively unsurprised. Even less so, it being Frodo. It seemed fitting, somehow. Loena watched him with something like contempt, pushing at her headache with tired fingers.
Loena noticed Frodo fidgeting. She gritted her teeth against it; it irritated her. Like aggravating itching all over her body. She had to look away, stare into the snow.
"Boromir," she heard Aragorn say.
She looked up and saw that Boromir had picked the Ring up on its chain from the snow. It must have slipped from around Frodo's neck as he'd fallen down.
Loena felt her frustration again. It was a necklace – surely even Frodo could keep it on over a rather minor spill.
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," he was staring at the Ring. From where Loena stood, she could see how the sun glinted off the polished gold.
In Rohan the Ring would glimmer like that every day, Loena thought bitterly.
"Such a little thing."
Loena stared at the Ring, and by her sides, her fingers began to twitch. How dare Boromir cling to the Ring? Irritating, frustrating, cruel Boromir? What cause did he have? What claim? Minas Tirith was a fortified city, with as many ancient artefacts as people.
Their fight at the Council of Elrond was beginning to simmer at the back of Loena's mind, and it was everything she could do to prevent herself from lashing out at him again.
"Boromir!" Aragorn snapped, and both Loena and Boromir snapped up to look at him. She saw Aragorn watching Boromir carefully, Frodo still huddled in front of him.
Loena absently hoped Frodo was alright, and resolved to check him for bruises later that evening.
"Give the Ring to Frodo," Aragorn ordered, and Boromir snorted, dropping his gaze from the Ring. He stalked forward, and held it out for Frodo to grasp.
His arrogance astounded Leona. She wanted to scratch his face off.
"As you wish," Boromir said, as Frodo snatched the Ring back. "I care not."
Ahead of her, Aragorn loosened his hold on the hilt of his sword, and straightened, ushering Frodo ahead of him.
Loena stared with heat and fury at the back of Frodo's head for the rest of the day's walking. As they rested at the middle of the day, she spoke some with Boromir, who complained with her about the impossible chill of the air around them.
Loena did not remember her fury at him, but she did feel slightly strange when she looked at him, as though she owed him something like an apology.
That night they camped on the soggy outcrop of Caradhras. Night fell with the coming of an impossible cold, and Loena found herself contending with painfully cold extremities as well as the same headache that had plagued her for nearly a week. All had tried to create some fire on some dry firewood Pippin and Merry had shared between them from the forest, but none could get it going. It was only when Gandalf produced fire from the end of his staff, that they had proper warmth.
Loena patted Bill's nose as he stood there, miserable and cold. He responded to her happily, and felt lighter of spirit for it. Bill was a good, clever pony. A lesser horse would have bolted after so much misery.
Spirits were high enough after they had a tiny moment of warmth that Legolas regaled them all with one of his tales hunting down the giant Spiders that crawled through Mirkwood.
Frodo interrupted Legolas near the beginning; "Those were the spiders Bilbo saw, I presume!"
Loena had assumed Legolas would be as irritated as she by the inexplicable rudeness, but he merely laughed in excitement and nodded. "Yes! That must have been about the time we captured them and held the entire company hostage."
"I assume there are no more hard feelings?" Pippin asked smartly.
"I'd hasten to believe Bilbo probably thinks that the Capture-and-Escape rather enhances his story now," Frodo said, and all but Loena laughed. She was too busy resisting an urge to kick snow over the fire to spite Frodo, who had been holding his hands out over it for warmth.
The stories continued into the night, and all of them huddled together for warmth. Loena found herself set between Gimli and Boromir, and buried herself into them, as they buried into her.
She didn't know whether it was the human contact, or the small fire that continued to burn merrily as they drifted off to sleep, but she found herself more comfortable and anchored than she had been in days. It felt, though it could not have been, as if it were the best sleep she'd had since leaving Imladris.
Her mood was better that next morning than it had been in a while. She was even able to look upon Frodo without feeling a growing, growling anger. She made a merry conversation with Gimli as Boromir and Aragorn went on ahead, ploughing a path through the snow that lay ahead of them. Her head still ached, but it was becoming so familiar as for her to not recognise it any more.
But the mood was spoilt soon by the swift and sudden arrival of buffeting snow and screaming winds. The ice cut at Loena's face, and she stumbled along, just barely able to see the person in front of her.
The storm felt like it had come about from nowhere, summoned by nothing.
For a while she carried Pippin, and the warmth of his body was a welcome addition. After too long, though, her headache increase, and her weakness returned, and she had to hand him to Boromir, who carried Merry.
They staggered after each other, half buried in snow as they went. Loena could feel the skin on her face shrivelling and shirking against the cold. Only Legolas seemed unconcerned, walking along the top of the snow with his light, Elven step.
"This is no ordinary storm!" Gimli cried out in frustration, as the winds howled again, and the snow around them seemed to stack up and up upon itself. "It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not care for Elves and Dwarves!"
"I fear a more familiar enemy may have a hand in this," Gandalf said grimly.
At that point, Legolas called back to the group; "There is a fell voice on the air!"
He was right, Loena realised, closing her eyes against it. It echoed in her head, pounding against her skull.
"It is as I feared," Gandalf called out to the company around him, and then, much louder; "It's Saruman!"
The wind whipped up again, and Loena realised that she wouldn't have been able to hear Gandalf if he'd spoken again, even if he'd yelled to them.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn called, desperate, clutching Sam and Frodo to his chest. Loena had the sudden thought that if they were to leave Frodo, they might be able to make it through Caradhras unscathed.
The thought went as quickly as it came. Loena closed her eyes bitterly, stretching the fabric of her cloak around her shoulders, begging for some relief.
"Gandalf," Aragorn cried out. Loena blearily opened his eyes and saw him from behind; his tall stature, the imprint of the hobbits by his shoulders, the snow on his hood. "We must turn back!"
Gandalf was unmoved, "No!" he snarled back, and turned to keep pushing.
Loena pushed on behind him, suddenly realising she'd lost all feeling in her toes. If she were to need her balance, it was more than likely that she'd fall. Here, now, on the edge of a treacherous mountain pass, falling was as good as a death sentence.
As they tightened their jaws and pushed on with the painfully slow process, a slow cracking echoed above them, and Loena threw herself and Gimli against the side of the mountain pass. The snow fell down in front of them, smashing down upon where they'd once stood, crashing down the side of the mountain.
"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn yelled, and Loena could hear his frustration. "Gandalf, we must turn back."
"No!" Gandalf insisted, taking to the edge, raising his staff against the wind. He cried out, a great, stirring spell that was lost to Loena's ears on the whistling wind. He bared himself to the winds, grey robes buffeted around him like flags.
The same voice Legolas had drawn everyone's attention to started again, deep and evil. This time, above their heads, Loena widened her eyes when she saw a great crack of white lightening strike the snow. This time the avalanche was swift, and devastating. Loena had barely a time to gasp for air before the cold, heavy snow piled on top of her.
She stayed like that for a moment, reaching up with her hand. Not even the tips of her fingers seemed to reach the surface. Her lungs began to burn, and she started kicking up, pushing on whatever she could find for a solid surface.
Still nothing.
Red, hot fear pumped through Loena's veins. She opened her mouth against the snow to try to breathe, but felt no give between her mouth and the ice of the snow. She felt as though her lungs in her chest were inverted upon themselves.
Then, just as she felt she couldn't stand another moment, the great oppressive weight crumbled above her, and she was pulled to the air.
She gasped, coughing on the snow. She looked up and saw that it had been Frodo who'd pulled her out.
She forgot her pain, and her desperation, and jerked her hand away from him. He looked at her with worry and hurt.
"Loena," Aragorn clasped at her shoulder, and she, still heaving breaths, clutched at his forearm.
"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir yelled from ahead of her. He was still holding Merry and Pippin, who looked miserable. "Make for the Gap of Rohan—"
Yes, Loena thought, energised despite her weakness.
"—and take the west road to my city!"
Loena was thrust back to her sore lungs, and bitter fingers, and taut skin. She swallowed her discontent at the idea of finding themselves in Minas Tirith.
"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn countered, with the proper exasperation for someone who had made the same winning point, in the same argument, for days and days on end.
"If we cannot pass over a mountain," Gimli called out. "Let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria."
Gandalf, standing at the front and watching over the Fellowship, was silent for a moment. Through the gloom and whiteness around them, Loena swore she saw real fear pass over Gandalf's features.
Then, finally; "Let the Ring-Bearer decide."
Why? Loena wanted to demand. She decided to be resolutely against whatever Frodo decided.
"We cannot stay here!" Boromir called out, insistent, desperate. "This will be the death of the Hobbits!"
Gandalf turned his attention to Frodo completely. "Frodo?"
"We will go through the mines," Frodo answered, though there was a waver of uncertainty on his voice.
Gandalf was very grave when he replied. "So be it."