It was a bright, clear morning when they reached a wide grass-filled plain that ran between many low mounds that were covered also in grass. Eli looked at the mounds from where she sat atop Whitewing, and noticed that the western sides of the mounds seemed covered with a dusting of white: small flowers sprang there like countless stars amid the turf.
"Look!" said Gandalf. "How fair are the bright eyes in the grass! Evermind they are called, simbelmyne in this land of Men, for they blossom in all the seasons of the year, and grow where dead men rest. Behold! We are come to the great barrows where the sires of Theoden sleep."
"Seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right," said Aragorn. "Many long lives of men it is since the golden hall was built."
"Five hundred times have the red leaves fallen in Mirkwood in my home since then," said Legolas, "and but a little while it seems to us."
Camille sighed as she looked at the mounds. "Sixteen generations of Kings of Rohan all in all, not counting the one who is currently sitting on the throne." She smiled slightly then. "Not as old as most of the monarchies back home, right Eli?"
"Yup," Eli replied. "Some monarchies are thousands of years old."
"Then you might compare them to the Kings of Numenor, of which Aragorn is a descendant," said Gimli from where he was seated with Legolas on Arod.
Eli smiled, and shook her head. "No, I don't think so. The Kings of Numenor have established a line far older than any that exist in our world." She smiled as she glanced at Aragorn. "And most of them don't have such a distinguished history and descendants when compared to Aragorn and his line."
With these words the travelers passed the silent mounds. Before they faded away completely behind her, Eli turned back, and whispered, "Rest in peace, great Kings of Rohan. We shall try to bring peace back to your lands with our own deeds." The wind blew past then, and rustled the flowers of simbelmyne on the hill, giving her an answer that only she could understand.
They continued on their journey, following the winding way up the green shoulders of the hills. It wasn't long before they came at last to the wide wind-swept walls and the gates of Edoras.
There sat many men and bright mail, who sprang at once to their feet and barred the way with spears. They yelled at them in some strange language that Eli didn't understand, though she suspected that it was the tongue of the people of Rohan. It sounds a lot like the way Boromir used to talk.
During all that time that she had been thinking, one of the men at the door had been to the inside and back. He spoke to Gandalf for a moment, and the gates were opened. They entered then in single file, following their guide. They were walking along a broad street, with houses made of wood with many dark doors lining it along the side. Alongside the street ran a stream of crystal clear water, trilling a merry sound as it ran by.
Eventually they reached the top of the hill. There stood a high platform above a green terrace, at the foot of which a bright spring gushed from a stone carved in the likeness of a horse's head; beneath was a wide basin from which the water spilled and fed the falling stream. Up the green terrace went a stair of stone, high and broad, and on either side of the topmost step were stone-hewn seats. There sat other guards, with drawn swords laid upon their knees. Their golden hair was braided on their shoulders; the sun was blazoned upon their green shields, their long corselets were burnished bright, and when they rose taller they seemed than mortal men.
At that moment the guide spoke again, though like before Eli couldn't understand what he was saying, and he left them. Eli followed Gandalf's lead as the walked up the stairs towards the high doors, falling in step with Camille for comfort. "This place is giving me the creeps," she whispered.
"Yeah," Camille replied quietly. "It's so…cold…like it's still winter here, and all this sunlight and spring is just an illusion." She shook her head. "There's something bad hanging all over this place, and whatever it is, I plan to get rid of it."
Eli nodded in approval. Though what that bad feeling is, and how we're going to get rid of it, are questions we're going to have to answer later. By this time they had reached the top, and the guards had greeted them. One of them stepped forward, and spoke in the Common Tongue, much to Eli's relief.
"I am the Doorward of Theoden," he said. "Hama is my name. Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter."
Then Legolas gave into his hand his silver-hafted knife, his quiver, and his bow. "Keep these well," he said, "for they come from the Golden Wood and the Lady of Lothlorien gave them to me."
Wonder came into the man's eyes, and he laid the weapons hastily by the wall, as if he feared to handle them. "No man will touch them, I promise you," he said.
Aragorn stood a while, hesitating. "It is not my will," he said, "to put aside my sword or to deliver Anduril to the hand of any other man."
"It is the will of Theoden," said Hama.
"It is not clear to me that the will of Theoden son of Thengel, even though he be Lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will over Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil's heir of Gondor."
"This is the house of Theoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor," said Hama, stepping swiftly before the doors and barring the way. His sword was now in his hand, and the point towards the strangers.
"This is idle talk," said Gandalf. "Needless is Theoden's demand, but it is useless to refuse. A king will have his way in his own hall, be it folly or wisdom."
"Truly," said Aragorn, "and I would do as the master of the house bade me, were this only a woodman's cot, if I bore now any sword but Anduril."
"Whatever its name may be," said Hama; "here you shall lay it, if you would not fight alone against all the men in Edoras."
"Not alone!" said Gimli, fingering the blade of his axe, and looking darkly up at the guard, as if he were a young tree that Gimli had a mind to fell. "Not alone!"
Eli rolled her eyes, and Camille shifted on her feet. This is going absolutely nowhere. Finally deciding to intervene, she stepped up beside Aragorn, and said, "Aragorn, just do as the man says. He's just doing his job, you know."
No response from the Dunadan.
Muttering curses under her breath in every language EXCEPT English and Elvish, Eli removed her sword from where it was tied to her waist, and handed it over to the now very surprised Hama. "Look, I'm giving over my own sword. If that's not enough, then I don't know what is." She turned to Hama, and smiled at him sweetly. "Take care of that for me, will you? If any man so much as draws it out of its sheath, may the wrath of the Blue Dragon come down and consume him."
Hama gulped, and nervously set the sword aside. "It will be as you have wished, My Lady."
Camille came up to him then, and handed over her bow and quiver. "Take care of that too," she said, with an equally saccharine smile on her face. "And if anyone so much as THINKS of taking it, the Crimson Phoenix will come swooping down on him and burn him to ashes. Am I clear on that?"
Once more, Hama swallowed nervously, and laid the bow and quiver beside Eli's sword. "As you wish, My Lady."
"Come, come!" said Gandalf. "We are all friends here. Or should be; for the laughter of Mordor will be our only reward, if we quarrel. My errand is pressing. Here at least is MY sword, Goodman Hama. Keep it well. Glamdring it is called, for the Elves made it long ago. Now let me pass. Come, Aragorn!"
Slowly Aragorn unbuckled his belt and himself set his sword upright against the wall. "Here I set it," he said, "but I command you not to touch it, nor to permit any other to lay hand on it. In this Elvish sheath dwells the Blade that was Broken and has been made again. Telchar first wrought it in the deeps of time. Death shall come to any man that draws Elendil's sword save Elendil's heir."
The guard stepped back and looked with amazement on Aragorn. "It seems that you have come on the wings of song out of the forgotten days," he said. "It shall be, lord, as you command."
"Well," said Gimli, "if it has Anduril to keep it company, my axe may stay there too, without shame;" and he laid it on the floor. "Now then, if all is as you wish, let us go and speak with your master."
The guard still hesitated. "Your staff," he said to Gandalf. "Forgive me, but that too must be left at the doors."
Eli's eyes widened. What?! No way! "That's stupid!" she burst out. "Wait, no, not stupid, but utterly, horridly RUDE!!! Gandalf's an OLD MAN, he NEEDS the staff to get around!" She paused for a moment to let her words sink in. "I hope you aren't seriously thinking of depriving him of his support, because if you are…well, I've got my OWN ways to make you change your mind." Suddenly, there was a hard blast of wind against the doors, and it was so strong that it made the heavy doors creak slightly on their hinges.
"Indeed, you have your ways, My Lady," said Hama nervously. But he composed himself rather quickly. "However, a staff in the hand of a wizard may be more than a prop for age." He looked hard at the ash-staff on which Gandalf leaned. "Yet in doubt a man of worth will trust to his wisdom. I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honor, who have no evil purpose. You may go."
* * *
Camille snickered when she was finally out of earshot from Hama. Tapping Eli on the shoulder, she gave her best friend a grin. "That was too cool, Eli."
Eli smirked too. "Not bad for a first try, eh? Though I think an earthquake from you would've had a better effect."
"Nah, it's good that I didn't. I was just about ready to make this whole place come falling down on their heads," Camille replied with an evil grin. Though they had handed over their visible weapons, she still had her kodachi strapped to her legs, where her cloak hid them. And she knew Eli had her kunai underneath her clothes, within easy reach. At least we aren't going in here COMPLETELY helpless.
They continued walking down the hall, Camille and Eli looking upon the things in it. The floor beneath them was paved with a mosaic of colored stones, forming runes and other strange designs all over it. Overhead, through small holes made for the escape of smoke, the sky was a clear but pale blue. The pillars were intricately carved, and gleamed with gold and colors that they couldn't really identify well because of the darkness. Many tapestries hung on the walls, some of them looking like they were newly made, but others were already dark with age. Only on one tapestry did the sunlight fall. It was of a young man with flowing yellow hair in braids, holding a horn to his lips. He sat astride a great horse, its head lifted as it neighed. Around its feet swirled water in green and white. Gandalf identified the man as Eorl the Young, founder of the Kingdom of Rohan.
They moved on, heading towards the very end of the long hallway. At last, they halted. At the far end of the house, facing north towards the doors, was a dais with three steps; and in the middle of the dais was a great gilded chair. Upon it sat a man so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf; but his white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids from beneath a thin golden circlet set upon his brow. In the center upon his forehead shone a single white diamond. His beard was laid like snow upon his knees; but his eyes still burned with a bright light, glinting as he gazed at the strangers. Behind his chair stood a woman clad in white. At his feet upon the steps sat a wizened figure of a man, with a pale wise face and heavy-lidded eyes.
The moment Camille laid eyes on the man who sat on the steps she stiffened. That guy gives me a very bad feeling… She didn't like the way he was looking at her and Eli. She leaned closer to her best friend, and muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "See the guy on the steps? I don't like him."
Eli nodded imperceptibly. "Got that right," she replied. "He stinks worse than a thief who's been caught in his own trap."
There was a silence. The old man did not move in his chair. At length Gandalf spoke. "Hail Theoden son of Thengel! I have returned. For behold! The storm comes, and all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed."
Slowly the old man rose to his feet, leaning heavily upon a short black staff with a handle of white bone; and now the strangers saw that, bent though he was, he was still tall and must in youth have been high and proud indeed.
"I greet you," he said, "and maybe you look for welcome. But truth to tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf. You have ever been a herald of woe. Troubles follow you like crows, and ever the oftener the worse. I will not deceive you: when I heard that Shadowfax had come back riderless, I rejoiced at the return of the horse, but still more at the lack of the rider; and when Eomer brought the tidings that you had gone at last to your long home, I did not mourn. But news from afar is seldom sooth. Here you come again! And with you come evils worse than before, as might be expected. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that." Slowly he sat down again in his chair.
"You speak justly, lord," said the pale man sitting upon the steps of the dais. "It is not yet five days since the bitter tidings came that Theodred your son was slain upon the West Marches: your right-hand, Second Marshal of the Mark. In Eomer there is little trust. Few men would be left to guard your walls, if he had been allowed to rule. And even now we learn from Gondor that the Dark Lord is stirring in the East. Such is the hour in which this wanderer chooses to return. Why indeed should we welcome you, Master Stormcrow? Lathspell I name you, Ill-news; and ill news is an ill guest they say." He laughed grimly, as he lifted his heavy lids for a moment and gazed on the strangers with dark eyes.
Camille did all she could to lower the sudden surge of energy in her veins. The way the man was looking at her made her want to torch him, or at least make the floor open up so the earth could swallow him whole. All around them the torches flared more brightly, and the flames in the fireplaces leapt upwards higher in reaction to her barely contained rage.
"You are held wise, my friend Wormtongue, and are doubtless a great support to your master," said Gandalf in a soft voice. "Yet in two ways may a man come with evil tidings. He may be a worker of evil; or he may be such as leaves well alone, and comes only to bring aid in time of need."
"That is so," said Wormtongue; "but there is a third kind: pickers of bones, meddlers in other men's sorrows, carrion-fowl that grow fat on war. What aid have you ever brought, Stormcrow? And what aid do you bring now? It was aid from us that you sought last time that you were here. Then my lord bade you choose any horse that you would and be gone; and to the wonder of all you took Shadowfax in your insolence. My lord was sorely grieved; yet to some it seemed that to speed you from the land the price was not too great. I guess that it is likely to turn out the same once more: you will seek aid rather than render it. Do you bring men? Do you bring horses, swords, spears? That I would call aid; that is our present need. But who are these that follow at your tail? Three ragged wanderers in gray, and you the most beggar-like of the four! And these wenches…did you bring them for your pleasure on the road, Stormcrow? So you would not only have one of the King's best horses for yourself, but women as well!"
Camille felt her temper snap inside, but forced herself to maintain a calm surface. She glanced at the others out of the corner of her eye, and noticed that they weren't any better. Legolas seemed to be itching for his bow or at least his knife; Aragorn was glancing back towards the door as if he would bolt at any minute and get Anduril; and Gimli was all ready to tackle Wormtongue and strangle him to death. Eli, on the other hand, was calm on the outside, but her eyes were flickering dangerously. Outside, the wind whipped hard against the stone, whistling eerily.
"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden son of Thengel," said Gandalf. "Has not the messenger from the gate reported the names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received such guests. Weapons they laid at your doors that are worth many a mortal man, even the mightiest. Gray is their raiment, for the Elves clad them, and thus they have passed through the shadow of great peril to your halls. And as for these 'wenches'… Pray, Wormtongue, that you never call them as such again. They are no ordinary young girls, for within them lies a power that would be sufficient to defy even the Dark Lord himself, once it reaches its full capacity. The Elves hold them in the highest esteem, for they are the fulfillment of a prophecy that has long since been forgotten save by a few loremasters, and they are the only sure hope we have of ever defeating the Shadow in Mordor. If you say anything that would insult them, then you will feel the wrath against you that lies within them even as we speak, and no power in this world will be able to stop it."
"Then it is true, as Eomer reported, that you are in league with the Sorceress of the Golden Wood?" said Wormtongue. "It is not to be wondered at: webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene. And you bring two witches with you as well."
That was the last straw. Camille clenched her fists, and the magical power in her flowed out unrestrained. It was met by a somewhat colder energy, and realized that Eli had snapped too. She smirked. Ooh Wormtongue, you're SO going to get it from us. Anything in the hall that was kindled, whether to provide warmth, light, or both, suddenly flickered more brightly than before, and through any crevasse that could be found a chill wind blew. "Gandalf warned you, Wormtongue," she began, "but you didn't listen. We've had it up to HERE with you, and you're going to pay for the insults you have hurled at us and our friends."
Eli strode forward, the sign of the Tiger gleaming bright on her brow. "No one, and I mean NO ONE insults the Lady Galadriel. And who gave you the right to judge her and us? For one, you haven't seen her before, and for another, you haven't seen US until now." Her eyes narrowed. "You are going to pay dearly, Wormtongue."
* * *
Eowyn watched with awe and amazement as the two girls whom Wormtongue had called "wenches" strode forward together; each had a strange symbol that looked like a rune glowing brightly upon her brow. Gandalf was right, she thought. Their power is indeed great.
When she had seen this small group clad in gray walk into the hall, she had not suspected that the two figures that followed them towards the back were girls. They walked with determined strides, and held their cloaked heads high, as though they were young soldiers. But when the hoods were cast aside, and their features revealed to all, it was only then that Eowyn saw that they were female. Queenly in bearing they seemed, but their eyes showed the ferocity of a tried warrior, and there was also care upon their faces, as would be seen on the face of one who had seen much trial and hardship.
But now they seemed terrible to look upon, terrible, but beautiful. And suddenly everything that had flames upon it in the hall – torches, braziers, fireplaces – flared with a new and sudden life. A cold wind blew in through whatever windows were open and through every crevasse. The servants attempted to shut the windows, but it was folly, for they were no match for the wind.
They spoke together then, voices filled with the mighty power that Gandalf had spoken of, "Still your venomous tongue, you Man of Dark Heart and Dark Intent! Your poison will cloud this hall no longer! By the power of the Wind and the Flame, we purge this place of your wickedness!"
The words had barely left their lips when a wild gust of wind blew in, passing by the torches that lined the hall. Instead of blowing out, they glowed brighter, and with the wind went tongues of flashing flame. The wind wrapped itself around Wormtongue in an inescapable barrier of breeze and fire.
Gandalf raised his staff. There was a roll of thunder. The sunlight was blotted out from the eastern windows; the whole hall suddenly became dark as night. The fire faded to sullen embers. Only Gandalf and the girls could be seen: the former standing tall and white against the blackened hearth, the latter two shining with their own light beside him.
There was a flash as if lighting had cloven the roof. Then all was silent. Wormtongue sprawled on his face. And soon, the whirlwind of fire and breeze died away, and all was calm once again.
"Now Theoden son of Thengel, will you hearken to me?" said Gandalf. "Do you ask for help?" He lifted his staff and pointed to a high window. There the darkness seemed to clear, and through the opening could be seen, high and far, a patch of shining sky. "Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark; for better help you will not find. No counsel have I to give to those who despair. Yet counsel I could give, and words I could speak to you. Will you hear them? They are not for all ears. I bid you come out before your doors and look abroad. Too long have you sat in shadows and trusted to twisted tales and crooked promptings."
Eowyn watched with amazement as Theoden slowly rose from his chair. She immediately left her position from behind the chair, and took his arm, leading him as he walked with faltering steps down from the dais and paced softly through the hall. She looked over her shoulder at Wormtongue. He remained lying on the floor. They came to the doors and Gandalf knocked.
"Open!" he cried. "The King of the Mark comes forth!"
The doors rolled back and a keen air came whistling in. A wind was blowing on the hill.
"Send your guards down to the stairs' foot," said Gandalf. He turned to Eowyn then, his eyes clear and piercing beneath his gray brows. "And you, lady, leave him a while with me. I shall care for him."
Eowyn stood stock-still, and gripped her mother-brother's arm more tightly. He cannot let me do that! I do not wish to leave my King! No!
But Theoden's hand came on her wrist, and he said, "Go, Eowyn sister-daughter! The time for fear is past."
Knowing that there was no use arguing with her king, she turned and went slowly into the house. As she walked past the doors she looked at each of the mysterious guests in turn. First the Dwarf, then the Elf, and then the two girls. They smiled at her as she wandered by, and she allowed herself to smile back at them, though it was only a small one. And then her eye fell upon the last of the wanderers. He was tall, like the Men of Gondor, and noble of bearing. He seemed young, and yet he looked wise with many winters, an heir of kings, gray-cloaked, hiding a power that yet she felt.
She was instantly enamored of him. The moment his steely gray eyes met her own blue, she felt an electric shock pass up and down her body. She wished to remain like this forever, a willing captive of his gaze. But then, reality came rushing back to her, and turned away. I must leave now; else they would think me a fool.
But as she fled up to her chambers, her thoughts dwelt on the man whom she had seen, and how much she admired him.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: And fin! So, how did you like what I did to Wormtongue ^_^? Actually, I wanted to kill him already at this point in the story, but then I remembered that he's still needed to cause trouble at Orthanc! After all, if it weren't for him then the Palantir wouldn't have found its way to Gandalf's possession. And it's needed, right? Aragorn has to take possession of it later on in the story. Up next, there's going to be a feast thingy in honor of the arrival of Gandalf's party and in honor of the Riding of the Rohirrim. What happens while at the feast? Read on to find out!