A/N: Most of you will know the basic idea of this chapter just from the title, those of you who have read the books. This goes away from Éowyn to focus more of Merry and Gandalf, and the situation at Minas Tirith. I hope you enjoy it.
I don't know if I forgot anything, but if I did, it is now here. Anyway, it looks better.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They are all the creation of J.RR. Tolkien.
Chapter 14: Dernhelm
Another scream as one of the Nazgûl flew over the White Tower of Ecthelion. Faramir had gone to Osgiliath with his forces, where the defences were weakening. If Osgiliath fell, then the gateway would open for the armies of Mordor. It was the only thing that stood between Minas Tirith and Minas Morgul. Both Sauron and Denethor knew this.
Frodo and Sam awaited any orders from Gandalf regarding the Ring. In order for them to have any chance of success in destroying it, a large enough battle needed to draw the Eye of Sauron away from them and focus elsewhere. The Ring had begun to take its toll on Frodo. He wished to be rid of its burden, but would not part with it. He had spent many a day in the Houses of Healing to seek solitude and refuge from its evil. Sam was concerned for him and sought counsel from Gandalf.
"Is there nothing we can do for him?" asked Sam, "There has to be something?"
"I am afraid that there is nothing we can do to help him now, Sam," said Gandalf, "Frodo must do this alone, he is close to the end, but the Ring has overcome him. He wishes to be rid of its pain, but cannot leave it. You must ensure that he fulfils his duty, Sam. He must destroy it, and you must see to it. Promise me, Sam."
"I will, Mr Gandalf, sir," replied Sam.
The following morning, an hour before dawn, Merry woke to find himself being shaken out of a deep slumber. A pair of shining blue eyes stared at him in the darkness of the early morn.
"Wake up, Master Merry," said a voice, "the men are readying themselves to ride at dawn." Éowyn had come to bring him to Théoden this morn.
"Hurry, Master Merry," she said, "the king is expecting you."
He scrambled out of bed and hunted around for his clothes. Éowyn stepped away and walked out of the room. Merry proceeded to dress himself, eager to go down to Théoden. He felt mixed emotions as he made his way down to the hall. He had never been in a war before and didn't know what to expect.
The feelings were the same as he entered the main hall. Théoden sat amongst the Rohirric soldiers, and they, like him, were all afraid and uneasy. Merry noticed, too, that Éowyn was not to be seen, and as the time passed to their departure, he began to wonder why she was not there. Surely she wished to see them off, especially Théoden and her brother, Éomer.
The men began to dwindle in numbers from the hall and Merry decided to prepare for the long ride ahead. He thought of home, of Hobbiton. How he missed it. How he wished to be there. He would go home when this was all over.
Messengers came and went from the High Court of Minas Tirith. Days passed slowly, the darkness from the east consumed the light of the day. Reports came that Faramir's forces had been unsuccessful. Théoden drew nearer and hope that they would be saved blossomed among the people, even in this dark time. But the Nazgûl continued to roam the lands around the city, inflicting pain and fear on all.
"Sauron's forces grow greater in number and power," cried Denethor. "All hope is lost from us. The light is gone from our glorious days. Gondor will fall and all will come to ruin."
"Théoden rides, still, with all speed," reassured Gandalf.
"Then he will arrive too late," said Denethor, despairingly. "There is no hope left, or if there is, it is shrouded from our sight."
"We must never lose sight of what hope is left in the darkness," said Gandalf.
A horn sounded from near the city gates.
"Is Théoden come?" asked Denethor.
"It is Faramir," replied Gandalf. "He returns with his remaining men. I must see him."
At dawn, Stybba was saddled and ready to go. Merry stood beside him. Suddenly Éowyn appeared atop the steps of Meduseld. She wore a gown of black velvet, cut low at the chest, and stitched with fine gold thread, the long angel sleeves, with golden patterns, flowing behind as she walked down to them. On her head rested a wreath of delicate golden flowers, and around her neck hung a pendant encrusted with rubies, on a fine gold chain. Her golden hair was done up, neatly hidden beneath the crown.
She was a queen; regal, and beautiful, but cold as that icy morn that was. The words she spoke to Éomer and the king were strange to Merry, but although he did not understand them, he could hear the pain and sorrow in her tone.
She turned to him now.
"Farewell, Master Merry," she smiled, "I hope that we shall have the pleasure of meeting again." She kissed his cheek softly. Merry felt his face flush a deep crimson but he smiled back in return. She turned from the party and hurried back inside. Merry now saw Théoden approach him.
"Master Holbytla," said Théoden, "I am afraid that I cannot allow you to come with me to Minas Tirith."
"But sire," he protested, "I pledged my service to you!"
"I believe, however," continued Théoden, "that service would be better served here, with Lady Éowyn."
"I do not wish to remain here while all of my friends fight. I wish to join them on the battlefield. I should feel ashamed not to."
"I fear that Stybba is not fit for such speed and you would not be able to ride a great steed, as they be too strong for so small a person. I bid you stay for your safety." He walked away.
Merry stood glumly beside Stybba as he watched the riders assemble to leave. A voice came soft in his ear.
"Where will wants not, a way opens, so we say," it whispered, "and so I have found myself."
Merry looked up to see the rider's face. He was young; Merry had not seen him before. But as he stared closely, the face appeared familiar.
"You wish to ride with the Rohirrim, beside the King of the Mark," he said.
"I do," replied Merry, his head dropping again.
"Then you shall ride with me," he said.
Merry's face lit up with delight.
"Thank you indeed," said Merry, "but may I enquire as to your name?"
The rider smiled.
"I am surprised that you do not know me," he said, "but if that is so, then call me Dernhelm."
A/N: Ok, I don't know if this chapter was missing anything, but, better safe than sorry.