Chapter Twenty - Return to Dunharrow
(Warning: RotK Spoilers)
5-10 March 3018; Isengard and Rohan
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That very afternoon the entire company set out for Helm's Deep. The Fellowship of the Ring, or what was left of it, led the way: Gandalf and Merry on Shadowfax, Aragorn and Pippin on Hasufel, and Legolas and Gimli on Arod. Close behind came Théoden on Snowmane and Éomer and Mellamir on Firefoot, followed by the twenty Éorlingas who had come with their king to Isengard. Before coming to Isengard Théoden had meant to ride straight back to Edoras, but after meeting with Saruman Gandalf decided it was too dangerous for so large a company to travel in plain view of any spies. They would make for Helm's Deep, which they could hopefully reach in two days of hard riding, and then take to the mountain paths where they could travel more secretly.
They rode for a few hours until the sun set and all light was gone. Then Shadowfax, Hasufel, and Arod stopped suddenly, and the company dismounted and made camp. They ate dinner -- salted pork and ale from Isengard, battle-biscuits from Théoden's stores, and such fruits and nuts as they could find in the valley -- and lit a fire. Théoden chose three of his men to take an hour's guard, the first one started his duty, and everyone else went to bed almost immediately.
Mellamir, being the only woman in the camp, took her blanket and laid down some distance from the men, on the other side of a thin line of trees -- still in view of the guards, but well enough separated to satisfy Théoden's and Gandalf's sense of modesty. The king and the wizard went off on their own to take some private council about the next day's ride and made their beds a bit off. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli made their beds with Éomer and the other Éorlingas, but the hobbits, not wanting to sleep under the open air (they had had enough of that with the orcs to last quite some time) made their beds near the trees that separated Mellamir from the rest.
Because Merry and Pippin lay closer to her than anyone else, Mellamir heard their conversation that night. They were talking about the rock that Wormtongue had thrown from Orthanc, and this was the first Mellamir had heard anyone speak of it since they'd left Isengard. Pippin was impatient with curiosity, but Merry was tired, and Mellamir agreed with him. She wished the two would settle down and go to sleep, or at least stop making so much noise so that _she_ could nod off.
She had finally gotten to sleep when she was awakened by someone yelling out in pain. She sat up quickly, pulled her robe around her, and snuck through the trees to see what was the matter. Not far through the grove she saw one of the hobbits -- Pippin, she thought -- hopping on the ground, holding his toe in his hand; he'd obviously stubbed it on a root or something of that sort. He looked around quickly to see if he'd woken anyone up. Mellamir hid behind one of the trees, and before long the hobbit darted through the grove and came across the soldiers, sleeping. He tiptoed around the edge of the grove -- and so did Mellamir, now very interested in what he was doing. She started following to make sure he didn't get into trouble, but if truth were told she was just as interested in what Pippin found so intriguing and knew he wouldn't go for it if he knew she was awake.
So inch by inch they crept. Finally they came to where Théoden and Gandalf were sleeping by themselves. Pippin found a rock and wrapped it in the jacket that he'd carried with him. Then he snuck up behind Gandalf and slowly lifted the wizard's arm. He took the rock from Isengard and replaced it with the rock he'd just wrapped, then hurried away and started to unwrap the palantír.
He seemed hesitant and started to wrap it back up, but then his curiosity got the better of him. He unwrapped the rock all the way and stared into it. Mellamir crept closer. She was afraid he would look up and notice her, but after seeing how Pippin was completely engrossed in the rock, she got braver and crept to right behind him, stood up, and peered over his shoulder.
For a long time the rock was black. It appeared to be some kind of obsidian. Then all of the sudden the black seemed to melt away; it became gray, swirls of gray and dark purple, crimson red and orange, like clouds in the setting sun. Then suddenly the clouds parted and revealed a single flaming red eye. _What could it mean?_ Mellamir wondered. Whatever it was, it was terrible: Pippin almost immediately started screaming. He lay there on the ground, twitching and kicking, at last kicking the stone with his furry little foot, pushing it into Théoden's shoulder. "What the --?" Théoden said, sitting up with a start.
Mellamir was trying to hold Pippin still, but with little success. Finally she grabbed both of his shoulders and pinned him down to the ground. Gandalf, awoken by the hobbit's screams, was kneeling in front of him.
"Peregrin Took. Come back. Come back, Pippin, come to my voice," Gandalf said calmly, though Mellamir could see in his old grey eyes a panic she had never seen there before.
Suddenly Pippin's eyes opened, and he stopped twitching. "What did you see?" Gandalf said at last. "Concentrate, now. This is important." But Pippin looked uncertainly at those around. Gandalf, concerned as he was, was stern. "What did you see?"
"I'll go get Merry," Mellamir said quietly. The other hobbit was so tired that he didn't wake up even in all the commotion; he certainly was the only one. Mellamir bent over Merry and gently shook his shoulder. No reaction. "Wake up, Merry," she said softly into his ear, then repeated herself more loudly. Still no reaction. Then Merry's eyes opened, and he looked with blind terror into the night sky. He curled into a fetal position, holding his hands against his ears, and started screaming. Mellamir heard a swoosh behind her, and when she looked up she saw a giant winged beast flying toward Isengard.
Merry, now quite awake, still lay curled in the fetal position. "Come on," Mellamir said. Merry hopped up and ran off toward Gandalf with a speed that Mellamir found hard to match. They were passed by Pippin running in the opposite direction.
"What was that all about?" Mellamir asked Gandalf when she got back to the group. Gandalf was hastily packing his bag, and Aragorn was holding the stone. "Where'd Pippin run off to in such a hurry? And what's wrong with Merry?"
"You didn't notice anything?" Gandalf asked, surprised. "You did not feel anything? Nothing at all?"
"Only the night air. What happened?"
Gandalf shook his head in disbelief, but decided against explaining; there was no time. "Our situation is much more perilous than I at first thought," Gandalf said at last. "We have been saved from almost certain doom by Pippin, but he is now in danger. Least of all can he afford to stay here. I am going to Minas Tirith -- now. The Black Riders have just crossed --"
"Black Riders?" Mellamir asked. "Here?"
"Yes, they have passed, and you must be the only one that did not know it." He shook his head again in amazement. "They weren't coming for Pippin -- even they take some time to make the trip -- but by now they know all about us, and Pippin cannot stay here. I am taking him to Minas Tirith, immediately."
"Can't I come, Gan --"
"No," he said emphatically. "For one, you do not have a horse, and even Shadowfax cannot carry all three of us. And Minas Tirith is still not safe, you know that. If anything it is even less safe. Mellamir, I do not have time to explain, but you must stay safe and survive this war. You have just now proven, once again, how absolutely vital your survival is. I want you to go back with Théoden to Rohan. Éowyn will need your help; she has come to count on you." Pippin came running back with his pack, and Gandalf whistled. Shadowfax strode up to him, and Gandalf pulled himself onto the horse. Mellamir placed Pippin in front of him, and Merry came running up.
Gandalf turned to Théoden and said, "Hurry, now, to Helm's Deep. I know you are tired, but I hope you value your lives more than your sleep. I take the greatest danger with myself, but you still have one of the halflings, a worthy prize for Sauron. Good speed! Make straight for Helm's Deep.
"Pip!" Merry cried, holding out a small leather satchel. Mellamir took it from him and handed it to his cousin.
"But ... but this is your leaf?" Pippin said as he opened it. Merry nodded. "The last of your leaf."
"You smoke too fast," Merry said, trying to force a smile.
"Well, I'm not going to have any time to smoke, Merry, and I'll see you soon." Gandalf pat Shadowfax's stomach and whispered something in his ear. The proud horse began to paw the ground. "Won't I?" Pippin looked down at Merry.
"I --"
Pippin looked down, his eyes burning with a secret pain, and he repeated his question. "W-won't I?"
"I don't know," Merry admitted, and he stretched his hand up to Pippin to give him a final squeeze. Pippin reached down but he couldn't reach his cousin's outstretched hand. "Merry..." he began.
"Ride, Shadowfax!" Gandalf cried, and the horse shot off, carrying with it a high-pitched wail.
"*Pippin!*" Merry cried, running after Shadowfax. Mellamir ran after him and grabbed him, but then, much to her surprise, she kept running. Merry was sobbing, tears falling on Mellamir's shoulders, and he gasped for breath. A second later Shadowfax was gone, bearing his two riders into the horrific unknown of the East.
~*~
The rest of the company set off not long after that. They were tired, but none of them wanted to rest with that winged terror in the air. They had ridden several leagues when Éomer held up his hand for all the horses to stop. "Æstandan!" he bellowed into the darkness, lowering his spear. "Who rides in Rohan?"
"Rohan?" said a voice in the background. "That is good news indeed! We have ridden all the way from Eriador, far away in the north, in search of this land."
"Well, you've found it," Éomer answered. "And no one can ride here unless they have the permission of Théoden, who rides with us."
"State your quest," said Thédoen. "You ride through the shadows. Who are you, that you hide your face from judgment?"
"That is certainly not my purpose." Slowly the men rode forward out of the shadows of the trees, into the moonlight. Most could not place the strange faces. They wore cloaks of a material the Rohirrim had never seen, but their horses, though strange and with heavier fur, looked somehow akin to the horses the men of Rohan rode. Yet one of their company at least recognized these riders from the north. Aragorn jumped down off his horse and ran over. "Halbarad!"
With that Théoden laughed. "Raise your spear, sister-son! Any friend of Aragorn is welcome in Rohan. We certainly cannot afford to refuse any allies these days, and if they are as valiant as the lord Aragorn ... but who are they?"
"My lord, I am Halbarad, of the ancient northern lands of Arnor. I bring with me thirty swords. We have ridden with Aragorn for many years before he ever came south. And also, I ride with Elrohir and Elladan."
But Théoden looked puzzled at this last statement. "Elrohir? Elladan?"
"The sons of Elrond," Halbarad clarified.
"Elrond?" Théoden asked.
"Lord of Imladris," Legolas volunteered. "Rivendell."
"Rivendell?"
"Elrond," Aragorn said at last, "is a mighty elf-lord who lives far away in the west. He has sent his two sons, and they are great warriors. Any king should be glad to have their service."
"Indeed I am. Elves. That is strange news, though not wholly unwelcome. But, Aragorn, this land is open ..."
Aragorn nodded. "Halbarad, we are exposed here. Come, let us ride to Helm's Deep. It is not far off, and we can talk there much more safely."
The sun was rising ere the company reached Helm's Deep, and Mellamir and Merry went immediately off to bed -- in a real bed, in a chamber in the fortress, the first bed either had slept in for a long while.
Near lunchtime they were woken by a knocking on the door. "Come in," Merry answered groggily, and in came Legolas and Gimli.
"Wake up, Master Sluggard," Legolas said with a laugh. "The sun has already climbed higher than your people stand fully grown. Although you may well be the exception -- I still marvel at your height! It is a good thing we Elves do not fancy that Ent-draught or we would be taller than the trees. But the sun will soon pass even you. What's more, your lunch is ready."
"Fine; give us a moment to get dressed," Mellamir said. Merry, however, looked at her oddly. "Pardon me, miss, but we'll be needing separate rooms," he said with a blush.
"No problem!" Gimli said with a mighty laugh at his friend's coyness. "There is a bathing chamber just down the hall where Merry may change. Get your clothes, Merry." He turned to Mellamir. "We will just wait out in the hall. Come out when you are ready."
Twenty minutes later Mellamir, Legolas, Gimli, and Merry were walking toward the Great Hall outside the Hornburg, deep inside Helm's Deep. They entered to find four long tables where eleven or twelve men sat, the Riders of Rohan and the Dúnedain of the North. At a shorter table near the head of the room Mellamir saw Théoden, Éomer, Elrohir, and Elladan. Aragorn and Halbarad, though, were nowhere to be seen.
Gimli guessed Mellamir's question. "They're in the high chamber, up in the Fortress. Aragorn slept about an hour before he woke up, _hadn't been able to sleep_, he said. _Something Elrohir had told him last night_, he mumbled. _What was it?_ I asked him. _'If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead,'_ I think he said. Something like that; and then he said he wanted to be alone, so he went up to the Hornburg. Anyway, soon as Halbarad woke up, Legolas told him where Aragorn had gone and what he'd said, and Halbarad went to find him straight away."
They had eaten and were packed and saddled, sitting on their horses outside the gates of Helm's Deep, before Aragorn at last ran down from the Hornburg.
"My lord," he said to Théoden. "How soon could you marshal an army and ride to Minas Tirith?"
"Let me see," Théoden said, thinking to himself. "It is now past noon. We could not hope to reach Edoras before tomorrow evening. That will be the first night after the full moon; the next day is the summons, where all the men who can fight are assembling. Even if I were to ride straight away, as soon as we were outfitted, it would take the better part of a week. I guess that we could see the White City in ten days' time, but not much sooner."
"Ten days," Aragorn said with a sigh. "But it can't be hurried." He looked back at Halbarad who nodded. "My lord, in that case, we must part company. Make for Dunharrow with all possible speed. I -- I must make my own way. Those who would ride with me, we take the Paths of the Dead."
"The Paths of the Dead?" Éomer exclaimed. "But why? That is an evil road; legend says that it is haunted by ghosts who do not permit men to pass."
"Perhaps not ordinary men. Yet I come from a proud line, and somehow I believe they will allow me passage. I must at least attempt that road. Gondor is now in danger, and I must ride to Minas Tirith with all speed."
"Very well," Théoden replied. "But who will go?"
"I can only speak for myself," Aragorn answered; "I do not ask others to come with me, for I know the way is dangerous."
"Nay," Halbarad replied, "we Rangers do not fear danger. We have ridden all this way to follow you, wherever you lead us. We at least will ride those paths."
"And I as well," said Legolas. "What for it, Gimli? To war?"
"To war," the Dwarf said with an uneasy look on his face.
"And I!" shouted Merry.
"No," said Aragorn. "You go with Théoden to Dunharrow. To Dunharrow, Théoden, not to Edoras, if you would take my counsel. Your capital is too open. Meet your captains in Dunharrow, and ride as soon as you can to Minas Tirith."
That very hour the Éorlingas rode forth: Théoden on Snowmane, Éomer on Firefoot, Mellamir on Rimsul, Merry on Stybba, a hardy pony gifted him by the king, and the rest of the Riders on the horses they had rode to Helm's Deep. They rode through the mountains, by night, for three nights until at last they reached the plains and saw smoke in the distance, signs of a low fire far away. They rode for it.
~*~
Aragorn, after taking the palantír from Gandalf, had used it at Helm's Deep and revealed himself to Sauron. Sauron now knew that the Ring had been found and that Isildur's heir -- the very same Isildur who had taken his ring so many years ago -- had now returned. He feared more than anything that this Aragorn might have the ring and use it as a weapon against Mordor. But he also knew that it took time to learn how to use the ring, or at least to take advantage of all the ring's power, and so for at least a little while Gondor was still weak. Once Aragorn arrived, though, and once he learned how to use the ring ... Sauron was not entirely ready to start this war, but he realized he had to do so quickly or risk defeat. So he sent his armies against Minas Tirith. Aragorn knew he would do this but realized too late that he was still a week's journey from Gondor, and that he did not have any army to command, except for his friends and the handful of Rangers -- valiant heroes, but not enough to save Gondor by themselves.
But Aragorn remembered Elrond's advice: "If you are in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead." He certainly was in haste, and if the paths would allow him and his friends to pass, they would cut several days off his trip. It was a terrifying ride, through dark stony passes (and, if old tales were true, with ghosts all around him), but at last Aragorn and his friends came out on the other side, in Lebennim in southern Gondor, and rode forth to war.
Théoden, Mellamir, Éomer, Merry, and the Éorlingas had a singificantly easier ride. They passed Edoras and kept riding toward the smoke rising out of Dunharrow without even stopping. The sun set, and still they rode on. Finally Merry began to notice tents of animal hides on wooden platforms among the occasional farm houses. The evening mist turned into a lazy rain, weighing down Merry's cloak and turning the dirt road to an oozing mud. Still they rode on until at last, away in the distance, Merry saw a rock wall rising in front of them. As they got closer he saw a steep stone path. At last they dismounted, giving their horses to men at the base of the stone path, and continued walking. They went up, up, up, until at last the path leveled out.
She was stooping down, adding wood to the low fire in the centre of the square. Her long blond hair was tied in a loose ponytail and pinned up out of her way. At her side a small girl with tangled brown hair and a sunburnt and dirty face was holding a faggot of firewood. Mellamir recognized the girl as Tova, the child who had fled the Orcs pillaging the Westfold; she was much plumper and healthier looking, now, but hardly cleaner. The child looked over her shoulder at the sound of metal-toed boots clicking against hard stone and, seeing all the men, poked the woman in her shoulder.
Finally the woman looked back and, seeing the company, rose at once. It was Éowyn, but not the Éowyn that Théoden remembered. The dress (a dark green cotton jumper over a pale pink blouse) was no new sight -- she'd worn it for years -- but some of the stains were new: dirt of the road from Edoras, and blood and tears that she had wiped away, and perhaps some of her own. And the smile her uncle recognised, but not all of the wrinkles. Before her smile had been carefree, but now it seemed weary, and her shoulders were stooped like one who had to carry burdens too heavy for her.
"Good evening, gentlemen," she said wearily. "I have prepared a meal for you, if you will go to it."
Éowyn led Théoden to the inner pavilion where they sat at the king's table with Éomer and Mellamir. Merry stood at the king's right side. Dúnhere, lord of this valley, came in and sat down, and finally after drinks and appetizers the king turned to the hobbit. "Come, Merry; sit down. This pavilion is not nearly as nice as Meduseld, but please... sit, and tell me more of your land." Mellamir saw the worried look in his eyes and guessed his thoughts: "This pavilion is not nearly as nice as my hall, but go on: we may never see the inside of my hall."
Merry had hardly begun his tales when suddenly the curtain leading to the outer pavilion was pulled back and the Captain of the Guard entered. "Pardon the interruption, my lord," he said, "but a man is here: a messenger from Gondor."
"From Gondor? Show him in at once."
The man was tall with brown shoulder-length hair, wearing a green cloak and a shirt of fine mail with a small silver star on the breast; Merry thought he looked like Boromir, and at first that frightened him. But the others in the room, not being as familiar with Boromir or as unfamiliar with Gondorians in general, saw only the arrow the messenger held in his hand. It was black feathered and barbed in steel, with the tip painted blood-red.
"A red arrow!" Théoden almost shouted, knocking over his seat in his rush to stand up.
"Halle Théoden cyning!" the messenger said. "Friend of Gondor, the Lord of Gondor sends this message: Mordor stirs. His forces are crossing the Great River, and they will soon be marching against the White City of Minas Tirith. They may already be pounding down the gates as we speak. So says Hirgen, messenger of the White City, and all who stand with the Steward."
"Has it really come to this?" the king mused. "The last days of the West?" Then he looked up and remembered the others in the room. "What does your master want of his allies, Hirgen, messenger of the White City?"
"All your strength with all your speed," Hirgen replied.
"And what might that be, in the eyes of the Steward?" Théoden asked.
"You know that better than he," Hirgen said. "But if Gondor falls, Rohan will follow. So I urge you, send whomever you can, and do not hold back any you can avoid. Keep back only the bare minimum to guard your women and children, and ride to Gondor as soon as may be; else, I fear you will only be able to sit down and throw stones at the Orcs that hold the Rammas, by the time you reach the City."
~*~
Later that night Éowyn and Mellamir were in Éowyn's room getting ready for bed. Finally Mellamir asked the question she had wanted to ask since she first saw Éowyn's worried face.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
After a long silence Éowyn replied, "It's ... it's Aragorn."
Mellamir looked at Éowyn expectedly, and when at last her friend did not continued Mellamir promped, "Yes... go on, Aragorn."
"Well, he came here two nights ago and left before sunrise the next morning. With that elf and that dwarf, and several other men I'd never seen before. He said he was headed for the Paths of the Dead. Queer name; I've heard it before, but do not know much about it. Do you?"
"A little. I read about it in Minas Tirith, years ago. Back in the War of the Last Alliance there was a group of men living in these mountains. They promised to serve Elendil, Isildur's father. But then Sauron came and persuaded them to serve Mordor. I can't remember if they just refused to fight or if they actually fought against Gondor, but at any rate they broke their word. They were traitors. And Isildur told them, if Gondor survived the war, that those men would not rest until they fulfilled their vow. Gondor of course survived, and the men ... well, that is where history stops and legend begins."
"Some say they died long ago. Some say they died but their souls could not get past the entrance to the pass and over the seas to the Hall of Mandos -- that's where we in Gondor believe men go when they die, to Mandos's mansions in Valinor. Some say they stopped aging, that they are just like they were that day Isildur took the Ring. And some say they kept aging, getting older and older every day, just not dying. Sauron was thrown down, so they could not fulfil their vow. But legend says that, if they still live, Sauron would rise again and they would someday come to fight him. I would guess Aragorn went to find them."
"We have legends in Rohan as well," Éowyn replied. "Long ago, when the Riders went north in the days of Brego, his son Baldor rode up toward the door to the path. There he found an old man who said just one thing to him: 'The way is shut.' Baldor waited there for some time, then the man spoke again. 'The way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead, and the dead keep it until the time comes. The way is shut.' So I ask you: how can Aragorn hope to pass through there, if the way is shut?"
"Cheer up, Éowyn," Mellamir replied. "The way is shut, yes, but the dead keep it until the time comes. You know the rumours, and you have seen the red arrow. It is time for the dead to fulfil their promise. Have not you heard of Saruman's Uruks at Helm's Deep?"
"No, I was hidden away here in Dunharrow, remember?" Éowyn snapped. "Nobody bothers to tell me anything. You at least got to go off to fight."
"So that's what's bothering you," Mellamir said.
It wasn't a question, but Éowyn answered it anyway. "Yes, I suppose so. Not the only thing, mind, but I'd be lying to say it didn't bother me."
"Éowyn, they didn't let me fight," Mellamir replied. "We rode out to the Isen, then Gandalf took me and left me in Isengard, already taken by the Ents. I didn't see any of the Uruks either."
"But you at least went to Isengard!" Éowyn answered her. "First being sent to this valley, and now the men are riding forth to war. I am so _tired_ of this cage! Old women and crying brats. But I am no wet-maid, I'm a shield-maid."
"But your uncle gave you this job," Mellamir argued. "It's important. All of Rohan answers to you."
"Important, yes, but beneath me," Éowyn said. "I can do so much more for my people." She sighed. "I wanted to ride with Aragorn, did you know that? Even to the Paths of the Dead. But he said -- he said I should stay here, and when all the men fell, then the Eye would turn to Rohan, and then I would have my chance for honour, when valour was gone. In other words, I can die when the men no longer need me."
Mellamir saw the tears in Éowyn's eyes and knew this was no petty whim. She thought for a moment, then said, "If your uncle had appointed some guard to watch over the people, say Háma, then Háma decided he wanted to go off to war instead, would Théoden let him?"
"No," Éowyn admitted.
"Not even if someone else volunteered to take his place?" Mellamir asked, a twinkle in her eye.
Éowyn smiled, then, for the first time in several days.
(Warning: RotK Spoilers)
5-10 March 3018; Isengard and Rohan
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That very afternoon the entire company set out for Helm's Deep. The Fellowship of the Ring, or what was left of it, led the way: Gandalf and Merry on Shadowfax, Aragorn and Pippin on Hasufel, and Legolas and Gimli on Arod. Close behind came Théoden on Snowmane and Éomer and Mellamir on Firefoot, followed by the twenty Éorlingas who had come with their king to Isengard. Before coming to Isengard Théoden had meant to ride straight back to Edoras, but after meeting with Saruman Gandalf decided it was too dangerous for so large a company to travel in plain view of any spies. They would make for Helm's Deep, which they could hopefully reach in two days of hard riding, and then take to the mountain paths where they could travel more secretly.
They rode for a few hours until the sun set and all light was gone. Then Shadowfax, Hasufel, and Arod stopped suddenly, and the company dismounted and made camp. They ate dinner -- salted pork and ale from Isengard, battle-biscuits from Théoden's stores, and such fruits and nuts as they could find in the valley -- and lit a fire. Théoden chose three of his men to take an hour's guard, the first one started his duty, and everyone else went to bed almost immediately.
Mellamir, being the only woman in the camp, took her blanket and laid down some distance from the men, on the other side of a thin line of trees -- still in view of the guards, but well enough separated to satisfy Théoden's and Gandalf's sense of modesty. The king and the wizard went off on their own to take some private council about the next day's ride and made their beds a bit off. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli made their beds with Éomer and the other Éorlingas, but the hobbits, not wanting to sleep under the open air (they had had enough of that with the orcs to last quite some time) made their beds near the trees that separated Mellamir from the rest.
Because Merry and Pippin lay closer to her than anyone else, Mellamir heard their conversation that night. They were talking about the rock that Wormtongue had thrown from Orthanc, and this was the first Mellamir had heard anyone speak of it since they'd left Isengard. Pippin was impatient with curiosity, but Merry was tired, and Mellamir agreed with him. She wished the two would settle down and go to sleep, or at least stop making so much noise so that _she_ could nod off.
She had finally gotten to sleep when she was awakened by someone yelling out in pain. She sat up quickly, pulled her robe around her, and snuck through the trees to see what was the matter. Not far through the grove she saw one of the hobbits -- Pippin, she thought -- hopping on the ground, holding his toe in his hand; he'd obviously stubbed it on a root or something of that sort. He looked around quickly to see if he'd woken anyone up. Mellamir hid behind one of the trees, and before long the hobbit darted through the grove and came across the soldiers, sleeping. He tiptoed around the edge of the grove -- and so did Mellamir, now very interested in what he was doing. She started following to make sure he didn't get into trouble, but if truth were told she was just as interested in what Pippin found so intriguing and knew he wouldn't go for it if he knew she was awake.
So inch by inch they crept. Finally they came to where Théoden and Gandalf were sleeping by themselves. Pippin found a rock and wrapped it in the jacket that he'd carried with him. Then he snuck up behind Gandalf and slowly lifted the wizard's arm. He took the rock from Isengard and replaced it with the rock he'd just wrapped, then hurried away and started to unwrap the palantír.
He seemed hesitant and started to wrap it back up, but then his curiosity got the better of him. He unwrapped the rock all the way and stared into it. Mellamir crept closer. She was afraid he would look up and notice her, but after seeing how Pippin was completely engrossed in the rock, she got braver and crept to right behind him, stood up, and peered over his shoulder.
For a long time the rock was black. It appeared to be some kind of obsidian. Then all of the sudden the black seemed to melt away; it became gray, swirls of gray and dark purple, crimson red and orange, like clouds in the setting sun. Then suddenly the clouds parted and revealed a single flaming red eye. _What could it mean?_ Mellamir wondered. Whatever it was, it was terrible: Pippin almost immediately started screaming. He lay there on the ground, twitching and kicking, at last kicking the stone with his furry little foot, pushing it into Théoden's shoulder. "What the --?" Théoden said, sitting up with a start.
Mellamir was trying to hold Pippin still, but with little success. Finally she grabbed both of his shoulders and pinned him down to the ground. Gandalf, awoken by the hobbit's screams, was kneeling in front of him.
"Peregrin Took. Come back. Come back, Pippin, come to my voice," Gandalf said calmly, though Mellamir could see in his old grey eyes a panic she had never seen there before.
Suddenly Pippin's eyes opened, and he stopped twitching. "What did you see?" Gandalf said at last. "Concentrate, now. This is important." But Pippin looked uncertainly at those around. Gandalf, concerned as he was, was stern. "What did you see?"
"I'll go get Merry," Mellamir said quietly. The other hobbit was so tired that he didn't wake up even in all the commotion; he certainly was the only one. Mellamir bent over Merry and gently shook his shoulder. No reaction. "Wake up, Merry," she said softly into his ear, then repeated herself more loudly. Still no reaction. Then Merry's eyes opened, and he looked with blind terror into the night sky. He curled into a fetal position, holding his hands against his ears, and started screaming. Mellamir heard a swoosh behind her, and when she looked up she saw a giant winged beast flying toward Isengard.
Merry, now quite awake, still lay curled in the fetal position. "Come on," Mellamir said. Merry hopped up and ran off toward Gandalf with a speed that Mellamir found hard to match. They were passed by Pippin running in the opposite direction.
"What was that all about?" Mellamir asked Gandalf when she got back to the group. Gandalf was hastily packing his bag, and Aragorn was holding the stone. "Where'd Pippin run off to in such a hurry? And what's wrong with Merry?"
"You didn't notice anything?" Gandalf asked, surprised. "You did not feel anything? Nothing at all?"
"Only the night air. What happened?"
Gandalf shook his head in disbelief, but decided against explaining; there was no time. "Our situation is much more perilous than I at first thought," Gandalf said at last. "We have been saved from almost certain doom by Pippin, but he is now in danger. Least of all can he afford to stay here. I am going to Minas Tirith -- now. The Black Riders have just crossed --"
"Black Riders?" Mellamir asked. "Here?"
"Yes, they have passed, and you must be the only one that did not know it." He shook his head again in amazement. "They weren't coming for Pippin -- even they take some time to make the trip -- but by now they know all about us, and Pippin cannot stay here. I am taking him to Minas Tirith, immediately."
"Can't I come, Gan --"
"No," he said emphatically. "For one, you do not have a horse, and even Shadowfax cannot carry all three of us. And Minas Tirith is still not safe, you know that. If anything it is even less safe. Mellamir, I do not have time to explain, but you must stay safe and survive this war. You have just now proven, once again, how absolutely vital your survival is. I want you to go back with Théoden to Rohan. Éowyn will need your help; she has come to count on you." Pippin came running back with his pack, and Gandalf whistled. Shadowfax strode up to him, and Gandalf pulled himself onto the horse. Mellamir placed Pippin in front of him, and Merry came running up.
Gandalf turned to Théoden and said, "Hurry, now, to Helm's Deep. I know you are tired, but I hope you value your lives more than your sleep. I take the greatest danger with myself, but you still have one of the halflings, a worthy prize for Sauron. Good speed! Make straight for Helm's Deep.
"Pip!" Merry cried, holding out a small leather satchel. Mellamir took it from him and handed it to his cousin.
"But ... but this is your leaf?" Pippin said as he opened it. Merry nodded. "The last of your leaf."
"You smoke too fast," Merry said, trying to force a smile.
"Well, I'm not going to have any time to smoke, Merry, and I'll see you soon." Gandalf pat Shadowfax's stomach and whispered something in his ear. The proud horse began to paw the ground. "Won't I?" Pippin looked down at Merry.
"I --"
Pippin looked down, his eyes burning with a secret pain, and he repeated his question. "W-won't I?"
"I don't know," Merry admitted, and he stretched his hand up to Pippin to give him a final squeeze. Pippin reached down but he couldn't reach his cousin's outstretched hand. "Merry..." he began.
"Ride, Shadowfax!" Gandalf cried, and the horse shot off, carrying with it a high-pitched wail.
"*Pippin!*" Merry cried, running after Shadowfax. Mellamir ran after him and grabbed him, but then, much to her surprise, she kept running. Merry was sobbing, tears falling on Mellamir's shoulders, and he gasped for breath. A second later Shadowfax was gone, bearing his two riders into the horrific unknown of the East.
~*~
The rest of the company set off not long after that. They were tired, but none of them wanted to rest with that winged terror in the air. They had ridden several leagues when Éomer held up his hand for all the horses to stop. "Æstandan!" he bellowed into the darkness, lowering his spear. "Who rides in Rohan?"
"Rohan?" said a voice in the background. "That is good news indeed! We have ridden all the way from Eriador, far away in the north, in search of this land."
"Well, you've found it," Éomer answered. "And no one can ride here unless they have the permission of Théoden, who rides with us."
"State your quest," said Thédoen. "You ride through the shadows. Who are you, that you hide your face from judgment?"
"That is certainly not my purpose." Slowly the men rode forward out of the shadows of the trees, into the moonlight. Most could not place the strange faces. They wore cloaks of a material the Rohirrim had never seen, but their horses, though strange and with heavier fur, looked somehow akin to the horses the men of Rohan rode. Yet one of their company at least recognized these riders from the north. Aragorn jumped down off his horse and ran over. "Halbarad!"
With that Théoden laughed. "Raise your spear, sister-son! Any friend of Aragorn is welcome in Rohan. We certainly cannot afford to refuse any allies these days, and if they are as valiant as the lord Aragorn ... but who are they?"
"My lord, I am Halbarad, of the ancient northern lands of Arnor. I bring with me thirty swords. We have ridden with Aragorn for many years before he ever came south. And also, I ride with Elrohir and Elladan."
But Théoden looked puzzled at this last statement. "Elrohir? Elladan?"
"The sons of Elrond," Halbarad clarified.
"Elrond?" Théoden asked.
"Lord of Imladris," Legolas volunteered. "Rivendell."
"Rivendell?"
"Elrond," Aragorn said at last, "is a mighty elf-lord who lives far away in the west. He has sent his two sons, and they are great warriors. Any king should be glad to have their service."
"Indeed I am. Elves. That is strange news, though not wholly unwelcome. But, Aragorn, this land is open ..."
Aragorn nodded. "Halbarad, we are exposed here. Come, let us ride to Helm's Deep. It is not far off, and we can talk there much more safely."
The sun was rising ere the company reached Helm's Deep, and Mellamir and Merry went immediately off to bed -- in a real bed, in a chamber in the fortress, the first bed either had slept in for a long while.
Near lunchtime they were woken by a knocking on the door. "Come in," Merry answered groggily, and in came Legolas and Gimli.
"Wake up, Master Sluggard," Legolas said with a laugh. "The sun has already climbed higher than your people stand fully grown. Although you may well be the exception -- I still marvel at your height! It is a good thing we Elves do not fancy that Ent-draught or we would be taller than the trees. But the sun will soon pass even you. What's more, your lunch is ready."
"Fine; give us a moment to get dressed," Mellamir said. Merry, however, looked at her oddly. "Pardon me, miss, but we'll be needing separate rooms," he said with a blush.
"No problem!" Gimli said with a mighty laugh at his friend's coyness. "There is a bathing chamber just down the hall where Merry may change. Get your clothes, Merry." He turned to Mellamir. "We will just wait out in the hall. Come out when you are ready."
Twenty minutes later Mellamir, Legolas, Gimli, and Merry were walking toward the Great Hall outside the Hornburg, deep inside Helm's Deep. They entered to find four long tables where eleven or twelve men sat, the Riders of Rohan and the Dúnedain of the North. At a shorter table near the head of the room Mellamir saw Théoden, Éomer, Elrohir, and Elladan. Aragorn and Halbarad, though, were nowhere to be seen.
Gimli guessed Mellamir's question. "They're in the high chamber, up in the Fortress. Aragorn slept about an hour before he woke up, _hadn't been able to sleep_, he said. _Something Elrohir had told him last night_, he mumbled. _What was it?_ I asked him. _'If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead,'_ I think he said. Something like that; and then he said he wanted to be alone, so he went up to the Hornburg. Anyway, soon as Halbarad woke up, Legolas told him where Aragorn had gone and what he'd said, and Halbarad went to find him straight away."
They had eaten and were packed and saddled, sitting on their horses outside the gates of Helm's Deep, before Aragorn at last ran down from the Hornburg.
"My lord," he said to Théoden. "How soon could you marshal an army and ride to Minas Tirith?"
"Let me see," Théoden said, thinking to himself. "It is now past noon. We could not hope to reach Edoras before tomorrow evening. That will be the first night after the full moon; the next day is the summons, where all the men who can fight are assembling. Even if I were to ride straight away, as soon as we were outfitted, it would take the better part of a week. I guess that we could see the White City in ten days' time, but not much sooner."
"Ten days," Aragorn said with a sigh. "But it can't be hurried." He looked back at Halbarad who nodded. "My lord, in that case, we must part company. Make for Dunharrow with all possible speed. I -- I must make my own way. Those who would ride with me, we take the Paths of the Dead."
"The Paths of the Dead?" Éomer exclaimed. "But why? That is an evil road; legend says that it is haunted by ghosts who do not permit men to pass."
"Perhaps not ordinary men. Yet I come from a proud line, and somehow I believe they will allow me passage. I must at least attempt that road. Gondor is now in danger, and I must ride to Minas Tirith with all speed."
"Very well," Théoden replied. "But who will go?"
"I can only speak for myself," Aragorn answered; "I do not ask others to come with me, for I know the way is dangerous."
"Nay," Halbarad replied, "we Rangers do not fear danger. We have ridden all this way to follow you, wherever you lead us. We at least will ride those paths."
"And I as well," said Legolas. "What for it, Gimli? To war?"
"To war," the Dwarf said with an uneasy look on his face.
"And I!" shouted Merry.
"No," said Aragorn. "You go with Théoden to Dunharrow. To Dunharrow, Théoden, not to Edoras, if you would take my counsel. Your capital is too open. Meet your captains in Dunharrow, and ride as soon as you can to Minas Tirith."
That very hour the Éorlingas rode forth: Théoden on Snowmane, Éomer on Firefoot, Mellamir on Rimsul, Merry on Stybba, a hardy pony gifted him by the king, and the rest of the Riders on the horses they had rode to Helm's Deep. They rode through the mountains, by night, for three nights until at last they reached the plains and saw smoke in the distance, signs of a low fire far away. They rode for it.
~*~
Aragorn, after taking the palantír from Gandalf, had used it at Helm's Deep and revealed himself to Sauron. Sauron now knew that the Ring had been found and that Isildur's heir -- the very same Isildur who had taken his ring so many years ago -- had now returned. He feared more than anything that this Aragorn might have the ring and use it as a weapon against Mordor. But he also knew that it took time to learn how to use the ring, or at least to take advantage of all the ring's power, and so for at least a little while Gondor was still weak. Once Aragorn arrived, though, and once he learned how to use the ring ... Sauron was not entirely ready to start this war, but he realized he had to do so quickly or risk defeat. So he sent his armies against Minas Tirith. Aragorn knew he would do this but realized too late that he was still a week's journey from Gondor, and that he did not have any army to command, except for his friends and the handful of Rangers -- valiant heroes, but not enough to save Gondor by themselves.
But Aragorn remembered Elrond's advice: "If you are in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead." He certainly was in haste, and if the paths would allow him and his friends to pass, they would cut several days off his trip. It was a terrifying ride, through dark stony passes (and, if old tales were true, with ghosts all around him), but at last Aragorn and his friends came out on the other side, in Lebennim in southern Gondor, and rode forth to war.
Théoden, Mellamir, Éomer, Merry, and the Éorlingas had a singificantly easier ride. They passed Edoras and kept riding toward the smoke rising out of Dunharrow without even stopping. The sun set, and still they rode on. Finally Merry began to notice tents of animal hides on wooden platforms among the occasional farm houses. The evening mist turned into a lazy rain, weighing down Merry's cloak and turning the dirt road to an oozing mud. Still they rode on until at last, away in the distance, Merry saw a rock wall rising in front of them. As they got closer he saw a steep stone path. At last they dismounted, giving their horses to men at the base of the stone path, and continued walking. They went up, up, up, until at last the path leveled out.
She was stooping down, adding wood to the low fire in the centre of the square. Her long blond hair was tied in a loose ponytail and pinned up out of her way. At her side a small girl with tangled brown hair and a sunburnt and dirty face was holding a faggot of firewood. Mellamir recognized the girl as Tova, the child who had fled the Orcs pillaging the Westfold; she was much plumper and healthier looking, now, but hardly cleaner. The child looked over her shoulder at the sound of metal-toed boots clicking against hard stone and, seeing all the men, poked the woman in her shoulder.
Finally the woman looked back and, seeing the company, rose at once. It was Éowyn, but not the Éowyn that Théoden remembered. The dress (a dark green cotton jumper over a pale pink blouse) was no new sight -- she'd worn it for years -- but some of the stains were new: dirt of the road from Edoras, and blood and tears that she had wiped away, and perhaps some of her own. And the smile her uncle recognised, but not all of the wrinkles. Before her smile had been carefree, but now it seemed weary, and her shoulders were stooped like one who had to carry burdens too heavy for her.
"Good evening, gentlemen," she said wearily. "I have prepared a meal for you, if you will go to it."
Éowyn led Théoden to the inner pavilion where they sat at the king's table with Éomer and Mellamir. Merry stood at the king's right side. Dúnhere, lord of this valley, came in and sat down, and finally after drinks and appetizers the king turned to the hobbit. "Come, Merry; sit down. This pavilion is not nearly as nice as Meduseld, but please... sit, and tell me more of your land." Mellamir saw the worried look in his eyes and guessed his thoughts: "This pavilion is not nearly as nice as my hall, but go on: we may never see the inside of my hall."
Merry had hardly begun his tales when suddenly the curtain leading to the outer pavilion was pulled back and the Captain of the Guard entered. "Pardon the interruption, my lord," he said, "but a man is here: a messenger from Gondor."
"From Gondor? Show him in at once."
The man was tall with brown shoulder-length hair, wearing a green cloak and a shirt of fine mail with a small silver star on the breast; Merry thought he looked like Boromir, and at first that frightened him. But the others in the room, not being as familiar with Boromir or as unfamiliar with Gondorians in general, saw only the arrow the messenger held in his hand. It was black feathered and barbed in steel, with the tip painted blood-red.
"A red arrow!" Théoden almost shouted, knocking over his seat in his rush to stand up.
"Halle Théoden cyning!" the messenger said. "Friend of Gondor, the Lord of Gondor sends this message: Mordor stirs. His forces are crossing the Great River, and they will soon be marching against the White City of Minas Tirith. They may already be pounding down the gates as we speak. So says Hirgen, messenger of the White City, and all who stand with the Steward."
"Has it really come to this?" the king mused. "The last days of the West?" Then he looked up and remembered the others in the room. "What does your master want of his allies, Hirgen, messenger of the White City?"
"All your strength with all your speed," Hirgen replied.
"And what might that be, in the eyes of the Steward?" Théoden asked.
"You know that better than he," Hirgen said. "But if Gondor falls, Rohan will follow. So I urge you, send whomever you can, and do not hold back any you can avoid. Keep back only the bare minimum to guard your women and children, and ride to Gondor as soon as may be; else, I fear you will only be able to sit down and throw stones at the Orcs that hold the Rammas, by the time you reach the City."
~*~
Later that night Éowyn and Mellamir were in Éowyn's room getting ready for bed. Finally Mellamir asked the question she had wanted to ask since she first saw Éowyn's worried face.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
After a long silence Éowyn replied, "It's ... it's Aragorn."
Mellamir looked at Éowyn expectedly, and when at last her friend did not continued Mellamir promped, "Yes... go on, Aragorn."
"Well, he came here two nights ago and left before sunrise the next morning. With that elf and that dwarf, and several other men I'd never seen before. He said he was headed for the Paths of the Dead. Queer name; I've heard it before, but do not know much about it. Do you?"
"A little. I read about it in Minas Tirith, years ago. Back in the War of the Last Alliance there was a group of men living in these mountains. They promised to serve Elendil, Isildur's father. But then Sauron came and persuaded them to serve Mordor. I can't remember if they just refused to fight or if they actually fought against Gondor, but at any rate they broke their word. They were traitors. And Isildur told them, if Gondor survived the war, that those men would not rest until they fulfilled their vow. Gondor of course survived, and the men ... well, that is where history stops and legend begins."
"Some say they died long ago. Some say they died but their souls could not get past the entrance to the pass and over the seas to the Hall of Mandos -- that's where we in Gondor believe men go when they die, to Mandos's mansions in Valinor. Some say they stopped aging, that they are just like they were that day Isildur took the Ring. And some say they kept aging, getting older and older every day, just not dying. Sauron was thrown down, so they could not fulfil their vow. But legend says that, if they still live, Sauron would rise again and they would someday come to fight him. I would guess Aragorn went to find them."
"We have legends in Rohan as well," Éowyn replied. "Long ago, when the Riders went north in the days of Brego, his son Baldor rode up toward the door to the path. There he found an old man who said just one thing to him: 'The way is shut.' Baldor waited there for some time, then the man spoke again. 'The way is shut. It was made by those who are Dead, and the dead keep it until the time comes. The way is shut.' So I ask you: how can Aragorn hope to pass through there, if the way is shut?"
"Cheer up, Éowyn," Mellamir replied. "The way is shut, yes, but the dead keep it until the time comes. You know the rumours, and you have seen the red arrow. It is time for the dead to fulfil their promise. Have not you heard of Saruman's Uruks at Helm's Deep?"
"No, I was hidden away here in Dunharrow, remember?" Éowyn snapped. "Nobody bothers to tell me anything. You at least got to go off to fight."
"So that's what's bothering you," Mellamir said.
It wasn't a question, but Éowyn answered it anyway. "Yes, I suppose so. Not the only thing, mind, but I'd be lying to say it didn't bother me."
"Éowyn, they didn't let me fight," Mellamir replied. "We rode out to the Isen, then Gandalf took me and left me in Isengard, already taken by the Ents. I didn't see any of the Uruks either."
"But you at least went to Isengard!" Éowyn answered her. "First being sent to this valley, and now the men are riding forth to war. I am so _tired_ of this cage! Old women and crying brats. But I am no wet-maid, I'm a shield-maid."
"But your uncle gave you this job," Mellamir argued. "It's important. All of Rohan answers to you."
"Important, yes, but beneath me," Éowyn said. "I can do so much more for my people." She sighed. "I wanted to ride with Aragorn, did you know that? Even to the Paths of the Dead. But he said -- he said I should stay here, and when all the men fell, then the Eye would turn to Rohan, and then I would have my chance for honour, when valour was gone. In other words, I can die when the men no longer need me."
Mellamir saw the tears in Éowyn's eyes and knew this was no petty whim. She thought for a moment, then said, "If your uncle had appointed some guard to watch over the people, say Háma, then Háma decided he wanted to go off to war instead, would Théoden let him?"
"No," Éowyn admitted.
"Not even if someone else volunteered to take his place?" Mellamir asked, a twinkle in her eye.
Éowyn smiled, then, for the first time in several days.