Empty tears.
3.Pelanor.
T: And chapter three is here. Yes I'm on a roll! Okay not mine, if it were mine then I'd never have asked Sean to put on so much weight. Still the same warnings with a slight increase from the last part of the ANGST…yes it will continue to increase.
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Merry held tight to Dernhelm, his mind racing again and again over the same point. He was hindrance, baggage, to be carted whither he would go and then to die without having drawn sword or ever perceiving his foe.
He wished desperately that he had not insisted that he come upon Frodo's quest, for if he had not set his mind to this path then perhaps Pip would not have come either. Perhaps his Cousin might have been spared the horror he had perceived in the Palantír and the mark it had left upon him. Even now, with his heart racing and death almost assuredly before him, he could see Pip in the moment he had touched that Thing. Could see the life being pulled from that dear body and could feel his own life force flowing with it. Hardest of all he could feel his own sense of failure, for had he not allowed his Cousin the chance to reach that thing? Had he not failed to watch and guard the Took from mark or corruption? And worst of all had he not allowed Gandalf to take Pippin alone to Minas Tirith, without fighting to go with him, without question?
That wrong he would right now if ever he was given chance, for Minas Tirith was before him now, but scant inches away and so was Pippin. All fear of battle could be forgotten in the expectation of that reunion, in the hopes of finding that Pip had not been as harmed as he had believed in the sudden rush of it all.
And then the cry of, "Gondor" from the left, drew all thought of Pippin and of death from him for a moment. For that voice was pitched not in the soft harmony of the Rohirim voice, but the deeper, rougher note that recalled to him Boromir's voice. If the sudden cry of the Man's voice had shocked him, then the echo of the words in a smaller voice froze him. For he knew that soft, educated lilt almost as well as he knew the broad brogue twang of Pippin's voice. Frodo. Yet his Cousin was far away wasn't he? Traversing Mordor with the Ring at his neck and Sam at his side, but there was no mistaking that voice and tensing himself just slightly he asked Dernhelm,
"That cry, my lord, does it come from a Holbytlan? One of my own kind?" He felt the rider move his head, searching out the source of the voice and then he heard the reply,
"He may well be one of your own, Master Meriadoc, but if he is so then is he the finest example I have ever seen of your breed." And Merry knew then that his fears and hopes were confirmed; yet he needed one more answer before he could be sure,
"Is there another with him? Stockier than myself, yet just as fair as the other?"
"No. He rides only with a solider of Gondor." Dernhelm replied. Merry felt his heart freeze, it was odd enough that Frodo was here and not where Merry had thought him to be, but that he was alone, that Sam was not there with him…Something drastic had occurred, that much Merry rationalised, before Dernhelm's horse fell out from under him and his world collapsed into darkness.
*
Frodo saw the Witch King rise out into the dawn like a shadow and felt again the ice and pain of the wound on his shoulder. What happened next, therefore, was almost as a dream to him.
A rider rose from his fallen mount and threatened the great Shadow King with his sword. The Dark One's laughter was mocking, yet a moment later his confusion rose, for the rider had removed his helmet and behold! He was revealed as a woman, one of the fairest Frodo had perceived, though her beauty was frozen mid bloom and the sadness in her eyes was marked.
The creature's disbelief was held only for a moment and again he scoffed the rider. Yet his eyes had failed to perceive the small creature moving steadily behind him until it leapt and struck him. That roused both the female rider, who struck the creature hard in the chest, and Frodo who had recognised the figure at last.
"Please, you have to go to him, for he is my Cousin." Frodo pleaded with Damrod.
"I will come as close as I might, but I warn you that the battle is not yet over, little one and it is dangerous yet to linger here."
"So be it. My death shall be of little advantage to Him now." And there was something hollow in the Halflings voice then that he recognised well and wished to destroy as well as he might. Thus Damrod spurred the horse towards the recumbent figure.
When they were just feet from the figure, Frodo dismounted and Damrod followed suit, taking up the reigns of his horse and retaining a respectful silence. He noted, as Dernhelm/Éowyn had before him, that in looks there was little to link these two as kin.
For Frodo was almost elvish in face, the bright morning glory blue of his eyes adding to that impression. But the other had more of a human look to his face, almost as a small child but with a wild fire in his grey eyes that made it painfully clear that he was an adult.
"Merry…Meriadoc." Frodo whispered, the two words obviously the other's name, the first some fond nickname and the other a hard formality even on his kinsman's lips.
The absence in those eyes cleared then and Merry ceased hard to Frodo's arm,
"Frodo, where is the King?"
"What King, Merry, you will have to make it clear to me."
"The King of the Mark, he road a white horse, Frodo and was but a little before us. But he fell…" Merry tailed then and began to weep. Hugging his kinsman hard to him, Frodo surveyed the battle before then until his eyes caught onto the last spasmodic movements of a pail white thing a little before them. Lifting his Cousin to him, he took him to Théoden at last,
"Farewell, master Holbytla!" He said. "My body is broken. I go now to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!" And words were lost to Merry then and ceasing harder to Frodo for comfort and support he eventually spoke,
"Forgive me, lord, if I broke your command and yet have done no more in your service than weep at our parting." And the King smiled then.
"Grieve not! It is forgiven. Great heart shall not be denied. Live now in blessedness; and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me! For never now shall I sit with you in Meduseld, as I promised, or listen to your herb lore " He closed his eyes and Merry broke from his Cousin then to bow at the King's side. Presently he spoke again. "Where is Éomer? For my eyes darken, and I would see him ere I go. He must be King after me. And I would send word to Éowyn. She, she would not have me leave her, and now I shall not see her again, dearer than daughter."
"Lord, lord." Merry began brokenly, "She is." But at that moment there was a great clamour and all about them trumpets were blowing. Merry looked around and saw, at last, that he was in danger of being swept up into battle. His eyes sought and found his Cousin's pinched and dust stained face, searching for comfort, yet there was none to find in that place now. For wrought in Frodo's face was the grim comprehension of death that comes only to one who has seen such things before. The irrevocable taint of war upon the most innocent of hearts.
Wishing desperately not to see that mar upon so loved a face Merry's eyes turned to the great city walls and suddenly he thought of Gandalf. Where was the Wizard in his very hour of need? And had he come might he not have prevented all the harm that had come this day? Yet such grim thought was interrupted by the approach of Éomer and the King stirred again to pronounce his Nephew as his successor, before he passed at last into death.
In fear Merry watched and listened as Éomer beheld his sister at last, watched the taint take him also into the dark paths of vengeance." Death and the worlds ending" Had been his battle cry as he rode away from Merry's sight and perhaps he was right. Perhaps now was the time to die in the great glory of battle, perhaps now was the time to make as much of a name for himself as he might.
Then again his eyes found Frodo and whether in his greatest darkness he was granted second sight or he had not looked closely before, he could perceive now upon his dear Cousin's face the hard mar of worry and doubt. That worry he recognised and he gained his feet and took Frodo into an embrace,
"It shall all fade, Frodo. I promise." He said, the words empty nothing yet comfort enough for Frodo to spark a smile in his eyes again.
They followed behind those baring the King's body to Minas Tirith upon Damrod's stead, clinging still to the comfort offered in idle words of hope and simple tales that recalled to them fireside stories and a vast green land that once they had named home. It was only the approach of Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, and his pronouncement that Éowyn lived still, that kindled again into Merry's heart true hope and gave Frodo a little ease in his worry for his Cousin's welfare.
The Prince seemed intrigued as they road past him and he raised his hand in a gesture to halt them for a moment.
"Why does a man of Gondor, loyal servant to Captain Faramir, ride with the lost souls of Rohan, Damrod?"
"I come here at the ending of a mission that the Captain requested I uptake and I wished now to give my report to him. Also I bear here a solider wounded within an act of great bravery and in need of the attentions of the medics."
"Both your needs have common goal, for Faramir lies now in the Houses of Healing."
"How has he come to be wounded?"
"It is long tale, Damrod, one that might be better to collect once your charge is in safety."
And Damrod conceded that this was the best course of action and tapping his horse again into motion began the steady assent towards the citadel.
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T: The section from `farewell master Holbytla, ` until `she is` is fairly well word from p131 (three book version) of Return of the King (The battle of the Pelennor fields.) Right that done to the notes…meh I don't think there are any for this chapter, at least not proper ones. So I'll just say R+R shall I?