See part one for disclaimers and such.
Part 3
Thus spoke Malbeth the Seer:
Over the land there lies a long shadow,
westward reaching wings of darkness.
The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings
doom approaches. The Dead awaken;
for the hour is come for the oathbreakers:
at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again
and hear there a horn in the hills ringing.
Whose shall the horn be? Who shall call them
from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?
The heir of him to whom the oath they swore.
From the North shall he come, need shall drive him:
he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
A cold wind had begun to blow, and Elrohir pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as his guided his horse behind Elladan's. He could see their destination ahead of them, and he shivered from a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the wind. He was not afraid, but he could not deny the sense of foreboding that filled him as he gazed at the great door that opened like a black and hungry mouth into the side of the mountain.
This was a place of great evil and despair.
Even their horses could sense it, and would not pass the great standing stone that pointed like a finger of doom to the door that lead to the Paths of the Dead.
Elrohir dismounted with the others of the Grey Company, and calmed his horse with quiet words and touches. The elves moved among the men of the company and quieted those few horses that would not be calmed by their riders. With much coaxing, they led their horses past the long shadow cast by the stone.
The men of the company were pale and silent as they walked. The elves seemed untouched by the chill, though Elrohir saw several of them pull their cloaks around them as he had done. Only Aragorn seemed to be unaffected as he led them towards the doorway.
"I do not like this place," Elladan said quietly, glancing at him. "There is a great darkness here that penetrates every living thing, and taints it with its evil."
"Aye," Melaphríl added from his place beside him. "I feel it as well."
The Grey Company came to a halt in front of the great door. Signs and figures were carved into the arch, but they were too dim with age to read. The sense of dread deepened within Elrohir, as if it flowed from the black mouth of the doorway itself. He glanced at Elladan and saw his own unease mirrored in his twin's expression.
Aragorn led them, and they followed, though it took some skill to calm their horses once more, coaxing them to be led through the doorway. Darkness threatened to swallow them, and torches were lit. Elladan carried one, as did Aragorn, and others were scattered throughout the rest of the men and elves, though the feeble light they elicited did little to dispel the blackness. Elrohir walked behind them, and without a word, accepted the hand that Melaphríl held out for him and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
There was a sound that could barely be heard above the echoing of their horses' hooves against the stone, a low, murmuring whisper that left him cold. He held no fear of the dead, but the whispering voices in the darkness made him uneasy.
Aragorn gave a shout of surprise and stopped, holding his torch high above him.
"What is it?" Elrohir asked, moving forward to join his brother.
Aragorn looked up at them and shook his head. "'It is a man, or rather, it was."
He looked and saw the bones of what had once been a mighty man. He had been clad in mail, and his harness still lay there whole, for the cavern's air was as dry as dust. In one skeletal hand he held a hauberk, still gilded, and Elrohir saw that even his belt and helm still gleamed with rich gold. The man had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as could now be seen by the flickering light of Aragorn and Elladan's torches, and before his remains stood a stone door that was closed fast. Even as he looked, he could see that the skeleton's finger bones were curled at its base, as though still clawing at the door. A notched and broken sword lay beside him, as if he had hewn at the rock in his last moments of despair.
Aragorn made no move to touch him or disturb him in any way. After gazing silently for a moment, the Ranger sighed, and Elrohir heard him murmur softly, "Through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock. Whither does it lead? Why would he not pass? None shall ever know."
He rose to his feet and paused, looking back at the closed door and the skeleton at its base. "That is not my errand," he said, and Elrohir saw him shake his head again. "Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden. We ask only for speed. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"
Elrohir led his horse, walking beside Melaphríl as they followed Aragorn, and the ghostly whispers in the darkness seemed to grow in strength as they passed beneath the mountain.
Erin covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a yawn that threatened to crack her jaws. The sun was already settling just at the edge of the horizon, and the sky had taken on a violet cast that was actually rather pretty, had she been feeling up to admiring it. She was sore and aching, and quite honestly, very tired of riding, if her numb butt was any indication.
Éomer showed no signs of wanting to stop for the night, however. She knew they couldn't be too far from Edoras, but she didn't think that they would ride all night to get there. Apparently, the Third Marshall had other plans. He rode a short distance in front of her, Halig beside him.
He had not asked her any more questions about her land, or how she came to be in Middle Earth. Instead he had pointed out landmarks and the names of the mountain peaks she could see in the distance. He told her a little of their people's history, how Eorl had led his men to the aid of Gondor, and how the steward of Gondor had given the land now known as Rohan to the horse lords as a reward for their help in defeating the invaders.
"We name ourselves Eorlingas, after our great lord, though others call us Rohirrim, which means, 'horse lords'," Éomer explained.
"Is any of this written anywhere?" Erin had asked, the scholar in her curious to know more about the noble people of Rohan. "I would love to read the history."
Éomer had shrugged. "If it is written somewhere, we do not possess it. Perhaps in the great library of Gondor does it lie, for there are those among the people of the white city that are learned and relish such things as histories. As for my people, we have little skill in writing. We carry the knowledge within us and pass it to our children. That has always been our way."
Erin had been surprised. It had never occurred to her that their culture would not include the written word. She hadn't gotten to ask him about it further, though, for Halig had chosen that moment to ride to Éomer's side and ask to speak with him privately. Éomer had politely excused himself from her presence and ridden ahead with Halig, leaving Erin alone with her thoughts.
The sky had turned a velvety shade of black when they finally reached Edoras, and Erin was fighting to stay awake in the saddle as she rode behind Éomer through the gates and into the city. She heard a horse beside her and turned her head, blinking sleepily at Lord Celeborn as he passed her. She glanced behind him and saw that of the rest of the elves, only Haldir rode with him. The others had already begun setting up a camp outside of the city gates.
She saw runners dart past Éomer and Halig, obviously on their way to the great hall to inform the King that they had returned. Most of the city was dark, though torches burned at varying intervals along the cobblestone street. More torches were lit in the courtyard, and Erin was more than glad to finally see the stone walls of the hall looming before her. A groom caught Silhafel's head and held the mare as Erin slid ungracefully from her back, swaying slightly as her weary legs tried to support her.
"You should get yourself to bed before you fall asleep on your feet, lady," Éomer said, handing his horse's reins to the groom. "Do you require a maid to assist you?"
"No, thank you," Erin replied, giving him a tired smile as she made her way towards the steps. "I'll be fine. Have a good night."
"Thank you, lady. Sleep well," he replied kindly.
Elladan had no notion of how much time had passed since they had left the fallen figure at the closed door. Shortly after Aragorn's words, a chill blast had whipped past them and extinguished their torches, and no amount of trying on their part could get them to light again. Darkness so complete that he could not even see the hand in front of his face surrounded them, and they were forced to continue their journey along the path with only their sense of hearing and touch to guide them. A hand groped for his in the darkness and he grasped it gratefully, knowing by Elrohir's touch and scent that his brother was as unnerved by the blackness that surrounded them as he was.
They followed Aragorn's lead, the Ranger finding the path in the darkness unerringly, and it seemed that an endless amount of time had passed before he heard the sound of running water.
"Do you hear that?" Elrohir's whisper was joyful, and Elladan felt him squeeze his hand tighter.
"Aye," he replied, blinking in surprise as his eyes registered the faintest of light ahead of them. "It is not as dark, either. Do you see?" It was indeed growing lighter and as they walked, he began to see details of their surroundings once more. The sound of water falling against stone grew louder with each step, and it was not long before the party passed beneath a highly arched gate. Elladan saw the source of the sound and smiled; a small stream of water ran alongside their path.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the men and elves of the Grey Company when the nighttime sky appeared above them, Ithil casting its silvery light down upon them as they passed between the high cliffs that marked the end of the passage. They paused long enough to mount their horses before continuing onward, the ground sloping steeply before them. The coldness that he had felt during their journey on the Paths of the Dead had not left him, and he was puzzled by it until he saw Elrohir glance behind them. Following his brother's gaze, Elladan turned, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.
The riders of the Grey Company were not alone on the steep path.
"The Dead are following," Elrohir whispered, his eyes glittering strangely in the pale light of the moon. "Armed with their spears and carrying their banners aloft. Do you see? The Dead are following. Aragorn has called to them, and they have come."
A knock at her door brought Erin rudely awake, and the last vestiges of the rather pleasant dream she'd been having slipped away from her as she rose from the bed.
"Who is it?" she called, looking desperately around the floor for something to cover herself with, grimacing at the pile of hastily discarded clothing she had left the night before. She'd been so tired last night. It had been all she could do to simply strip and crawl beneath the covers.
"It is Éowyn, may I come in?"
Erin grabbed the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her, plopping down on the edge of the mattress.
"Come in," she said. The door opened and Éowyn entered, looking lovely as always, and Erin was very conscious of her sleep-mussed hair and unkempt look. "You're a morning person, aren't you?" she groused.
"You are not?" Éowyn asked with a smile as she looked down at her friend.
"Since I was forced to give up coffee, in a word, no," Erin answered, rising from the bed to poke through the wooden chest that contained her clothing. "We got in late last night."
"I know." Éowyn chuckled softly as she sat on the edge of the bed, watching Erin sort through clothes as her friend tried to decide what to wear. "I have already met Lord Celeborn and his servant, Haldir, this morning at breakfast. Lord Celeborn is very gracious and quite charming."
Something in Éowyn's voice made Erin look up from her clothes sorting and she grinned. "Elves are like that, I think. At least most of them are. I think Haldir is the only exception to that - though he's very kind." She held up her jeans and sweater and looked at them critically a moment, before deciding that they were clean enough to wear. She glanced up at Éowyn as she dressed. "They certainly live long enough to perfect the art of being charming, anyway."
Éowyn's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh?" she asked, settling herself more comfortably on the bed. "What do you know about elves?"
Erin pulled the sweater over her head, sliding her arms through the sleeves. "Only a little, actually. They're the most beautiful beings I have ever met," she said honestly, searching for her comb and finding it. "They're brave, loyal, honest, and charming as hell when they want to be." She flushed slightly, remembering just how 'charming' a certain pair of elves could be when they wanted to. Pulling the comb through her tangled hair, she glanced up at Éowyn, realizing that the lady knew even less about elves than she did, and had strong feelings for one in particular. "They're also immortal," she added softly, dropping her comb on the table beside the pitcher of water.
Éowyn's eyes widened. "Immortal?" she repeated. "I did not know that."
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Erin sat next to Éowyn on the bed. "Elladan didn't tell you?"
"No," Éowyn said. "He did not."
The look on her friend's face made Erin wish she could smack Elladan for not telling her. "He's only half-elven," she said. "Maybe they don't live forever the way elves do."
Éowyn gave her a brief smile. "Perhaps. It does not matter." She dropped her gaze for a moment to her hands, before looking back at Erin. "I am in love with him. Whether he lives forever or only half again as long as myself, that will not change."
Erin shook her head. "I don't know how you know that, after only having known him for such a short amount of time, but I believe you. I can see it in your eyes, and I saw the look on his face when Legolas said your name." She sighed, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees. "I envy you."
"Envy me?" Éowyn asked in surprise. "Why?"
She looked away for a moment before replying. "Because love is a wonderful thing, and you have found it." She glanced back at Éowyn. "And because you are stronger than I am."
Éowyn laughed. "You are strong enough, Erin. I have seen it. You have been taken from all you know, and still you manage to smile." Her laughter quieted. "The shadow in your eyes has faded since I saw you last. Did you talk to Éomer?"
Erin nodded. "A bit. I don't think he knew quite what to make of it, and I didn't tell him everything…I couldn't."
"Will you tell me?" Éowyn asked gently.
She sighed, unfolding her legs and leaning back on her arms. "I will, though I doubt you will believe it."
Éowyn's eyebrows rose slightly. "I believed you when you told me you did not come from this world. I think I know you better now than I did when you told me that." She smiled faintly. "I am not as superstitious as my brother."
Erin took a deep breath and nodded. "All right." She told her everything, right from the beginning, ending with the choice of paths and the words of the man and woman echoing in her ears.
Éowyn was silent for a moment, thoughtfully regarding her as her fingers played with the end of her long braid. "Your heart's desire?" she asked finally, dropping her braid. "What is your heart's desire?"
Erin let out the breath she had been holding, relieved that Éowyn seemed to have accepted her story. "Home. More than anything, I wanted a place where I felt I truly belonged. I thought, at the time, that it meant my world. But when I made my choice, I realized I was wrong."
The lady's eyes filled with sympathy. "How hard that must have been, knowing your choice meant you would never see your family again."
"It was. It is. I miss them terribly, Éowyn," Erin replied, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. She covered her face with her hands, hiding her tears, and felt her friend touch her arm gently.
"If they love you, they would not begrudge you your happiness," Éowyn said quietly. "They would want you to be happy, even if it meant they would never see you again."
Erin sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "You think so?"
Éowyn nodded. "I think so." She rose from the bed, straightening the folds of her dress. "Come, let us find you some breakfast, and then we will see about having some clothing made for you."
Erin followed her, wiping the last of her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater. "I've been meaning to ask you something, Éowyn, since it looks like I'm staying here."
The lady glanced back at her as she descended the stairs. "What is it?"
"I need something to do here, I guess, to earn my keep. I'd like to do something useful," Erin said quietly. "Do you have any ideas?"
"What types of skills do you have?" Éowyn asked, waiting for Erin to catch up before continuing down the hall towards the kitchen.
"Well, I can cook some, and I know how to sew a button on a shirt. I'm not afraid of cleaning," she said.
Éowyn laughed. "You are not thinking of becoming a maid, are you?" she said.
Erin didn't smile. "Well, it's a thought. I mean, I'm not much good for anything else in this world."
The lady came to a stop and turned towards Erin, folding her arms. "You told me you were a student in your world, and that you wished to become a teacher. You have been educated well beyond, I imagine, what most women in this world have been."
"Well, in things of my world," Erin agreed. "But not in yours. I know how to read and write in my language; I know the history of my world, and basic science and mathematics. But I don't see how it is of any use in your world."
Éowyn nodded slowly. "Perhaps not in Rohan, Erin. But there are places of great learning and study in Middle Earth. You could choose to study and work in one of those places. You do not have to stay here."
"I didn't think women were allowed to do such things," Erin said doubtfully. "I don't have any money to travel or live on until I can find a job, and I hadn't really considered leaving Rohan."
"It is difficult for women to do such things," Éowyn admitted softly. "Our roles are usually defined by our husbands or fathers. You have neither here to prevent you from going where you will," she said meaningfully. "If money is your concern, I am certain something can be done. You have been my friend and I wish to see you happy, not wasting your life away as a maid or scullery in someone's house, whether this one or another."
Erin blinked, surprised by the vehemence in her friend's voice. "I don't know what to say," she said finally. "You have been so very good to me. I just feel like I should do something to repay you for all your kindness."
Éowyn smiled and reached for Erin's hand, squeezing it gently. "You already have, my friend. You kept me from making a very foolish decision." She dropped her hand away and turned, moving towards the kitchen once more.
The Grey Company passed through Mothrond Vale and Elrohir saw the lights of the houses below them, shining like beacons of welcome in the dark. They rode through the lush fields until they came to a bridge that crossed a swift-flowing river. As they drew closer to the hamlet, the lights of the houses went out and doors were heard slamming shut. Folk that were abroad took one look at the Company and fled in terror, screaming and crying out, "The King of the Dead! The King of the Dead has come upon us!"
The Ranger did not pause as he led them in haste beyond the fields of the hamlet. The moon had reached its zenith when they came at last to the Hill of Erech.
Elrohir looked to the hill and saw a great stone, round as a globe, and easily the height of a man, though half of it was buried in the ground. It was to this stone that Aragorn led them, finally drawing his horse to a halt.
He dismounted and saw Elladan do the same, reaching for something in his pack. His twin withdrew a silver horn and carried it to Aragorn, handing it to their foster-brother without speaking.
Aragorn raised the horn to his lips and blew a long note, and the fine hairs on Elrohir's arms prickled with magic as he heard the faint sound of answering horns, as if it was an echo in deep caves far away. No other sound could be heard, yet he was aware of the great ghostly gathering of men all about the hill on which they stood. A chill wind like the breath of the dead came down from the mountains, and Elrohir pulled his cloak around him tighter, shivering.
"Oathbreakers, why have you come?" Aragorn cried.
"To fulfill our oath and have peace," came the ghostly reply.
"The hour has come at last," Aragorn said. "Now I go to Pelagir upon Anduin, and you shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled. You shall have peace and depart forever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor."
Aragorn gestured to Halbarad, and the Dúnedain unfurled the standard he had brought, holding it high. It was black, and in the darkness and shadows of the night, he could not see if there was any device worked upon the fabric. Silence filled the air around them, and Elrohir realized that the voices of the dead had fallen quiet.
The Grey Company made camp that night beside the stone, but sleep eluded them all, despite their weariness. Sometime in the early morning hours, Melaphríl joined him beneath his blanket, wrapping his arms and his body around him and sharing his warmth.
"Glad I am that we had our time together in Rohan," Melaphríl murmured, placing a soft kiss beneath Elrohir's ear. "Though I wish we had one more night alone before we face our enemy."
Elrohir turned his head and pressed his lips against Melaphríl's briefly. "Melon lle," he whispered. "I wish it as well." He pulled him tighter against him, burying his face in the Melaphríl's hair. "When this is done, I want to take you back with me to Imladris. Will you come?"
"I go where you go, seron vell," Melaphríl whispered in reply. "Only death can part us."
Éowyn convinced her to dress for dinner, and Erin had to admit the results were worth the effort. She actually felt pretty for a change, dressed in a simple blue gown. Her usually tangled hair was braided neatly, complete with matching blue ribbon.
"It is good that we are having clothing made for you," Éowyn said, eyeing the bodice with a shake of her head. "That is almost too tight."
Erin glanced down at her cleavage and grinned. The bodice was, indeed, more than a bit snug, and although Éowyn had assured her that bodices were meant to be form fitting, she didn't think they were meant to exhibit her breasts in such a manner. She took a deep breath experimentally and let it out with a giggle as the tops of her breasts threatened to pop out of the neckline of the gown.
"I'm not sure I should go to dinner this way," she said, glancing up at her friend. "I feel like I'm on display."
Éowyn frowned. "It is not immodest, though I would refrain from doing that again, unless you wish to embarrass yourself in front of our guests." She saw Erin's smile fade. "What is wrong?"
"I'm nervous," Erin admitted. "I've never eaten with royalty before."
"Do not be," Éowyn said. "I am certain that you will be fine. You do not strike me as a barbarian who eats with her fingers."
Erin chuckled and followed Éowyn down the stairs towards the main hall. "Don't be so sure."
Éomer was waiting for them as they reached the dining hall, and he offered each of them his arm. Erin looked up at him and smiled as she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow. He sure cleans up nice, she thought, and she was struck again by how very handsome he was.
"Hello, Erin," a cheerful voice said at her elbow, and Erin turned, her smile growing wider as she saw who had greeted her.
"Hello, Merry. How are you?"
The hobbit grinned up at her. "Quite well. You are looking lovely this evening." He glanced at Éomer. "Might I have the honor of escorting the lady to dinner, my Lord?" he inquired politely, but with a twinkle in his eye.
Éomer chuckled. "If the lady does not object," he replied.
Erin shook her head and placed her hand on Merry's offered arm. "I do not," she replied. "Thank you, Merry."
He gave a gallant bow, his grin broadening. "My pleasure," he said, straightening and covering her hand with his. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked at her, and Erin realized that the top of his head came just about even with the swell of her breasts.
"Behave yourself," she admonished. He gave her an utterly guileless smile, which didn't fool her for an instant, but made her chuckle.
Merry was the perfect gentlemen as he escorted her to her seat at the long table. Éomer and Éowyn waited on her right, and Erin began to wonder what they were waiting for, when the King entered the hall, followed by Lord Celeborn and Haldir. Éowyn dropped into a curtsy, and Erin did her best to copy her as gracefully as she could. She saw Merry and Éomer bow respectfully as Théoden took his place at the head of the table.
They took their seats after the king, Merry holding Erin's chair for her before taking his own seat beside her. Éowyn sat to Erin's right, with Éomer beside her, next to the King. Lord Celeborn settled with grace at the place of honor to the King's left, and Haldir sat beside him. Other members of the King's household took their customary places along the long table, and once everyone was settled, dinner began to be served.
Erin watched with interest as servants brought in platter after platter of food, offering the dishes to Théoden first, Lord Celeborn next, the Éomer, Éowyn, Haldir, herself and Merry, before moving down the table. She realized that she had been given quite an honor to be seated so close to the King, and she felt more than a bit nervous. She was an outsider, and technically a commoner at that. She wasn't sure if the people of Rohan actually had such class distinctions, but she felt self-conscious nonetheless.
I have so much to learn, she thought ruefully, stifling a sigh. This world is so different from what I'm used to.
She did know enough to wait until the King had actually begun to eat before taking the first bite of her own food. She watched Éowyn from the corner of her eye, and copied the lady's actions, taking small bites of food and placing her eating utensils down between each bite, wiping her mouth carefully with the cloth napkin that had been provided.
Erin had expected the conversation at dinner to be polite and restrained; she was surprised when Théoden wiped his mouth with his napkin and gave her a smile, before directing his attention to Éowyn.
"So, my niece, how did you and our guest spend your day?" he asked, taking a deep drink from his goblet and setting it next to his plate.
Éowyn glanced at Erin and smiled. "We spent the day discussing what Erin should do, my uncle. She is a scholar in her land, and her talents here are wasted."
Théoden's graying eyebrows rose sharply. "Truly? A scholar?" He turned his shrewd gaze to Erin, and she shifted nervously, twisting her napkin in her lap.
"Yes, sir." She flailed vainly for a moment, uncertain how to address him properly. "I mean, my lord. I am a student."
Lord Celeborn looked on with interest, and Erin blushed at being the focus of the attention.
"What did you study?" the elf lord asked.
"Language and writing," Erin answered, fairly certain that 'English Major' wouldn't mean anything to them. "I also studied mathematics and science."
"She also tells stories," Haldir added quietly from his place beside Celeborn, giving Erin a faint smile. "They are quite entertaining."
"Really?" Celeborn smiled. "I should very much like to hear one of your stories, if you would be willing."
"As would I," Théoden said. "Perhaps after we have finished our meal, you would share one of your stories with us?"
Erin nodded, trying to quell the sense of panic that had risen within her at the request. What on earth would she tell them?
The focus of the conversation, thankfully, turned to other things as Éomer reported on the latest foaling of one of their prized mares, and Erin listened politely to talk of horses and bloodlines. She cast occasional glances at the rider, seeing the gleam in his eye as he described the qualities of one stallion over another; it was obviously a subject he loved.
Dessert was being served when a commotion at the entrance caught everyone's attention. Erin glanced up from her plate and saw a rider enter, making his way towards the king. He stopped the appropriate distance away and bowed respectfully.
"A man is here, my lord," the rider said, rising from his bow. "An errant-rider from Gondor. He wishes to come before you at once."
"Let him come, captain," Théoden replied, and motioned a servant to take his plate away.
A tall man entered and Erin heard Merry give a queer choking sound, drawing her attention away as she looked at the hobbit with concern.
Merry shook his head at her, indicating that he was well enough, though his face was very pale beneath his curls as he watched the man approach the king.
Troubled, Erin turned her attention back to the newcomer. He was dressed similar to the riders of Rohan, though he wore a cloak of dark green over a coat of chain mail. He carried his helmet beneath his arm, and Erin could see that on the front of it was a small silver star. In his other hand he carried a single arrow with black feathers. The point of it was painted red.
She didn't know what it meant, but as she looked at the king and saw his expression, she realized that it couldn't be anything good.
Read Chapter 4
