Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part five: Edoras

The Hall of the King stood on a huge hill, seen from miles away. The six riders carefully made their way through the town and despite her mourning, Morwen immediately saw all was not right. The people of the city seemed to be donned in black, their spirits quenched. They glanced at the riders with little interest before going back to their own personal work.

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli grumbled under his breath.

"This is not the way it should be," Morwen said as she looked around. "This is usually a place of some happiness but now…"

"There is a shadow here that must be dispelled," Gandalf said as he led the way to the Hall. "Come. Théoden awaits."

They dismounted and headed up the stairs. They were met by a powerfully built guard, who nodded to them. "I cannot allow you come to Théoden so armed, Gandalf Grayhame. I must ask you to give up your weapons. On orders from…Grima Wormtongue." The tone in his voice made it clear he did not like even saying the name.

The Fellowship members exchanged uneasy glances but on Gandalf's reassuring nod, they began to strip off their weapons. Boromir took notice of how Morwen gave over her axes, a small knife in her boot and another dagger at her belt. The guard, Hama, then looked to Gandalf's staff.

"Oh, sir," Arwen interjected in a voice of pure innocence. "Surely you would not part an old man with his walking stick?"

Aragon was unable to hide a small smile as the elf's words apparently got to the guard. He nodded and backed up to allow the group to enter. They soon made their way into the hall and saw Théoden.

Morwen could not resist a gasp of shock at seeing her king in person. She had glimpsed him once some time before when he toured the countryside but the decripet, aged being sitting on the throne bore no resemblance to the strong ruler she had looked up to all her life. Sitting by his side was a small man with oily black hair and a face that reminded Morwen of something she'd once stepped on. This, she knew, had to be the infamous Grima.

The others were more attentive of the eyes on them, particularly on the dark-clad men not in soldier uniforms who were gazing at them with ugly looks. Gandalf appeared not to notice anything amiss as he calmly spoke up. "The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King."

"Why…" The King's voice cracked as if his throat was made of dry wood. "Should I welcome you…Gandalf…Stormcrow?"

"A just question, my liege," Grima said as he turned and began to march toward the group with a wicked smirk on his features. "Late is the hour in which this conqueror appears. Lathspell I name him." He came up close to Gandalf and sneered. "Ill news is an ill guest."

"Silence!" Gandalf snapped as he glared at the man. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He held his staff before Grima's face, the man showing fear as he backed up.

"His staff…" He hissed before looking to the guards. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!" He made a motion and the darker-clad guards immediately moved in on Gandalf. Just as quickly, Aragon, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli moved to intercept them. Arwen dodged one guard and with a quick thrust of her foot, tripped him to the ground. Morwen's own foot lashed out to smash him across the jaw.

As the brawl continued, Gandalf made his way to Théoden. "Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you stayed in shadow."

Morwen looked to see Grima try to scurry away. With a snarl, she rushed in and tackled the slimy man to the ground. "Move and I shall crush you like your namesake," she hissed into his ear.

Gandalf bowed his head and flexed his hand outward. "I release you."

A low cackle came from Théoden's mouth. Gandalf looked up, surprise on his features. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," the wretched king gasped.

With strength, Gandalf threw back his cloak to reveal his white robes, which seemed to shine and illuminate the entire hall. Théoden rocked back on his throne, gasping in shock. "I will draw you, Saruman, as I would draw poison from a wound," Gandalf said as he held out his staff.

Théoden gasped and when he spoke, it was with a voice not his own. "If I go, Théoden dies."

Gandalf thrust the staff forward and sent him back. "You did not kill me, you will not kill him!"

A young woman with blond hair wearing a white dress burst into the room. One look at the situation and she rushed forward but Aragon quickly caught her and held her back. With one final thrust of the staff, Gandalf let his magic forth and Théoden let out a long howl of pain before slumping on the throne.

The woman broke away from Aragon and rushed to the king's side. She knelt as he slowly sat up and his face seemed to grow younger and stronger, his hair darker and shorter. Soon, the decripit figure everyone had seen in the last few months was gone and its place was the true King of Rhoan.

"Sire," Morwen whispered and bowed her head. Grima tried to move but without looking at him, Morwen pushed him down by his throat. Théoden turned to the woman, blinking. "I know that face," he whispered. "Eowyn."

The woman tearfully nodded as Gandalf came up. "Welcome back, old friend."

Théoden looked to him and smiled. "Dark have been my dreams of late." He flexed the fingers of a hand as if unused to the feeling.

Gandalf had a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps your hands might feel stronger if they gripped your old sword.

Hama quickly moved up and offered a large blade. Théoden gripped the handle tentievely at first. Then he pulled the blade out of its scabbard and held it up. He stared at it before his mood darkened and his eyes swung over to face one figure who cowered on the floor.

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The villagers had become used to unusual sights in the last few months regarding the Golden Hall. But it was still something when Hama and Gamling burst out of the Hall and with great strength and obvious pleasure, threw Grima down the stone steps. He bounced down the stairs and flopped onto a landing, gasping in pain.

Théoden marched down the steps, murder in his eye and his sword held strong. "Do not…send me…from your side!" Grima managed to gasp out.

"Your leechcraft would have me crawling like a beast!" Théoden snarled as he marched in and lofted his sword. Arwen rushed in to catch him. "No, my lord!" he said. "There has been enough blood spilt due to him! Do not add to it!"

Théoden glared at him but backed up and lowered his sword. Arwen turned and offered her hand to Grima. He spat on it and rose to his feet to run away.

Aragon stood before the assembled villagers and called out. "Behold, Théoden, your King!" At the top of the stairs, Morwen knelt, as did all the soldiers and then the villagers. Théoden gazed at them all, his heart swelling as he realized how much he still meant to his people. The smile vanished into a frown as a thought struck him. He gazed around before speaking. "Where is my son?"

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The sun was starting to set as Arwen made her way to the small bedchamber in the Hall. She slowly slid it open to gaze at Morwen. The young woman sat on the bed, her axes to the side and legs curled up against her. Arwen shut the door as she headed to her. "Are you…all right?"

Morwen rubbed at her face and Arwen could see dried tears on her cheeks. "I…the funeral…it reminded me of my own family…How I cannot even give them that dignity."

Arwen let out a deep sigh. "I am sorry for you and your family," she softly said. "I…know it must be difficult. My mother…" She was silent for a long moment. "I lost her a time ago."

Morwen seemed surprised as she looked up. "I thought elves were Immortal."

"Against the rigors of time, yes," Arwen confirmed. "But there are some things even we cannot escape." She glanced away, her eyes showing a dark pain and it was Morwen's turn to nod in sympathy. "I am sorry."

Arwen sighed and looked away. "As I said…it was a long time ago."

Morwen looked away as she brushed her hair. "I am…not sure what we are going to do next."

"A fair question," Arwen agreed. "Gandalf's plans were his own. He is not known for sharing them before he is ready."

"He is…an interesting man," Morwen carefully said. "As is the Lord Aragon."

Arwen arched an eyebrow. "You believe so?"

Morwen looked up and for the first time, a small smile came to her lips. "I have seen how you are around him. I know your feelings. I do not wish to intrude on them. I…I just…" She sighed and the smile vanished. "I simply wish to know what this path is."

Arwen was about to reply when the door opened wider and Boromir entered. He bowed his head before speaking. "My ladies. You should come to the throne room. Something has happened."

The two got to their feet and moved to follow him as he led them away. They soon got into the main hall and saw Eowyn, still her mourning clothes, sitting at a table where a pair of children were eating food. Both of them seemed tired and marked with dirt as Eowyn rose. "There was no warning," she spoke. "The Wildman attacked suddenly and cut their village down in little time. And now they are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go."

"Like my own village." Morwen didn't intend to speak so loudly but the eyes on her told her she had. The mood was somber, Théoden sitting on his throne with Gandalf beside him. Gimli sat at a nearby table, eating and drinking some ale. Nearby, Aragon sat at his own table, smoking deeply on his pipe as Legolas stood behind him.

"This is but a taste of the terror Saruman brings," Gandalf grimly stated. "Even more now that he is driven by the fear of Sauron. Bring the fight to him. Ride him out and meet him head on, away from the women and children." He reached forward to put his hand on the King's. "You must fight."

Théoden glanced at the hand with suspicion, still remembering the "counsel" of Grima that had kept him enslaved for so long. "We do not have enough men," he said as he pulled his hand away.

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Boromir interjected.

"Eomer is loyal to you," Aragon agreed. "His men will return and fight for the king."

Théoden rose and marched to the center of the room, shaking his head. "He will be three hundred leagues by this time. He cannot help." He sighed and shook his head. "I know what you will ask of me but I will not bring more death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you," Aragon coolly stated. "Whether you would risk it or not."

"The risk is greater the longer you wait," Boromir said. "We have time on our side for now but Saruman will soon gather his forces against you."

Théoden turned and let his cold gaze move from one man to the other. "When last I looked, Théoden was King of Rhoan. Not a Ranger or a man of Gondor."

There was a long silence, interrupted only by Gimli's loud burp.

"Then what is the King's decision?" Gandalf stated.

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The next morning, the entire city was a blur of activity. By orders of Théoden, it was to be emptied to the last person as everyone prepared to head to the refuge of Helm's Deep. Through the chaos, Aragon and Arwen walked together.

"You believe Gandalf?" the elf asked. "You believe that Théoden is making a mistake?"

Aragon sighed. "It is not for me to make that choice. He is the King, not I. He is doing what he thinks is right."

"If Gandalf is right…"

"Which he so often is," Aragon couldn't help adding.

"Then Théoden is leading his people into the perfect place for an attack," Arwen said. "Who knows what Saruman is planning for them."

"They are still safer away from here," Aragon said. He paused to look to the elf. "As you would be."

Arwen shook her head. "We are not discussing this again."

"We did not discuss it before, if I recall," Aragon said as he stopped to face her. "Why did you not go with your people? You know what life with me would be like, Arwen. I may be of the Dunedain but I am still mortal. I will still age and die and you will likely go on for a time without me."

"Then I will go on," Arwen whispered as she came forward. "But not for as long as I would if I did not come into your world. And I will join you eventually."

Aragon crossed his arms. "You cannot choose this path."

"I have already chosen," Arwen stated. "I have chosen your path." She reached up to caress his cheek. "Why can you not accept that?"

Aragon was quiet before turning and walking away. Arwen sighed as she once more fell in behind him.

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Inside the main hall, Eowyn was supervising the packing of several boxes of supplies. She paused as she came across a sword and pulled it from its scabbard. She hefted it in her hands and slowly swung it in wide curves, her body in a fighting stance. She spun around to swing it out and found it connecting with Boromir's own blade.

The two locked eyes for a long moment before Eowyn pulled her sword away. Boromir nodded at her. "You have skill."

Eowyn simply marched over to place the sword back in its scabbard. "Women in my country a long time ago learned that those without swords can still die at the point of one." She gave him a sideways glance. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why not?" Boromir asked as he lowered his blade.

Eowyn put the sword away. "Gondor is not known for allowing its women such protective measures."

Boromir frowned. "Perhaps we do not feel it is right for a woman to put herself in harm's way. War has ever been the province of men."

A snort echoed behind him and he turned to see Morwen standing behind him, her arms crossed. "Spoken as a true noble," the woman coldly said. "We do not live inside your great walled city, Son of the Steward. We do not have your soldiers protecting us. In our nation, war comes to all. Especially at times such as these."

Boromir pursed his lips. "Perhaps…you have a point." He paused and nodded to Eowyn. "My apologies, my lady."

Eowyn simply turned away. "There are fears we have that you do not understand," she said. "Mine is to spend my life locked like a bird in a cage."

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "You are a shieldmaiden of Rhoan. I doubt such a fate awaits you."

Eowyn simply stared at him before turning and marching away. Boromir turned to see Morwen studying him. "You seem intrigued by her."

Boromir shrugged. "She reminds me of my brother a bit."

Morwen looked at the direction Eowyn had gone off in, looked back at Boromir and raised her brow. Boromir chuckled. "I meant she wishes to rise above her station and prove her worth. That is what Faramir has always wanted but Father would not give him that chance." He smiled softly. "I hope that changes soon."

Morwen continued to study him. "You care for him, don't you?"

Boromir nodded. "I do. I have done my best to keep him safe but now…" He shook his head.

Morwen felt herself pulled at the concern over the man. Before she could say anything, they heard Legolas clear his throat behind them. "We are ready to go," Legolas stated.

Boromir made a motion to Morwen to encourage her to go first. With an air that was less chilly than before, she did as they prepared for their long voyage.