The Rohan Pride Trilogy

Part Two: Reunions

Book One

By: WhiteLadyOfTroy

Summary:
Gúthwyn's mission has failed. Now that she is traveling with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli to find the Hobbits, she finds herself being confronted with her past, as well as some painful experiences in the present.

About the Trilogy:
I have decided to do what Tolkien did with his books. The Fellowship of the Ring had two books within the text, as did The Two Towers and The Return of the King. The only change I have made is the first part in my trilogy: Alone. That was divided into three books, the first book explaining how Gúthwyn got to where The Fellowship of the Ring started. Reunions will be divided into two books.

About Chapter Two:
As those of you who read the books are well aware of, the Three Hunters only stopped for one night, in which Aragorn immediately fell asleep. However, I have extended his waking period to include a certain scene, one that I set up for in Alone. This is not exactly keeping with the rules of canon, but in the first place, this story doesn't keep with the rules of canon, and secondly, if you find yourself concerned about a little detail like this, then… Well, maybe this story isn't for you. Heh.

Chapter Two

Gúthwyn looked up at Aragorn, her eyes taking in his tall, imposing form standing just above her. Suddenly wanting some form of protection, she took her pack from her shoulders and started rummaging through it.

Aragorn watched her silently, but when she withdrew the two scarves, he stopped her. "Do not put those on," he said.

For a moment she paused, her posture slumped. At length she flung them back into the bag and removed Borogor's cloak. "Am I allowed to wear this, my lord?" she asked bitingly, narrowing her eyes at the Ranger.

His face did not change. "Yes," he replied, and she put it on, wrapping it tightly about herself before looking back at him.

"Now," Aragorn said, taking a seat on the other rock, so that his face was almost level with hers, "you will answer all of my questions. I know enough about the dealings of the Enemy to tell when you are lying, so do not try to."

She did not say anything as he leaned forward.

"How did you get to Rivendell?"

It was marked on the map, you fool, she thought, but was silent. She was not going to satisfy him, not when he had done so much harm to her chances of freeing the children.

"I said, how did you get to Rivendell?" Aragorn repeated. There was a harsh tone in his voice that she had rarely heard before.

Still she did not answer him. Gimli was staring openly at them. Legolas' back was turned, but she knew he was listening as intently as the Dwarf. And she would certainly not say anything with an Elf nearby.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "Was your task only to take the Ring, or was there other mischief involved?"

Again, she did not respond. Borogor, she thought instead, clutching the fabric of his cloak tighter to her, Borogor, I wish you were here…

"Who was the Elf?"

Borogor, I killed him. I killed him.

She shuddered, but pressed her lips firmly together.

"Haldor."

Her eyes widened as Legolas turned around. "His name is Haldor," the Elf said, his gaze on her. She cringed, realizing how foolish she had been in letting the name slip so often.

"How do you know that?" Aragorn asked, looking at his friend and frowning. Legolas gave a small shake of the head.

For a brief time, Aragorn regarded the Elf, and then turned his attentions back onto Gúthwyn. His grey eyes pierced right through her. "What was he doing on Amon Hen?"

At the memory, she trembled. No matter what she did, she would never be able to forget the image of his eyes, so clean amongst all the blood, staring cruelly at her until she had to look away. Even in death he terrified her.

"If you do not wish to answer my questions, then so be it," Aragorn told her, banishing her dark recollections. "But perhaps this will change your mind."

As she stared at him in confusion, he withdrew from the folds of his cloak a small, black book… Beregil's poems.

Gúthwyn's heart stopped, and for a moment she could not speak. "H-How did you get that?" she demanded at last, her voice shaking and her breath coming in short bursts. "How?"

"I went through your things while you were unconscious," Aragorn replied levelly, but she could read the triumph in his eyes and loathed him all the more for it. "I do not know what value you place on this thing, for it holds but childish poems; yet if you want it back, you will answer my questions."

"You read them?" she asked, nearly choking on her horror.

"Just one," he said. Then he opened the book.

"Stop!" she gasped, reaching for it frantically, but he held it out of her reach. When she saw "The Warrior" on the page, she nearly fainted.

Seeing her reaction, Aragorn turned the book so that she could see the words clearly. "Read it," he commanded.

She gaped at him, not understanding his intent.

"I said, read it."

"No…" Gúthwyn whispered. She could not share Beregil's words with them. Not now.

"No?" Aragorn repeated, raising his eyebrows. And then, the action so sudden that she could do nothing to prevent it, he ripped "The Warrior" out of the book and held it before her.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked in panic, lunging forward for it. He pushed her away, and she fell back onto the rock.

"Read it, or I shall tear it up."

To her horror, a familiar wetness came to her eyes. "T-The W-Warrior," she whispered haltingly, quivering uncontrollably. With each syllable, she felt as though a small part of her were dying.

"Louder." His eyes pinned her down, terrible in their gaze.

"The W-W-Warrior," she repeated, almost choking on the words, but they were raised. Her face was burning with humiliation.

Slowly, Gúthwyn started to read the rest of the poem. Halfway through the first line, more tears began to form in her eyes, so that by the time she stumbled her way through 'a streak of rushing metal' she could barely see the writing. Terrified that Aragorn would keep his threat, she hastened to wipe them away.

"Yet it… it is not th-the b-beauty he seeks t-to destroy," she said, her voice alternately rising and falling with hysteria. She could barely breathe. Aragorn's blurry figure frowned at her as she struggled to contain the muffled gasps and still her shuddering body.

"Finish it," he ordered.

"P-P-Please…" she begged, and inhaled sharply. The tears were filling her eyes once more; she could not see through them.

"Finish it!"

Gúthwyn whimpered at the Ranger's command, but slowly opened her mouth. "The… The…"

"Aragorn, enough!"

Legolas suddenly appeared by Aragorn's side, his normally calm face taut. She recoiled from him, averting her eyes so that he could not see the tears in them. Please, go away! she found herself pleading with them all silently. Her arms wrapped tighter about herself.

"Gúthwyn."

Trembling, she glanced up. Her heart froze as she saw Legolas standing above her. He was holding out Beregil's book, along with the poem. "Here."

With shaking hands, she took it from him, half afraid that he would grab her as she reached for it. "W-Why?" she asked in confusion, searching his eyes for an explanation.

He crouched down beside her, and she moved away slightly. "Gúthwyn, please," he said, meeting her frightened gaze firmly, "answer his questions. It will be better for you."

She did not understand why he cared for her well being, nor why he was speaking so softly. But though she hated to admit it, as she clutched Beregil's book to her chest she realized that she was in his debt. A flush of shame crept over her.

"Please," Legolas said, and then stood back up, moving aside so that she could see Aragorn. The Ranger did not look apologetic, but his gaze had grown less harsh. And when he spoke, his words were quiet.

"Who are you?"

Gúthwyn took a deep breath. "My name is Gúthwyn," she replied. Not five feet away, Gimli's eyes were fixed on her. "I was an experiment of the Dark Lord's to see if women would be a useful addition to his army. My family is dead, along with nearly everyone I care for. I was taken from Rohan"—her pause was almost imperceptible—"three years ago, and brought to Mordor."

"And Haldor?" Aragorn leaned forward, but there was no malice in his eyes.

She shivered involuntarily. "He commanded the human portion of Sauron's army."

"What was he doing on Amon Hen?"

Now she had to take a moment to compose herself. "He followed me when I was sent to find the Ring."

Suddenly, Aragorn's eyes narrowed in comprehension. "When you disappeared into the woods that night, did you see him?"

Gúthwyn nodded miserably. "I thought he was Legolas," she whispered. "I did not realize it until later."

"Why did you not say anything?" Aragorn asked. "He might have attacked the camp while one of the Hobbits had watch duty, and taken the Ring."

"He does not care about the Ring," she muttered, but when Aragorn pressed her further on the subject, she would not respond.

"As you wish," Aragorn said at length. "Now, tell me: How did you find Rivendell?"

She gave a sardonic laugh. "He gave me a map," she replied. "Even so, I almost did not find it. Four months I spent wandering between Mordor and the Last Homely House, though at the time I was told to find the Shire."

"Sauron himself did not even know where it was," Aragorn said, glancing at her strangely. "Yet he expected you to?"

Gúthwyn sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I met Boromir on the road, and he convinced me to go to Rivendell with him."

"Luck," Gimli spat.

"Did Boromir know of your purpose?" Aragorn asked quickly.

"No," she answered, looking at him in curiosity. "Why would you wonder that?"

He did not elucidate, and she knew better than to question the interrogator. As she watched, the Ranger sighed.

"Do you know anything of the Enemy's movements?"

She shook her head. "Thousands of troops are within the Black Gates," she said, a small lump forming in her throat as she thought of the training sessions. They had been brutal, but Borogor had always been there. "Yet beyond that, I have not seen or heard anything."

"Are you sure?" Aragorn persisted, a hard edge to his voice.

"I am positive," she replied, looking him straight in the eye. She could not long endure his stare, however, and soon had to glance away.

"What of the women?" he inquired.

She gave him a blank look. "There are no women in Udûn. They are down at the Sea of Nûrnen, farming."

"You said Sauron was using you as an experiment. Was it successful?"

For a moment, she glared, bristling at being referred to as 'it.' "There are no women in Udûn," she repeated scathingly.

When Aragorn spoke again, she could tell he was ignoring her nasty tone. "That is strange, indeed."

"What is strange?" she asked.

The Ranger looked thoughtful. "Sauron goes to the trouble of having you in Mordor—and it must have been difficult, to keep the other men from harming…" He trailed off. Gúthwyn thought that, to her, it seemed as if he then saw her in a different light, one that she could guess at.

"Continue," she snapped, her face reddening from a combination of embarrassment and anger.

"My apologies," Aragorn said quietly, looking away for a few seconds. "But after three years, he sends you off into the wild, telling you to find the Ring?"

"Yes," she replied sullenly, folding her arms across her chest.

"And has a commander follow you?"

"Yes."

"Who tried to kill you the moment he had you alone?"

Silence hung over the camp. Gúthwyn stared at him. "What are you implying?" she asked roughly, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her stomach.

"Are you sure that Sauron wanted you to find the Ring, rather than perish in the wilderness?"

She felt herself shaking in barely suppressed fury. "Stop it," she snarled. "You do not know anything!"

"Neither do you," Aragorn replied, "and surely the Dark Lord would want his servants better informed."

"I said, stop it!" she cried. What was hurting the most about his words was that she thought there might have been a grain of truth in them. Why would Haldor follow her, if he was the only commander of Sauron's troops? Why would he try to murder her, if he knew that she had been ordered to find the Ring?

"Do you still believe in your mission?"

He had promised… he had said he would free Hammel and Haiweth…

"Stop it," she whispered, trembling.

Aragorn looked at her pityingly, and that was worse than his endless questions.

"What made him so sure that you would not disappear the moment you left Mordor, and return to your home?"

"We had a bargain." Her voice was stiff, and now more than ever she regretted speaking to the Ranger.

"A bargain?" A hint of anger underlined his words. "What was it? Riches?"

She blinked. "No."

"Your freedom, then? You would exchange the fate of Middle-earth for your freedom?"

"Not my freedom," she muttered, looking down at her knees.

"And whose freedom do you value so much that you would risk your life for?"

It was a long time before she answered. When she did, she could not stop the tears from forming in her eyes again. "The children."

Aragorn's eyes widened slightly, but she thought he did not seem as surprised as he should have been. Gimli was gaping at her in open-mouthed astonishment, but Legolas' expression had not changed at all. "Are they yours?"

Gúthwyn shook her head. "I have been taking care of them…"

And then she knew she had said enough. Abruptly, she stood, keeping Beregil's book in her tight grasp. "You got what you wanted," she told Aragorn as he made to stop her, "with the extra pleasure of humiliating me. I am done."

Wiping the tears from her eyes, desperately avoiding the keen stare from Legolas, she then turned away and all but ran from them. Not far did she go, for she was a prisoner in their hands, but she went a good ten yards before stopping to set up her pallet. A sudden need to just lie down and sleep was overwhelming her.

And so she did exactly that. After brushing away the last remnants of tears from her eyes, she curled up into a tiny ball on the ground, placing Beregil's book between her knees and chest.

It was not long until she was asleep, though when the others looked over, they saw her shaking shoulders and uneven breathing, and knew that it was not peaceful.