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 Four:
As always, I will be using a blend of both movie and book canon. Sorry for any confusion. Please correct me on anything that seems amiss, out-of-character, or non-canon. Just an advance warning: Lately, my chapters have been bouncing back and forth between extremely long or rather short.
Chapter Four
Dawn was arriving in the silent lands, bringing with it a cool chill and a pale grey light. Legolas breathed deeply in the morning air, relishing the calm moment. Times like these were becoming all too rare nowadays, and all the more precious. It felt as though Middle-earth were on the brink of a storm, one that would end with the destruction of many beautiful things.
A soft breeze ran through his hair, gently teasing it before letting it fall into place. Even his dark musings could not bring him away from nature's embrace; these lands were far from wholesome, but they were better than much of what he had seen. Soon they would be in Rohan, realm of the Horse-lords, of whom he knew little about. Gúthwyn was the only one he had met—if anything, he could say that they were a proud folk, who were slow to forget grudges.
Yet she could hardly be considered normal. A small frown came to his face as he glanced over at the servant of the Enemy. To his slight surprise, she was sitting upright. She was not looking at him, but staring off to the east. She had wrapped her arms around herself, and Legolas could see her shivering. He also noticed the black scarves that were once more tied around her face.
He made his way over to her, stopping a short distance away. "Are you cold?" he asked concernedly.
She jumped, but still did not look at him. Her shoulder muscles tensed and tightened as she slowly allowed her arms to hang loosely by her side. He understood: After last night's conversation, she had no desire to speak with him again. Remembering, however, that she had fallen ill, he opened his mouth.
"Are you feeling well?"
At this, he saw her hands curl into her fists; she also seemed to recoil from him, as though protecting herself—but why? He knew that it was somehow related to Haldor, but what was it exactly?
Just then, there was a rustling sound behind him, and he turned to see Aragorn standing up. The Ranger's grey eyes swept to the west, where already the sky was welcoming the first rays of golden light, and then to the east, where darkness still clung like a leech to the White Mountains. A small frown appeared on his face; Legolas knew his friend much desired to travel to Gondor, but it would be long before that happened.
Gúthwyn walked past him, always keeping herself at a five-foot distance, and approached Aragorn. "When, do you think, will we arrive on the plains of Rohan?" she questioned, her back firmly turned towards Legolas.
Aragorn glanced at her, observing the reappearance of the scarves. "As soon as we may," he responded. "For that will bring us closer to Isengard, which is where the Orcs were most likely commanded to take Merry and Pippin.
Legolas saw Gúthwyn's back stiffen. "You do not seriously intend to challenge Saruman the White?" she asked, a strange note in her voice.
Aragorn sighed. "I hope it will not come to that. It is my aim to catch up with them before then."
Legolas shook his head. In the grim night watches, he had listened to the fading rumor of the creatures within the earth. The hunters had been left behind. "I know in my heart they have not rested this night. Only an eagle could overtake them now."
"Nonetheless," Aragorn began, casting a glance as he did so to the form of a still-sleeping Gimli, "we will still follow as we may." Kneeling down, he reached out and shook the Dwarf by the shoulders. When Gimli blearily opened an eye to the grey dawn Aragorn exclaimed, "Come! We must go. The scent is growing cold."
Stifling a yawn, Gimli muttered, "But it is still dark." Sitting up, he added, "Even Legolas on a hill-top could not see them until the sun is fully up."
Legolas' eyes narrowed. "I fear they have passed beyond my sight from hill or plain, under moon or sun."
"We shall never catch them now," Gúthwyn spoke, her voice dark. "This whole chase has been hopeless from the beginning, and will like as not end in our own deaths."
With a bite of impatience in his tone, Aragorn replied, "I do not recall asking you for your opinion."
He had said the wrong thing. Gúthwyn stepped forward, every muscle in her body taut with anger. "I am not your slave," she hissed, "to be summoned or dismissed at will!"
"Yet you are my prisoner," Aragorn answered bluntly, "and it is up to me to decide your fate. Think well on that."
To the surprise of all, Gúthwyn strode forward and grabbed the Ranger's left arm, pulling him close so that they were but inches apart.
"Listen, Aragorn," she ground out, "and heed my words. In your hands I may be, but you hold no power over me, and do not expect to. I will not respond to your every beck and call, for I am neither your slave nor your servant. And if I ever hear those words escape your lips, I care not whether the Valar themselves stand in my way: I will smite you, and rid Middle-earth of your presence!"
Legolas' eyes widened at the last words, and Gimli's mouth had opened, but Aragorn did not even blink. "You are bold," he said to Gúthwyn. "I could slay you where you stand, with your own sword if I willed it, and yet you threaten to do the same, though your only weapon is a knife."
"But you would not kill me," Gúthwyn retorted, "for I am a woman. Furthermore, you still would learn more information from me, would you not?"
"Verily, I would," Aragorn confirmed. "Though I may say that to my seven and eighty years upon this earth you seem but a child, and it is against my will to harm the young as well as the women." With that he wrenched his arm out of Gúthwyn's grasp and brushed past her; she did not move, but stood silent, clenching and unclenching her fists.
Beside Legolas, Gimli let out a sigh of relief. The Elf too was glad that it had not come to blows between Aragorn and Gúthwyn. For the life of him, he could not foresee how that would have turned out. His friend had devoted many years to achieve his skill with a sword, but it was uncanny how naturally and well Gúthwyn fought.
Glancing around, he saw that Aragorn had fallen to the ground as though in a swoon. Gimli stared openly at the Man, but Legolas knew him well enough to see that he was merely listening for the Orc's footsteps. However, the Ranger remained on the ground for so long with his eyes closed that Legolas began to wonder if he had not fallen asleep. Dawn was giving away to a golden morning; when this transformation was complete, Aragorn rose.
"The rumor of the earth is dim and confused," he spoke, his eyes weary with toil. "Nothing walks upon it for miles. Faint and far are the feet of our enemies." Legolas heard Gúthwyn sigh audibly at this, but Aragorn made no sign that she had done anything. "Loud are the hooves of the horses," he told them.
Gúthwyn swiftly looked at him. "They are nearing us?" she questioned, reaching up to tighten her scarves.
Aragorn shook his head. "It comes to my mind," he began, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, "that I heard them, even as I lay on the ground in sleep, and they troubled my dreams: Horses galloping, passing in the West."
"Something is afoot in the Mark," Gúthwyn muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She turned to face the lands of Rohan, and he could see that her eyes were worried. A vulnerable quality shadowed them; when she at last looked away, they were glistening sadly.
"But now," Aragorn continued, and Legolas mentally shook himself, "they are drawing ever further from us, riding northward. "I wonder what is happening in this land!"
Legolas looked to the west. With every minute they spent conversing, the Hobbits drew closer to Isengard. "Let us go!" he exclaimed.
The journey of the Three Hunters and their prisoner continued. Gúthwyn ran once again between Legolas and Gimli, taking care to remain nearer to the Dwarf. Before them, a dazzling morning sun sparkled in their eyes, passing even through the black fabric of her scarves. She found herself regretting putting them on—the world had seemed so fresh and colorful without them, as though it had been newly remade.
As they traveled through the endless expanse of alternating hills and grasslands, Aragorn frequently stopped them in order to listen for sound of the Uruks. During these pauses, Gúthwyn's mind wandered ahead of her body into the fields of the Mark, always upon a running horse; her own, usually. It had been over seven years since she had ridden Heorot. She wondered if he was still alive; he was not old, so she prayed that no sickness had come to him.
After their third stop that day. Aragorn stood up and yelled down to them. "Hurry!"
Ahead of her, Legolas quickened his pace as the Ranger did. The hill was rocky, and she found the going rough. She stopped short when the Elf turned around, placing a hand on a nearby boulder to steady herself as he looked over her shoulder.
"Come, Gimli!"
Gúthwyn glanced back and saw the Dwarf scrambling amongst the rocks a little ways below her. As she watched, he slowed his steps, leaning on his axe, and said breathlessly, "Three days and nights' pursuit… Hardly any food, scarcely any rest, and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell!"
The day wore on. Gúthwyn found herself sharing Gimli's grumbling sentiments, though she knew that he would gladly suffer more for Merry and Pippin's sakes. It was a surprise to her when she realized that she would, too. Hammel and Haiweth were not the only ones she cared for, though for no one else had she done so much to protect.
When the sun had passed over their heads, they found themselves running down a steep shoulder of rock and onto a small strip of grass. Aragorn moved forward a few paces before stopping; giving a triumphant cry, he sank to his knees and picked something up from the ground. It glittered against the sun's rays.
"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," she heard him say to Legolas, who had come up behind him. Gúthwyn drew closer and saw that it was the brooch from one of the Hobbits' Elven cloaks, identical to the one that had been stored at the bottom of her pack. "We must be close," Aragorn added, standing up and stowing the sign within the folds of his clothing.
The discovery of the brooch seemed to have lit an unquenchable fire within all four of them. Aragorn pushed them on at a relentless speed, eager to catch up with Merry and Pippin's captors. Legolas and Gimli were propelled by this thought as well; even Gimli did not complain, as was his wont. Gúthwyn, on the other hand, drew strength not from their proximity to the Hobbits, but from the scent of Rohan, getting keener as the sun continued its course.
In the mid-afternoon, Aragorn mounted a low rock wall and paused, staring off into the distance. Legolas followed suit. She could see the Elf standing utterly still, his foot propped up on a rock. Her heart pounding, Gúthwyn ran up to them, and found herself gazing out over an expanse of rolling plains. They stretched farther than her eye could see into the distance, broad and sweeping, utterly glorious in their beauty.
"Rohan," Aragorn breathed. "Home of the Horse-lords."
Gúthwyn felt her heart skip several beats. After seven years of exile, after slavery in Isengard and merciless humiliation in Mordor, after countless leagues traveled and journeyed under both moon and sun, after blood shed and tears unnumbered in her eyes, she had returned. She was home.