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 Seven:
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 Seven

"It cannot be," breathed Aragorn. Yet it was. Before them stood Gandalf the Grey—but no longer the Grey, as he was robed in pure white, and his hair was straighter. No small resemblance did he bear to Saruman, though Gúthwyn noticed that when his robes moved, they remained white, rather than befuddle the observer with an unexpected myriad of colors.

"Forgive me!" Legolas said, lowering his bow and sinking to his knees in reverence. With a similar expression of guilt and awe on his face, Gimli followed suit. "I mistook you for Saruman," the Elf continued.

Gúthwyn did not bow, but she was equally amazed by the sudden return of their old guide. Gandalf's keen gaze flicked onto her.

"I am Saruman," he replied, and Gimli looked up at him in confusion, "or, rather, Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell," Aragorn said, seeming as if he could only half-believe that which was before his eyes.

Gandalf nodded, and his face was grim. "Through fire, and water. On the lowest dungeon, on the highest peak I fought him: The Balrog of Morgoth."

Gúthwyn recalled the fiery spirit they had encountered in Moria, the one who had dragged Gandalf down with him into the abyss. She shivered, not liking to relive memories of that dark place. It had been as black as death in there, black as her three-day stay in Haldor's tent.

She became aware that Gandalf was still speaking, and hastened to listen to him. "…every day was as long as a life age on the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again."

The others were gaping at him in wonder. It seemed that there were many surprises they had yet to uncover.

Gandalf continued. "I have been sent back until my task is done." With his staff in his hands, and his newly straightened posture, he appeared as a great king, but even more powerful than the Gondorians of old. Gúthwyn knew then that she would have no chance of escaping the Three Hunters to find the Ring. Her eyes hardened.

"Gandalf," Aragorn whispered, staring at his old friend with an odd expression on his face.

"Gandalf?" the wizard repeated. His gaze turned thoughtful. "Yes, that was what they used to call me."

She was suddenly feeling not so inclined to rejoice at Gandalf's arrival. Hammel and Haiweth were still in Mordor, and because of the wizard, she now had no chance of completing the task that would guarantee their freedom—and their lives. Her heart was pounding strangely, and for a moment she felt faint. She sat down on a boulder then, eliciting curious glances from the others, but could not speak in response.

"Gandalf," Gimli said at length. A broad grin was spreading across his face.

"I am Gandalf the White," Gandalf declared, "and I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

He stepped lightly off the rock. "Come with me!" he said.

Aragorn and Gimli started to follow him as the wizard made to go back where they had come from, but Legolas held back: Gúthwyn still had not moved.

She could only look at him numbly as he said, "Gúthwyn, come."

Something stirred in her mind, and she tried to do as he bid, but her legs were not cooperating anymore.

Two hands were placed on her arms, pulling her up to her feet. "Are you alright?" he asked concernedly. Over his shoulder, she could see the others watching them. Aragorn was muttering something to Gandalf.

To her horror, she felt her eyes fill up with tears. Before Legolas' keen gaze could see them, she wrenched away, and nearly stumbled as she went to the wizard. "I am sorry," she apologized, and he looked at her with sharp eyes. It was easy to see what Aragorn had managed to tell him.

"Gúthwyn of Rohan," Gandalf murmured, and she watched him nervously. Yet he said merely, "Soon you will see your people again."

"We met an éored while we were running through the plains," Aragorn replied as they began striding through the forest. Gúthwyn found herself working to keep the pace, especially as her muscles did not want to move; furthermore, her mind was mulling over Gandalf's words, which had been mysterious. Did that mean…? "Éomer—"

"Éomer, son of Éomund, the nephew of the king?" Gandalf interjected. Once more, his eyes flicked over to Gúthwyn.

"Yes," Aragorn confirmed. "It could be no other."

The trees they passed by were pressing in on them menacingly, but Gúthwyn was paying close attention to Gandalf's speech and did not heed them.

"So he has been exiled," the wizard was saying. "A grievous mistake, I fear, but there is nothing to be done about it."

She did not want to be reminded of her brother's banishment from Rohan.

Gandalf sighed. "One stage of your journey is over," he said, still pushing them at the same swift pace. "Another begins. War has come to Rohan, and we must ride to Edoras with all speed."

Gúthwyn suddenly choked, and drew in a painful breath. "E-Edoras?" she stuttered, praying that she had not heard him right.

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed; just behind him, Aragorn's head turned to glance at her strangely.

"Edoras?" Gimli repeated, sounding just as surprised as she was. "That is no short distance!"

Edoras… the place where she had grown up… Gúthwyn could not speak for shock. She had not seen the city for nearly eight years. For almost her whole life she had yearned to go back, with a keen desire greater than anything she had known, but now that it came to it, she did not wish to return. If indeed Éowyn was alive, then she would be forced to endure the torture of watching her sister and cousin from afar, never able to reveal herself. If she did, Théoden would know of all that had brought shame upon his house, and would cast her away.

"It goes ill with the king," Aragorn said then, as if he had read her musings.

"Yes, and it will not be easily cured," Gandalf replied, exhaling heavily.

"Éomer said his mind was poisoned." Gúthwyn had recovered long enough to voice a question that had been troubling the back of her thoughts since meeting the éored. "What does he mean by that?"

"You shall see when we get there," Gandalf answered. Gúthwyn felt a rush of impatience come over her. He must not have trusted her with such information; she was willing to bet that Aragorn knew all the tidings of her land, and that if Legolas and Gimli wished to know, they would be told as well.

"Then we have run all this way for nothing?" Gimli asked, sounding downtrodden and weary. "Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here in this horrid, dark, dank, tree-infested—"

He stopped short as a low rumble echoed through the forest. On either side of them, the trees seemed to be shifting angrily; some of their branches were turned towards the Dwarf. Gúthwyn glanced all around her, and shuddered. No wonder all of the women told their children that Fangorn was not a place to go near.

"I mean," Gimli stuttered, trying to fix his mistake, "charming, quite charming… forest."

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn," Gandalf said, seeming to take no heed of the irritated woods. "A great power has been sleeping here for many long years."

The air seemed to be getting thinner. Gúthwyn prayed that they would soon reach the outer boundaries of this forest, as she had no wish to tarry in here longer than necessary.

"The coming of Merry and Pippin," Gandalf continued, nimbly stepping over a rock, "will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

Gúthwyn did not understand what he meant by those words, and neither, apparently, did Aragorn. "In one thing you have not changed, my friend," the Ranger said now, leaning closer to Gandalf.

The wizard made an inquiring noise.

"You still speak in riddles."

Both of them chuckled at this, yet Gúthwyn still felt at a loss. Learn to get used to it, she told herself. She highly doubted that the others would be telling her much, now that she was revealed to be a servant of the Enemy. It was what she deserved, she knew, but to be so isolated pained her heart—especially when memories of Borogor resurfaced.

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days," Gandalf spoke than, jolting her out of her thoughts. "The Ents are going to wake up… and find that they are strong."

"The Ents?" Gúthwyn echoed in amazement. She had heard of the creatures, of course: Trees that walked and spoke like humans, although their speech was lengthy and confusing. Théoden, and sometimes Théodred, had told her of them, but as she grew older she stopped believing in their existence. It seemed that she had been proved wrong, once again.

"Yes," Gandalf replied, throwing her a quick glance. "Do not think that just because you learned of them from your mother that they are only legends of long ago!"

Gúthwyn remembered nothing of her mother, but she did not feel like correcting him.

"Strong?" Gimli was more preoccupied by the thought of trees arising as a force to be reckoned with. "Oh, that is good."

"So, stop your fretting, Master Dwarf!" Gandalf admonished him. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe."

Gúthwyn felt a small wave of relief coming over her, though it was minimal. At the moment, she was not especially partial to the Hobbits, who—despite their good natures and intents—had made her goal to free Hammel and Haiweth impossible. Nothing short of a miracle would save the children now.

"In fact," Gandalf continued, oblivious to her increasingly foul mood, "they are far safer than you are about to be!"

She wondered at his words. They were going to Edoras, which was admittedly not as easily defended as Helm's Deep or Dunharrow, the two strongholds of her people, but it was guarded by some of the most valiant warriors she had ever met. And how had Saruman poisoned Théoden's mind, if he was currently in Orthanc, ruling his slaves with a cruel and ruthless hand? There was something wrong in the Riddermark, something that she could not guess at. It left her with a deep feeling of unease.

At length, they emerged from Fangorn Forest. Gúthwyn breathed in the fresh air, exceedingly glad to be out of the stuffy woods. Then she remembered that they had no horses.

"Gandalf," Legolas began, "we sent the horses to the very place we now wish to go, as we thought we would have no need of them. It will be a weary walk!"

The wizard shook his head. "I shall not walk," he replied, lifting two of his fingers to his mouth. "Time presses."

With that, he gave a piercing whistle, one that resounded so keenly in Gúthwyn's ears that she stared open-mouthed at him. Thrice he did so, and as the last echoes of the third call were fading away, she saw upon the distant plains a gleaming white speck. It drew closer, and soon she could hear the thundering of hooves on the ground. Her eyes widened: Never before had she seen a horse move so swiftly, except for…

"That is one of the Mearas," Legolas said, as the brilliantly white creature halted in front of Gandalf. "Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." It was a magnificent horse, with perfectly toned muscles; it was hardly out of breath from its run. As her eyes moved over it in wonder, she realized with a shock that she recognized him. He had belonged to her uncle, though no one had ever succeeded in riding him.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf murmured. "He is the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers."

"How did you…" she began, and the wizard turned to look at her. "No one has ever been able to mount him," she finished in awe, gazing at Shadowfax. "Not even the king himself."

"It was I who caught him," Gandalf answered, "though I will not go so far as to say that I tamed him. Nay, that feat has been accomplished by none."

"Does Théoden know you ride him?" she could not help but ask.

"Indeed. And he will not soon forget it," the wizard said. He looked grim.

At that moment, three more horses came into view over the plains. Gúthwyn's heart leaped as she saw Heorot galloping wildly towards her, even his fast pace nowhere near that of Shadowfax's. Hasufel and Arod were not far behind; when they arrived, they were greeted joyously by their owners.

"They must have met Shadowfax and followed him," Gúthwyn marveled, allowing Heorot to eagerly nuzzle her face. She pet the horse, leaning in close and whispering, "I missed you, my friend."

He whinnied in pleasure before stepping back and turning to the side so that she could mount him. Glancing back at Gandalf, she saw the wizard placing himself easily upon Shadowfax, with not even a saddle beneath him. She blinked; yet even Legolas would not have used one, if Gimli had not been with him.

As the Hunters got onto their horses, Gúthwyn followed suit, feeling much happier with Heorot below her. "Good boy," she murmured, stroking the mane, ecstatic to have him with her.

"And now," Gandalf said, "We ride to Edoras!"

With that, Shadowfax sprang forward. Heorot leapt after him, with Arod and Hasufel bringing up the rear. Like lightning they passed through the plains, their horses mere blurs in the still surroundings. Gúthwyn felt more exhilarated than she had ever been in her life, with the wind whipping her hair, scarves, and cloak wildly backwards. And when the day faded into night, she did not panic, but relished in the cold air slapping at her face. This was where she belonged—this was Rohan.