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 Fifteen:
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. Also, I know nothing of sword fighting, so some of the upcoming scenes may seem ludicrous to experts. Feel free to point out any blatant errors. Finally, just an advance warning: Lately, my chapters have been bouncing back and forth between extremely long or rather short. This one happens to be ridiculously short.

Chapter Fifteen

Later that day, Théoden allowed the refugees to halt for an hour, in order to regain their strength and have something to eat. The Rohirrim were a hardy folk, but most of the women and children could not go on for an entire march, especially when they were carrying all the food and clothing that was able to fit in their packs. The smell of food filled the air as the Eorlingas prepared meals for themselves, and the young were running around in excitement.

Gúthwyn was sitting against a small boulder, watching the children play with each other miserably. In her mind's eye, she was imagining Hammel and Haiweth among them, living out the life that they deserved. But thanks to her, their death warrants had been signed. Before too much time had passed, she knew Sauron would order their execution, if he had not done so already. Tears did not come at this knowledge: A cold, numb feeling swept over her whenever she thought of them.

For several long moments, she gazed at the children, sorely envying their mothers. Hammel and Haiweth had certainly not come from her womb, nor had they been weaned from her breast, but she was their protector. How much had she given over the years to ensure their safety? Nothing that she wished to think of right now, and nothing that she ever could think of without feeling sick revulsion crawling through her stomach.

As she sat there, a little boy tripped over his own feet and crumbled to the ground, immediately bursting into tears. Gúthwyn half-rose, but the child's mother had scooped him up almost instantly, hugging him and kissing him. Soft whispers fell from her lips as she rocked the boy back and forth, gradually calming him down. Though he was no longer crying, he elected to remain in his mother's arms. A smile was on the woman's face as she held her child to her tightly.

Gúthwyn could not watch them anymore. She turned away, instinctively reaching out for Borogor's pack. Opening it, she reached to the bottom and retrieved Beregil's book, holding it tightly as she curled against the rock. To the others, especially Théoden and Éowyn, she would look odd, but as long as they did not question her about what she was reading she did not care.

However, she had made a huge mistake in attempting to make her way through "The Warrior" in such a crowd of people. Memories of Borogor started swarming over her, and try as she might she could not rid herself of them. Her mind started flashing back to her seventeenth birthday, when Haldor had taken Hammel on a walk. She had been overwhelmed in terror as they left, and fainted. Borogor had carried her back, and was the first to reassure her that nothing had happened to Hammel.

Even when Hammel had returned, claiming that what he and Haldor had done was a secret, Borogor had cautioned her against going to the Elf's tent. "I fear you are falling into a trap," he had said, and he was right. She had gone to see Haldor, and in exchange for information the Elf had pinned her to the wall and taken her right then and there.

Gúthwyn snapped the book shut. Ever since she was captured, her birthdays had been nothing short of horrible. She had turned thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen in Isengard, not speaking of the day to anyone. On her sixteenth birthday, Saruman had told her that he was sending her to Mordor. The next year, Haldor had mercilessly humiliated her. Her eighteenth year, she had forgotten about it; Borogor had been the one who remembered, and wished her a happy birthday. But less than an hour later, Haldor had called her to his tent. And when she turned nineteen, she had left Mordor—left Hammel and Haiweth.

"Gúthwyn?"

She glanced up, and found herself staring into a steaming bowl of foul-smelling soup. Éowyn's hand was holding it.

"No, thank you," she said, suddenly feeling queasy. "I am not hungry."

"You did not have anything today," Éowyn replied, looking concerned. Her eyes flicked onto Beregil's book.

Hoping to distract her sister, Gúthwyn scanned the camp, searching for someone who seemed hungry. Her gaze fell on Aragorn. "There are others who need it more than I do; besides, I am not hungry. Perhaps Aragorn, Legolas, or Gimli would appreciate some." She knew that Éowyn would seek out the Ranger, rather than the Elf or Dwarf.

"Are you sure?" Éowyn asked, though her eyes were on Aragorn. Not for the first time, Gúthwyn wondered if her sister's heart was turned to him.

"Yes, I am," Gúthwyn said; yet a strange emptiness came over her as she watched Éowyn make her way to Aragorn, and it had nothing to do with hunger.

"I have been looking for you!" A cheerful voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She craned her neck up and saw Tun moving towards her. The two of them had separated when they made camp, as Théoden had wished to speak with his guards.

"Hello," she said, feeling a smile on her face. His good mood was infectious as he sat down beside her. She noted that he kept a certain distance between them; but if most other people had been so close to her, including Théoden, she would have inched away.

For the next half hour she talked with him. Only once did he inquire about Beregil's book. When she shrugged and put it back in her bag, he also shrugged, and did not press the issue. That was the sole awkward moment in their conversation; the rest of the time, she enjoyed herself immensely. When the refugees began preparing to move on again, the two of them made to stand up. He got to his feet first, and offered her his hand. After a brief second's hesitation, she took it.

As she was pulled up, she happened to glance over to her left. Legolas was only a few yards away, shouldering his bow and staring off into the distance. His profile was an exact match to Haldor's. Instinctively, she shuddered, and her grip on Tun's hands tightened without her noticing.

"Are you all right?" Tun questioned. Gúthwyn started, then let go of him and took a step back.

"I-I am sorry," she stuttered, taking a quick look at Legolas. "I-I am fine."

He followed her gaze. "The Elf?" he inquired in a low voice, narrowing his eyes.

She did not want to admit her fear of Legolas, but she reluctantly replied, "We are not the best of friends."

"Has he been bothering you?" Tun was swift to ask.

Gúthwyn shook her head, yet could not help picturing his cold eyes, piercing as Haldor's, burning into her and keeping her rooted to where she stood…

"Let us go," she said abruptly, turning away from Legolas. Mercifully, he had not noticed her. And I pray it will remain that way.

As another one of Tun's stories was brought to an outrageous conclusion, Gúthwyn could not help but snicker at how absurd the tale was. "Tun," she said, nearly doubling over. She could hardly believe she was this happy. "Tun, if I hear anymore, I shall die of laughter!"

He pretended to look offended. "Whatever for, my lady?" he asked, mock indignation spreading across his features.

Gúthwyn was about to respond when a slim figure passed them. Her insides twisted as she caught sight of Legolas' golden hair, billowing behind him as he walked. She lost track of what Tun was saying, her hands shaking and her heart skipping several beats. Legolas was moving ahead of the Rohirrim, looking as though he intended to replace two of the guards, who had been scouting the trail ahead. Again, she found herself strongly reminded of Haldor, and could not help but shiver.

"Gúthwyn?" Tun's voice brought her back to the present, and she wrenched her eyes away from the Elf.

"Sorry," she murmured, glancing at the ground, not wanting him to see the fear that she knew would be reflected in her face.

"Are you alright?" he pressed. She nodded, and at length looked back at him, seeking to divert his attention from her mood.

"When do you think we will arrive at Helm's Deep?" she asked.

He gazed at the road before of them, his eyes following Háma and Gamling, who were riding past Legolas to scout. The refugees' earlier stop was a few hours past—Gúthwyn had been rather amused when Éowyn had presented Aragorn with some absolutely foul looking soup; yet she had neglected to warn him of her sister's cooking, a change in which she had correctly doubted. The incident was firmly imprinted in her mind. "I think—"

At that moment, a low, familiar-sounding growl met her ears. Gúthwyn stiffened as she heard it, for it sent plumes of nervousness rising within her, though she knew not why.

"What was that?" she wondered aloud.

Tun's hand curled tighter around his sword as more noises came. All of the Rohirrim could now hear it. Men, women, and children alike were glancing around anxiously, trying to determine the source. Aragorn, who had been walking with Éowyn, now strode forward and began climbing a sloping hill that had kept Háma and Gamling out of view. On the top of the hill Legolas had been standing not a minute ago, but now he was gone.

A sharp spike of fear assailed her as the faint sound of a man's cries was heard. Now Tun was moving forward, along with the other guards. "Tun!" she exclaimed, and he turned to her for a brief second.

It was then that Aragorn came running down the hill, his cloak flying out behind him as he sprinted towards Théoden. The king rode out to meet him. "What is it? What do you see?" Théoden demanded. There was more growling.

"Wargs!" Aragorn yelled. "We are under attack!"

Gúthwyn froze.