The Rohan Pride Trilogy

Part Two: Reunions

Book Two

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 Sixteen:
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.

Chapter Sixteen

Within seconds, chaos had erupted. The high-pitched screams of women and children filled the air, resonating horrifically in Gúthwyn's ears. She could not breathe. Her face was paling as she panicked, while her chest rose and fell rapidly in a vain attempt to get some air. Wargs. Here. With gleaming eyes that stared at her, the only things she could see in the darkness…

"Gúthwyn!" She whimpered as someone grabbed her arm; she felt herself being shaken. "Gúthwyn, look at me!"

Her shoulders were gripped painfully, the pressure on her arm simultaneously released, and Tun's dark eyes were pinning hers down. "Look at me!" he repeated. "Find Éowyn, and stay with her! Théoden has told her to lead the people to Helm's Deep."

"W-What about…" He was going to fight them. The Wargs.

"Do not worry about me!" he said, and let go of her. "Find Éowyn!"

With those words, he turned away from her. She watched him as he leapt upon his horse, unsheathing his sword at the same time and holding it expertly in front of him. Not once did he glance back; instead, he rode out to join the gathering guards.

"Gúthwyn, what are you doing?" Someone was yelling at her, and she turned to see Aragorn on Hasufel, pulling up just beside her.

"I-I…" What was she doing? Find Éowyn, Tun had said.

"Move!" he roared at her, and then spurred Hasufel on. Heorot whinnied as the two passed them by, as if he longed to be riding with them as well.

She looked at her horse, and then suddenly she had reached into the saddlebag and pulled out Borogor's cloak. It was on her shoulders in less than a second, and she had mounted Heorot in the next instant. Her unsheathed sword was in her hands almost before she could even blink. What am I doing? she wondered in fright, but Heorot had already started moving forward. At any time, she could have pulled the reins back, and turned to follow the refugees who were now fleeing the area, but her hands refused to cooperate.

Théoden and his men had almost crested the hill when she came up on the rear. Not one of the guards noticed her: All their attention was focused on what lay ahead. A flag rippled in the breeze, hoisted high amongst the spears. Despite her fear, she felt a small thrill of excitement beginning to worm its way into her.

She took one last look at the disappearing refugees. Her sister she could not see among them, but she knew Éowyn was there—she would not disobey a direct order from Théoden.

All the more reason to fight these Wargs, she thought to herself, and turned back to face the approaching animals. She could see them now: Yelping, wild beasts, swarming down the hills, running with a terrifying speed towards the Rohirrim cavalry. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought she would be sick. The old horror was fighting its own battle against her previous exhilaration.

This is your chance to take your justice upon them! To conquer your fears! she reminded herself sternly, just as the horses met Legolas. The Elf had been standing there, firing arrows at the approaching Wargs with his bow from Lothlórien; now she stared, in wide-eyed astonishment, as he gripped Arod's neck and used it to fling himself onto the back of the horse, landing neatly in front of Gimli. He, too, was an experienced rider.

And then a loud cry rang through the air. Théoden had sounded the charge, and now the other men were taking up the call. Ringing metal sounded shrilly in her ears as they all withdrew their swords. Seeing the blades gleaming in the sun, Gúthwyn gulped, knowing that some of their owners would perish on this day.

But even the thought of death could not distract her as the howling of the Wargs grew louder. She was bringing up the rear, and would be the last to face their assault, but any second now the two lines would collide. And when they did…

There was an almighty crash. Seconds later, Gúthwyn could barely tell friend from foe as she was flung into the skirmish. Her heart was pounding in her ribcage as one of the Wargs lunged at her, but no sooner had she started panicking than her arm reached forward and stabbed it right between its eyes. The monster let out a hideous shriek, and she had to duck the swinging sword of its rider.

She wheeled Heorot around, noticing that the steering was not nearly as hard as she had thought it would be. Before the Warg-rider had time to face her, she drove her sword through its back, yanking it out instantaneously. She shuddered when she saw the dark liquid soaking Framwine's blade. Strong friend, she thought, help me smite those whom I have long feared.

The battle continued. Gúthwyn had a near miss when a horse and its rider collapsed right next to her; she took a quick look at the still face beneath the helmet, and was relieved to see it was not Tun. Then she was attacked from the side. She barely had time to move Heorot out of the way before commencing in a short duel with a Warg-rider. Not ten seconds had passed until she had gotten under his guard and slashed across his chest, causing him to fall to the ground in agony.

The Warg was still alive, however, and this gave her more trouble. It kept lunging forward, taxing even the best of her riding abilities as she was forced to pull Heorot back. She had never fought on horse, and she was still getting used to it. For some reason, the greater part of her terror had disappeared upon getting into battle; it was because of this that she managed to lean closer to the beast, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws, and stab her sword right through its mouth.

When she yanked the blade out, she was nearly sick again, but forced herself to regain control of her stomach. Three Wargs had she killed already, and the other guards were doing their job effectively. By now, most of the animals were fleeing, carrying their riders with them—they were clinging to the backs of their creatures.

She caught sight of Arod, and then Legolas not two seconds later. The Elf was dismounting, possibly to go after Aragorn: She had seen a Warg dragging him along as she dispatched of her own, but he had not looked in serious harm, as he was attempting to duel with the rider on top.

When one of the last remaining Wargs attacked her, she reared Heorot up above its snarling head. No one was riding it, so when she came down she only had to worry about the beast. Quickly, before it even knew what had happened, and was still staring upwards where Heorot's hooves had been, she drove her sword through its head, cringing as its yellow eyes fixed hers. The next instant, it had fallen to the ground, dead.

Gúthwyn took a quick look around. Théoden's riders were getting off their horses, beginning to search through the bodies. She had been one of the last few people fighting. Now the Wargs were all gone, except those who lay upon the ground. I killed some of them… they lie there because of me.

Shakily, she dismounted, and the next instant had to cling to Heorot as a wave of powerful nausea swept over her.

"Aragorn!" she heard Legolas called, and turned to see what was happening. Her stomach almost turned over in the process—for a full minute, she had to bend over, one arm curled around her belly. Breathe, she told herself sternly, but her hands were trembling furiously and could not stop. Breathe!

When she finally looked up again, now with a film of cold sweat forming on her face, she saw Legolas standing beside Théoden. The two of them were gazing down over the edge of a cliff, where she knew a rushing river lay. As she watched, Gimli came up to join them. Théoden said something to Legolas, and the Elf turned to stare at him. For a long time, the two of them stood there. At length, the king walked away, coming towards her, though he had not seen her yet.

Hastily, she moved behind Heorot, keeping her face from view. It did not matter: She could not go undiscovered for too long. Both she and her horse were too conspicuous. Wondering what to do now, she glanced down at the ground. Her eyes fell on the Warg; such a hideous stench arose that she choked. Unable to stand, she sunk to her knees, placing both of her hands on the grass. The Warg was not two feet from her.

With a great shudder, she began retching. The very arms that were supporting her wobbled dangerously, and for a moment she nearly collapsed. Vomit spewed from her mouth, staining the green; she winced, and retched even more. When she felt two hands on her shoulders, she knew who they belonged to, and gagged horribly. Fear of the Wargs was now not the only thing that made her body quake in terror.

Eventually, she stopped throwing up. Shakily, she looked up, barely suppressing a cry as Legolas' blue eyes met hers.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned, his face paler than usual. Behind him, Heorot swished his tail.

For a full minute, she could not speak. Her breathing was ragged, and at one point she leaned over to spit the last of the bile out of her mouth. "I…" she trailed off hoarsely, but Legolas' hand was still on her shoulder, and she could not concentrate on what she was saying.

"Gúthwyn!" The two of them glanced up to see Tun standing over them. Even though Legolas lowered his hand then, she groaned.

Tun looked overwhelmed with both anger and relief that she had not perished. "What were you thinking?" he asked as she struggled to her feet. "I told you to find Éowyn!"

She flinched, even more so when he took her shoulders and shook them to get her attention. "Gúthwyn!"

"What is going on here?" A stern voice rang out. Before Gúthwyn could remove herself from Tun's grip, Théoden marched over, followed closely by the surviving members of his guard. He stopped short when he saw Gúthwyn.

Gimli joined the group at that point, and he, too, seemed stunned. The rest of the Rohirrim were exchanging uneasy looks.

"Gúthwyn," Théoden said at last, his voice low and trembling, his eyes flashing angrily, "What are you doing here?"

Everyone was staring at her. Tun had let go and was standing off to the side, but she could feel his piercing gaze on her, and inwardly she winced at the scrutiny.

"Do not make me repeat myself," Théoden said. "What are you doing here?" He was actually shaking in fury.

She could not say anything, except: "I killed four of them."

"That is not the point!" he snarled. "You could have died, you could have been wounded—"

"But none of those things happened!" she retorted, slightly stung that he did not think her capable of defending herself. "I know how to fight!"

"Your sister knows how to fight!" Théoden replied. "But I made her stay with the people! Tun!"

Her friend started.

"Why did you not tell her to stay with Éowyn?"

"He did," Gúthwyn replied hastily, not wanting Tun to get in trouble for something she had done on her own. "Twice."

"Then why did you decide not listen to him?" Théoden nearly yelled, taking a step closer to her. "Do you think this a game? Good men have died today, Gúthwyn, yet you flung yourself heedlessly into the peril! Did you not think at all of what your sister and I would have gone through, had you fallen?"

A rush of hot, boiling rage came over her as Théoden scolded her like a child in front of the others. It was because of her that four Wargs lay dead on the ground. But she was being chastised for her deeds!

"I am fully aware that this is not a game, my lord," she growled, her hands curling into fists. "I am not a naïve twelve-year-old anymore!"

"I swore to your mother," Théoden began, seeming to forget the guards that were watching the scene unfold with open mouths, "I swore to Théodwyn, upon her deathbed, that I would protect you!"

"Then why were you sitting idly on your throne," Gúthwyn demanded, "when I needed your protection the most?"

The instant the words slipped through her lips, she regretted saying them. Théoden looked as though he had been slapped. His face turned pale, and she saw his eyes widen in horror. There was a collective intake of breath from the guards.

She could not believe she had said that to her uncle. He had not deserved it. "I-I am sorry," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. "I did not mean—"

"Get on the horse," Théoden said, but he was not angry: On the contrary, his shoulders were slumped, and he appeared more tired than ever.

Gúthwyn did not move. "I—"

"Gúthwyn, do it," he ordered, and she did not dare disobey him. Under the shocked gaze of everyone else, she turned to mount Heorot. Then she stopped, realizing something.

"Where is Aragorn?" she asked, glancing at Legolas.

His face was full of grief, and before she had time to register what that meant she saw that he clutched something in his hand. Slowly, he opened it up to reveal a necklace, the very one that she had seen Aragorn wear on the day of their departure from Rivendell. Gúthwyn felt her breath catch in her throat.

"He fell," Legolas said, and his voice was choked with sadness such as she had never heard in the Elf.

Her head twisted wildly around to look at the group of people surrounding her, needing to ascertain for herself that the Ranger was not there. "Dead?" she gasped when she did not see him, and looked to Théoden for confirmation.

The king said, grimly, "A Warg took him over the cliff."

Gúthwyn felt her face turn white as she swiveled around, staring at the place where Aragorn had taken his fall. Just before the edge lay a Warg-rider, presumably the owner of the Warg who had been the Ranger's doom. Her eyes traveled over the countless battle scars, noting how he alone of the riders did not have full protection, and then remembered that cruel face leering at her from the darkness…

She lunged for Sharkû, but Legolas caught her before she had gone more than a foot. "He is dead," the Elf said as she struggled against him. His grip on her arm was too tight, and at length she gave up.

"Let go of me!" she snarled, angry at herself for being so powerless against him.

"He has told us all that he knew," Legolas answered, though he quickly released her and stepped a respectful distance away. "This was in his hand." He held up the necklace.

For a long time, she looked at it. Aragorn had never been a close friend, and he had interrogated her cruelly, but he had merely wanted to do what was right. A great burden was on him, and she had only added to it with her troubles. Now, she sorely wished that she had gotten to know him better.

Suddenly filled with sorrow, she turned away from Legolas. Théoden was watching her. "I do not want to repeat myself," he said, pointing half-heartedly at Heorot. "Aragorn has gone to the halls of his fathers, but we must make haste to Helm's Deep. We are leaving the dead behind."

Gúthwyn made to follow his commands, her stomach churning at the thought of those unfortunate Rohirric men who would never receive a proper burial, and instead be eaten by scavenging Wargs when the beasts were brave enough to return. As she put a hand on Heorot and prepared to mount them, Tun's sympathetic gaze met hers. She felt foolish now for riding out to fight with the men, when she was bound to have been discovered, and looked away.