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 Seventeen:
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 Seventeen

The ride to Helm's Deep was grim. Gúthwyn was in the middle of the guards, next to Tun, but the two of them hardly exchanged a word as the lands flew by. Ahead of her, she could see Théoden's back, stern and forbidding, the owner of which clearly would not forget her latest exploit anytime soon. Without any refugees to slow the group down, they soon arrived at their destination. There, Gúthwyn nearly forgot all of her troubles as she stared in awe at the fortress.

Built by the men of Gondor in years long past, the place had been named after the war hero Helm, who had successfully defended it from the Dunlendings during the Long Winter. Helm's Deep was comprised of the Hornburg, the fortress upon the Hornrock that reared its stone peak against the mountains; the Deeping Wall, extending from the Hornburg to the other end of the valley, its top wide enough for four men to walk alongside each other on it; the Deeping Stream, flowing out from behind the Deeping Wall through a small culvert in its otherwise smooth surface; and finally, the Glittering Caves, glorious in all their splendor.

All of this was by far smaller than Sauron's fortifications in Mordor, but Gúthwyn halted Heorot all the same and gaped at it. If this was to be where she was going to live, for however long until Saruman withdrew his troops from the Mark, she could not have imagined a more exciting place. Even her eyes, nowhere near as keen as Legolas', could see the bustling of activity along the Deeping Wall. A thrill of excitement raced through her.

The guards began moving down the hill they had checked their horses at, and Gúthwyn followed them down into the gorge. It was almost entirely flat, with the exception of the Deeping Stream that they easily forded. Théoden led them towards a long, curved ramp that would bring them into the Hornburg. Everyone in the group could hear the shouts of the people, joyously relieved at the safe return of their king.

Gúthwyn found herself riding up the ramp along with the others, marveling at the sight of the ground falling beneath her. She barely had time to wonder what lay behind the barred doors of the Hornburg before Gamling called, "Make way for Théoden! Make way for the King!"

The doors were pulled open, and less than a second later Gúthwyn had entered the fortress of Helm's Deep. People were hastily parting, clearing a path for their king and his men. Several of them stared at Gúthwyn as she passed, unsure whether or not to believe their own eyes. She herself was amazed at her new surroundings. High walls of stone loomed over her, and when Théoden turned his horse to lead them up a small flight of short stairs, it felt as if there was no end to it. How on Middle-earth could Saruman ever hope to take this place? she wondered. To her, it seemed akin to Isengard: Vast, imposing, and utterly impregnable.

They came onto a landing where a great crowd had gathered. Gúthwyn saw her own sister, running towards them with a worried expression. Éowyn did not seem to see her as she approached Théoden, who was dismounting his horse.

"So few," she said, and though her voice was low Gúthwyn could hear it clearly. "So few of you have returned."

"Our people are safe," Théoden replied, helping a wounded man off of Snowmane. "We have paid for it with many lives."

A frown came over Éowyn's face. "Uncle, I have not seen Gúthwyn since the Wargs attacked."

Now Théoden, too, was frowning. "Do not worry," he said, "for she is here."

Gúthwyn dismounted, and then Éowyn saw her. She felt a horrible twist of guilt as her sister's eyes widened, then looked to her uncle.

"She fought?" Éowyn asked, unable to conceal her resentment. Now, more than anything, Gúthwyn regretted following the men out to defend her people.

"I did not find out until after the battle," Théoden replied, looking sternly at Gúthwyn. "It was not with my permission that she went."

Éowyn no longer appeared as angry as she had a few seconds ago, but disappointment was still on her face. For a moment, her eyes met Gúthwyn's, and she could not long meet her older sister's gaze.

At that moment, however, Gimli approached Éowyn. "My lady," he said, his voice low and grievous.

Gúthwyn looked away. She did not want to see the Dwarf tell Éowyn that Aragorn had perished—she knew how it would affect her sister. Instead, she turned to Théoden. "Uncle," she began, but he was already moving away from her, going to speak with Gamling. Háma had not returned.

"You should help your sister with the food," someone told her, and she glanced over to see Tun dismounting next to her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him, drawing closer as a group of people shuffled their way by her.

"I will report to Théoden, and do what it is he desires of me," Tun replied.

"Do you think there will be a battle?" she wanted to know, searching his eyes anxiously for that which he might lie about, if he did not wish to alarm her.

But there was no deception in his gaze, which met hers evenly as he said, "I do not know. Yet if it comes, rest assured that we will be ready."

He touched her arm briefly before walking away. She watched him go for a time, and then turned to find her sister. It was not hard to spot her: Éowyn was standing utterly still, her hands frozen at her sides. Her face was pale, and trembling lips were opened wide in shock.

"Éowyn?" she asked gently, coming up beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder. Éowyn's horror-stricken eyes focused on her, and in that moment Gúthwyn knew that her sister had loved Aragorn.

Such was Éowyn's grief that neither of them spoke of it. At length, she took a deep breath. "Come," she said, her voice wavering for a brief instant before strengthening. "We will bring the food into the caves. There is little of it, but it will last."

Gúthwyn nodded, relieved that she did not eat as much as most, and followed her sister through the narrow court. It was thronged with people, some of whom were sitting down, grateful to have some rest at last. Others were wandering around, trying to find relatives or friends. Several of them called out to her and Éowyn as they passed, and the two sisters were soon assuring the Rohirrim that Helm's Deep was well-provisioned, should battle befall them, and that no army had of yet been sighted.

They went down a small passageway, and came to a larger opening where a great store of food had been placed. Gúthwyn's heart fell when she saw that, despite the number of barrels and crates, it would not be enough to feed the people for more than a week, no matter how careful they were with their rations.

"How long are they expecting us to last?" she murmured to Éowyn, picking up a basket of apples.

"Théoden does not think Saruman will assault us long, for the Hornburg has never fallen to enemies," Éowyn replied, hoisting a sack of bread over her shoulder. Her face was still white.

The two of them were silent as they moved through the fortress. Éowyn was leading, as Gúthwyn knew next to nothing about the Hornburg, and her way about was certainly not part of that limited knowledge. Ever and anon, they caught sight of Théoden on one of the ramparts, discussing with his guards the best defenses for the Deeping Wall. Legolas and Gimli were always with them. Gúthwyn longed to be up there, instead of carting food back and forth, but in her uncle's eyes she had had enough excitement for the day.

When they entered the Caves, she stopped short and stared around in amazement. They were not called the Glittering Caves for nothing. Everywhere she turned, something was sparkling at her, like countless jewels in a rocky grave. Long extensions of rock hung down or reached up from both the ceiling and the ground, most of them several times bigger than she was.

"This is incredible," she breathed, and despite herself, Éowyn smiled to see her wonder.

"I felt the same when I first came here," she replied. Gúthwyn glanced down, thinking that she had missed that trip as well, and sobered instantly. Éowyn detected her change of mood, and said quickly, "We should keep going."

They made their way to a small corner of the Caves, where a great pile of food had already been started. Adding what they carried to the heap, they turned around and prepared to go back. Occasionally, they encountered one of the refugees, and more reassurances were issued.

In this manner, they spent the next several hours. It was boring beyond anything that she had ever done. Only their brief glimpses of Théoden were of interest, though he never called down to them. More than once, Legolas caught her eye, but she always turned away in fear. Each time she did this, Éowyn gave her a strange look. Yet she did not say anything, and for that Gúthwyn was grateful. She did not want to have to explain her terror of the Elf; the full reasons were too humiliating. The abridged version she had given was satisfying enough, with the added bonus of no one knowing what she had truly done.

At one point, as she and Éowyn were coming back to get more food, they heard a great commotion in the court. "What do you suppose that is?" Gúthwyn asked, her walk instinctively speeding up. She glanced at her sister, but Éowyn merely shrugged. Ever since the news of Aragorn's death, she had hardly spoken a word. It was probably for the best, Gúthwyn found herself thinking. Even though she missed the Ranger, and wished they had known each other better, she would not have liked to see her sister's face when she learned of Arwen, still waiting faithfully back at Rivendell.

When they returned to the dwindling food pile, they saw a young boy standing there, at a loss for what to do. He was about thirteen or so, and Gúthwyn thought he looked familiar, though he would have only been half her age when she was captured. There were tear streaks on his face, and when they came closer he tried to hide them by turning away.

"Haleth?" Éowyn asked gently, and the boy stiffened. "The son of Háma," she muttered to Gúthwyn. A cold chill washed over the younger sister as the boy faced them once more. He had wiped his eyes, but the tears were still there, in the hollow pupils of one who has just lost a parent. Gúthwyn prayed that no one had told them what his father's corpse looked like—she had seen it just before the Rohirrim left to go to Helm's Deep. It was only recognizable by the flaming red hair. Tun had told her the story in whispers at the beginning of their ride, and it was as terrible as the mangled body that would soon serve as a hungry Warg's dinner.

Éowyn gave Haleth a soft smile. "How are you?" she inquired, and he shrugged morosely, sitting down on a barrel and slumping over. Gúthwyn could see the tears threatening to fall, and wondered if it had been that noticeable when she herself was in such a position.

Haleth suddenly straightened, staring at Gúthwyn. "I heard that you fought," he told her. "What happened to my father? They say only that he is dead." As he spoke, his face contorted, and Gúthwyn glance down at her hands to give him some time to compose himself. When she looked up again, his eyes were dry, but a new tear streak was on his cheeks.

She sighed. It would be one thing if Háma had fallen defending the king, or fighting valiantly against the Wargs. But that had not happened. "Do you remember when he went scouting with Gamling?" she asked Haleth, and he nodded.

"Gamling has returned," he replied, frowning.

Once more, Gúthwyn sighed, hating to be the bearer of grim news. "They were taken at unawares by the Wargs. Gamling was behind your father, and managed to escape, but Háma…" She trailed off.

"W-Will the Wargs return?" Haleth asked, his voice wavering violently before he could rear it under control. Gúthwyn exchanged glances with Éowyn, and then nodded.

"I am sorry," she whispered, her heart twisting for this poor boy.

Haleth really did begin crying then. The sobs shook his body as buried his face in his hands and wept, regardless of his surroundings. Hesitantly, Gúthwyn sat down on another barrel beside him, wrapping a comforting arm about his shoulders. Haleth cried even harder, past the point of trying to conceal it. "Your father was a brave man," she murmured consolingly, putting her head close to his and speaking into his ear. "I did not know him as long as I would have liked to, but his prowess on the field has been surpassed by few."

Such words mean little to a boy who has just lost his father, but Gúthwyn said them all the same. Gradually, Haleth's tears began to slow. She looked up at Éowyn, hoping to surreptitiously ask where the boy's mother was, but her sister's attention had been diverted. She was gazing to a set of doors that led to the inner court, and thus to the tower. Before them stood Legolas, speaking with… Aragorn.

Gúthwyn's breath caught in her throat, but at that moment Haleth stopped crying. She looked back at him, and he seemed embarrassed for letting her see his weakness.

"Do not be ashamed," she told him kindly, standing up and patting him on the shoulder. "Everyone grieves in their life."

"Thank you, my lady," Haleth said quietly to the stone floor.

"Please," she answered, "call me Gúthwyn."

He nodded, and she asked, "Where is your mother?"

Haleth scanned the crowd. His eyes soon focused on someone. "I see her now," he replied, and with a small bow he had left her. Gúthwyn did not watch him go, for she hastily turned back to where she had seen Aragorn. He was still there, and not a hallucination. She felt her mouth drop open. This was one persistent Ranger. How had he managed to survive falling off of a cliff and into a raging river? And how had he gotten to Helm's Deep? Hasufel had perished in the battle.

As she watched Aragorn and Legolas, the Elf extended his hand, opening it to reveal the necklace. Aragorn's eyes widened at the sight of it, and the tenderness with which he took it was as a whip cracking on Éowyn's heart. Gúthwyn could see her sister stiffen as the Ranger took his token of Arwen's love, as she knew it must have been, and wished more than anything that Éowyn had not had to see that.

Aragorn went past Legolas then, going into the inner court, and Éowyn did not wait another second before all but running to the Elf. Gúthwyn followed at a slower pace, her reluctance to come near Legolas battling with her desire to know what had happened to Aragorn.

"How did Lord Aragorn survive?" her sister was asking as Gúthwyn drew nearer. Legolas' eyes briefly met hers before he answered.

"Brego found him, and brought him back."

"Brego?" both she and Éowyn echoed, and Gúthwyn whirled around to see her cousin's horse being led away by a stableboy. There was no stable at Helm's Deep, of course, but there was a broad room filled with hay somewhere that the horses were put into. Yet Éowyn had told her, during the beginning of the journey to the fortress, that at Théodred's death Brego had gone wild. Eventually, on the advice of Aragorn, they had set him free.

When she turned back to Legolas, he was nodding. "And now he has gone to speak with the king—he says he has tidings."

Gúthwyn wanted to hear them. "Come!" she said to Éowyn. "Théoden might try to protect us, but I for one do not want the wool to be pulled over my eyes. I would know the truth about what is going on in this land."

"Perhaps you should wait," Legolas started, stepping forward. Instinctively, she recoiled.

"I did not ask your opinion," she snarled, and both the Elf and her sister blinked.

"Yes, let us go," Éowyn said at length, breaking the awkward silence. "Come."

Éowyn began leading her towards the doors; much to Gúthwyn's disappointment, Legolas followed. She quickened her pace to catch up with her sister. "What do you think Aragorn's news might be?" she asked.

"I do not know," Éowyn replied, but her eyes were sparkling with anticipation. The two sisters passed through the inner court, where only the king's guard and some of the soldiers were. None of the men made to stop them as they went, and Gúthwyn was secretly relieved to see that Tun was not there. In any other circumstance she would have welcomed his company, but she had quickly garnered the impression that her champion was a fiercely protective man.

For a brief instant they paused in front of the doors leading into the tower, which were partly open. Two guards were patrolling in front of it, but as soon as they recognized them they bowed them through. Éowyn and Gúthwyn slipped inside to stand within a stone arch that had been built into the wall, while Legolas moved forward to join Aragorn and Gimli. The Ranger alone marked that two women had entered the tower.

There had been a lull in the conversation, and Gúthwyn took the moment to glance around her. They were in a hall, nowhere near as big as that in Meduseld. Nor was it covered in paintings of famous Riders' deeds, the most notable of which depicted Eorl the Young, coming down from the North to join the Battle of the Fields of Celebrant. There was a smaller throne, not raised upon a dais, but set back into the far wall. In one thing was it similar to Meduseld: There was very little light. The few rays of sun coming through were from dusty windows set high above, leaving large shapes on the stone floor. Torches had been lit in numerous brackets on the walls, but they only served to lengthen the shadows. Aside from the throne, the only furniture in the hall was four tables, one of which was currently being used to plan strategies: She could see the maps on its wooden surface.

At that moment, Théoden's voice rang throughout the hall, echoing off the stone. "A great host, you say?" he asked, turning to look at Aragorn. The Ranger was standing, as was his wont, with his arms folded across his chest, but at the king's words he let them hang by his side.

"All Isengard is emptied," he replied, and for half a second glanced at Gúthwyn and Éowyn. Gúthwyn saw her sister straighten.

"How many?" Théoden wanted to know. Gúthwyn imagined five thousand, perhaps, at most. When she had left Isengard, there had been hundreds of Uruk-hai within the Nan Curunír, but Saruman could have easily increased that number tenfold. The Rohirrim would be vastly outnumbered: There were only a few hundred of them.

Yet she was not prepared for Aragorn's answer. "Ten thousand strong at least."

Gúthwyn felt the breath leave her body. Ten thousand? How could that be possible? How could ten thousand Uruks live in Isengard, alongside all the slaves? Surely Aragorn had overestimated Saruman's forces. She exchanged worried looks with Éowyn.

"Ten thousand?" Théoden echoed, taking a step toward Aragorn and not seeming as if he wanted to believe him. Legolas and Gimli were watching the conversation with narrowed eyes, and mouths slightly open.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose," Aragorn confirmed, and Gúthwyn found herself leaning heavily against the wall. "To destroy the world of Men."

Théoden's face paled as Aragorn continued. "They will be here by nightfall."

Nightfall! That was less than a few hours away—fighting here, in Helm's Deep. Gúthwyn's mind was working furiously. The women and children would be sent to the caves, in hopes of taking the mountain passes out should the battle be lost. Éowyn would be in charge of leading them, as she had been taught all of these cautions… but Gúthwyn would be forced into the caves with her, instead of defending her people.

She made her resolution at the same time Théoden made his. "Let them come," the king declared, striding forward to the doors. Gúthwyn's lips curled into a smile.