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 Nineteen:
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 Nineteen

In her journey through the Hornburg, Gúthwyn met hardly anyone. This was due mainly to the fact that she used some of the lesser-known routes that Éowyn had shown her—then, they had made bringing food to the caves easier, as they did not encounter much traffic. Now, she employed them to her advantage, and only passed by one of Théoden's guards.

As soon as she heard footsteps approaching from around the corner, she ducked into a shadowy arch and flattened herself against the wall. Seconds later, the guard walked by her, putting his helmet on as he went. She did not recognize him, but a quick prayer for his well being was sent from her to the Valar nevertheless.

When the guard had disappeared from the passage, she crept forward to the armory, now doubly cautious. All of the men had been ordered there an hour ago, and as there were not many they should have received their weapons by now. But there would no doubt be complications in finding armor, especially as many of the boys were small (to say nothing of Gimli), and some of them might still be readying themselves.

She was within fifteen feet of the armory when its door suddenly opened, nearly bouncing back off of the wall. Hastily, she hid behind a large cluster of crates. The outer court, where the men were to report to Théoden for instructions, was not in such a location that anyone would have to walk by her in order to reach it, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

It was Aragorn who had left the armory, striding out swiftly and disappearing into another passage. He was not going to the outer court; Gúthwyn wondered what was wrong. Only a brief glimpse of his face had she seen, but he was frowning, and his eyes looked troubled. His back disappeared from her view, strong and forbidding even as it faded into the darkness.

A throng of men came out not long after that. It appeared to be all of the army; something must have happened to cause them delay. Not one of them glanced over to where Gúthwyn was hidden as they moved towards the outer court. She saw some boys among them, ones who could not have been that much older than Hammel, and winced to see their terrified faces. A few of them were already struggling under the weight of their armor.

Bringing up the rear of the group were Legolas and Gimli. She cringed as the Elf emerged, and instinctively flattened herself as far against the wall as possible. He did not notice her, however; indeed, he seemed to be preoccupied with something. Neither he nor Gimli spoke to each other, which was odd, as it was near impossible to be next to the Dwarf and not find yourself engaged in a lengthy conversation.

Long after they had gone, Gúthwyn waited, making sure that there were no stragglers left in the armory. Ten minutes passed. Cautiously, she straightened, stepping out from behind the crates. Holding her breath, she edged along the hall, praying that she would not be caught. To have to be sent back to the caves now would be nothing short of a disgrace. She would lose the trust of both her uncle and Éowyn; her sister was the only one she cared about, but she would not risk her anger for anything in the world.

To her immense relief, there was no one in the armory. As quick as she might, she slipped inside it, going to the small pile of leftover armor. She removed her dress, sliding it over her head and stuffing it into Borogor's bag. Before they had left Edoras, she had made sure to be wearing leggings and a tunic beneath it. A little breath that she had not known she had been holding escaped her. Those dresses were certainly stuffy after a time.

For a moment, Gúthwyn stood there, unsure of what armor to choose. She rarely wore it, preferring to fight without restriction, but it would be nothing short of suicide to face an army of ten thousand in only her clothing. A helmet would be needed, at the least. Rooting around in the pile, she at last located one small enough, with the extra bonus of having straps beneath the chin.

Setting it to the side, she attempted to find a hauberk. These were shirts of mail, occasionally edged with leather, that protected the entire torso. The sleeves were rarely full, but they were a great comfort when going out to battle. She had some trouble finding one, as most of the hauberks that she picked up had gaping holes in them. At length, however, she picked out one that was about her size, with only a tiny rent in the stomach area.

Pulling it on over her head, she winced at the extra weight, though it was not as bad as she had imagined. It did not seem to restrict her movement; she waved her arms a few times, and made several pretend strikes with a sword. At the very least, should Théoden order the arrangement of the cavalry, it would not slow down her horse.

Gúthwyn then examined the rest of the pile, but there was nothing to guard her legs from low strikes or skittering arrows. It was probably just as well: She felt far less restricted than she would have if she had worn a pair of greaves or a cuisse. Yet she did grab a pair of tall boots, knowing that her own were too worn to be guaranteed protection. They came nearly up to her knees, and in spite of the looming danger she almost laughed. In terms of foot size, they were a perfect fit for her, which was probably why they had been left behind.

At last, all was done. Gúthwyn of Rohan was ready to go into battle to defend her people. She was ready to fight.

Borogor, tonight I may join you, she thought, leaning against the wall. Soon, she would have to leave to join the army. But I swear, I will go down in honor, no less than yours.

She wanted him with her, and allowed herself a few seconds' indulgence: She let her mind wander back into his arms.

Stay strong, he whispered to her. Show them no mercy.

I promise, she vowed, and sunk even deeper into the embrace.

Then he had tilted her head up, and their eyes met as he leaned closer to her…

Footsteps were heard down the hall, yanking Gúthwyn from her tormented fantasy. Panicking, she all but flung her helmet on her head, and stuffed Borogor's pack into a barrel of broken spears. She was wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and reaching for her sheathed sword when someone entered the armory.

Her heart hammering painfully in her chest, Gúthwyn willed herself not to draw suspicion onto her. Turning, she faced the intruder, and felt faint when she saw that it was Aragorn.

To her shock, however, he did not recognize her. "You should be with the other men," he told her, not even glancing at her face. She saw the same unhappy look in his eyes as had been there earlier.

Nodding—she did not trust her voice to not betray her—Gúthwyn gave a short bow and left the armory. She was terrified that Aragorn would notice something odd about the silent soldier, and call her back to examine her more closely, but he did no such thing. A relieved sigh escaped her as she made her way to the outer court. One obstacle down.

She was just starting to congratulate herself when Legolas and Gimli came into view. Her heart skipped several beats, but they walked right by her. Only Legolas met her eyes, and as she refused to let them show any fear, he was not able to see whom she really was. Yet even when they passed, it was a long time before she let loose the breath that she had been holding.

Eventually, she came into the outer court, where there was a great crowd of men gathered before Théoden. Most of the Rohirrim were already on the battlements, scanning the Deeping-coomb for sight of an approaching army, but these were the ones who had the least experience in war. Many of them were boys.

The king was explaining the defenses that they would use. She saw that he had donned his armor, which was tinted green so as to be easily identifiable by the men in battle. "We do not have enough men," he spoke as she entered, slipping unnoticed behind someone she thought to be a stableboy, "to manage both the Deeping Wall and the Hornburg as well as I would like. But we will make do with what we have, and give Saruman's servants such a fight that it is sung of in thousands of years to come!"

There was a loud roar, and Théoden continued. "They will not overwhelm us without losing ten times as much as we do!"

Shouts of agreement rang throughout the stone. Gúthwyn felt the adrenaline beginning its course in her body; the only thing refraining her from yelling along with the men was her voice.

Théoden had opened his mouth when, suddenly, a clear horn rang out from the valley. They all turned, looking down a flight of stairs and down a curved passage, beyond which the doors into the fortress lay. Nothing were they able to see, but even as they stared, someone yelled, "Open the gates!"

The sound of the gates creaking open met their ears. Some of the boys appeared as though they half-believed it to be a host of Orcs. Gúthwyn's eyes were fixed on the torch-lit passageway, wondering how on Middle-earth could anyone come to their aid at this time—and who.

She did not have long to find out. Their feet made no sound on the stone, but she heard the gasps and murmurings that heralded their approach. And then she, too, inhaled sharply as a great host came up into the outer court. They were all carrying bows that were taller than them and had clad themselves in dark blue, with the sole exception of their leader. He wore a red cloak, and his golden hair was falling loose. Gúthwyn stared at him: It was Haldir of Lothlórien.

To her amazement, and even her fear, the Elven army spread out behind the Elf, slowly filing in. There had to be about two hundred of them, all silent as a cold morning in the mountains.

Théoden went down the stairs, and Haldir came up to him. The Elf gave a small bow, nodding at the shocked king of Rohan. "How is this possible?" her uncle breathed, staring in bewilderment at the Elves.

Gúthwyn stepped closer, threading her way through a few rows of men so that she could see better.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," Haldir replied, and as he spoke the Elves halted. Not one of them moved, nor even appeared to blink. The Rohirrim were gaping at them in open-mouthed astonishment. "An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together."

Théoden's chest was rising and falling unevenly. Gúthwyn felt her own heart thudding weakly against her ribs; her hands were white from curling into fists. She did not know what to think.

At that moment, two figures strode past her: Aragorn and Legolas. Haldir glanced at them, and a smile was upon his face as he said, "We have come to honor that allegiance."

Both the Ranger and the Elf made their way down to the forces from Lothlórien and Rivendell. Aragorn got there first, and greeted Haldir gladly in Elvish. The two of them gave a short bow, but then Aragorn dispensed with the formalities: He pulled Haldir into a bone-crushing embrace. For a few seconds, the Elf froze, but then he returned the gesture.

Gúthwyn watched all of this, not sure whether to be glad or terrified. She could not deny that their numbers would be a great help in the battle, as now they would only be overwhelmed twenty to one, as opposed to thirty-something to one. But she did not think she would be able to fight alongside them without freezing in horror, and that was as sure a way as any to get her killed.

Aragorn separated from Haldir then. "You are most welcome," he said. Legolas stepped forward; he and Haldir gripped each other's arms in the fashion of warriors, much like Cobryn and Lebryn had done after their sparring matches.

Without warning, the Elves' heads all turned in perfect unison towards Haldir. Then they shifted so that they were facing their leader, simultaneously planting their bows on the ground. Not a single Elf moved out of place. Gúthwyn's eyebrows raised, and grudgingly she admitted that they would be a formidable addition to the forces at Helm's Deep.

"We are proud to fight alongside Men once more," Haldir declared.

Théoden stared out at the help that had come, unexpected and unlooked-for, when his people were in dire need. "Today, I place myself into great debt," he said, "but never have I been more happy to do so."

Gúthwyn gazed upon the Elves, and could not help but agree.

For the tenth time in the past minute, Éowyn asked, "Have you seen Gúthwyn?"

The woman in front of her shook her head. "I am sorry, my lady, but I have not. Perhaps she is further down in the caves?"

Éowyn sighed. My lady this, my lady that. "Thank you," she said, turning away. The last she had seen of her sister was her back, fading into the crowd as she ran to retrieve her pack. She did not doubt what it was Gúthwyn wanted: A small, black book that she had often seen her with. Éowyn did not know what was in it, but whenever her sister read it, her face crumpled so that it was painful to look upon. She must have come back by now, as the caves had been sealed about half an hour ago, but Éowyn had missed her.

Just then, Éowyn felt a light tug on her dress. Glancing down, she saw a young boy—he could not have been older than two—staring up at her, a toothy smile on his face.

"Hello," she said, crouching down so that their eyes were level. He stuck a fist in his mouth and beamed, not taking in a word. "Where is your mother, little one?"

The boy giggled, obviously not understanding a single thing that she was saying. Éowyn looked around, but did not see any frantic women searching for a lost child. Once again, she sighed. "Well, I suppose you will have to endure my company for awhile, until I can find your family."

He grinned, and then raised his arms. Éowyn stood and picked him up, placing him awkwardly on her hip. She was not used to little children, and often found herself at a loss for what to do with them. A sword she could wield better than a feeding spoon; conversing with men about politics and warfare was easy, but it was next to impossible to entertain a child.

Yet she felt a strange sense of contentment when the boy leaned against her, burying his face in her chest and reaching up to play with her hair. Wherever Gúthwyn was at the moment, Éowyn could not worry about her. The young one in her arms needed the attention far more than her sister did.

"Now, let us try to find your mother," she whispered to the child, and he tugged happily at her hair.