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 Twenty:
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 Twenty

The air was chilly with anticipation. Gúthwyn shifted ever so slightly, tensing and loosening her muscles. She was standing on the edge of the Deeping Wall, closest of those arrayed there to the Hornburg, soon to be fighting next to those with whom she would never have done so… the Elves.

Her own people had been arranged on the Hornburg. There were two different levels, each overlooking the Deeping-coomb. Théoden was on the innermost circle, surrounded by the royal guard. Should the fortress ever be breached, he would be the last to see the fighting. It was for the best, since Rohan now had no heir to the throne, but she was rather disgruntled that he was not leading his people into battle.

Gúthwyn, for her part, had snuck away from the Eorlingas in the confusion of assembly, and headed out onto the Deeping Wall. She was so close to the Hornburg that only someone looking directly down from above her would be able to see her. All of this was to limit the chances of anyone recognizing her, though when the battle commenced none of it would matter.

She winced as the Elf next to her glanced over at her cloaked figure, his eyes narrowing briefly before returning his attention to the still empty valley. So far, no one had inquired as to why a Man had chosen to stand with the Elves, rather than his own people, and she was grateful for that.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were also on the Deeping Wall; she had seen them from far away. The Ranger had taken over command of the Elven troops, something Haldir had not begrudged him. He was pacing up and down the lines, though luckily he had not ventured near enough to the Hornburg for him to see her. Legolas and Gimli were standing side by side near the middle of the Wall. A small grin came on her face: The Dwarf could not even see over the stone.

Gúthwyn exhaled slowly, running her fingers over the bow she held. It was not hers, as it had been handed to her by one of the guards, and she wished she did not have to use it, but she had no choice. The only hope of devastating Saruman's forces before hand-to-hand combat ensued was assailing the creatures with arrows as they approached. In some warfare, archery was the most important aspect.

She grimaced. It had been months—three seasons, to be precise—since she had picked up a bow. The one Haldor had given to her was lying somewhere on the banks of the Anduin River: Aragorn had not brought with him on the chase for Merry and Pippin, and she had not cared enough about it to protest. Archery was something Haldor had taught her, and she never wanted another lesson for as long as she lived. Her sword, currently hanging from her left hip, was the weapon she felt most comfortable with.

A low growl of thunder met her ears, and she glanced up at the dark sky before returning her gaze to the Deeping-coomb. A cold mist was shrouding the fortress, making everything seem somewhat ghostly. Aside from her breathing, the only sound she could hear was the shifting of the Rohirric men; the Elves were utterly still. Despite the flickering torches, everyone's faces seemed pale.

It was not long before the rumor of the approaching army was heard: Iron-clad footsteps, stomping monotonously on the ground. Gúthwyn shivered in both excitement and nervousness as the noises grew louder. Soon, faint beams of light formed in the distant valley. Slowly, gradually, the Uruk-hai filled the Deeping-coomb, advancing forward relentlessly. Grunts and hoarse shouts drifted to the defenders.

Ten thousand was a vast number, greater than anything she had ever imagined. In comparison with only five hundred manning the Keep! Her stomach turned over. There was no hope. All would be lost, and she would perish along with the other Men and Elves. The Uruks would take the fortress, and slay the refugees.

Gúthwyn's breath was shaky, and her palms were beginning to sweat. Even if you die, she told herself, it will not be so bad. You will go down in honor, and Borogor will be waiting for you…

No! another voice in her mind cried. Do not think of him! You must focus on the task at hand!

So she forced herself to concentrate on the Uruks. It was not difficult, once she saw how enormous the army was. Even the weather seemed to be doing its best to augment the hopelessness of the situation: A sudden flash of lightning unexpectedly lit up the valley. As far back as she could see, the Uruk-hai were marching, with seemingly no end to their ranks.

Another burst of lightning illuminated the gorge. Not far behind it was a raindrop, splashing onto Gúthwyn's thin hand. She watched it trickle down the skin, soon replaced by dozens more. Rain was pouring down on defender and invader alike, making the unfolding scene appear even more surrealistic. Adding to the creepy atmosphere was the fact that the torches did not blow out—they kept burning sinisterly, the flames licking at the cold air with their burning tongues.

The army was just within bow range now. Yet none of the Rohirrim or Elves made to attack as the Uruks drew closer. Gúthwyn could hear Aragorn shouting as he strode up and down the ranks, but she understood not a word from his mouth. However, the archer beside her stiffened, gripping his bow tightly and narrowing his eyes at the Uruks.

At a loud howl from the leader, who had clambered on top of a large rock, Saruman's army came to a halt, exactly one hundred paces away from the Deeping Wall. For a long time, no one moved. Some of the Uruks growled, and she saw their breath forming clouds of mist before their faces. All of them were wearing heavy armor, some of which she recognized. Back at Isengard, the helmets and metal gauntlets had only been in piles, but to see them now on these creatures was deeply unsettling. Gúthwyn herself had contributed, in part, to that army which assailed her people tonight.

The leader growled again, his foul voice ringing throughout the valley as he raised his arm in some sort of signal. The Uruks, who had been clutching long, lethal-looking iron pikes, now began banging the weapons on the ground. At first they bashed them in unison, but as time went on the clashing became wild. Gúthwyn cringed, loathing the sound, wishing it would stop.

A clear ringing noise echoed in the night. Aragorn had withdrawn his sword; Andúril, Flame of the West, gleamed as a bright speck in the corner of her eye. Simultaneously, the men of Rohan readied their bows. More than one of them looked as though they had half a mind to shoot now—Gúthwyn kept her own bow by her side, waiting for a command from Aragorn.

Suddenly, there was a twang, and an arrow rushed from the Hornburg towards the Uruk-hai. Before anyone knew what was happening, it had embedded itself in the shoulder of an Uruk, who groaned mightily as his life was taken. He stumbled back into the other creatures.

Aragorn shouted something, holding up his hand. Everyone in the valley fell silent, except for the Uruk: He growled, then fell forward and landed with a splash on the wet ground. Gúthwyn watched as the arrow in his shoulder was pushed through to the other end. For a brief moment, no one moved an inch. She glanced up, and saw the old man who had released the arrow staring shakily at what he had done.

The Uruks grew angry. Clouds rose in front of their faces as they snarled and roared, gnashing their teeth and stomping. Once more, the leader raised his arm. With hideous growls, Saruman's army began advancing. The fallen Uruk was surrounded, his body swiftly getting trampled. The assault on Helm's Deep had begun, and Gúthwyn faced it with the same determination as she had when dueling Haldor: Death was certain, but she would take the enemy down with her.

As the Uruk-hai ran towards the Deeping Wall, their feet pounding into the ground, Aragorn issued a loud command. Instantaneously, the Elves lifted their bows and fitted arrows to them. Gúthwyn followed suit not a second later, trying to keep her breathing steady. All of the skirmishes that she had fought before, in terms of size, were nothing compared to this. Yet with such a huge mass of Uruks racing towards her, it would be hard to miss at least one of them.

The rain was pouring down her face, making visibility difficult. Her arm was shaking, but the Elf next to her had not so much as trembled. All of the Elves were like that; not a single unsteady hand was among them. Gúthwyn inhaled and exhaled, focusing her eyes on one particular Uruk. Aim for that one, she told herself.

There was another shout from Aragorn, and then the air was filled with arrows racing towards the Uruk-hai. Gúthwyn released her own, somewhat annoyed that it did not hit the Uruk she was targeting. Instead, it slammed into the chest of the one two fighters away, sending him crumbling to the ground. He did not get up.

It was not long until the arrows from the Rohirrim were added to the fray. At the same time, reserves of Elves who were standing behind the Deeping Wall fired at a signal from Aragorn. Soon the arrows were falling as thick as the rain, storming down onto Saruman's army. The Uruks dropped like flies, but even as Gúthwyn reveled in her fifth kill her heart dropped to see that thousands more still remained. The hundreds slaughtered already were only the first few droplets of a raging river, and slowly but steadily they were gaining the Wall.

She could see some of the Uruks closest to the fortress withdrawing crossbows. Plumes of fear rose inside of her: These bows were far more powerful than what the defenders were using. They had the capability of going through two armored men at the same time, were deadly accurate, and near impossible to avoid by simply ducking. If any of the Uruks decided to shoot her, she was as good as dead.

A shock ran through her when the Elf beside her crashed to the stone floor, an arrow driven into his skull. He fell wordlessly, not even crying out as his life was taken. Gúthwyn gulped, and when she returned to shooting her arm shook so much that she missed the intended Uruk entirely, and hit a creature five rows back and about twenty fighters across.

The Uruk-hai were drawing closer to the Deeping Wall. Despite the ruthless attack from the Elves, and the fiery assault from the Rohirrim, their numbers were too great to be held back for long by the arrows. Gúthwyn's eyes widened as she saw several of them carrying along steel ladders, meant to help them scale the Wall and thus assail the defenders from within.

Aragorn cried out, and immediately the Elves directed their arrows to those Uruks setting up the ladders. But it was no use. The first one began coming up, closest to Gúthwyn and the Hornburg. Before steel crashed onto stone, she saw several more ascending, each with Uruk-hai clinging onto them.

The first Uruk leaped onto the Deeping Wall, and in that time Gúthwyn had cast aside her bow and withdrawn Framwine from his sheathe. The creature turned to her, and she ducked under the lethal swing of its broadsword; from there, it was a simple matter of driving her sword through his stomach. Yet there was no time to watch the life fade from his body, as another Uruk instantly took the first one's place.

Soon she was in a whirlwind of fighting, one that she felt herself growing stronger in with each passing moment. Even as she fended off attacks from Saruman's servants, she was aware of what was going on around her—so it did not escape her attention when some of the ladders began crashing back down into the Uruks' forces. Taking well to this idea, she cut her way over to one of them.

An Uruk had been coming up, only paying attention to the rungs that he was grabbing, and Gúthwyn had a surprise for him. She stepped up onto the wall, clutching the ladder tightly, and sent a powerful kick to his head. Less than an instant later, she wished she had not done that, as it felt as if she had broken her foot, but the action caught the Uruk off-guard and he was sent tumbling down to his comrades below.

The next Uruk was only halfway up the ladder. Gúthwyn placed her hands at the top of the steel structure and tried to shove it, yet the weight was too much for her; strong she was, though certainly not enough to move this thing. Out loud, she cursed. The other Uruk was gaining the top, and soon she would have to waste precious time to kill him. More Uruk-hai were right behind him.

Unexpectedly, an Elf nearby her turned and started pushing it with her. Their strength combined did what hers alone could not: The ladder leaned away from the Wall, and with the weight of the Uruks at the bottom it soon crashed down. Twenty-some odd of the enemy were smote by their own contraption, and a broad grin was on her face as she nodded at the Elf.

"Thank you," she breathed, attempting to make her voice deeper. He inclined his head, and then whirled around to deliver a slashing strike to an Uruk that had scaled the Wall from another ladder.

The fighting upon the Deeping Wall was growing more intense than anything Gúthwyn had ever seen before. Slowly but surely she was being driven away from the Hornburg. The Uruks were by far stronger and more powerful than her, and they effortlessly thrust her backwards with many of their strikes. With each Uruk she killed, she was a few feet closer to the center of the Wall. There, she could see that the enemy was prevailing; countless Elven bodies lay on the stone, their armor red with blood. Some of them were missing heads.

"Seventeen! Eighteen!" The fierce growl of Gimli startled her. She was in the middle of a brief respite from the fighting, and glanced over to see him standing on top of the Wall, cutting down the Uruks even as they came up from the ladders. A worried chill went through her as she imagined him falling, or being slain by an arrow, but he seemed to be having no trouble—indeed, a maniacal gleam of joy was in his eyes. "Nineteen! Twenty-one!"

At Gimli's twenty-second kill, she was thrown back into the battle. An Uruk lunged at her, and almost half a minute of furious dueling ensued. He had backed her into the Wall, and she was hard-pressed to defend herself from his endless attacks. At last she spotted an opening; she drove her sword through his shoulder, causing him to step back and howl in pain. She used his distraction to finish the job: Not a second later, his head was lying on the ground.

When his body collapsed shortly afterwards, she was able to see the ramp leading up to the Hornburg. A group of Uruks had formed a tight cluster, using their shields to cover the leaders and to create an impenetrable roof above them. Despite the stones and arrows raining down upon them from the Hornburg, they were gaining the doors. It looked as though the Hornburg would soon be put to the test.

"Causeway!"

The yell from Aragorn had the remaining Elves taking out their bows. With a cold precision, they turned to the ramp, and shot a score of arrows into the unprotected sides of the Uruks. Several of the creatures fell, tumbling into the ravine below. Yet still the enemy advanced, and Gúthwyn's stomach turned over uneasily. Would they be able to break down the doors?

Suddenly, as she slaughtered an Uruk who had unsuccessfully attempted to catch her off guard, she noticed that a path had been cleared amongst the creatures in the valley. She followed it with her eyes and realized that it led to the small culvert through which the Deeping Stream ran: The one weakness in the Deeping Wall. Her eyes narrowed in confusion—even though the culvert was vulnerable, they had no way of getting inside through it.

By this point, she had been driven back to the center of the Wall. She was simply not large enough to hold her ground against these fierce creatures, especially when the ground was slippery with blood. As another Uruk perished by her blade, she took another puzzled look at the path. Four of the Uruk-hai were racing along it in pairs; each of them was gripping the end of what seemed to be a spiked steel ball.

Gúthwyn slaughtered one of the enemy, then took the risk of moving closer to the side of the Wall nearest to the valley. The balls had disappeared under the stone, presumably into the arched gate of the culvert. What are they doing? she wondered in bewilderment as she drove her sword through the stomach of an Uruk.

The chanting of the Uruks grew louder. One of the enemy was sprinting down the path, a torch held high in his right hand. He was heading directly towards the steel contraptions. A horrible, sinking feeling settled itself in Gúthwyn's gut, though she knew not why.

Her fears were confirmed when she heard the frantic shouting of Aragorn. It was a string of Elvish, but Legolas' name was yelled along with it. Time began to slow down as she turned to see the Elf, his bow drawn back and an arrow fitted to it. Even the Uruks on the Wall seemed to be watching him; she had not been assaulted for nearly thirty seconds.

Furious concentration was on his face as Legolas shot. The arrow hit the Uruk in the shoulder, but the creature did not fall. Panic, such as she had never seen before, now marred the Elf's face as he hastily nocked another arrow and fired. The Uruks other shoulder was struck. Any other being on the planet would have crumbled, but this one did not. The cries of Aragorn, the clashing of metal on metal, the Uruks calls—all rang numbly in her head as the creature disappeared into the culvert.

The Deeping Wall exploded.