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-One:
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-One
A terrifying noise, louder than anything Gúthwyn had ever heard in her life before, all but destroyed her ears as she was flung off her feet. In a daze, she saw the Deeping Wall shatter below her. Enormous chunks of stone were hurtled backwards and forwards, slaying the Uruks and raining down amongst the Elves and Men. She felt herself being catapulted through the air.
And then, something slammed into the right side of her stomach, driving straight through the mail hauberk to the flesh below. She screamed in pain as it pierced the skin. A thousand needles of agony were jabbing at her side, causing her to curl in on herself even as she fell towards the ground. Everything was slowing down, passing as a blurry haze before her eyes. The sodden earth was rushing up to meet her, and she wrapped her arms about herself. This was it. She was going to die.
Gúthwyn crashed onto the ground, and all the air was knocked out of her. She could do nothing; her vision was sliding, the pain increasing so that she was unable to bear it. Stars whirled and twinkled above her as she heard the terrible cries of dying Elves. A whimper escaped her. She wanted, needed, Borogor. I am coming to you…
Yet blissful release would not come. Her head refused to let her go, pounding angrily until she nearly gasped in agony. The pain in her stomach increased tenfold; she cried out, clutching at its source. She felt her hands become slippery with blood. Breathing rapidly, she forced herself to glance down. When she at last managed it, she gasped: A large chunk of stone protruded from her skin, its grey quickly turning to red.
Growling noises met her ears. She could only writhe around in the mud, incapable of getting to her feet. Managing to prop herself up on her elbows, she gaped in horror at the Deeping Wall—or what was left of it. She had been thrown nearly thirty feet away from it, landing in a crumpled heap near a set of stairs. All around her lay the bodies of Elves. Only a few of them were moving. For some reason, the Valar had spared her life.
It looked, however, as though the gift was soon to be retracted. Just one body was between her and the Uruks, who were now pouring in through the breach. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized it was Aragorn, laboring to get to his feet and face the oncoming Uruk-hai. They were less than twenty feet from him.
Gúthwyn thought she was going to have to see the Ranger perish when a sudden cry rang through the valley. Gimli was standing on top of the remainder of the Deeping Wall, hefting his axe up and calling out to his friend. "Aragorn!" he yelled, and to the amazement of both Gúthwyn and the Ranger he leaped off of the Wall.
Still trying to gain her bearings, Gúthwyn could only watch as Gimli landed amongst the Uruks, narrowly avoiding the long, deadly pikes that the creatures carried. The Dwarf did not even cringe at the impact, and immediately began swinging his axe with such ferocity that the Uruk-hai had soon given him a wide birth.
"Gimli!" Aragorn shouted, getting to his feet. Something was wrong with Gúthwyn's chest: She could barely breathe. Her hand was clamped over her stomach. Get up! she screamed at herself.
Moaning, she tried to obey her mind's command, but she stopped short as she saw Gimli lose his footing. He fell into the water, disappearing with a splash beneath the muddy surface. Her heart froze; even more so when she glanced at Aragorn, and looked upon the Elven reserves that had lined up behind him. She was caught in the middle of the two forces, with no way out.
At a command from Aragorn, the Elves lifted their bows. Countless arrows whizzed over Gúthwyn's head and around the Ranger, all finding a match with the Uruks. Black bodies littered the Deeping Stream. Get up! she mentally yelled again. And then she slipped, collapsing back down with a groan.
Aragorn gave a loud battle cry; at his word, the Elves began racing forward. For the briefest moment, the Ranger held Andúril before him. Gúthwyn nearly forgot her struggle to get to her feet as the defenders charged the Uruk-hai. Elves ran around her, holding their swords aloft as they prepared to meet Saruman's army in one last, desperate attempt to inflict as much damage as possible.
Now she was on her knees. Both forces collided then, and the resulting noise was deafening. Trying to get out of the clash before an Uruk spotted her, Gúthwyn placed one foot beneath her. Immediately, it wobbled, and she fell back to the ground. So far, luck had been on her side: The Elves before her had not been slain, and as of yet no Uruks had seen her lying helplessly in the mud.
She still had Framwine—her grip on her sword had been so tight that it had not left her in the explosion. But at the rate she was going, she did not think she would even be able to lift it against the Uruk-hai. Once again, she attempted to get to her feet. Yet her limbs were shaking from a combination of shock and the impact; she failed to achieve her goal. What is wrong with me? She felt the beginnings of panic worm their way through her.
A flash of gold caught her eye. Starting, she focused on one of the Elven warriors now running down the stairs to join the fray: Legolas. Only something was different about his motions… Her mouth dropped open. He had taken a shield, put it under his feet, and was using it to slide down the steps. As he went, he fired arrow after arrow into the black masses, catching numerous Uruks at unawares and killing them. When he at last leaped off the shield, it shot out and pierced one of the creature's necks.
Grudgingly, she had to admit that he was a formidable warrior. As she watched him join the battle, her constant attempts to get to her feet foiled, she did not doubt that she could best him in a duel; yet his archery far surpassed that of Borogor's, amazing though it was, and she thought he could have easily held his own against even Haldor.
She was pulled out of her musings when an Uruk loomed over her. Gúthwyn panicked; the fear sent a surge of energy through her as the creature swung his broadsword down to her still form. With a cry, she just managed to roll out of the way, still clutching Framwine with one hand and her stomach with the other. Enraged, the Uruk reached down and grabbed her, closing a thick fist about her throat.
The air was leaving her body. Fingers fumbling, she let go her sword and reached for the dagger Galadriel had given her. As the Uruk raised his blade, she stabbed him in the chest, right where his heart should have been. He howled, dropping her as he stumbled backwards. She crashed into the mud, effectively drained of all the adrenaline that had been coursing through her veins.
For what felt like eternity, she could not even move. As one dead she lay, and perhaps that was why no more Uruks attacked her. Through blurry eyes, she could see the Elves falling in droves. Slowly, the battle was being lost. Tons of Uruks were piled at the Deeping Wall, but thousands were still pouring in. And in the midst of all this, she was unable to get up, unable to defend herself.
"Aragorn!"
The cry from the Hornburg, rising even over the slaughter, clanging metal, and shrieks and groans of dying Elves, resounded in Gúthwyn's ears. She recognized the voice: It was her uncle. "Théoden…" she whispered, and stirred. Now was the time to get up!
"Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!"
He was ordering a retreat. Her breath, little though it was, caught in her throat. She could not move; the stairs leading into the Hornburg were so close, not even ten feet away, and her feet would not support her. So she tried to crawl, lowering herself to the humility that she had sworn to avoid, but her body refused to cooperate with her. Casting a panicked glance over her shoulder, she saw the combat drawing nearer, bringing Legolas with it.
A sharp terror instilled itself in her, and she furiously forced herself another foot. A cry escaped from her lips at the pain; she grabbed at her stomach once more. Legolas was now heading for the stairs. He and an Elf had each grabbed one of Gimli's arms; the Dwarf was roaring, demanding to be let back into the fight.
Gúthwyn heard Legolas' voice above her, saying something in Elvish. Do not show any fear! she yelled at herself, yet refused to look at him. It will be obvious who you are!
"Take my hand!" This time, Legolas spoke in the Common Tongue. She had no choice but to face him. The helmet was still mercifully on her head; otherwise he would have seen the crimson shade her cheeks were turning. He, Haldor, and Borogor all had the same talent: Seeing her in her weakest moments.
When their eyes met, she saw no sign of recognition in his pure blue ones. No fool was she to deny his offer. Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to pull her up, still holding onto her stomach with the other.
"We are retreating to the Hornburg!" he yelled over the noise of the surrounding battle. "Can you make it back on your own?"
Gúthwyn took one look at the stairs and knew she would not be able to. They were long, as they hugged the mountains from the gorge all the way up to the Hornburg. But she did not want Legolas' assistance. Bending down, she reached for her sword. She felt her knees buckling as her hand closed around the hilt, and nearly collapsed again. The agony in her stomach was incredible.
At last, she managed to straighten. "Come!" Legolas said. "The Uruks are almost upon us!"
"Go!" she tried to tell him, her voice as manly as she could make it. However, he would not take no for an answer. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he started helping her up the stairs. Even impeded by her injured body, their pace was fast. She soon realized that he must have thought her a boy, one who had mistakenly wandered into the battlefield; she was certainly a foot shorter than him, and light enough to not have seen thirteen summers. Otherwise, he probably would have left her to fend for herself.
They had soon ascended the steps. Elven archers lined the battlements, still firing relentlessly down at the Uruks below. "Go into the Hornburg!" he told her. "The doors cannot last much longer, and they need all the help they can get!"
"Thank you," she panted, and did not trust her voice to say anymore. So she followed his advice, passing through a short tunnel into the main fortress. There she stopped, aghast at what she saw.
A gaping hole had already been rent in the wooden doors. Men were crowded around it, fighting fiercely against the Uruks that now sought to enter the Hornburg. So far, Saruman's servants had not succeeded, but it was only a matter of time. As she watched, her hand clamped over her stomach—the blood flow had not stopped—one of the creatures reached forward and grabbed Gamling by the neck.
Gúthwyn made her way closer to the action, preparing to throw herself into it. She saw Théoden, surprisingly at the front of the defenders, chop off the arm that was choking Gamling. And then she gasped, for an Uruk had thrust a spear towards her uncle. It penetrated the spot between where his breastplate and his pauldrons connected. Théoden cried out, but quickly recovered. Grasping both the weapon that had wounded him and a second spear, he thrust them both back at the Uruk.
Then Gamling started pulling the king out of the fight, for Théoden's left pauldron had fallen off. At this, Gúthwyn darted into the fray, willing to risk her life rather than come face to face with her uncle. The sight of the Uruk-hai harming her people had instilled a fierce anger within her, and it was the only reason why she did not just keel over and sink to the floor.
Even with the use of one hand, she did not find the combat as difficult as she had thought it would be. The Uruks were restricted by the small hole through which they had to enter; if they managed to force their way in, it was just a few seconds before someone had cut them down. Gúthwyn was unable to get into the center—and in any case, she did not think it was a good idea with a bleeding stomach—but she managed to position herself near the front.
A commotion broke out near her. Aragorn had come up through the same passageway that Legolas had taken her; several Uruks were slain by Andúril.
"Hold them!" she heard Théoden yelling at the Ranger. An Uruk lunged at her just then, and she was forced to dart to her left before delivering him a fatal blow across his chest. As soon as his body fell she doubled over, her lips moving wordlessly in silent screams.
"Gimli!" The shout echoed next to her, and she saw Aragorn grab the Dwarf by the shoulder. The two of them raced down a small passage, soon disappearing from view; yet she remembered that it led to a small outcropping of rock on the outside of the Hornburg. Her brow furrowed.
At that moment, a great roar rose up from the Rohirrim. Inspired by whatever words Théoden had said while she was hunched over, they surged forwards, launching a powerful attack against the Uruks. Gúthwyn found herself closer to the front, though she did not mind it much: Her old lust for battle, overcome for a short while by her injury, was rearing its proud head once more.
She was killing her fifth Uruk in two minutes when a sudden disturbance occurred in Saruman's forces. Squinting, she was not rewarded with a clear view of what was going on, but she heard a familiar voice crying in the Dwarvish tongue. Somehow, Gimli had gotten onto the causeway—had he jumped? She did not have time to wonder before a second shout echoed on the ramp: Aragorn.
The Uruks were distracted, which gave Théoden all the time he needed. "Shore up the door!" he ordered, and immediately the royal guards rushed towards the door, holding large wooden beams above their heads.
"Make way!" Gamling called as he went. "Follow me to the barricade!"
Gúthwyn took one last glance at Aragorn and Gimli, whom she could now see battling furiously with the Uruks, and went to join the guards. For a brief instant, she wondered what their fates would be: Had they sacrificed themselves so that the Rohirrim could fortify the doors? It did not seem likely that their lives would end in that way, but in battle so little was certain; neither did she see how they could get back in through the gate in time.
Soon, however, the thoughts were banished from her mind as someone yelled, "Throw another one over here!" Hastily, she moved over to where a large beam lay. Two guards went to help her; the three of them lifted it up, and started bringing it to add to the barricade. She looked at their faces closely, but did not see Tun's under the helmets.
Please, she prayed, let him still be alive.
"Higher!" Théoden yelled, and she focused her mind to the task at hand, straining her shoulders and arms to raise the beam. Her hauberk was keeping the rock in place—if she removed it, that would only increase the blood flow—and the pain was slowly beginning to fade in the excitement of battle.
The beam was set in place. "Hold fast the gate!" Théoden encouraged them. He had gone to the front of the line again, but thanks to Aragorn and Gimli none of the Uruk-hai had been able to deter the building of the barricade. Above her, Gúthwyn could hear the sounds of equally frenzied struggle on the battlements of the Hornburg, and wondered how things were up there.
"Gimli! Aragorn!" Théoden yelled. There was only one small strip left open in the door, and through it she saw the Ranger turn to look at him. "Get out of there!"
Aragorn nodded, but just then an Uruk came up behind him and grabbed both him and the Dwarf. Gúthwyn gasped, leaping forward and withdrawing her sword once more; Théoden, however, placed the last board across the door, effectively blocking all view of what later befell her two comrades. She stopped short in horror. It was Théoden's duty to protect his people, rather than strangers to his land, but she could not believe he had so cruelly cut them off from all aid. He might as well have killed them.
At that moment, a boy came racing down the stairs, his eyes wide and terror-filled. It was Haleth. Her heart twisted; she could only imagine what horrors he had seen, or how many of his friends he had watched die.
"My lord!" Haleth panted, skidding to a halt and putting his hands on his knees. Théoden looked at him. "They have gained the battlements, my lord," Haleth breathed. "They are overwhelming us. We cannot fight them!"
Théoden and the guards exchanged shocked and troubled glances. For the first time since its construction, enemies had breached the Hornburg. Gúthwyn watched her uncle, wondering what he would do. She was slightly out of breath, and even as he spoke, her hand slid over her stomach.
"Pull everybody back," Théoden told Gamling. "Pull them back!"
Gúthwyn felt her face paling. This was the second retreat in an hour. Saruman's army was winning the battle; if the defenders lost much more ground, they would be at the caves. Her heart froze as she thought of Éowyn and the other refugees facing a merciless final assault by the Uruks, unable to defend themselves. Even Éowyn, whom she did not doubt was formidable with a blade, could only fight off so many before they overwhelmed her.
"Fall back!" Gamling yelled, yanking her out of her miserable thoughts. "Fall back!"
Instantly, the men gave way. Gúthwyn ran with them, going up the stairs and through the outer court. They were retreating to the inner court, where there was another set of doors that they could hold. As she went, she saw men from all areas of the Hornburg scrambling to obey the orders. Some, on the battlements, were cut down as they went.
There was a great creaking noise. "They have broken through!" she heard Théoden shouting. She did not know where he was; all she could concentrate on was reaching the inner court before it was too late. "The castle is breached! Retreat!"
The cry was taken up. "Fall back! Retreat!"
As she ran in through the doors, narrowly escaping the Uruks who had come up to cut off the men's escape, she glanced up at the battlements. An astonished cry left her as she saw Aragorn and Gimli racing towards the upper entrance, followed closely by Legolas. How had they survived?
But there was no time to dwell on this. Théoden was now directing what was left of his army into the last part of the fortress: the Keep itself. The makeshift throne room was there, in addition to the stables and the entrance to the caves. Here, it would truly be a fight to the death.
As Gúthwyn sprinted in, Haleth just before her, she knew that nothing short of a miracle would save the Eorlingas now. All hope was lost.