The Rohan Pride Trilogy

Part Three: Terms

Book One

By: WhiteLadyOfTroy

Summary:
The doom of Middle-earth is to be decided, and Gúthwyn's own fate is tangled up with it. Reunited with her people, her thoughts now turn to the children, and she would know what has befallen them—even if her life is the cost of such knowledge.

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 Two:
As always, I'm using a crazy blend of movie and book canon, and it may at times get confusing. Please bear with me. Those of you who are huge fans of the book will notice that I took much of the dialogue from The Two Towers—this is because the movie does not cover the journey between Helm's Deep and Isengard at all, so it was necessary. I tend to not like copying the books, but there you have it.

Chapter Two

With a sigh, Legolas stretched his arms into the air, banishing the last vestiges of sleep from his body. It had been a long night; much of it they had spent riding, and even when they had made camp there was little rest to be found. After the darkness had surrounded them, the impenetrable gloom causing many of the men to cry out and reach for their swords, something else had happened. The River Isen had awoken again, bringing to them the sound of rushing water as it flowed in its bed once more.

He gazed at it now, pleased to see life returning to this barren place. He could only imagine how the Fords had been in the days before Saruman had turned to evil; if the wizard had not changed sides, the greenery would have flourished. Alas for these times! It seemed that much beauty was doomed to be destroyed and ravaged by the servants of the Enemy.

His thoughts were interrupted when Théoden and Éomer came near him, conversing quietly with each other as they readied their horses. They certainly noticed him, but did not lower their voices, and he felt less guilty for overhearing them.

"And when do you think we shall arrive at Isengard?" Éomer wanted to know, glancing at the king.

"After noon, I expect," Théoden replied, then looked around the camp. Most of the men were up, putting back on the armor that they had not worn during the night or saddling their horses. "Where is Gúthwyn?"

"She is still sleeping," Éomer answered, pointing. Legolas followed his gaze and saw the familiar, huddled-up shape lying on the ground. "I thought I would wait until it was absolutely necessary to wake her up."

"Did she get enough rest last night?" Théoden queried, absent-mindedly stroking Snowmane.

Éomer looked grim. "I think she was awake until the darkness came."

Théoden sighed. After that, few of the men had fallen back asleep. "At the very least, she managed to get some repose."

"She fainted," Éomer muttered, now casting a swift look at Legolas. He became aware that he had been watching them for quite some time, and quickly turned his attentions back to Arod with an apologetic smile.

"Fainted?" Théoden repeated, puzzled. "Had she had enough to eat?"

"That was not the reason," Éomer said, shifting slightly so that his face was blocked from Legolas' view. The words that he said were so quiet that Théoden had to strain to hear them, but Legolas' ears caught them perfectly. "She was already frightened of the Wargs, and when the shadows swallowed us she panicked."

"This is exactly why I did not want her to come!" Théoden exclaimed in aggravation. "All she is doing is reliving her past! Why Gandalf spoke up for her, I will never understand—and now I regret listening to him!"

"Whatever the wizard's motives are," Éomer replied, "I do not know. But pray do not mention this to her, for she will only grow angry with me."

"As you wish," Théoden said, sighing and casting one last anxious look at his niece. "Now come: I desire to take counsel with Gamling."

Éomer nodded, then turned to face Legolas. "Legolas," he began, "will you wake my sister?"

Legolas gave a short bow, but inwardly warning signals were going off in his mind. Clearly Éomer did not know the full extent of Gúthwyn's terror of him. He did not want to have to catch her off-guard anymore than he already had recently, as that would only serve to make her even angrier with him. And if she was already edgy from the Wargs and the shadows, who knew how she would react to waking up with him above her?

Yet he followed through on the Marshal's request, weaving his way amongst the other men as he walked towards Gúthwyn. As always, she was curled in a tiny ball, clutching her knees tightly to her chest. Hesitantly he knelt beside her, reaching out to gently prod her on the shoulder.

"Gúthwyn?" he asked quietly, hoping that she would hear him speaking and open her eyes. Though she stirred briefly, otherwise she did not move.

Now he shook her shoulder more persistently. "Gúthwyn," he said again, this time louder. "It is time to wake up."

Her eyelids began fluttering. Legolas moved back a little as they slowly opened, accompanied by a wide yawn. Then she caught sight of him.

Faster than a running deer she scrambled backwards, staring at him in horror and trying to clutch the blanket around her. "What are you doing?" she hissed, her chest heaving up and down and her breathing ragged. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Your brother wanted me to wake you up," he explained. What on Middle-earth did Haldor do to you? he wondered sadly. It seemed that no matter what he did, she would always remain terrified of him. The more he tried to overcome this barrier, the worse things became.

"And there was no one else for the job?" she snapped, getting to her feet and picking up her things. Legolas blinked, standing up as well.

"I am sorry," he tried to apologize, but she strode past him, her face whiter than the first snowfall on a cold winter's morning. For a moment he stood there, staring down at where she had been resting peacefully not seconds before.

Then he sighed, and went to ready Arod.

It was with a grim gaze that Gúthwyn looked upon the lands of the Nan Curunír. The highway that the Rohirrim were riding on was well kept and neatly paved, but the same could not be said for their surroundings. The last time she had seen this place, she had been in the midst of an Uruk-hai troop, who had been responsible for bringing her to the Dark Land. Even then, she had noticed the decay, but it was startling to see how bleak and barren things were now.

In the days of old, Isengard used to be acres of greenery and lush plant life, each foot tended carefully to by workers, yet now all was in disrepair. Brambles and thorns ran wildly and unchecked amongst the coarse weeds, choking all life that might have survived. There were no trees anymore—only short and broken stumps, blackened with ash and dust.

Gúthwyn stared at it sadly. "This place used to be beautiful," she said to Éomer, who was riding next to her. He looked at her. "When I saw it for the first time, I did not think that Saruman was evil."

"He fooled many," Éomer replied darkly.

"Myself included." It was Gandalf who had spoken, glancing back at the two siblings. His eyes flicked over Gúthwyn's downtrodden expression. "And long ago, he used to be good. His fall is one of the most grievous Middle-earth has seen, and we may yet rue it more."

"I would rather kill him than mourn him," Gúthwyn muttered.

For some more miles they rode beneath the climbing sun. The highway became broader, and looking down Gúthwyn could see the stones that were paving it. Such skill had been put forth in their making that not a crack could be seen between them. On either side of the road, water tinkled merrily in a gutter, running ahead of them to where the stone ring was. Though she had lived in Isengard for four years, this was only the third time she had traversed this lane.

A sudden quiet fell on the group then, and when she lifted herself slightly above the saddle she saw the reason for the chill. The great black stone, carven in the shape of a hand with long, gnarled fingers, was looming over them. It had been painted white, but now as the Riders drew closer Gúthwyn perceived that the nails were red, so that the hand appeared to be bleeding.

She shivered at the sight, and as they went around it she did not give it another glance. Instead, she focused her attention on where she knew the stone wall was, though she could not see it through the strange mists that were surrounding Isengard. Yet Gandalf led them into the fog, heedless of whatever dangers might have been awaiting them. A gnawing sensation was growing in Gúthwyn's stomach; she was so nervous that her hands were twitching, even as she tightened them on Heorot's reins.

The ground below them was wet, and covered with many small pools and puddles—as if there had been a flood recently. But the true surprise revealed itself when they neared the wall. A forest had planted itself before the ring, so thick that she could not see through the gnarled tree boughs into what lay beyond.

"Gandalf," Gúthwyn said when he showed signs of leading them into it, "what is going on here? What has happened to Isengard?"

"I expect we will find out soon enough," Gandalf replied, much to her frustration. Éomer glanced at her as they followed the wizard into the woods.

"Are you worried about the other slaves?" he asked quietly. She frowned, and did not say anything, but he read the answer in her eyes. "It may be that nothing has happened to them."

At that moment, Gúthwyn saw Legolas. He was staring around them at the old trees, and his gaze passed over her for the briefest instant. She flushed, berating herself for her weakness. No response did she give to Éomer, and the rest of the trip was undertaken in silence.

Please, she prayed to the Valar as they went deeper into the woods, let Cobryn and the others have come to no harm. If anything had happened to them… She did not think she would be able to bear more loss. So many deaths had there been over the years: Beregil, Borogor, Boromir, Théodred, and the countless numbers of those who had fallen at Helm's Deep. If anyone had seen her face in that moment, they would have been looking into glistening eyes. To say nothing of Haldor, she thought, and her face hardened.

Eventually, the forest grew thinner. Gúthwyn urged Heorot to go faster, unable to stand the suspense any longer. When they at last emerged from the woods, she felt her mouth drop open in shock. In place of the doors, which she had fully expected to be closed to them, there was a heap of twisted rubble. The tunnel that had passed into the ring was now without a roof, gaping open to the azure skies above. She could see the room that the guards had feasted in, littered with fragments of rock and wood.

Though much of the ring was now destroyed, it was still tall enough that Gúthwyn was unable to look beyond it into the lawn of Orthanc. Yet her thoughts were distracted by the sight of two small figures, bare-footed and curly-haired, sitting upon the crumbled stone as though they had not a care in the world. Her heart leapt into her throat.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" Merry said, standing up beside Pippin and gesturing—with a hand that clenched a smoking pipe—towards the ebony tower.

Words could not describe Gúthwyn's amazement at seeing them here, unharmed amidst all the chaos. It was Gimli who found his voice first, calling to them as the Riders filed out before the ring. "You young rascals!" he growled, looking both relieved and furious. "A merry hunt you have lead us on, and now we find you feasting… and smoking!" Indeed, the two Hobbits had before them a picnic of food; most of it looked very fine, considering the circumstances. As a slave, Gúthwyn had never seen that which they were now eating.

Pippin appeared indignant. "We are sitting on a field of victory," he corrected the Dwarf, "enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Giving them a nod, he simultaneously tipped his pipe to them. "The salted pork," he continued in a pleased manner, "is quite good."

"Salted pork?" Gimli spluttered in disbelief.

"Hobbits," Gandalf snorted, and Gúthwyn smiled.

"Well met, Merry and Pippin," she said to them. The wide grins on their faces spread even further when they saw her.

"Well met to you, my lady!" Merry exclaimed, bowing low and employing his most courteous speech. "The hours have been long without you and the others."

Out of the corner of her eye, Gúthwyn saw Éomer's eyebrows rise, but he said nothing. "The hours have been long," she agreed. "Too long. I doubted that we would see each other again. How is it that you come to be here, safe and unharmed?"

"This tale," Gandalf interjected, "especially in the hands of Hobbits, will keep us all here until tomorrow. There will be a time for stories, yet it is not now—for myself, anyway. Where is Treebeard, Merry?"

Gúthwyn did not know who or what Treebeard was, but evidently it must have been of great importance, if Gandalf wished to see it. Merry pointed towards the other end of the ring. "Away on the north side, I believe," he replied. Pippin nodded. "He went to get a drink—of clean water."

At the emphasis the Hobbit placed on "clean," Gúthwyn frowned. What had he meant by that? Once again, she tried to crane her neck to see over the rubble, but she could not.

Merry continued. "Most of the other Ents are with him, still busy at their work—over there." He gestured, and for the third time Gúthwyn's vision was foiled by the rock. Yet Éomer, only a foot or so taller than her, appeared to be focusing on something in the distance.

"Éomer," she muttered in an undertone, "what do you see?"

Her brother glanced at her. "All of Isengard is underwater," he replied, his voice quiet. "Only heaps of wreckage and Orthanc are visible above it."

She gaped at him. "What of the rest of the wall?" All of the slaves had lived there, in rooms that were smaller than her own at Meduseld; they had been delved into the rock during the building of Isengard.

He shook his head. "Much of it is destroyed," he told her.

Feelings of panic swirled within her. "Can you see anyone there?" she demanded, leaning closer to him.

His eyes, filled with pity, met hers. "No one."

The breath left Gúthwyn's body. How could there be no one, unless they had all perished? If the rock wall was destroyed, the slaves would have had to come out during its ruin, but Éomer had seen none of them… Could they be sheltering in Orthanc, perhaps? What had happened to the Nan Curunír? How had such destruction been brought about? Why was there water everywhere?

Her tortured thoughts were interrupted by Gandalf, asking Merry if Treebeard had left him a message. Half in a daze, Gúthwyn listened as Merry answered:

"He left a message, and I was coming to it, but I have been hindered by many other questions." He put his pipe back in his mouth, inhaling once before putting it back down. Gúthwyn stared at the smoke, finding it akin to that which now surrounded the Nan Curunír. Éomer watched her concernedly, but she was unable to even falsely signal to him that she was all right.

Merry was still speaking. "I was to say," he said, "that, if the Lord of the Mark and Gandalf will ride to the northern wall they will find Treebeard there, and he will welcome them. I may add that they will also find food of the best there, as it was discovered and selected by your humble servants."

He gave a low bow, much to the wizard's amusement. Laughing, Gandalf exclaimed, "That is better!" Then he turned to the king, who had been watching the Hobbits in mild amaze and surprise. "Well, Théoden, will you ride with me to find Treebeard? We must go round about, but it is not far."

Gúthwyn's mind began to wander from the conversation. Now, more than anything, she wanted to see for herself what was going on at Isengard. She thought she would be driven mad by the unanswered questions. Her hands, gripping Heorot's reins more tightly than they had reason to be, were white and sweating. What if none of the slaves were there? What if none of them had survived in the four years since she had last seen them?

"Gúthwyn!"

The sound of her name being called gave her a start, and she jumped slightly before turning to Théoden. Gandalf was already beginning to lead Shadowfax around the ring; she realized that they were about to find Treebeard.

"Yes?" she asked, her heart recovering slightly.

"Are you coming, or will you stay with your friends?"

Gúthwyn blinked, and then saw that neither Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Legolas, nor Gimli had moved. Éomer had already gone to follow Gandalf, as had the rest of the Riders—should she stay or go? A part of her wanted to speak with Treebeard, and see if he knew anything about the slaves, but a greater part of her wanted… needed to look upon Isengard.

"I-I think I will stay," she replied, glancing at Aragorn. The expression on his face did not change, but she thought she detected the faint trace of a smile.

"You look pale," Théoden said. "Are you feeling all right?"

She nodded. "I am fine."

He looked at her for another moment, as if trying to see whether or not she spoke the truth, but at length he inclined his head. "Take care," he said, and then turned to Merry and Pippin. "Farewell, my Hobbits!" he called. The two Halflings beamed. "May we meet again in my house! There you shall sit beside me and tell me all that your hearts desire: the deeds of your grandsires, as far as you can reckon them, and more besides."

In spite of herself, Gúthwyn grinned to imagine the two Hobbits in Meduseld, cheering the king's table with stories of the Shire. They were sure to capture the adoration of the people, especially in these dark times where few happy things came to light.

"Farewell!" Théoden cried then, and with that he and Snowmane departed. Gúthwyn watched as they met up with Gandalf and the other Riders, soon disappearing around the bend.

"So that is the King of Rohan!" Pippin murmured in awe. "A fine old fellow. Very polite."

Gúthwyn smiled, but all too soon the grin faded from her place, usurped by the worry and anxiety that were gnawing at her insides. Unable to contain herself any longer, she dismounted Heorot and left him to graze on the grass. Crossing to where Merry and Pippin were still standing on the ruined gate, she leaped on top of the crumbled stone. Aragorn called out a warning to her, though she did not heed it, and raced forward so she could look upon Isengard.

Her jaw dropped. Just as Éomer had said, the entire place was covered in water. She could not see the ground, so dense and foul was the liquid. As she gazed in horror to the far end of the ring, where the slaves' quarters had been, she saw that much of the rock was now gone. It was clear that the Ents were behind this—only they had the power to rip apart the stone wall. Not a single soul did she see wandering amongst the wreckage.

Trembling, she turned to Merry and Pippin. "When did this happen?" she asked hoarsely.

"Two days ago," Pippin answered at once.

"Where are the people?" she demanded, on the verge of hysteria. Everyone was staring at her, but she needed to know where the slaves had gone. "The men? The women? The children? Where are they?"

For a moment, both of the Halflings looked dumbfounded, and she resisted the sudden urge to shake them. After what seemed like forever, Merry spoke up. "There are no women and children here," he said awkwardly. "At least, none that we saw. Most of the men were killed, although Treebeard let a few of them go."

"Killed?" Gúthwyn repeated numbly.

Pippin nodded. "I'm sorry," he told her, even as he gazed at her in confusion. "Did… did you know them?"

Gúthwyn barely heard him: A funny rushing noise was in her ears. "By the Valar," she whispered, and sat down on a boulder. Her face was in her hands only seconds later, and she could not stop her shoulders from heaving up and down.