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 Three:
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 Three
Dead. The men, women, and children. Gúthwyn's mind buzzed in a dizzying whirlwind as she closed her eyes, trying to block out the memories of all her times at Isengard. The conversations in between duties. The daily swordfights. Cobryn. Lebryn. Abaudia. Onyveth. Feride. Gwollyn. Regwyn. All of them… gone. Just like that; never to be remembered by anyone except for her.
"Gúthwyn?" Pippin's concerned, hesitant voice met her ears, and she blinked away the tears that she did not even know had collected before glancing up at him. "Is something wrong?"
They had not heard her story. "I was a slave at this place," she said, looking the Hobbit straight in the eyes. He blinked, and his mouth opened. "The people were my family…"
She glanced over Pippin's shoulder, and saw that Aragorn was watching her intently. Flushing, she turned away, not able to endure the pity in his eyes. "Forget it," she said abruptly, standing up and inwardly loathing herself for her weakness. Casting one last angry glance at the waters, she finished: "It is nothing."
"I am sorry," Pippin said, and would have continued, but she held up a hand. If she listened to whatever else he had in mind, she felt as if she would burst into tears. "Please," she replied, trying to keep her voice from choking, "let us not speak of it. You are alive, beyond all hope, and that is what matters."
Going past Merry, who was looking at her in bewilderment, she jumped off of the rocks. As she landed, Aragorn gave her a small, sympathetic smile. "Well, well!" he sighed, clearly trying to navigate the conversation away from such a painful topic. "The hunt is over, and we meet again at last, where none of us ever thought to come."
Legolas spoke then, startling Gúthwyn far more than she would have liked to admit, especially in her already vulnerable state. "And now that the great ones have gone to discuss high matters, the hunters can perhaps learn the answers to their own small riddles."
Although Gúthwyn did not particularly feel like talking to anyone at the moment, she had to admit that she was interested in how the Halflings had gotten here with hardly a scratch. Hardly, for Merry had a small cut above his right eye.
"We tracked you as far as the forest," Legolas continued, sending shivers up and down her spine, "but there are still many things that I should like to know the truth of."
"And there is a great deal, too, that we want to know about you," Merry answered, casting a curious glance at Gúthwyn. "We have learned a few things through Treebeard, the Old Ent, but that is not nearly enough. And, begging your pardon," he said, turning to Gúthwyn, "though I am also interested in your story."
She shook her head. "I understand your curiosity," she replied quietly, looking down at her hands.
"All in good time," Legolas said after an awkward pause. His eyes held hers for a moment, and she flinched. "We were the hunters, and you should give an account of yourselves to us first."
Suddenly, Gúthwyn did not want to be surrounded by her companions. She wanted to be alone, so that she could mourn the loss of her friends in peace.
"Or second," Gimli said then, rubbing his belly. "It would go better after a full meal. I have a sore head; and it is past mid-day."
And so it was, but no hunger yet assailed her stomach. Nor did she think that she would be able to swallow any food after the news she had just received.
"You truants might make amends," Gimli continued, his red beard wagging as he talked, "by finding us some of the plunder that you spoke of. Food and drink would pay off some of my score against you."
"Then you shall have it," Pippin assured him, clearly glad to be of service. Gúthwyn watched the exchange disinterestedly; occasionally, her eyes wandered over to Orthanc. Saruman was there… "Will you have it here, or in more comfort in what's left of Saruman's guard-house—over there under the arch?" He gestured, and Gúthwyn saw with a pang the skeletal remains of the room where she and Chalibeth had often gone to get the slaves' food. "We had to picnic out here, so as to keep an eye on the road."
"Less than an eye!" Gimli exclaimed, snorting. "But I will not go into any Orc house; nor touch Orcs' meat or anything that they have mauled."
Gúthwyn put a hand over her now-queasy stomach, remembering the foul meals that the soldiers in Udûn had been given. For a moment, she even felt as if she would vomit when thoughts of Haldor, forcing her to eat, attacked her viciously. When she at last regained control of herself, she glanced up to see Legolas watching her. She knew, without a doubt, that he had interpreted her feelings—just as Haldor would have done.
Instinctively, she backed away from him, fixing her gaze on the two Hobbits rather than meeting the Elf's. Curling her sweaty palms into fists, she tried to focus on the conversation before her, but it took her several seconds to hear what Merry and Gimli were saying.
"But that is another story," Merry declared, "which can wait until after lunch."
In her fear, she had not heard what they had been speaking of, and was at a temporary loss.
"Well, let us go and have lunch then!" Gimli said. At his words, he, Aragorn, and Legolas began following the Hobbits into the guard-house. Gúthwyn lingered outside. Even though she was curious to hear Merry and Pippin's tale, the sadness overwhelming her was so absolute that she could not trust herself to keep a blank face as they ate their meal.
She became aware that Legolas had stopped, and was looking at her. "Are you coming?" he asked.
Under the gaze of his cool blue eyes, she shivered. "N-No," she managed. "I-I am not hungry."
"I would stay out of the water," he cautioned her, and she frowned. "We do not know what might lie beneath it."
"What I do is no concern of yours," Gúthwyn snapped. Not wanting to have to endure his company any longer, she turned away, praying that he would not pursue his interrogation. To her relief, he did not: She heard nothing more from him, and when she dared to look over her shoulder he was not there. Thanking the Valar for their mercy, she climbed the crumbling rocks again.
A small, foolish part of her had been hoping that the sight of Orthanc standing amidst the dirty water was only a dream, but she had no such luck. As she stared at the murky surface, she felt something inside her breaking. No matter what had she had been through in Mordor, she had always imagined the Isengard slaves to be safe, free from that which had broken and humiliated her. To have those thoughts be proven horribly wrong was almost more than she could bear.
Falling to her knees, she buried her face in her hands. It was better than having to see what could very well be her friends' graves—from the looks of it, Isengard had been flooded, and her heart wrenched to think of how many had fallen prey to the rushing waters—or looking upon Orthanc, which was even now unharmed. A raw surge of anger came over her as she pictured Saruman standing out on the balcony, watching as those who had served him thanklessly for countless years perish, without a twinge of remorse in his glittering eyes.
I would take his neck and break it, if it were in my power to do so, she thought to herself, digging her nails into her skin for lack of a better surface to take her anger out on.
How long she was out there, a lone figure in the desolation of Isengard, she did not know. But eventually she heard the sound of voices, and hastily scrambled to her feet. Turning around, she saw Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the Hobbits coming out of the guard-house. With the exception of Legolas, they all clutched pipes in their hands.
"You missed a good meal," Gimli told her, sighing contentedly and patting his stomach. The five of them came up to join her on the piled stones; as they did, she felt Aragorn's keen eyes on her.
Glancing at the Ranger, she replied, "I was not hungry, and had much to think about."
"There is much to listen to, as well," Pippin replied, putting his pipe firmly in his mouth. As a result, the last half of his sentence was muffled.
"Now let us take our ease here for a little!" Aragorn exclaimed, lowering himself onto the rock. For a moment, Gúthwyn could not figure out what was so strange about the sight: Then she realized that she had never truly seen him relaxing before. "We will sit on the edge of ruin and talk, as Gandalf says, while he is busy elsewhere. I feel a weariness such as I have seldom felt before."
The others settled themselves around him as he put his pipe between his lips and leaned back. Soon, a thin stream of smoke expelled itself from his mouth. With his Elven cloak obscuring the mail shirt that he wore, and his legs stretched out before him, he appeared more like a simple village man than ever.
"Look!" Pippin cried, of similar mind. "Strider the Ranger has come back!"
The Hobbits referred to the Dúnadan alternately as Aragorn and Strider, which was the name he had given them on their first meeting. It had taken place in the town of Bree; Gúthwyn remembered sadly that Feride had been from there.
"He has never been away," Aragorn replied then, inhaling the smoky fumes deeply. "I am Strider and Dúnadan too, and I belong both to Gondor and the North."
As he spoke, the clouds about the group grew larger, as more of them had started smoking. Gúthwyn could not long tolerate the ash, and moved away from them slightly. Leaning against one of the larger rocks, she stared out at Orthanc, wondering where Saruman was. Had he taken refuge in his study, or in another room of the tower? Would he speak with them, or would he just ignore them?
She had not been pondering the wizard's whereabouts for long when she became aware that Pippin was preparing to tell his story. Straightening, she looked back at him and listened closely.
"Well, my tale begins with waking up in the dark and finding myself all strung up in an Orc camp," the Halfling started, glancing at Merry as he did so and receiving a nod. Emboldened, Pippin continued. He told them of how the Uruk-hai had been joined by an Orc troop some distance into the journey, and of the numerous bickering and squabbles that had broken out as a result of this.
From there, the story progressed to the night when the Rohirrim had ambushed the Uruk-hai. Gúthwyn paid extra close attention to this part, desiring to hear of her brother's deeds. Most of what Pippin said matched Aragorn's guesses, made in a moment of desperation on the plains of Rohan. Grishnákh had been the Orc who had chased them into the forest, only to meet his death beneath the foot of Treebeard.
Then Merry took up the tale, and spoke of meeting the other Ents, and the Entmoot that had occurred for over nearly three days and three nights. It all sounded strange to Gúthwyn, who was still only beginning to imagine the legends of her childhood coming to life, but the others were enraptured by Merry's account of the proceedings. Gúthwyn grew more interested as the story turned to how the Ents had grown furious on the third day, and started the march to Isengard right then and there.
It had taken the Ents less than a day to reach the Nan Curunír, and they had wasted no time in issuing a challenge to Saruman. Their only answer had been an attack of arrows and rocks, which had merely served to make them angrier. Even Merry and Pippin shuddered as they told of how easily Isengard had been ripped apart by the strength of the Ents, nearly older than the world itself and their hatred long restrained.
The Halflings were just beginning to finish the story when suddenly Legolas sat up. "Look yonder," he said, pointing. "Two men have come around Orthanc and are approaching us."
Gúthwyn, who had been turned towards the others, hastily swiveled around. From this distance, she could only see two blurry shapes. "What do they look like?" she demanded, straining to see them.
"They have not noticed us yet," Legolas replied, "but I can see them clearly. One walks with a limp; the other is missing his right arm."
Gúthwyn's eyes widened in shock, and she scrambled forward to get a better look.
"Do not go in the water!" Aragorn cautioned her, getting to his feet and coming up behind her.
"They are in it," she snarled, her eyes fixed on Lebryn. It had to be him. As the two men drew closer, moving slowly in the murky waters, she could see the dark hair framing his face, and made out a few of his harsh features. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. She did not recognize the other man, but to know that Lebryn was alive…
Just then, Lebryn glanced up and saw them. He tugged on the other man's arm, halting as he did so. His companion looked to where Lebryn was gesturing, and stopped as well. Gúthwyn thought there was something familiar about his features, but she had not known anyone in Isengard with a limp, and he was too far away for her to see plainly.
For a long moment, Lebryn and his friend stood there. When Lebryn tilted his head towards the other man and jerked his hand backwards, signaling that they should leave before any trouble came about, Aragorn called, "Come here, good men!"
His voice boomed across the waters; at the same time, Legolas stood up beside him, shifting so that his bow was visible to the men.
"Do not dare shoot them," Gúthwyn hissed, every word dripping with venom. The Elf glanced at her in surprise.
"Do you know them?" he questioned, watching the two men out of the corner of his eye.
She did not answer. As Gimli, Merry, and Pippin came to join them, she watched Lebryn engage in a swift debate with the other man. And then, slowly, the two of them started walking forwards.
"What are your names?" Aragorn asked when they had gotten closer. The man with a limp halted, and gave a short bow. Gúthwyn felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew him, she knew who he was…
"Cobryn, my lord," he answered courteously, straightening as he did so. "My companion is Lebryn."
"Come here," Aragorn replied, allowing his fingers to curl around the hilt of his sword.
"I swear to you, Aragorn," she growled as Cobryn and Lebryn drew nearer, "if you harm them I shall kill you."
"If they are not Saruman's faithful servants, then we need not worry," Aragorn muttered back, looking at her keenly.
Now, Cobryn and Lebryn were almost at the foot of the rocks. The two of them kept their eyes on Aragorn, though now and then they glanced at Gúthwyn. She saw confusion on both of their faces, and realized with a start that they did not recognize her without the Warg bite.
"What is your business here?" Aragorn questioned them.
"I would ask the same of you," Lebryn snapped, and swiftly Cobryn clamped a hand down on the young man's shoulder.
"My apologies," he said to Aragorn quietly. "We are searching for our friends." Once again, he looked at Gúthwyn, narrowing his eyes.
"And who might they be?" the Ranger pressed.
"Slaves, just as ourselves," Cobryn told him, inclining his head in a short bow. His eyes flickered to Gúthwyn again. She could see him trying to figure out who she was, but did not say anything for the time being. Beside him, Lebryn looked as if he were similarly perplexed.
"How long have you been here?" Aragorn wanted to know.
"Since the flood was over, my lord," Cobryn replied. "We slept just outside of the ring, and started our search early in the morning."
"Have you found anyone?" Gúthwyn asked then.
Cobryn and Lebryn both stared at her. "Excuse me, my lady," Cobryn said, his normally level voice shaky, and his dark brown eyes wide. "Have you been to Isengard before? You look just like… but you are not…" He trailed off.
"You are a fool, Cobryn," she said, though a grin was spreading over her face. "And you, too, Lebryn," she addressed the now thunderstruck man. "It has not even been four years since I left, and already you cannot tell who I am? I expected better of you."
For a full minute, the two of them gaped at her, looking as if they hardly dared to believe what they were hearing. It was Cobryn who first recovered the use of his voice. "G-Gúthwyn?" he asked, stepping closer. "Is that—"
He got no further before she leaped off of the rocks and splashed her way over to him. "What do you think?" she whispered, and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.
Less than a second later, his arms were wrapped firmly around her, and she was lifted slightly off of her feet. "By the Valar," he breathed in amazement. "Gúthwyn, how did you—how is this—"
"Be quiet!" she scolded him, embracing him even tighter. "I missed you so much," she murmured, pulling back from him slightly to examine his face. It was the same as she remembered it from her days at Isengard, hardly aged at all. There was still great cunning and wit in his eyes, yet when she looked closer she saw a deep weariness underlying everything.
He, too, was studying her, and one of his hands gently touched where the Warg bite had been. She did not flinch from such contact, as she would have done with just about anyone besides Éomer. "It is gone…"
As she smiled broadly, he let go of her, and she was free to greet Lebryn. She went over to the young man, and immediately said, "You have grown taller than me."
He smirked at her. Tall, muscular, and extraordinarily handsome had the grumpy boy she recalled become—and he knew it. "Do I get a hug, as well?" he teased her. "Or does Cobryn get all of the luck?"
In response, she embraced him, but when they separated she slapped him across the face. As he winced, she grinned and said, "I hope you do not go through life approaching women like that!"
Cobryn laughed, though once again she thought she detected something off about him. "I could have seen that coming," he said. "It is good to see that someone can keep their wits around you!"
"Would you mind introducing us?"
The three of them turned to see Gimli planting his axe on the ground and leaning forward. A grin was tugging at the corners of his lips, and he looked with happy eyes upon the reunion.
"Yes, of course," Gúthwyn replied, and then took Cobryn and Lebryn's hands to bring them over to her companions. Both Aragorn and Gimli stepped back, allowing them to clamber onto the rocks and get out of the water. "Everyone," she said, "this is Cobryn, and Lebryn. They were my good friends in Isengard. Cobryn, Lebryn, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."
The Ranger inclined his head. "My apologies for what may have seemed an unnecessary interrogation," he said.
"It was not unnecessary, my lord," Cobryn assured him.
"Indeed," Lebryn added, "had there been less of you and a weapon in our hands, I for one would not have hesitated to do the interrogating."
Gúthwyn smiled. "Then we have Gimli, and the two Hobbits Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, who prefer to be known as Merry and Pippin."
Both Cobryn and Lebryn could not conceal their surprise at seeing the Halflings. "Forgive me for staring," Cobryn said, "but I have only heard of your kind in legends."
"Very few have even heard of us at all," Merry reassured him. Pippin nodded in agreement.
"And then," Gúthwyn continued, tensing as her eyes fell upon the Elf, "there is Legolas."
Legolas said an Elvish greeting, which Gúthwyn did not understand a word of, but Cobryn repeated it almost fluently. At this, both Aragorn and the Elf started. "Are you from Gondor?" the Ranger asked her friend.
"Yes, my lord—from the White City itself," Cobryn replied. "Though I only know a little of the Elven language, I am afraid."
"You spoke it well," Legolas said.
"Cobryn," Gúthwyn began then, remembering his words from earlier, "you said you were searching for your friends. What became of the others?"
At this, Cobryn and Lebryn exchanged dark looks. Cobryn's jaw clenched as he said, "We are trying to find Gwollyn and Regwyn."
She glanced back and forth between the two of them, confused. "What about Abaudia, Onyveth, or Feride?"
Something moved in Cobryn's face, and for a split second he looked like the saddest man in the world. "Gúthwyn, will you help us find Gwollyn and Regwyn? I promise, we will tell you what happened after… after we bury them."
"What?" she gasped, staring in shock at him. "How do you know they have perished? I thought you were both dead, and here you are!"
Cobryn shook his head. "Please, Gúthwyn, we do not have much more ground to search."
Now deeply disturbed, Gúthwyn turned to her companions. "I am going with them," she said.
Aragorn nodded, and for a moment she was surprised that he had not even protested. "We will wait here for Théoden," he replied, "and tell him where you have gone."
Cobryn shot her a quick glance. "The king is here?" he asked.
Gúthwyn nodded. "Let us go," she said. "For the past two days, I have tortured myself with worry. I do not wish to lengthen such hours."
"Aye, neither do I," Cobryn responded, and with that the three of them set off. As they sloshed through the water, Gúthwyn saw that he was still limping.
"What happened to your leg?" she asked, wondering if he had broken it again. When he had pulled her away from the bite of Sharkû's whip, he had been beaten so badly that his leg had broken. That had been nearly four years ago, however.
"You do not recall me in a cast when you left?" Cobryn inquired.
"But… did it not heal?" She frowned, trying to imagine why that would be so.
"Well," Cobryn sighed, "after I ran on it, it never recovered."
He had been running after her, when she had fled the slaves' dwelling in a blind frenzy. Horrorstruck, Gúthwyn stopped. The brown water lapped at her shins, passing through the already soaked fabric of her leggings. "Oh, Cobryn…" she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. "I am so sorry…"
"It was not your fault," Cobryn told her firmly. "I should have let someone else try to find you. Do not blame yourself for my foolishness."
"But—"
"Not a word," he cut her off, a sad smile on his face. "I am used to it by now."
All the same, Gúthwyn felt a horrible guilt swarming over her as they continued, peering into the dim waters in hopes of seeing a body. Now and again, Lebryn stooped down, but it was not the corpse that they searched for. I should never have left the dwelling, she berated herself as they went. If only I had been thinking of others, instead of myself…
Suddenly, Lebryn gave a cry. "There are two of them!" he exclaimed, kneeling in the water. Cobryn and Gúthwyn immediately followed suit. She could see the faint outlines of two bodies, lying a foot or so beneath the surface.
It was hard work pulling them out, as they had been pinned to the ground by a large slab of rock. Together, the three of them just barely managed to lift it up; all the while, she was praying that it would not be the brothers. She kept hoping that they would look up from their labor and see the two of them strolling around Orthanc, arm in arm.
But when they had pushed the rock to the side, Cobryn said quietly, "They are holding hands."
Gúthwyn felt a cold sensation sweep through her gut. Now a feeling of desperation was in their actions as they pulled the two corpses out of the water. When they had at last succeeded, she found herself staring down at Gwollyn and Regwyn's bodies. Even in death, the two of them had not separated.
No one said anything. Gúthwyn reached forward and touched the brothers' faces, relieved that their eyes were both closed. They looked peaceful, as if they were merely sleeping. Just as Beregil and Borogor had been. The lump in her throat hardened painfully, and she had to blink back the tears as she stroked Gwollyn's brown hair. A grim blow this was, to have been so close to seeing them again, only to discover that they were dead.
"How did you know that they did not live?" she asked at last, wrenching her eyes away from the sight of their bodies.
Cobryn looked at her solemnly. "Let us bury them first," he replied. "Then, I will answer all that you want to hear."
She nodded, and then Lebryn pointed to a large gap in the wall. "We can put them outside," he said, his face unusually taut.
The former slaves of Isengard made swift work of laying their comrades to rest. They dug the grave—only one, so that they might remain together—with both their own hands and scattered rocks, making sure they were deep enough so that the Wargs did not find the brothers. At length, they put Gwollyn and Regwyn inside. The entire procedure was undertaken in silence, except for when Cobryn murmured a farewell to them.
"Goodbye," Gúthwyn said, throwing in the last handful of dirt.
For a few minutes, no one spoke. At length, Cobryn stood up, and motioned for them to follow him. He led them to the crumbled remnants of the wall, where they could sit on some of the larger rocks. Once they were settled, he looked at Gúthwyn.
"Much has changed since you have been here," he told her somberly. "I am glad now that you went to Mordor before…" He and Lebryn glanced at each other.
"Cobryn, please," Gúthwyn said, "do not leave me in the dark any longer. What has happened? Where are the others?"
Cobryn sighed. "A few weeks after you left," he began, "Abaudia died in her sleep. She was not ill; it was old age."
Gúthwyn was glad to hear that Abaudia's death had been peaceful. The woman had lived a long life in Isengard, and deserved such an ending. She missed her, but knew that she had gone to a better place—especially with Cobryn and Lebryn hinting at a dark turn for Saruman's slaves.
Lebryn shifted on his rock, and Gúthwyn became aware that he was glancing keenly at Cobryn. The older slave looked at him, and shook his head. "Gúthwyn," he said quietly, "I am going to tell you what happened in the flood first, because it is the easier tale to speak and to hear."
"If you wish," Gúthwyn replied, more than a little confused. She leaned forward as Cobryn began his story.
"We were in our dwelling when we first heard rumor of the Ents' approach. At first, Gwollyn, Regwyn, Lebryn and I went outside, but when they entered the ring we saw them kill a great number of the Dunlendings. We did not want to gamble with whatever mercy the trees may have had, so we retreated back inside our room.
"We had been in there for perhaps half an hour when a great roaring noise met our ears. To us, it sounded like the waters of the Isen, but Saruman had dammed it shortly after you left. We would not have gone out of the dwelling if Regwyn had not said suddenly, 'Please, let us at least see what is going on. I fear what might come without our knowing.'
"So we went outside. And that was when the flood came."
Gúthwyn, who had been listening intently, stiffened.
"It was moving faster than anything we had seen before," Cobryn continued. "The Ents were still roaming throughout Isengard, and there were few options. Lebryn spotted a breach in the wall, and we decided to climb over it so we might escape both dangers." Here, his voice hardened. "Lebryn was helping me up, with Gwollyn and Regwyn coming behind us. Both he and I made it to the top, but the floodwaters came then, and the brothers… they were carried away."
Gúthwyn's shoulders slumped. "I am sorry," she said, and then looked at the two of them. "You have said nothing of Onyveth and Feride."
Lebryn's eyes narrowed, and Cobryn sighed. "Do you remember how the Uruk-hai were multiplying with each month?" he asked.
"Yes," Gúthwyn replied. "The army that assailed Helm's Deep was ten thousand strong."
Cobryn nodded grimly. "A year after you left, there were so many of them that they were killing some of the slaves to make room. At first, it was only the old, or those who had injuries."
"How did you two escape?" Gúthwyn questioned curiously.
"By following the advice I gave you," Cobryn answered. "We kept our heads down and did our work, not once drawing attention to ourselves. Both of us had strength aplenty, and some did not even notice that he was missing a hand or I walked with a limp. Or if they did, they overlooked it.
"But soon," he continued, a dark look coming over his features, "Saruman had gathered the full of his army. The forges were empty, as all of the armor had been made. A third of the slaves he did not need anymore. He…" Cobryn's face contorted painfully. "He ordered all the women and children to be killed."
Gúthwyn felt the blood drain out of her face.
"We tried to keep Onyveth and Feride concealed by hiding them in our dwelling, but it only lasted for a few months. The Uruks came for them, and we could do nothing as they were taken to the Warg stables."
Cobryn could barely finish speaking. She watched as he buried his face in his hands, now shaking with a combination of fury and sadness unfathomable. Lebryn looked at him as well, pity in his eyes.
"I am so sorry," Gúthwyn whispered, coming to sit beside Cobryn. Her mind was reeling from how horrible the story had been. The fates of Onyveth and Feride, she felt, would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Placing a hand on Cobryn's shoulder, she was surprised when he glanced up at her and opened his mouth. "Gúthwyn," he began hoarsely, "Feride… I…" He was struggling to get the words out, and she thought with a sinking feeling that she knew what he was going to say. "Feride was my wife!" he at last choked out.
Gúthwyn could barely talk for misery. "When did you marry?" she managed.
"Just five months before she was killed," Cobryn answered, his voice strangled. He put his face in his hands once more. "She was carrying our child!"
Gúthwyn's eyes widened in shock. And then Cobryn began sobbing, such as she had never seen him do before. He wept like a man who has lost everything in his life; her own heart nearly broke to see him so miserable. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, almost weeping herself as he shook under her touch.
"Cobryn, I…" She could not express in words how sorry she was for him. Helplessly, she looked at Lebryn, and saw that he was at just a loss as she was.
While she comforted Cobryn in whatever way she was able, Gúthwyn felt a terrible rage come over her. It was because of Saruman that all of these people were dead, all of these families torn asunder. But for the White Wizard, Cobryn would have been a happy father, with a wonderful wife at his side. Cheerful, smiling Onyveth would have been living—none of those poor slaves would have been slaughtered. Now, more than ever, I wish to lay my hands upon his neck, she thought furiously.
Eventually, Cobryn's tears subsided. He was still, staring down at the rocks.
"Cobryn?" she asked hesitantly, and he looked at her. Such wretchedness was on his face that she could not long endure it, and spoke instead to the ground. "What are you and Lebryn planning on doing, now that you have been freed?"
He shrugged, sighing heavily. "We have nothing," he replied at last.
"Will you not come to Rohan with me?"
Both Cobryn and Lebryn glanced at her in surprise.
"I mean it," Gúthwyn insisted. "I would not leave you here to find your own way. The Mark has need of good men."
"I have a limp, Gúthwyn," Cobryn said. "Your offer is appreciated, but I am afraid there is no place for me in Rohan."
"Do not be foolish!" she exclaimed impatiently. She was not going to be parted from her friends, not now when they had at last reunited. "You have nowhere to go," she reminded them.
Lebryn seemed as if he thought her idea was a good one, yet still Cobryn hesitated. "I do not want to be a burden," he said. "I am not able to move as swiftly as I used to."
"Cobryn, we are not walking to Rohan," Gúthwyn said, putting both of her hands firmly on his shoulders. "We have horses. I am not taking no for an answer."
He looked into her eyes for a long time, but she refused to relent, and at length he sighed. "Are you sure of this?" he wanted to know.
"Absolutely," she replied. Getting to her feet, she offered him a hand. "We must speak to my uncle first, though I see no reason for him to deny the request."
Cobryn took her hand and allowed her to pull him up. Lebryn hopped off of the rocks, and together the three of them started making their way back to the gate. "Be courteous to my brother especially," she cautioned them. "Éomer is a proud man, and he is quick to voice his displeasure. He will be watching you carefully, all the more so because you are in my company."
"In that case, Cobryn," Lebryn said, a faint trace of a grin on his features, "I suppose I should leave the negotiating to you and Gúthwyn."
Cobryn nodded absently, but she could see his thoughts were not with the discussion. Gúthwyn let him be, knowing that it would be best for him to come to terms with his grief. She and Lebryn did not speak much for the rest of the way, only exchanging the briefest of awkward glances.
When they returned, the others were still there, talking amongst themselves. As Gúthwyn climbed onto the rocks, Legolas stood. "Did you find them?" he asked quietly, looking between Cobryn's downtrodden face and Lebryn's weary one.
Gúthwyn nodded, unable to say anything. Her hands twitched nervously as Legolas drew nearer. "I am sorry," the Elf murmured, lowering his gaze.
At that moment, the sound of thundering hooves met their ears.
"Théoden approaches," Aragorn said, standing up and taking the pipe from his mouth. "We should meet him." He began picking his way down from the pile; Merry, Pippin, and Gimli followed suit. Legolas showed signs of wanting to wait, and so Gúthwyn turned to Cobryn and Lebryn.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
Lebryn nodded, and went to stand beside Legolas. Yet Cobryn merely stood there, gazing out at the waters. His face was filled with silent misery.
"Cobryn?" she inquired softly, approaching him slowly. He did not move, not even when she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Will you be all right, my friend?"
For a long time, he did not respond. A full minute passed before he sighed, and nodded.
"Come," Gúthwyn said, and they turned away from the cold finger of Orthanc.