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 Five:
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 Five
Night was lying heavily over the plains when the Riders began slowing, looking to find a place to rest until morning. Gúthwyn pulled gradually on Heorot's reins, relieved at the prospect of sleep: It had been a long day. Close to ten hours had passed since their confrontation with Saruman, but his words were still echoing cruelly in her head. Each time she thought of how he had humiliated her, exposing all her weakness to the others, her face flushed in shame.
Neither she nor Cobryn had said much throughout the ride. She could not tell if was still absorbed in his grief, or if his mind had turned to other things.
He is going to be sore tonight, she thought. When she had arrived at Isengard, he had already been there for three years. Now, a decade had passed since his capture—over ten years since the last time he had ridden. Glancing over at Lebryn, who was on Gamling's horse, she saw him wince in pain as the animal jolted.
Soon, they found a place that was somewhat sheltered by gently sloping hills, and halted there for the night. Gúthwyn lightly dismounted Heorot, and Cobryn slid off far less gracefully after her.
Lebryn gave a muttered thanks to Gamling and stumbled over to them. "Never again," he panted, wiping his hair from his dark eyes. "I swear…"
Cobryn grunted in response.
"Now, now," Gúthwyn said, smiling. "It is not that bad."
"Maybe not for one who grew up in the stables," Lebryn retorted. She rolled her eyes.
"Move along," she told them, taking their arms and starting to pull them over to where the other men were setting up camp. "If it pains you as much as you say, then you should get some rest for tomorrow."
They followed her, stiff and bandy-legged. Cobryn looked all the more ridiculous, as he had a limp in addition to sore thighs. Some of the guards glanced up as they came over, and unsuccessfully tried to cover up their grins. Having learned to ride as soon as they could walk, they could not remember experiencing such discomfort as her friends were now going through.
Gúthwyn shot a pointed look at Gamling, and he called out, "No offense meant, my lady."
She smiled. "I had hoped not."
Meanwhile, Cobryn and Lebryn found a small space a little ways away from the others, and collapsed to the ground without a word. Immediately, Gúthwyn realized that they did not have blankets, or a pallet.
"Wait a moment," she said, and went back to Heorot. On her way, she passed Aragorn.
"How are they holding up?" he asked quietly, glancing at Cobryn and Lebryn. They had not moved since she left.
She shrugged. "They will soon get used to it. I do not worry, though I also do not envy them their pain." A brief smile came over her face as Lebryn finally stirred, groaning with each motion.
Aragorn looked at her. "You did them a kind service," he said, inclining his head.
"They are wonderful men," Gúthwyn replied. "I could do much more, and still not repay the debt I owe them."
The Ranger opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment someone called his name. Turning, they saw Legolas approach them. "Gandalf wishes to speak with you," he said.
"Thank you," Aragorn replied, and left. Gúthwyn's heart hammered in her chest as Legolas looked at her.
"Are your friends doing well?" he asked. A shudder ran through her as his blue eyes met hers.
"Y-Yes," she answered shakily, clenching and unclenching her fists. "E-Excuse me."
Hastily Gúthwyn walked away, her cheeks flaming from the encounter. She could only begin to imagine how weak he must have thought her, especially after what Saruman had said. Her hands trembled as she worked to unsaddle Heorot, making such a simple task far more difficult than it should have been.
When at last the saddle was removed, she laid it on the ground and picked up Borogor's pack. Rummaging through it, she found her blanket and the Elven cloak. A quick glance around showed her that Legolas had mercifully returned to his pallet. Sighing in relief, she crossed over to where Cobryn and Lebryn were lying. Cobryn had propped himself up against a rock, but Lebryn still had not moved.
"Here," she said, handing the cloak to Cobryn and the blanket to Lebryn. "I am sorry I do not have anything better."
Lebryn took the blanket and draped it haphazardly over himself, muttering bleary thanks, but Cobryn examined the cloak closely. "Where did you get this?" he asked, looking at the brooch.
"In Lothlórien, from the Lady Galadriel," she replied.
His eyes widened. "How did you manage to get there?" When she opened her mouth, he shook his head. "On second thought, do not answer that right away. First, tell me what happened after you left—did you truly go to Mordor? If so, how is it possible that you are here with us now?"
Gúthwyn winced. But as Lebryn propped himself up on his elbows, clearly ready to listen, she knew she could not reasonably withhold the tale from them. So in a low voice, careful of the other men near them who were trying to fall asleep, she gave them the same abridged version that she had told her family. Yet out of courtesy to Cobryn, she said nothing about Hammel and Haiweth, thinking that they might remind him of Feride's unborn child. Thankfully, neither of her friends pressed the topic of Haldor, nor what her assignment had been for Sauron. Even Lebryn seemed to sense that the subjects were sensitive.
When she finished, they both stared at her. "You are either extremely lucky," Cobryn breathed, "or the Valar themselves are protecting you."
Gúthwyn looked down at her feet. She was not truly lucky, but she could not deny that she had overcome immeasurable odds to be alive today. "Perhaps it is my fate," she said dully. Perhaps the Valar have something worse in store for me.
Glancing back up, she saw Lebryn yawning. "You should get some rest," she told him. "We have a few more days of riding ahead of us."
Lebryn let out one last groan before becoming limp, his body sprawled carelessly over the ground. She smiled, then turned to Cobryn. "What about you?" she inquired.
"I am sore," he replied. "Not tired." Wrapping her cloak tighter around his shoulders, he looked up into the sky. Gúthwyn followed his gaze, and saw that the stars were out; brighter than all other things they shone, beautiful in the quiet evening.
"Do you remember when we saw these same constellations in Isengard?" she asked, sighing deeply and breathing in the fresh air.
He nodded, his face still upturned towards the heavens. "Aye," he said, a small smile coming over his face. "The night before you left."
"Yes," Gúthwyn said, and frowned. She did not want to think about the Black Land, of Beregil's hand-dug grave, of Borogor's strong arms, of Hammel and Haiweth, or of Haldor's cruel eyes pinning her to his bed.
"Are you all right?" Cobryn questioned, jolting her out of her thoughts. Gúthwyn realized that she was trembling slightly.
"Yes," she answered unsteadily. "I-I am fine."
He did not look as though he believed her, but knew her pride too well to pursue the issue. For a long time, they sat together in silence, their minds wandering to memories of the past.
When Cobryn at last spoke, his words were heavy, and a lump formed in her throat as she heard them. "When we married," he murmured, twisting his hands, "she was so happy… Have you ever seen her smile?"
Gúthwyn had seen a faint grin on Feride's face, once or twice, but nothing that matched what she would have had with Cobryn. "No," she replied softly.
"She was the most beautiful woman in the world," he whispered. "I believed in miracles then. I thought the Valar were watching over the two of us."
Gúthwyn was struggling to fight the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "I wish I could have seen you and her," she said. "I-I am so sorry."
He put his face in his hands. "You should get some sleep," he muttered. "It would not be good for me to keep you up."
She could tell from his voice that he needed some time alone. So she stood up, but before she left she put a firm hand on his shoulder. "If you ever want someone to talk to," she said, "I will always listen to what you have to say."
Cobryn looked at her, a mixture of mild surprise and gratitude on his face. "Thank you," he responded. "And thank you for the cloak."
Smiling, Gúthwyn said gently, "If there is anything else you desire, let me know." As she turned away, she hoped that his spirits would be lifted soon. He deserved far more than life had given him—just as Borogor.
Her own mood now subdued, she walked back through the silent camp and located her things. Both Chalibeth and Borogor's cloaks she adorned, hugging herself tightly against the chill that sought to seep into her bones. Scanning the camp for Éomer, she was puzzled to see that he was sitting up.
Carefully, she made her way over to him. "Does sleep evade you tonight, brother?" she asked when she came close enough, placing her pallet near his.
Éomer glanced at her, his dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. "I am not the only one awake," he answered. "It has been well over an hour since I thought you would be sleeping."
"I was talking to Cobryn," she said.
"I know that," Éomer replied, and there was a strange look in his eyes.
"Is something wrong?" Gúthwyn inquired, unsure of what was troubling him.
He sighed, and for a long time did not say anything. Finally, he said, "I have been watching the two of you. When I first saw him, your hand was on his arm. Then you spend more than an hour talking with him at night, sitting closer to him than most would consider proper. Do you love him?"
The question was so unexpected that Gúthwyn merely stared at him for a few seconds. When she connected the words to their meaning, she could not speak. It was not Cobryn that she now thought of, but Borogor. A hot liquid burned in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears from overflowing. How foolish, how stupid, how blind could she have possibly been?
"Gúthwyn?"
Her brother's voice drew her back to the present, away from the sight of Borogor's body lying on the carpets of Ithilien. "No," she said at last, her words laden with grief. "It is not him to whom my heart is turned."
Too late, she realized what her words had implied. Éomer stiffened, and his gaze was so piercing that she could not long endure it. "Whom, then, do you love?" he wanted to know, though his voice was gentle rather than demanding.
"Éomer, please," she whispered. A sudden need to curl up and leave her tormented thoughts was coming over her. "I… please, do not ask me of him now."
He was silent for a minute. "As you wish," he said at length, yet his eyes still searched hers for answers.
"Thank you," she murmured wearily. The memory of Borogor's face hanging heavily over her heart, she laid herself upon the ground. I love you, she thought, and her world turned dark.
The sound of thundering hooves, galloping across the plain at swift speeds, was making Gúthwyn exceedingly happy. For most of the day they had been riding, and now that Edoras was in sight the king had picked up the pace. She herself was glad to be home, as Éowyn and Tun would be there. So she pushed Heorot faster, eager to see them again. She had a great tale to tell Éowyn, that was for sure.
"Do you see the Golden Hall?" Gúthwyn now asked Cobryn, turning her head for a brief instant to look at him. He was staring at Edoras in awe, even though as a Gondorian of the White City he had seen far larger.
"Yes," he replied, nearly shouting over the wind that was pounding in their ears. "Is that where you grew up?"
Gúthwyn nodded happily, a broad grin stretching over her face. There was no place in all of Middle-earth, she thought, that could possibly make her happier. And as the Riders drew closer to it, the shouts of her people joyously greeting their king echoed in her ears and widened her smile.
Soon they had ridden in through the gates, and were heavily cheered by crowds of Rohirrim lining the streets. The victory at Helm's Deep had brought back a hope that had deserted them for many years. Now, they sang and cried out, reveling in the glorious return of the king and his guard. Many of them stared in wonder at the Hobbits, Cobryn, and Lebryn. She could not help noticing that the girls were giggling with each look Lebryn gave them.
They pulled up before the Golden Hall, and immediately stableboys rushed out to take their horses. Gúthwyn dismounted, followed by Cobryn. The boy who had gripped the reins of Heorot looked at her friend curiously. She smiled at him, but did not say anything in explanation.
Éowyn was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, beautiful in a white gown that had a brown brocade over her torso. Rather impatiently, Gúthwyn watched as she spoke briefly to Théoden and Éomer. Then, when they had gone inside Meduseld, her sister's eyes moved beyond them to where she was standing beside Cobryn and Lebryn. They narrowed in confusion.
Taking that as her cue to introduce her friends, Gúthwyn motioned to them to come with her and raced up the stairs. As she did so, one of the guards came out of the Golden Hall: Tun. He smiled to see her, though his eyes widened as he looked upon Cobryn and Lebryn.
Remembering what she had been about to do, she turned to Éowyn.
"Welcome back," her sister said happily. "It has been dull without you and Éomer here."
Was it Gúthwyn's imagination, or did she detect a trace of resentment in Éowyn's words? "Aye," she replied, banishing the unwelcome thoughts. "But I will tell you the tale in full of what we did, so that your time here be not uninteresting."
"Good," Éowyn said. "Now, who are these men?"
Gúthwyn smiled. "Éowyn, sister, I would like you to meet Cobryn and Lebryn." She pointed out both of her friends. Cobryn gave a bow, while Lebryn merely inclined his head. "I knew them in Isengard."
Éowyn covered up her surprise well, though Gúthwyn was well aware that she would be questioned mercilessly later on about them. "I am delighted to meet you both," she told them, and her words were not spoken falsely.
"I have heard many wonderful things about you, my lady," Cobryn said. "Gúthwyn said much about you."
"I am sure she exaggerated," Éowyn said, smiling slightly. "It is a pleasure…" Her voice trailed off then; her eyes were no longer on them, but on some point over their shoulders. Gúthwyn did not have to turn to know that Aragorn was coming up the stairs.
"Come," she said to her friends, feeling rather uncomfortable. "There is someone else I want you to meet."
They nodded, and she brought them over to where Tun was standing. "How is your arm?" she asked immediately, gesturing at the sling.
"It is doing much better, thank you," he replied, though his eyes were on Cobryn and Lebryn, an unspoken inquiry in them.
Gúthwyn made the introductions again, and the men shook hands.
"I see we all have our injuries," Cobryn commented, and while Tun smiled, Gúthwyn noticed that his lips were pressed thinly together.
"Gúthwyn, may I speak with you for a moment?" he asked then, and she nodded.
"Let me just make sure Cobryn and Lebryn are settled," she replied. Then she turned to the two of them. "My sister can tell you where to put your things. She is a better host than I, I fear. But I will not be long."
"Take your time," Cobryn told her, and put a hand on Lebryn's shoulder. He muttered something in the young man's ear; Gúthwyn had no doubt that it was a reminder to restrain his often-free tongue. She smiled.
When they left to find Éowyn, she watched them for a moment, hoping that they would be all right on their own. It was not as if it were easy to get lost in the Golden Hall, but they did not know their way around, nor most of the people.
"Gúthwyn," Tun said, and she looked back at him.
"Sorry," she replied, flushing. "I did not mean to ignore you. I am just worried for them."
"Can we speak somewhere in private?" he questioned.
For a moment, she hesitated, remembering what had happened when Haldor had asked her for a word alone. But Tun's brown eyes were sincere, and she knew that he would rather die than harm her. "Of course," she answered. Taking his hand, she led him behind the cover of one of the large pillars, determined to at least have the control over where they talked. She did not like to make the same foolish mistake twice.
Tun shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking rather guilty about something. "Gúthwyn," he began, "those men… how well do you know them?"
She looked at him in mild confusion. "I shared a dwelling with them and some other slaves for four years," she said, not sure what he was getting at. "They came with me because I would not leave my friends with nowhere to go."
"Are you in love with either of them?" he blurted out, his cheeks slightly red but his eyes narrowed intently.
With his words, Gúthwyn realized why her champion had not been overly pleased to meet her friends. Lebryn's good looks had probably not helped matters, either. "Tun!" she exclaimed, her laughter kind. "You are just as bad as Éomer!"
"So you do not, then?" he asked.
"I do not," she confirmed. "Both you and my brother worry too much. Do you think I have not already answered this question?"
Tun smiled, now much more relaxed. "I suppose that my concerns were foolish."
"Never," Gúthwyn said, and she meant it. "I am lucky to have two such protectors."
His eyes met hers just before he said, "He is lucky who protects you."
She flushed, flattered that her friend would go to such lengths to see her happy. "Thank you," she responded quietly, then sighed. "I will see to Heorot before I go inside, but I do not wish to hinder you."
"Alas," Tun replied, "my time is not yours to hinder, for Lord Erkenbrand has asked me to help him set up the tables in the Golden Hall. Théoden has declared a feast, and it will soon be ready."
"Then in that case," Gúthwyn replied, wincing, "I shall have to wear a dress, and I will need an hour just to do all the lacings!"
Tun chuckled. "It will be well worth it, my lady," he said, and added softly, "even if you do not think so."
Gúthwyn blushed at the compliment. "Tun, you are too kind."
Her friend opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment someone shouted his name, accompanied by a string of muttering about lazy young men.
"Erkenbrand," Tun whispered with a grimace. "I am sorry, but I must depart."
She bid him farewell and watched as he hurried towards the doors of Meduseld. When he had gone inside, she shook her head and smiled. He and her brother fretted over her safety more than was necessary—going so far as to ask her whether she was in love with Cobryn and Lebryn, simply because she was in their company! Well, they were both wrong. Her face clouded.
No, she told herself. Do not think of Borogor now. You have tasks to complete.
Half an hour later found Gúthwyn in the stables. She had groomed Heorot to perfection, talking to him occasionally. No one else was with her, for all hands were needed in the party preparations. She was looking forward to the occasion, as it would be an opportunity for her to be with her people; hopefully she would meet all those whose names she did not know.
Her gaze traveled over to Shadowfax's stall. Again, she felt curiosity overwhelming her. The mearh was tossing its head, appearing rather bored. His fine coat gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through high windows, and she marveled at his superiority. Never in her life had she seen the likes of him; she doubted she ever would again. Almost before she was aware of what she was doing, she absent-mindedly scratched Heorot's ears and left the stall.
She approached Shadowfax, the quiet throbbing in her ears. The horse glanced at her as she drew nearer, his dark eyes narrowing. Gúthwyn knew that she should not be doing this, that at any moment one of the stableboys might return, but in a strange way she was almost powerless to stop herself as she opened the door to the horse's stall. Slipping inside, she was relieved when he did not—attack her? Whinny in displeasure?
"Hello," she whispered, not daring to raise her voice any higher.
He looked haughtily down at her as she edged closer. Her arm was stretching out, slowly and hesitantly, to stroke his mane. When she realized what she was doing, she halted; yet Shadowfax did not even blink, and slightly emboldened she reached towards him. He snorted as her hand touched his hide, but otherwise remained quiet. He allowed her to run her fingers through his mane. For nearly a full minute, she stood there like that, not saying a word.
"He is a magnificent horse, is he not?"
Gúthwyn's heart leaped into her throat, and she turned around to see Gandalf watching her from the stable door. His blue eyes were kind, but she still felt a guilty flush creep over her.
"Y-Yes," she quickly agreed, lowering her arm. "I-I am sorry…"
The wizard waved away her apologies. "Curiosity is natural for one so young," he replied, smiling.
She looked down at her hands. It always made her uncomfortable when he referred to her as a child—to his long years on this earth she was, but she felt centuries away from the carefree girl she had been eight years ago.
"I suppose you are not so young for your people," Gandalf conceded, and she glanced at him. "I forget these things."
Gúthwyn shifted awkwardly on her feet as the wizard drew closer, though his gaze was fixed on Shadowfax. "He is proud, just as you are. And like you, he has a will of his own."
Hot shame washed over her as she thought of getting on her knees for Haldor, allowing him to entwine his fingers in her hair and pull her face closer to his parted legs. She felt sick as she said, "You speak falsely of me, my lord."
"Do I, now?" Gandalf asked, his keen eyes now upon her. Gúthwyn had an unsettling sensation that he could see through her, and blinked. The wizard looked at her for another moment. "I did not speak up to Théoden on behalf of a submissive niece. Did you not wonder why I came to your defense?"
She had, in fact, been puzzling over that. Théoden had not wanted her to go to Isengard, but Gandalf had intervened until her uncle had reluctantly agreed. "I-I did," she replied nervously.
Gandalf put his hand on the stall door. "I had hoped that you would speak to Saruman," he said. "And you did. It takes great courage to stand up to someone far more powerful than you, and no small amount of pride. You showed Saruman that even the very slave he had thrown into that cage no longer had any fear for him."
Gúthwyn did not know what to say. The White Wizard had humiliated her in front of the entire company; she did not think that she had returned the favor.
"Yes," Gandalf murmured, no longer looking at her. "A very magnificent horse."
"Gandalf?" she asked quietly, unsure why she wanted to know this.
"Hm?"
"Will he let no one besides you ride him?"
The wizard's eyes darted back to hers, searching them thoroughly. "Why do you ask?"
"I-I do not know," she admitted.
He paused before answering. "If he wishes to, he will bear you."
Gúthwyn thought about this for a moment, and then nodded. Bowing briefly, she edged out of the stall. "I am sorry if I have troubled you, my lord," she murmured.
"Not at all," he said, smiling.
Giving a nervous nod, she left the stables, somewhat shaken by her encounter with the wizard. He did not know much about her past, yet he seemed to be able to see through her in a way that few others could—it was that which made her uneasy when she was around him. She did not like it when others guessed her thoughts as readily as if they were their own. It made her feel weaker than she already was.
Though the sun was bright, and the day was warm, she shivered as she made her way back into Meduseld.