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 Eight:
As always, I'm using a crazy blend of movie and book canon, and it may at times get confusing. Please bear with me. Let me know if anything is uncanonical, implausible, etc.

Chapter Eight

"Gúthwyn?"

She stirred, turning over as her eyes slowly began fluttering. Something warm and thick was on top of her; she did not want to wake up. But her name was persistently repeated, until finally a cold blast of air hit her body.

Sitting up, she looked around her in confusion. She was on a strange bed, and someone had drawn the comforters back. Sighing softly, Gúthwyn glanced over to her left; Éomer was standing beside her, already dressed for the day. "Good afternoon," he said.

That was when the memories of the previous night flooded through her. Her face turned hot with self-loathing and embarrassment, and she turned away so that she did not have to meet Éomer's eyes. Her own felt puffy—had she truly cried herself to sleep?

"Gúthwyn?" His hand was under her chin, lifting it up so that she was gazing directly at him. She cringed, trying to pull away, but he would not release her. "None of what happened was your fault," Éomer told her firmly. "Do you understand that?"

Shaking her head, she whispered, "If I had not been so stupid, so foolish—"

"No," he cut her off, putting his other hand on her shoulder and shaking it slightly. "You deserved none of his abuse, none of it! No one should have to go through what you suffered—not you, not Éowyn, no one!"

Gúthwyn stared dully at a point beyond his shoulder. He must have been saying this because he was her brother, and brothers were supposed to protect their younger sisters. How could it not have been her due to receive what Haldor had given her, especially after all that she had done? In her dream, Haldor had said she was not even worthy of being called a whore; despite his words, was Éomer disgusted with her as well?

"What can I do to make you see that?" Éomer asked then, his voice quiet and desperate.

Her head bowed, Gúthwyn slid off of the bed. Trembling, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, needing someone to hold her. And he did. Gently he cradled her to his chest, rocking her slowly back and forth. Even when a few tears trickled onto the fabric of his shirt, he did not say anything. For a long time they stood there, until at last she looked up and murmured, "Thank you."

Éomer gazed down at her, stroking her hair. "If you ever wish to talk about anything, I will be here," he replied seriously.

Gúthwyn nodded, a small, hesitant smile of relief coming over her. "Éomer?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"W-Will you not tell Théoden about… about Haldor?" She did not want him to know the extent of her humiliation; she did not think she would be able to stand his pity.

"Of course not," her brother promised.

"Y-You can tell Éowyn, if you want…" she said shakily.

Éomer cupped her chin in his hand. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" he inquired, searching her eyes intently.

Numbly, she shook her head.

"Did you ever carry his child?"

Her heart stopped, and instinctively she shuddered at such a thought. After the shock of Haldor taking her to his bed had worn off, the worry that she would become pregnant had always been somewhere in the back of her mind, though nothing like her fear whenever he so much as looked at her. Each month when a red stain showed itself on her leggings, she had breathed a little sigh of relief. Somehow, he had not managed to beget her with a child—it was that, more than anything, that had cemented her belief that the Valar did at times protect her.

"So I am an uncle?" Éomer asked, his face thunderstruck. Gúthwyn realized that he had misinterpreted her silence, and hastened to shake her head.

"No," she whispered, watching as his eyes widened. "I never—no."

He exhaled slowly. "You had me worried," he muttered, and then frowned. "Though if you had a child, I would not shun my niece or nephew."

"I know," Gúthwyn replied, and rested her head on his chest. For several minutes neither of them spoke a word.

Eventually, Éomer said, "It is well past noon. You should get dressed."

She pulled away from him, and glanced around her brother's room. "Where did you sleep last night?" she asked suddenly.

He pointed to a hard wooden chair, and she felt a flush of guilt creeping over her. "I-I am sorry," she muttered, embarrassed. "You could have woken me; I would have gone back…"

"I did not want to wake you," he answered, "nor send you away after all that you had told me."

Words could not describe her gratitude towards him. "Thank you," she said again.

He smiled sadly at her. "It was the least I could do." Letting her go, he reached behind him towards the night table and picked up a bundle of clothing. "I brought these for you," he told her, and handed her the garments. "Shall we expect you for lunch?"

She nodded. Éomer patted her briefly on the shoulder and turned away, moving to the door so she could have some privacy. Just before he left, he glanced back. "What was your nightmare of?" he inquired.

Gúthwyn shivered, and her response was subdued. "Haldor showed me the bodies of everyone I loved… he shoved me onto them, and the maggots crawled all over me…"

"Are you all right?" Éomer asked quietly: her face had paled.

"Yes," she answered, unfolding a grey dress. "I-I will be fine."

He bowed, and left the room.

It was high afternoon. The sun blazed overhead, rays of light streaming onto the warriors' backs as they trained on the fields of Edoras. Even though Helm's Deep had been saved, Gandalf had cautioned against letting revelry cloud their judgment of the eastern threat. And so many of the men had been practicing all day, most with sore heads and nauseous stomachs from drinking too much at last night's feast.

As a matter of fact, the wizard was not with them. When Gúthwyn had spoken to Théoden, her uncle had told her that in the middle of the night—while she had been dreaming of Haldor—something had happened with the strange ball that Pippin had found in Isengard. Apparently, the young Hobbit had stolen it from the wizard, and tried to look into it. Whatever he had seen, and Théoden was not sure of it, for Gandalf had only given a brief explanation, it had proved a grave mistake: Sauron had looked upon the Halfling.

How this was possible, she did not know, but it seemed that this ball was a means of communication in some way. And if Saruman had been using it, it made sense that Sauron was talking with him. A link between the two towers, Gúthwyn thought grimly, and one that might cause them many a grievance. Pippin had stumbled across this connection; the pain from Sauron interrogating him had caused him to cry out, awakening everyone in the throne room.

The very next morning, while Gúthwyn was sleeping in Éomer's room, Gandalf had left Rohan, taking Pippin with him. Théoden said that they were leaving to warn Gondor of an attack, which Pippin had seen plans of in the globe. In addition, the wizard had warned her uncle to have Rohan ready for war, should the ancient beacons of Gondor be lit in a call for aid that had not been given for many years.

Gúthwyn sighed. She missed Pippin already. And since his departure, poor Merry had been extremely gloomy, hardly saying a word to her at lunch. She felt awful for him, though there was nothing she could do; she had not even gotten a chance to say goodbye to the young Halfling. Once again, she sighed, though the sound was obscured by sparring warriors.

To Gúthwyn, it was strange not to be joining them. She had not picked up a sword since Helm's Deep, and she promised herself that as soon as she woke up tomorrow, she would head to the training grounds and practice—regardless of what Éomer or Théoden said.

At the moment, however, she was watching Lebryn spar with Gamling, who had been given the instructions of testing the young man to see his worth. So far, Lebryn was doing well. Only a few times had Gamling managed to get under his guard.

"Do you think they will accept him?" she asked Cobryn in an undertone. He was standing beside her, observing the proceedings with a careful eye.

Her friend glanced over to where Éomer and Théoden stood. Neither of them made any secret of the fact that they were scrutinizing Lebryn, sizing up his skill and determining his prowess. "They need all the men they can get, and Lebryn is talented," Cobryn muttered. "I would be surprised if they did not."

Lebryn continued to fight against Gamling. In any case, Gúthwyn thought, his endurance was bound to win him some admiration: Not once had he shown signs of tiring, though the test had started almost an hour ago.

"Where did you go last night?" Cobryn asked then, still keeping his voice low. "The party went until well past midnight, but I did not see you after we spoke briefly."

Gúthwyn shrugged. "I got tired," she said stiffly. He did not press the subject, well aware that when she wanted to tell him, she would.

At one point, Gamling bested Lebryn in a skirmish, and Cobryn intervened. "If I may, my lord," he said, hobbling forward. Some of the onlookers chuckled amongst themselves, but Gúthwyn smiled, knowing that his appearance was extremely deceptive.

Lebryn silently handed the stick over to his friend. Cobryn faced Gamling. "Will you do that strike again?" he asked.

Looking somewhat surprised, Gamling obeyed. Cobryn blocked it easily. "This is what you want to do," he told Lebryn. Now, the two sticks were meeting high above the men, neither of them having the clear mastery. "From there…"

With a sudden motion, so swift and strong that Gamling could not prevent it, Cobryn flicked his wrist and used the leverage to swing both of their sticks downwards. Gamling's ended up on the bottom, pointing harmlessly to the side, while Cobryn's was now aimed directly at the older guard's stomach.

"…the element of surprise is perhaps your greatest friend," Cobryn finished, and returned the stick to Lebryn.

A broad grin spread across Gúthwyn's face as the men surrounding them muttered in shock. Lebryn did not seem fazed at all, but Gamling looked thunderstruck as Cobryn bowed politely to him. "Thank you, my lord," her friend said.

"You, Cobryn!" Éomer called, just as the man was beginning to turn away. Slowly, Cobryn turned back to face him.

"Yes, my lord?" he asked.

"Why are you not practicing with him?"

Cobryn regarded her brother for a moment, and then said, "Because, with all due respect, my lord, I would look absolutely foolish trying to fight with my leg."

Théoden chuckled. "I suppose you are right," he replied, "though I would say that you are far from foolish."

Cobryn limped back over to Gúthwyn, and she smiled at him. "I did not say anything to the other men," she whispered, "and you can see that they are quite surprised."

"Never judge a sword by its sheath," Cobryn answered, smirking.

Lebryn's practice went on for about five more minutes until Éomer suddenly said, "What do you think, Aragorn?"

Gúthwyn turned around and saw the Ranger making his way towards them, Éowyn at his side. Just behind them were Legolas and Gimli. She tried to ignore the shiver of revulsion sweeping through her upon seeing the Elf. After last night with Éomer, reliving all that Haldor had done to her, she was in no mood to speak to him. All day, she had been trying to forget about her nightmare and the following events. To some extent she had succeeded, but she did not wish to endanger that, and so she turned away from Legolas.

At the sound of Éomer's voice, Aragorn paused, examining Lebryn closely. The young man stared just as determinedly back at him, clearly not at all pleased with how so many warriors were surveying him as if he were a prized horse.

"Hold that stick out," Aragorn said at last. Lebryn looked askance at him, and then lifted it up, holding it so that it was pointing directly in between the Ranger's eyes. His own gaze was smoldering with barely contained fire.

Aragorn started walking towards the man, coming within an inch of the stick before pausing. Not once did Lebryn move, and after a moment Aragorn said, "He will be a good warrior. I saw him fighting from above."

Those who stood on the dais could look upon the training grounds; Gúthwyn herself had done so frequently, in the days where she had been fiercely envious of her brother and sister for knowing how to use a sword.

Éowyn came up beside her then. "Hello," Gúthwyn greeted her, smiling. "Where have you been all afternoon?"

They had eaten lunch together, but afterwards they had gone their separate ways—Éowyn to the stables, Gúthwyn to find Cobryn and Lebryn—and they had not seen each other since.

"Mostly in the stables," Éowyn admitted. "Windfola was being particularly rowdy."

Gúthwyn grinned in amusement. Much like its owner, her sister's horse was very headstrong, and not easily subdued. "I trust not too troublesome?" she asked. Before them, Lebryn was speaking with Gamling. She prayed that things were going well.

"Not terribly," Éowyn replied. "When I had groomed him, I went back into the Golden Hall, and saw Aragorn there."

A clouded look came over her eyes. Gúthwyn knew that her sister was still enamored of the Ranger, and awkwardly cast around for something to say. She did not want to dwell on talk of Aragorn, especially when his heart was already given to Arwen. "Have you seen Tun?" she asked at last. Her champion had not been anywhere in sight when she had eaten, nor had she seen him on the training grounds.

Sighing, Éowyn said, "He had scouting duty, and will not return for another day or two. He was searching for you before he left, but you were still sleeping."

Gúthwyn was slightly disappointed that she had not gotten the chance to bid her friend farewell, yet she would see him soon enough. He had his duties to do, after all, and she could not always be by his side.

At that moment, Lebryn and Cobryn came over to them. "Your uncle says I can train with the men," Lebryn told her, looking pleased.

"That is wonderful!" Gúthwyn exclaimed, smiling. "Now, when do I get to spar with you?"

Lebryn snorted. "You are a lady now," he said with a smirk on his face. "I would not want to ruin your dress or your hair arrangement."

She slapped him across the face, earning a wince from him and a pair of wide eyes from Éowyn. "You know fully well that I can hold my own against you, Lebryn," she retorted, only half jesting. "Do not make me humiliate you tomorrow."

"Aye, it would be best for you to curb your tongue, my friend," Cobryn said lightly, though he placed a warning hand on Lebryn's shoulder. "Gúthwyn, I think your brother wishes to speak with you."

When Gúthwyn glanced over, she saw Éomer approaching them. "Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic nod at Lebryn she stepped away from the group. "Yes, brother?" she asked as he drew nearer, wondering if he had seen her with Lebryn.

"How have you been holding up?" he inquired gently, his voice low so that the others could not hear him.

She looked down. "I am fine," she answered, only somewhat truthfully. "A-At least, I will be."

"Are you sure?" he pressed quietly, beginning to move away from the training grounds. Gúthwyn followed him, as reluctant as he was to discuss these matters in public.

"Yes," she said, sighing. They were making their way towards the stables. "I feel… different, somehow."

She could not describe what it was. It was not that she had left her past behind her—no, it was as much a part of her as was her present, perhaps even more—nor that she was the worse for telling Éomer her tale. Yet for reasons that she did not know, and to an undetermined effect, something had changed within her. It was not a big thing, of that she was certain, though it seemed to her that there was a task she had to do, a task that she had put off.

Éomer glanced at her, but she did not say anything as she followed him into the stables.