I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor it's characters or places!
When they had calmed down from their grief the group turned silent.
"What now?" Mÿne managed to choke out. "What will we do?"
But none had an answer. Aragorn sat in the grass, looking at the burned pile.
"I don't know, Mÿne." he said as he turned his gaze to the ground in front of him.
"A hobbit laid here." he said, while he brushed with his hand across the grass. "And the other here."
Mÿne looked up as she listened to him. She watched as he felt the dead grass and relaxed a little, as if following the last tracks of the hobbits gave him some kind of solace.
"They crawled." Aragorn said as he got up and followed a path of flattened grass. Twice they were lead on a dead end, confused with tracks of Uruks. They followed him as he stopped.
"Their hands were bound." he said, looking at the tracks in front of them. Mÿne walked past him, eyeing the track they were following. From flat grass she pulled a torn rope.
"No, their bonds were cut. Or torn." she shouted to them, holding up the rope. She examined the end of the torn rope. "It was cut." she concluded.
Aragorn looked at the rope, and eyed the ground again.
"They ran over here...and were followed." he said, walking beside the flattened grass and ground.
"Their tracks lead away from the battle..." he said as he looked up. "Into Fangorn Forest." he fell silent.
Mÿne bit her bottom lip. She'd never been to Fangorn Forest, but Aragorn and other rangers had told her enough to understand that it was a scary place. You wouldn't go there, only if you had no other choice.
"But..." Mÿne said, as she eyed the still smothering pile of black dead bodies. "That means that they're not dead!"
She grew excited as her heart warmed itself with hope again. Her hands clenched themselves into fists, in an attempt to contain herself.
"Their tracks don't linger on the battlefield so they must've escaped! We haven't failed them yet! There is still hope!" she even managed to smile.
She found new energy, new courage and hope. If they were out there, she would comb out that forest to find them, no matter how scary its reputation was.
"But Fangorn." Gimli started, "What madness drove them there?"
To Mÿne it did not matter. They were alive. That mattered!
They tied their horses to the spears they picked up from the battlefield. After a quick lunch they continued their exploration of the new tracks, in the forest. It was dark in there, treetops shading every glim of light possible. It smelled damp and musky in the forest. And if not that was bad, the same chill came over Mÿne as when they had gazed over West Emnet. It was a dark forests indeed. Gimli started off their search by swiping some black liquid from branches and tasting them. Mÿne made a face as he spat it out, just as quickly.
"Orc blood." he muttered.
Aragorn waved them over and pointed at big, uneven tracks before them.
"These are strange tracks." he said, looking around them searching for the source of it.
"The tracks of the Hobbits stops here and begin with these." Mÿne said as she retraced the tracks, to check if they had not followed the wrong tracks.
"The air is so close here." Gimli said, taking in big breaths of air.
"Maybe it's the orc blood." Mÿne said, giving him a small smile.
Gimli just grunted, but even he made a small snickering noise.
"This forest is old. Very old." Legolas said, looking at the trees. "Full of memory...and anger."
They fell silent as a dark sound grew over the forest. A groan it seemed almost. Gimli instantly grabbed his axe from his belt.
"The trees are speaking to each other." Legolas said, looking at Gimli meaningful. Mÿne's mind flashed back to Lorièn where he had told her trees could speak.
"This forest speaks too?" she whispered to Legolas, pulling up her brows as she looked at the branches above her head, but Legolas didn't answer her.
"Gimli." Aragorn said, warning him. "Lower your axe!"
Gimli took the hint finally and lowered his axe, but he still clutched it tightly in his hands, ready to swing when needed. He was anxious, Mÿne found it not hard to tell.
"They have feelings, my friend." Legolas said, smiling a bit. "The Elves began it: waking them up and teaching the how to speak." he explained to him.
"Speaking trees!" Gimli laughed, although nervously. "What do trees have to talk about? Except squirrel droppings."
In any other situation, Mÿne would have found Gimli's remark hilarious, but right now they were dealing with something serious. They needed to figure out those strange tracks, and where Merry and Pippin's had gone. It was almost like they had... vanished. They stood there, watching the old, dark forest when Legolas stepped up.
"Aragorn. Nad no ennas." he warned. Someone was here.
"What do you see?" Aragorn whispered as Legolas squinted his eyes to look in the distance of the dense forest.
"The White Wizard approaches." he announced, his tone uncharacteristic low for an Elf.
Instantly Mÿne grabbed her bow and arrows. With a sword she would not reach a wizard. He'd put a spell on her before she would even near him. From a distant even she had a better chance to hit Saruman. Panic raised in her throat. Did he have Merry and Pippin?
Beside her she could she Aragorn wrapping his hand around his sword, Gimli clutching his axe more tightly and Legolas reaching for one of his arrows.
"Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us." Aragorn warned. "We must be quick."
Mÿne squinted her eyes and placed her feet firm on the ground, spreading them a bit apart, as she had learned from Legolas. Tension raised from her body. She had to aim perfectly. She could not miss. From the corner of her eye she looked at Aragorn.
He gave a quick nod and they turned around swiftly.
A sudden bright light was blocking their view. Mÿne squinted her eyes more, but saw no clear target. Everything was a blinding white, like she was staring straight at the sun. She had to pray for luck, then. Quickly, she pulled back the string of her bow and fired her arrow blindly into the bright light. With a sudden 'thwack'- like sound her arrow was deflected and bounced off into the woods. She tried to aim another one but the light was too bright. It hurt her eyes, and although she did not want to, she had to avert her eyes to the ground. She heard Aragorn grunt beside her and saw his sword drop at his side. For a short moment she thought something had happened to him, but when she took a glance aside he was still standing. His sword was glowing a bright orange, like it had just emerged from the forge. The sound of breaking steel filled the air and then Saruman's voice sounded. For a moment she was not sure if it was just in her head, like Galadriel, or that Saruman had actually spoke.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits." he stated.
"Where are they?!" Aragorn shouted at the voice.
"They passed this way, the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"
There was something off with the voice Mÿne thought. It began to sound less like Saruman, more friendly and warm. She had never met Saruman before, but she couldn't imagine his voice being this clear and pure. Besides that, she had the nagging feeling that the voice reminded her more of someone else, but she couldn't place her finger on who specifically.
Aragorn seemed to have doubt as well. He stared at the white light curiously yet still on guard.
"Who are you? SHOW YOURSELF!" he shouted.
The bright light faded and Mÿne felt relieved. She could look forward normally again and gaze upon her enemy without pain. With shock she eyed the man in front of her. She could not believe it. It was overwhelming. She sucked in air again, not remembering she had held her breath. Wrapped in white, Gandalf was staring at them! And he looked healthier than he had ever done! His hair was smooth, his beard trimmed. In another time, Mÿne would've sworn it would have been a different man, but he had the same face, the same gentle expression, though it was now lined with something...serious.
"Gandalf." she mouthed. Beside her Legolas and Gimli bowed, but Mÿne was too dumbstruck to do anything. She couldn't comprehend what had happened. She'd seen him fall. He couldn't have survived. Maybe it was a trick, she realized. A trick of Saruman!
"Forgive me," Aragorn said, "I mistook you for Saruman." Aragorn said.
"Oh but I am Saruman!" 'Gandalf' said. "Or rather, as Saruman had should been."
He turned his attention to Mÿne and gave her a small smile. A feeling of warmth washed over her. A trusted feeling. She smiled back. Her doubts were taken away. It really was Gandalf.
"But you fell..." Aragorn said, still dumbstruck.
"Oh yes!" Gandalf said. "Through Fire... and Water!" and so he began to tell them his adventure with the Balrog of Morgoth. His battle with him on the highest peak of the mountain and the lowest of caves.
It seemed he had been given a second chance. Maybe higher powers sensed the dread of the Fellowship or maybe Middle-Earth was not done with him quite yet, but it did not matter. Gandalf was here! Mÿne could feel her heart swell with hope.
"I've been sent back until my task is done." he concluded his story.
"Gandalf!" Mÿne breathed. Their chances had grown. Not only was the wizard back, he had assured them that he had seen Merry and Pippin. She ran forward and clung unto the tall Wizard's chest.
"Gandalf?" he asked, looking at them strangely when Mÿne detached herself from him, feeling strangely out of place for a moment. "Oh yes! That's what they used to call me...Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."
Mÿne nodded at him, as Aragorn called his name too.
"I am Gandalf the White now, and I come back to you now, at the turn of the tide."
They first returned to their horses, who were gnawing on the tall grass around them. The pile of Uruks that had first smothered had extinguished finally. Mÿne stroke the nose of Hasufel eagerly as she smiled. If the Hobbits had passed Gandalf, they were safe somewhere. She was sure of it.
Hasufel neighed happily as he sniffed at her face. Legolas came standing next to her, stroking the horse too.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" he mumbled at her. His eyes shifted from the horse to her.
"Yes. And a fine horse too." she answered, not noticing his gaze.
"Would you like to share our next ride with me again?" he asked her. "I understand if you'd rather ride with Aragorn-"
"No, I'd like to ride with you. Maybe, on our journey, you could tell me that one story you still owe me." she said, with a small smile.
They crossed the Fangorn Forest again, to the other end of it. It surprised Mÿne how short their walk was. Maybe the forest seemed bigger on the outside than it truly was.
Gandalf talked to them and although he had been changed into Gandalf the White, he still spoke like Gandalf the Grey. Often Mÿne found it hard to follow his words, as wellhearted they might've been. However, when Gandalf the White had turned serious again, she found no issue with his words.
"One stage of your journey is over, another begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."
"Edoras?" Gimli said, "That's no short distance."
"You'd be glad you do not have to run, Gimli." Aragorn grinned at the dwarf, who laughed as well, though a little pained at the memory.
Mÿne was glad already they didn't had to run such a distant. Her feet could use some rest and she'd figured Hasufel could use some exercise. She tightened her grip on the reigns of the mare when she put her face in Mÿne's neck, as if to say that she agreed.
"We've heard of the trouble in Rohan." Aragorn then continued, as he spoke to Gandalf, "It goes ill with the king."
"Yes, and it will not be easily cured." Gandalf answered seriously.
They stepped over some big tree roots. The forest groaned again, letting it echo through its old environment. Before, Mÿne might have found the forest a little disheartening, but now that Gandalf was with them, she did not regard it as such anymore. On another day, she would love to walk beneath its leafy roof and wonder over its ancient beauty.
"Then we have run all this way for nothing?" Gimli complained. "Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here in this horrid, dark and damp-"
Suddenly the forest made that dark, low rumble as when it did before, obviously not agreeing with Gimli's perspective.
"I mean charming, quite charming forest!" he quickly corrected himself. Mÿne chuckled shortly before Gandalf spoke again.
"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years."
Mÿne shot a look at Legolas, but he didn't catch her glance, still listening at Gandalf. His blue eyes seemed focused on his words, like a child enchanted by a story. She could tell he had no attention for anything else. It gave his face a pretty glow, when he stared off into the distance like that.
"The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains." Gandalf said.
"But will we not get them? Won't we follow them?" she asked Gandalf, as she stopped trying to make sense of his comment.
"No, we will not. They are safe right now, my dear, and that's what's of uttermost importance right now. They will have to play their part in their own journey... It is best to let them do that."
Mÿne knitted her brows together in a frown as she tried to make sense of what Gandalf had just told them. It was clear they were going somewhere else. Something had drawn Gandalf's attention that he deemed more important than their hobbit companions. And seeing as Gandalf loved the hobbits dear, she could only wonder as to what that something was.
"In one thing you haven't changed, my dear friend." Aragorn said, smiling. "You still speak in riddles."
They shared a short laugh before walking to the end of the forest. At the end of the last line of trees, he grew serious again. A frown laid on his face, his expression turning a little mysterious as he turned to the forest and gazed upon their old branches.
"A thing is about to happen here that has not happened since the Elder days. The Ents are going to wake up and and find that they are strong."
Mÿne focused on what Gandalf said. Ents? It was something she'd never heard of.
"Strong? Oh that's good." Gimli said, eyeing the woods around him suspiciously.
"Stop your fretting master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they're far safer than you're about to be!" Gandalf said to him.
"Why?" Mÿne asked, knitting her brows together again. But Gandalf had walked out of the border of the forest, and hadn't heard her.
"This new Gandalf is grumpier than the old one." Gimli told her.
Mÿne smiled a bit, somewhere deep down, she had to agree with him. Gandalf the White acted like he had grave matters on his mind, and he needed to tend to them all.
"I think he's serious Gimli." she said as she pushed a branch out of her face.
They stepped out of the shade of the forest, into the sun. Hasufel neighed and swished her tail. She pressed her nose into Mÿne's hair, breathing to it. It tickled and Mÿne giggled softly as she pushed the horse's face away.
Ï think she's happy to be out of the dense forest." Legolas said to her as he stroked the horses nose, "It is no place for a horse. Not as beautiful as this one."
Mÿne just smiled at him as she watched him attend to Hasufel. It seemed he knew exactly how to calm her. She decided it was an Elven thing, when she could not figure it out, but watched him softly whisper to the white mare.
Behind them Gandalf whistled sharply. The plains carried the sound and it fell silent. Mÿne started to wonder why Gandalf had whisteled when a white horse came galloping towards them. He was as strange white as Gandalfs hair, matching him perfectly.
"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." Legolas said, awing.
"Shadowfax." Gandalf said as he stroked the horse that had reached them. "Lord of all horses and he has been my friend through many dangers."
From one of the bags on Hasufel Mÿne pulled out a cloak. Gandalf said it would be convenient to give him the look of Gandalf the Grey, since only Wizards new he was already Gandalf the White. So they shaded the white with an old blueish grey cloak, that smelled of horses and sweat.
"Perfect." Gandalf said as he watched himself. "Now come, we cannot let the King in Edoras wait."
Legolas helped her on their mare. She took the reigns and waited for him to get on. When he sat behind her they needed to wait for Gimli, who was too short to get on the horse without help.
"Stupid horses. Dwarfs are no riders." he muttered.
"Do you prefer to run then?" Mÿne said smirking.
He gave her a glare and they shared a laugh. Within moments he sat on the brown horse, clasping the reigns fearfully.
"Legolas?" Mÿne said as they crossed the plains. He answered with a short hum. Mÿne took that as an encouragement.
"Gandalf spoke about Ents. What are they?" Mÿne asked.
"They are Tree-herders." Legolas answered. "Giving the gift to speak with trees and other forest creatures. They control the Woods and keep eye on their well being."
"What do they look like?" Mÿne asked as she pictured an old wizard in her mind, almost like Gandalf the Grey.
"They are tall trees. They much resemble the trees they guard."
"Speaking trees?!" Mÿne asked amazed, erasing the picture of the old wizard in her mind. This world had still some surprises for her yet, it seemed.
Legolas answered with a hum.
It fell silent after that and Mÿne watched the mountains in the distant. Their tips were covered with snow and mist hung around it lazily. It was not where they were headed though. They went south, entering the Westfold. Mÿne could tell from the grasses that grew around here. They were tall and brown, the area covered with grey rocks and yellowish moss. A palet of colors that reminded her of her home, long ago. Where she would still play in the grasses, come home for food and help her father tend to the horses.
After an hour Gandalf stopped his horse. He looked at a village nearby them, or rather what was left of it. It seemed abandoned, for there were no villagers who worked in the fields next to it and there were only remains of farms and other houses.
"I want to see something." Gandalf said as he steered his horse to the village. They followed silently.
The village was burned. The houses were charred and had collapsed. Mÿne got off her horse and looked at the mess around her. Pots and iron axes were sprawled across the village. She walked down the path in the village and looked at the burned houses. Some stood still proudly on the ground, but others had collapsed in the fire. She stopped at a house that was no more than a pile of charred wood and ash. An arm stuck under a big piece of timber. It's hand had turned pale and lifeless.
"They were attacked not too long ago." Mÿne said as she looked around the destroyed village, "They did not see it coming."
She grabbed an helmet from the ground and showed it to Gandalf.
"Saruman." Gandalf spat and he looked around again.
Mÿne threw the helmet back on the ground and watched as it turned over to show a white hand painted on it.
"They burned the village, killed the people and possibly have gotten after some who'd escaped..." Mÿne mumbled, "but I doubt they got far. The Uruks are fast and trained. These people were probably farmers..."
Not even did the village looked destroyed and abandoned, it felt like that as well. It was empty, lifeless and she doubted there would ever be life in it again. She guessed it would not be long before this place would be forgotten, its inhabitants no more than mere memories and ghosts of the past.
"I doubt the King even knows about this." Gandalf said as he turned his horse to look at the direction Edoras would be.
A sudden thought came into Mÿne's mind, as she gazed upon the ruins around her. Was this what happened to her village too? Was it this cold and lonely, left abandoned and forgotten? She eyed the village with a new found curiosity, as if it had been her own.
From the corner of her eye she could see a small rag doll, charred black for a part. She picked it up and looked at the house it laid in front of. It was destroyed, half of it plummeted to the grass, the other half so fragile that it would take one kick to send it to the ground. She thought about the owner of the rag doll in her hands. Must've been her age when her own village was destroyed. Maybe even younger, and this girl probably did not survived it. She clenched the rag doll and walked over to the house where she placed it on a couple of charred blocks. A hand squeezed her shoulder. She looked up to see Aragorns face, with pain and sorrow.
Mÿne took a hold of his hand as she pressed her cheek against it, in a loving gesture. She appreciated his attempt to comfort her. No, this place didn't sound like home to her, but in a way it had been and being confronted with her past darkened her mood. It made her sad. As she stood from her position, she looked at the doll she'd carefully placed on the wood in front of them.
"Aragorn?" she asked. "Did we ever return to the place you found me at?"
Aragorn only shook his head. "I deemed it too painful for you."
Mÿne glanced at the rag doll one last time before walking back to Legolas and Hasufel.
"I am sorry Mÿne." Legolas whispered as she got up on the horse, "I know you come from these regions, it must be hard to see your people-"
"We need to tell the King." she found herself say, stern and serious.
"We will, Mÿne. But I doubt he'll listen to us." Gandalf said.
Edoras was a small city, build on top of a large hill. It looked lonely there, among the empty plains without other supporting villages. When they came in range of the walls that surrounded the town, they were greeted by a banner that the wind had ripped from its rod. It fell down on the yellowish grass as they rode through the unguarded gate. Mÿne was able to make out the white stallion on the flag, crwoned with flames of red and green before the flag took off with the wind across the plains. She looked at the civilians around them. Their expressions were fearful and in disbelieve as they rode up the path that lead to the stables. The people seemed so unhealthy and...unhappy. Grim faces turned away as they dismounted their horses. Silence fell.
Mÿne got off Hasufel and stroke its sides. They had been swift and not once had Hasufel objected. Mÿne could tell that she was trained well.
"Good girl." she told her and she kissed her nose in gratitude. Hasufel gave her a soft neigh before she pressed her face against Mÿne's, in equal gesture it almost seemed. The stable boys soon approached them and hestitantly began to tend to the horses, removing their saddles and gear (if they had any...).
"We need to make for Meduseld, the great hall." Gandalf told them silently as he gestured to the stairs that lead to an enormous barn-like building.
He leaned on his staff for support as he walked, like an old man. The gazes they received weren't getting any better when they made for the Great Hall of Rohan. In fact, the looks turned more suspicious and hostile. Mÿne felt unwelcome and wondered if Edoras received visitors at all. She supposed, after what the leader of the Rohirrim had told them, it had grown to a solemn, sullen town.
A fair woman stood at the end of the steps that lead to Meduseld, eyeing them with the same suspicion. Her face was pale and her hair golden, curled beautifully in what Mÿne thought characteristically Rohan way, like her own. The fair woman's white dress flowed around her with the wind and her long hair seemed to go with it. She looked sad too, like the people, so unhappy. When she realized Mÿne was looking at her she turned around and walked away quickly.
Once, Edoras would have been a great town, filled with laughter, heroic horsemen and beautiful structures. Now, the structures were decayed, the laughter was no more and the heroic horsemen had been banished. Edoras had lost its glory. Did their King not care? Just like the little village they had crossed earlier?
"There's more cheer to be found at a graveyard." Gimli stated, his words agreeing with Mÿne's thoughts.
When they met the end of the steps reaching to Meduseld guards came up to greet them. But no smiles or nice greetings at all. They wore serious yet tired expressions on their hairy faces, their brows knitted together in frowns and the corners of their mouths down.
"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Grayhame. By order of...Gríma Womretongue." one of them spoke.
Mÿne looked at the amount of guards that were placed around the Great Hall. Now she understood why there were none at the gate. They were all here, guarding the King's Hall. The King had locked himself here, caring for none other than himself. No wonder the town fell into decay, the people sad and worried.
For a moment Aragaorn looked like he was going to argue with the guards, before Gandalf stopped him and nodded. Aragorn and Legolas began to strip their weapons, handing their swords and arrows to the guards blocking their way. It did not feel good, but Mÿne grabbed the pouch with arrows and her bow from her back and gave the to the man in front of her nonetheless. She unsheathed her sword and parted with it, though with pain in her heart. The man looked at her angry, his eyes covered in shade by the helmet he wore. The same helmet, Mÿne realized, as the riders they'd come across on West Emnet.
They were done giving their weapons to the guards when the leader of the guards spoke to Gandalf, when the wizard tried to pass the guards.
"Your staff." he said, looking at Gandalf suspiciously.
"Eh?" Gandalf said, looking at the guard dumbstruck. "No...you would not part an old man from his walking stick?"
Inwardly Mÿne smiled and complimented Gandalf's cunning. She did not know why he refused to part with his staff, but as Galadriel had said long ago: 'Needless were none of Gandalf's deeds'. He obviously had a good reason to keep it close.
"Mÿne, escort me please..." Gandalf the White suddenly said as he held out his staffless arm.
Mÿne nodded as she took his arm, taking up the position next to him. The guard gave them a thoughtful look and then nodded in approval, though she sensed it was with reluctance.
The doors of the hall opened and Mÿne lead Gandalf inside after the guards. Immediately she sensed something was off. There were men lurking in the shadows, eyeing them with interest. Their eyes held no good intention, even from this distance she could tell. They paced back and forth, eyeing them like hawks. Theses were no men of the King, these were mere brigands.
The hall itself was beautiful. Decorated with gold , green and red. Horses galloped on the pillars, banners hung behind a wooden throne, decorated with white stones. The King on said throne however, was old. Very old. His grey beard hung at his knees and his eyes seemed blind. His crown hung askew, no longer fit for his head. A pale person, covered in black clothing and piercing eyes sat next to him, silent whispering to the old King.
Behind them the doors closed with a thundering sound. Mÿne quickly looked at the doors as they were locked. That could not be good.
"The courtesy of your Hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." Gandalf said, carrying his voice throughout the whole hall.
Behind them guards were following them. Mÿne let go of Gandalf, giving him space as they walked around the fireplace in the middle of the Hall. The figure in black bowed over to the King and started to whisper in his ear, his eyes still set on them. The voice of the King that turned to Gandalf sounded fragile, old and broken.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" he spoke, coughing slightly.
Mÿne watched as the person in black stood from his seat on the dais and walked towards them, welcoming them instead of the King himself... though it was not really a welcome. It seemed he thought they had no business here.
"A just question, my liege." the figure in black, Gríma Womrtongue said, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him." and he grinned. "Ill news is an ill guest."
Gandalf answer came booming from his throat. It was surprisingly fiesty for someone who pretended to need his staff to walk.
"Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" and he pointed his staff at Gríma.
"His staff!" Gríma yelled at the guards. "I told you to take the Wizards' staff!"
And if it were a command, the guards stormed forward trying to get in reach with Gandalf. Mÿne understood that their task would be to keep them away from Gandalf. With no weapons, Mÿne felt there was only one way to do so. She slammed her fist into one of the brigands' face that came from the sides of the Hall. The next one she threw into one of the pillars with the back of his head. He remained on the ground. The brigands remained on the dark side of the Hall after that and stayed there. From the corner of her eye she could see the leader of the guards stopping one guard from drawing his sword, her friends managing to bring down the remaining brigands at the same time.
"Théoden, son of Thengel. Too long have you sat in the shadows." Gandalf boomed, stepping closer to the throne.
Mÿne could hear a muffled voice and looked beside her, where Gimli placed his foot on Gríma's chest. She nodded in approval when Gimli looked at her with a small smile, like he was enjoying it.
"Listen to me!" Gandalf said as the King averted his eyes to the side of the Hall. He gave a small sneer. The guards surrounded them, but did not draw their swords. They just stood there, looking at what Gandalf would do, silently.
"I release you from this spell." Gandalf said as he put his hand in front of the King.
Silence fell over the Hall, everyone seemed to held his breath. Until suddenly the King started to laugh wickedly. It sounded scary, rumbling through the Hall with more power than she would have thought the old man would have. His bad teeth were showing and a shadow took possesion of his blind eyes.
"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey." he said cackeling.
He continued laughing until Gandalf threw off his cloak, revealing the pale white clothes. Even Mÿne had to admit it hurt her eyes a bit in that dark Hall, almost how Gandalf had appeared before them in the Fangorn Forest. The King threw back his head in surprise and gasped for air. More people seemed to have come to the Hall, servants, guards, horsemen, All were watching in awe.
"I will draw you Saruman. As poison is drawn from a wound..." Gandalf announced and he pointed his staff at the King who seemed to squirm in his throne, trying to avoid something.
From behind her, she heard rustling. The maiden who waited for them on the steps of Meduseld appeared, alarmed. She rushed past Mÿne and she tried to grab her, but seh missed. In the end it was Aragorn who was able to reach her on time. The woman was bound to watch as Aragorn held her closely, scared she would escape again.
"If I go...Théoden dies!" the King shouted in a deep voice.
It was a voice unknown to Mÿne, but judging by Gandalf's remark from before, she knew it was Saruman. He had taken possesion of the King of Rohan, for his own benefits. Through the body of the King, he ruled these lands. Now Mÿne truly saw the power of wizards, wise and cunning as they were, in all kinds of ways.
Gandalf pointed his staff at the King again and he flew against the back of his Throne.
"You did not kill me. You will not kill him." Gandalf's voice said calmly as he kept pressing his attack.
"Rohan is mine!" the voice of Saruman shouted with anger, through the mouth of the King.
"Be gone!" Gandalf shouted, pointing his fearsome white staff towards the King again, forcing him to smack against the back of his throne.
Words had no use, the King must've decided. He jumped out of his seat, grabbed for Gandalf but missed. Gandalf slammed his staff on his head and the King fell back in his seat. This time he was obviously dazed. Mÿne could tell since there was little reaction from the King on this blatant attack. But something was different now, Mÿne realized. The face of the King started to change. It started to age backwards.
Aragorn let go of the young maiden and she hurried to the King's throne, withholding him from falling from it as he slumped down. The long beard shrunk and more hair grew on top of the Kings head. It turned from grey to a strawberry blond. The crown fit better now, not askew any more. The eyes of the King started to sharpen, and turned to a shade of dark blue, his skin smoother and turing to a rosy red colour instead of the shade of death it had been.
"I know your face." he spoke softly, and his voice sounded broken no more. "Eowyn."
Only after he had embraced the maiden, he turned to the people who had gathered in his Hall, both regular and visitors. His eyes remained on Gandalf as he gently lead the maiden aside.
"Gandalf?" he said, not really believing what he saw.
"Breath the free air again, my friend." Gandalf said, nodding in approval as he sidestepped to make space. The King stood, stumbling from the adjustment from old to young.
"Dark have my dreams been..." he said, to none in particular.
Mÿne could take his words for truth easily. She had never been possessed before but she could imagine that, when your body wasn't your own anymore, this would feel like dreaming. And in the King's case, where he had banished his horsemen, his people distrusted him and he had locked himself away in his Hall, she believed him when he told them his dreams had been dark. She thought them pitch black, like the starless night.
"Your fingers would remember their old strength better...if they'd grasped your sword." Gandalf advised and as spoken, the captain of the Guard came with a sword in a golden sheath. It was decorated with stones and emeralds. The King took some time to adjust his fingers to the hilt. Then he drew it and smiled as he looked at his sword. He turned his gaze at Gríma, who cowered in front of him and instantly a dark shadow covered his eyes.
The guards threw Gríma from the stone steps of Meduseld. He tumbled down, wincing.
"I have only served you, my liege!" Gríma shouted as he wiped the blood of his lips.
"Your leechcraft would have sent me on all fours crawling like a beast!" Théoden shouted. Mÿne wathced as a crowd gathered outside, watching their King. Their faces grew from fear to hope. They nudged each other and pointed at their King. Seeing him walk again was something that gave them hope.
Mÿne watched as Théoden lifted his sword, to cut Gríma's head off. She turned away, but the blow never came. Aragorn had stopped Théoden, advising that 'blood had been spilled enough on his account'. The King, taken aback from this advice, had no time to intervene anymore, and Gríma hurried towards the stables. He fled on a horse and was nowhere to be seen in the blink of an eye.
"Hail Théoden King!" one of the guards said and the crowd sunk on their knees.
Mÿne sunk to her knees too and bowed her head. She thought it strange, for so long she had not been in these lands. As a ranger, she held no King, but as she had watched as this old man, this King, had been cured from his madness, she could not deny the feeling of something stirring inside her. In one way or another, it had been her King too, long ago. 'Home' still tasted strange on her tongue, but the more she thought about it, the more she could connect her memories to this land. If she hadn't followed that group of Rangers that faithful night, she might have been living here. She would have been a woman of Rohan, and this would have been her King.
