"Failure is a bruise, not a tattoo."
-Jon Sinclair
Even though Théoden had urged Gríma to rejoin him in Rohan, he did not seem to trust Gríma at all. The king's former advisor stood before them, water up to his ankles, and Amelia could truly see what a wretch he had been reduced to. He was as pale as a maggot, with his upper lip covered in snot, and his black hair hung like a greasy curtain around his white face. His eyes were watery and his eyebrows were so thin that they might as well have been nonexistent. Amelia looked away and let Théoden decide his fate, disinterested in the proceedings.
"We should return to Edoras." Gandalf urged the king lowly. Théoden glanced at him, but then turned back towards Gríma.
"My people would not welcome you back." He stated calmly, bluntly, and Gríma bowed his head. His hair fell forwards to cover his face. "You would find no pity there."
"Are you just going to make him stay here?" Merry asked incredulously. "With the ents?"
"He'd be killed before a day had passed." Aragorn butted in calmly. "The ents are gentle, patient creatures, but the burning of their forest have shortened their temper."
"I would not have him back if I could avoid it." Éomer sounded just as disgusted with Gríma as Amelia felt. "He does not deserve the mercy of his life."
"Seriously? Sure, undo all my hard work and kill him off, why don't you?" Amelia snarled at the heir to the riddermark.
"Forgive me…" Boromir frowned. "What, exactly, did this… man… do to incur such wrath?" Amelia stared at him as she realized that it was unlikely that Boromir had ever seen Gríma before.
"Quick version? He was Théoden's advisor, but turned on him by becoming a spy for Saruman and basically mind-controlled the king." It seemed a bit much for Boromir to wrap his head around. His brows knitted together, but then he nodded curtly. "Plus, I'm cranky as fuck after riding that horse to and fro. Ever tried riding a horse with broken bones in your body? It hurts. A lot." Amelia shrugged. "Anyways, Aragorn and company comes busting in to save the day and he crawls back to Saruman in Isengard. And here we are."
"I see. I know better than to ask you how you know this."
"There's a good boy. Now though…" She looked back down at Gríma's shivering frame. "What to do, what to do…"
"I do not feel it would be right for me to pass his sentence. After all…" Théoden turned towards Amelia. "It is not by my doing that we are in this precarious situation at all." Amelia gaped at him.
"So you hand this to me and go on your merry way, unconcerned with the consequences. Brilliant!" Her sarcasm dripped from her words. She glared at Gríma and groaned. "Look, I don't even care. I shouldn't have saved his life, alright? That was a mistake. I won't kill him though. You said it yourself; he has the potential to become something better again. I mean, he's pretty much hit rock-bottom here, so it can only go upwards from here on out, right?" She mulled it over for a bit. "Back home, we have a saying. 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'. Now I'm not sure which category this sorry excuse of a man falls into, but, well… Want my opinion? Have him work for you, directly, so you can keep an eye on whatever he's doing. Not as an advisor or anything of status. Strip him of all rank and title and whatever. Have him work his way up from the bottom again, and do keep an eye on him." Éomer didn't seem pleased with the verdict, but Théoden didn't seem to think that it was too bad of a solution. "Oh, and you might want to keep him away from Éowyn. Just a thought."
"Pippin!" Aragorn exclaimed as Pippin suddenly jumped down from the horse he had been sitting on and sloshed through the water. Amelia frowned as he approached a round glow in the water and picked it up. It was the palantír, the seeing stone that Saruman had flaunted in front of them. Pippin stared into its murky depths, seemingly entranced by the swirling within.
"I'll have that, my dear boy." Gandalf hurried his horse over to the hobbit and hastily took the palantír from him, wrapping it within his robes and casting a dark glance at Pippin. The hobbit looked down, shamefully, and Amelia sighed.
"Could we please get underway? It's been a trying few days." Amelia scowled at her broken arm, looked briefly at Saruman's body dripping with blood, before she turned her horse around and followed the procession of riders out of Isengard.
Amelia didn't understand the tradition of 'hailing the victorious dead' as well as she'd like. The king hailed them and the men in Meduseld, a large gathering of guards, soldiers and a few women and wives of distinguished heroes, drank to their honor after repeating his words. She grimaced at the taste of bad alcohol, but knew better than to interrupt the respectful silence of mourning in the hall by complaining about her beverage.
However, mourning turned to merriment, and caskets and barrels of ale and wine were brought in from the extensive cellars, to the immense joy of Gimli. Instead of an evening of eulogies and mourning, it became a night of revelry and a party to remember. Amelia preferred to sit quietly at a table, humbly bringing anyone who dared challenge her to a game of cards or dices to a crushing defeat.
"Huh. Sometimes it does pay off to be a nerd at math." Her mumbling was meant for her ears alone, but a man dumped down next to her and raised his brown eyebrows at her.
"Enjoying yourself?" Boromir didn't seem to think that she was.
"Not really. This is too easy." Amelia weighed the pouch of gold in her hand. It was her winnings from her gambling. She looked up at Boromir. "You want to talk to me. Pretty badly actually."
"Does your foresight extend to mindreading as well?" Boromir's joke didn't make either of them smile.
"No, I just know you that well by now. So, out with it. You don't look too happy." Boromir looked away and Amelia narrowed her eyes. They both had to speak pretty loudly to be able to hear each other.
"What you said at the tower of Isengard… did not sit well with me." He sipped from his tankard. Amelia sighed and folded her hands.
"Look, I know what you're gonna say; 'No, of course you're not a bitch' and 'You shouldn't have made Legolas kill Saruman' and all that rot."
"Would you have killed me, had you had the chance?" Boromir's question caught Amelia off-guard and she stared at him.
"Awhat?"
"I seem to recall you saying…"
"Oh, right!" Amelia slapped her forehead and cringed. "That. It wasn't serious like that, it was more like a… a stray thought, an impossible 'what if', you know? One of those weird thoughts where you think to yourself 'wait, the fuck am I thinking?' and then forget about it."
"Would you have done it?" Amelia gave Boromir an incredulous look.
"No!" Her sharp exclamation came close to a shout. "Are you for real? I mean…" Amelia took a deep breath. "I toyed with the idea, and perhaps I would have tried, if everything was different, but… No. Not in a thousand years. You… It'd be a waste." Amelia couldn't believe herself as she felt blood rushing to her cheeks and she looked away from Boromir's serious face. She chose to blame it on the alcohol and the heat of many bodies around her.
"That is not everything I wish to discuss."
"Oh, dear lord…" Amelia hid her face in her hands. "Alright. Shoot."
"Why did you save Wormtongue's life?"
"Oh, shit, I… I don't know, alright? It seems I'm making a habit of saving lives without thinking about it." She grimaced. "That came out wrong. It seems I'm making a habit of messing up without even thinking about it." Boromir hummed slightly and eyed the pouch of gold in her hand.
"What you did was…"
"Don't." Amelia snapped at him without thinking about it. "Don't twist it into some… noble, heroic thing on my part. I'm not a hero. I'm a little girl with absolutely no idea what she's doing." She threw her head back and drained the ale in her tankard in one go and Boromir raised his own in return. "I'm no one."
"You are someone." Boromir's disagreeing with her made her irritated. "Perhaps you are no hero, Amelia…" He slammed his empty tankard down beside hers. "But you're a gambler. And a gambler takes risks. Some of them yield a positive profit…" He nodded towards her pouch of winnings. "Others not so much." Amelia felt a small smile tug at her mouth.
"A gambler, huh?" She fastened the pouch to her belt, since her backpack had been left in the room she had been graciously given in Edoras, as a guest of the king himself. "I can live with that." She smiled softly at Boromir, a smile she normally only reserved for her brothers and her parents. "Thanks."
"For what?"
"For not seeing me as more than me. There's just me, myself and I, and somehow, you…" She hesitated a bit and wondered whether she went too far. "You make that seem like enough. So thanks." She stood up and looked around the busy hall, purposely avoiding Boromir's grey eyes fixed on her. "Now, where's that ruddy dwarf? I bet he's where the good booze is."
Finding Gimli did not take her long. He was sitting at a mighty pile of empty tankards, attempting to outdrink Legolas, who looked as serene as ever, still standing up and emptying tankards as if they were filled with water. Amelia arrived right as Legolas stared at his fingers in wonder.
"I feel something." He sounded breathless and Amelia sniggered behind her good hand. "A slight tingling in my fingers." He looked up at Éomer, who had been watching them with amusement. The man raised his eyebrows at the elf. "I think it's affecting me." Amelia snorted with laughter and clapped Legolas' shoulder. Gimli laughed loudly and waved a finger at the elven prince.
"What did I tell ya'? He can't hold his liquor…" The dwarf went cross-eyed and fell backwards with a grunt. Legolas blinked at him and looked up at Éomer.
"Game over."
"Not quite." Amelia placed her good hand on her hip. "I'm willing to bet that I can outlast anyone here, except you Legolas, 'cause you're an elf, so that's cheating, in a drinking game."
"A bold claim." Éomer smiled at her.
"One I won't retract. Back home, our stuff is much stronger. This is as close to water as you can get. I'm used to drinking about three or four beers at a good party back home, though back in my university days I could get all the way to seven, and one of our beers is about, oh, what… four tankards of this? Five? So, all in all, let's say I drink four beers on a good evening. That's about sixteen of these at least." Amelia winked playfully. "That's good evening. Imagine what I could do on a great one." Éomer grinned a friendly grin at her.
"And would you say tonight is a great evening?" Amelia pursed her lips thoughtfully.
"My lord Éomer…" She cocked her head. "Tonight is a magnificent night. Think you're up for a bit of a game yourself?" Éomer smiled, despite his answer.
"I hardly think it would be…"
"Oh, come on!" She shoved him lightly with a smile. "If you think you're not up for it, just say so." Éomer raised his eyebrows and Amelia wondered to herself whether she had gotten in over her head, but dismissed the notion.
Two minutes later, the prince and the woman was seated on opposing sides of a bench, with an impressive crowd of onlookers, including Aragorn, Legolas and Éowyn, who kept glancing over at Aragorn every few seconds.
"Here's the rules…" Gamling stood at the end of the table, looking rather intoxicated himself, but still managing to not sway on his feet too much. "No cheating. No hitting. No breaks."
"No mercy." Amelia added cheerfully and a few of the onlookers hooted.
"And no regrets." Gamling finished with a grand gesture. Éomer and Amelia simultaneously reached out for one of the many tankards in front of them and drank without stopping. Amelia grimaced at the bad taste, but didn't stop as she reached out for another.
She had to admit, Éomer had an impressive tolerance. After about nine tankards, she felt slightly dizzy and the pleasant buzz of alcohol hummed cheerfully in her ears. She downed another and Éowyn stared at her.
"How can you stand that?" She exclaimed and Amelia grinned up at her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her good hand.
"By not thinking about the bitch of a hangover I'm going to have tomorrow. Bottoms up!" The men cheered as she kept on drinking, but Éomer was a worthy opponent. On her eleventh, she burped loudly and blew a raspberry. She leaned back slightly in her seat and noticed that Éomer looked rather close to defeat as well. "Oh, you are going down…" She slurred and downed another. "God, I think I'm approaching the legal alcohol limit here…"
"You actually have limits on that?" Legolas sounded rather interested.
"Mhm. Not here though. And if you don't think I'm going to take advantage of that…" Her words were slightly slurred and she struggled to keep her eyes open. Stubbornness rose and she reached out for another tankard, giving the growing pile on her side of the table a weary look. "You know, I think- I think-" She burped again. "That there's a perfectly logical expla-" She broke off her sentence with a confused expression, mouthing the word before she continued. "Explanation as to why I can drink like this."
"Do tell." Legolas gave her an indulgent smile and she downed another before continuing, shuffling slightly in her seat.
"Like, the… the stuff is much stronger where I'm from, but, like, this is just…" She peered deeply into her tankard, like some alcohol was still hiding at the bottom of it. "This is just funny water, man."
"Funny water?" Éowyn repeated, giving Amelia an incredulous look, and Amelia laughed, like Éowyn had just told the greatest joke she had ever heard.
"Man, I need to pee. You should add 'pottybreaks are allowed' to that list of rules…" Éomer put his head in his hands and Amelia paused. The crowd fell silent as they looked at their prince. His face was red.
"To be bested for the first time, and by a woman foreign to our lands…" He leaned back and Amelia saw with satisfaction that he was slightly cross-eyed. "I yield." There was a deafening silence and Amelia saw several betters unhappily handing coin over to those few who had bet on the stranger defeating the prince. Then, a roar rose and clapping came as men laughed and cheered. Amelia groaned and hit her chest with a fist. She burped loudly and raised her tankard.
"Yay. I need to pee."
Amelia woke to the sound of a yell.
She was not lying in her room, but rather on a bed that had been brought into the hall at her convenience, since she had voiced doubts that she would actually be able to walk back to her room without falling over and hitting her head. The rohirrim had been kind enough to carry her bed to her and not the other way around.
When she woke, she felt like she had been blown up by the Uruk-Hai all over again, and she blinked wearily, trying to place the sound of wild shouting.
"Fool of a took!" Gandalf exclaimed and Amelia groaned loudly. She felt nauseous and her headache was worse than anything she could remember having.
"Shut. Up!" She pulled her covers over her head, but then she jerked up with wide eyes, her cover still over her. "Pippin!" Hastily, she scrambled out of her bed, with her loose hair reminiscent of the wild hairstyles she had had in her late teenage years. Gandalf, Merry, Pippin, Aragorn and Legolas were gathered around Pippin, who looked so pale and unmoving that Amelia feared that he was dead for a moment. Gandalf placed his hand on his head and he gasped, his eyes flittering around the room. Amelia rushed towards him and crouched down beside Gandalf, the sudden movement sending her head spinning.
"Gandalf… forgive me…" Pippin choked the words out and his eyes began closing again. Amelia resorted to desperate means and slapped him with her good hand. His eyes jerked open again.
"Don't you dare!" She hissed at him.
"Look at me. What did you see?" Gandalf's question was calm and soothing in tone, but the words themselves made it seem as if he didn't have much concern for the hobbit at all. Boromir suddenly came barging in through the door, in a mix of armor and a nightshirt, and Amelia felt her hands shaking.
"A tree. A white tree… in a courtyard of stone." Pippin whispered as he recounted the horrors he had seen. Amelia cast a foul look towards the palantír on the floor. A faint, orange glow shone ominously from within it. Apparently, Pippin had attempted to take it from Gandalf. Amelia remembered all too well how he had accidentally contacted Sauron himself. "It was dead. The city was burning."
"Shh." Amelia hushed him and Gandalf frowned at her. "It's over. I can tell them everything they need to know. You don't have to say anymore." Amelia ran her fingers through her hair and Pippin looked up at her. There were tears in his eyes.
"I saw him." His choked words made Amelia want to march on Mordor itself, alone, for causing him such despair. "I could hear his voice in my head."
"I know. Don't worry. I know you didn't… tell him anything." Amelia stood up and paced in the room for a moment. "I need air." She rushed out of the room, feeling like she was going to start throwing vases and kicking the walls if she stood still too long. She staggered and her headache came rushing back. She reached out for something to steady herself at, but a strong arm reached out to help her stand on her own two feet again instead.
"Be calm." It was Aragorn. They were alone, in a dark hallway, with the walls covered in large, woven tapestries, and Amelia was grateful that no one else had followed her to see her shaking. "Nothing came of it."
"I should have stopped it!" Amelia whirled towards him, tearing at her hair, the pain of it amplified by her thunderous headache. "What, who… what kind of person am I, Aragorn? A bitch who chooses to save some worthless wretch of a man, but when her friend is in danger of a fucking visit from the dark lord, she just gets drunk and forgets all about it?!" Her breathing was fast and Aragorn's grip on her good shoulder tightened. "This shouldn't have happened, I could have… I could have stopped it! I could have warned Gandalf, I could have stayed awake, I could have done something, for God's sake! This wasn't fair, this…" She refused to let tears come. She was not that weak yet. She still had her pride. "This is my fault. This is my… my failure. I could have told Gandalf everything he needed to know. Damn it!"
"Stop." Aragorn's calm voice grated on her patience and her nerves. "I do not know whether you could have prevented what happened in there, but neither do you. What happened, happened. It can't be changed now."
"What's done is done, huh?" Amelia shook her head slightly and looked away. "I tell myself that far too much by now." She took a shaking breath, pressing a sweaty hand to her forehead. "Shit. I might not have an ounce of honor in me, but I still could've- shit."
"What did he see?" Aragorn's inquiry was hesitant and careful and Amelia could tell he feared that he was being insensitive. A watery smile briefly crossed her face, but it disappeared quickly again.
"He looked Sauron in the eye and lived to tell the tale." She sighed. "Gondor. He saw Gondor. Sauron knows he can't nail Rohan now, so… Minas Tirith is next. We should… I think Boromir'll want to go there. Pippin and Gandalf will be off tomorrow. I'll…" she inhaled deeply. "I'll go with them." Steely resolve took the place of her frail composure and she clenched her jaw. "I swear by all things good and holy on this earth, I will tear Sauron apart for what he did to Pippin."
"Then he won't know what hit him." Aragorn's discrete compliment made her scoff. It certainly wasn't her who was going to charge the armies of Mordor on her own, leading an army in an assault on the Black Gate of Mordor.
"Thanks, but… You can just tell Gandalf what I told you. I don't think I'll be getting much sleep. I need to hunt down some painkillers. I still have a hell of a hangover to nurse." Amelia rubbed her temple and turned away from Aragorn. She hurried away from him, but nearly collided with Boromir when she rounded a corner.
"Is something wrong?" He sounded concerned, but Amelua brushed him off with a wave of her hand, not feeling up for any more conversations. She straightened her back and held her head a bit higher.
"Nothing's wrong. I'm completely fine."