Chance Encounter
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them to their rightful owners.
Chapter 21: The Hall of Meduseld
Everyone was glad to be out of Fangorn's dark shadows. Their joy could also be linked to the fact that one of their companions had returned from the dead and the hobbits were safe. As soon as Balian's tension evaporated, he felt the effects of his trials during the last few days catch up with him. He stumbled and would have fallen if Gimli had not rushed to catch him. Aragorn smacked himself on his forehead. "Ah, forgive me, Balian," he said. "I had forgotten that your injuries have not been properly tended to."
"I'll fetch some water from the stream in the forest," Legolas volunteered, gathering their water skins. Guy was reluctant to stay so close to the forest but he had no choice. The others were not going to go any further without seeing to the blacksmith's hurts.
Gandalf watched in silence as Aragorn cleaned Balian's wounds and helped him to put back on his shirt and chain mail. "You have suffered much," the wizard finally said. "I thank you on behalf of Merry and Pippin."
"There is no need to thank me," said Balian in surprise. "I swore to protect the helpless. It is my duty."
Guy snorted. Balian's tendency to be the Perfect Knight made him want to scream in frustration. This man would always be an obstacle on his quest for power.
The old wizard turned to observe Guy. He had finally guessed Guy's purpose. Balian's coming to Middle Earth had upset the balance of good and evil. Guy was his nemesis and therefore had been sent to maintain the balance. Gandalf shook his head, feeling sorry for the blacksmith. Guy had probably been rendered immortal too, just to make things fair. Poor Balian. It seemed that the young man was stuck with his archenemy for the rest of eternity.
"We shall make camp here tonight," the wizard said in a tone that permitted no argument. "The poor boy needs to rest."
Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas agreed without challenging the wizard's decision. Guy opened his mouth to protest but decided against it. If the wizard could make swords red hot and shatter arrows with a blow of his staff, what could he do to someone who disputed his authority?
Balian possessed no such subtlety. "Do not delay the journey because of me," he said. "I'll be fine. We should be on our way."
Aragorn rolled his eyes meaningfully at Gandalf. The wizard gave the ranger a wry smile then turned on the blacksmith. "No, Balian, we make camp here tonight," said Gandalf. "Tomorrow we travel to Edoras. Now get some rest."
"But…" protested the young man
"Balian, sleep," growled Gandalf, pointing at the man's bedroll. He wrapped a grey cloak around himself.
Gimli chuckled. "Listen to Gandalf, Laddie," he said. "He might turn you into a toad otherwise."
Balian gave Gimli a baleful look. Aragorn decided to join the fun. "Sweet dreams. Don't worry, we checked. There are no monsters hiding under your bedroll," joked the ranger.
"I'd offer you a cup of warm milk to help you sleep, but there is no cow," added Legolas.
"Maybe if you beg nicely, the elf will tell you a bedtime story," said Gimli with a straight face.
"Or Aragorn could sing you a lullaby," said Legolas.
Balian glowered at his friends with mock anger. It wasn't his fault that he was the youngest and he didn't see why he should suffer such teasing. Anyway, he wasn't really that young. God, he almost got to tell bedtime stories to his own child before…
The man pushed away those painful memories. Some things were really better left forgotten. He lay down on his bedroll and soon was in the realm of dreams.
Aragorn watched the young man sleep. He felt so protective of him, especially in moments like these. To him, Balian was barely more than a child. In his sleep, the blacksmith was curled up in a fetal position, clutching the blanket to his chest. All the anxiety was erased from his face and he looked so young and vulnerable.
"What are you thinking?" Legolas asked him.
Aragorn turned to face his friend. "He's so young. I can't believe that he's done all those things."
"His world shaped him," said Legolas "as did yours to you. Men who are destined for great things must pass through many trials and tribulations. You are like metal. Steel must pass through many fires before it is tempered enough to become a good blade."
"I couldn't have survived it without the help of my friends," said Aragorn. "Your friendship is like gold. True gold fears no fire."
Aragorn looked up at the sky. The moon was full and round, just like the night when Arwen declared that she had chosen a mortal life. His thoughts drifted to the conversation he had with Elrond beside his mother's grave. He did not want to be king and yet it seemed he had no other choice. He did not think he could be king and at the moment, he did not think he could save his country
"Legolas, I don't think I can pass my last test," he said softly to his elven friend.
"Why?" demanded Legolas.
"I don't think I can retake Gondor."
"Estel, you were destined to reclaim kingship. Have some faith in yourself. If you stumble, I'll be there to catch you. I won't let you fall."
The two friends clasped hands. No words passed between them but some things did not need to be said out loud. They both knew that no matter what, they would always be loyal to each other.
The next morning, they set off. During the night, Gandalf's steed, a majestic albino stallion with powerful flanks and long legs, had come. Balian learnt that his name was Shadowfax, and that Gandalf was the first to tame him. The horse reminded him of Pegasus, the flying horse of Greek mythology. His hooves seemed to never touch the ground as he raced across the plains.
During their journey, Gandalf explained to them that they were in Rohan, the home of the horselords. Saruman, another wizard who had fallen into evil, had taken control of the king's mind and was now creating chaos in this country. There had been a famine and a plague, and Rohan was quickly disintegrating. It would not take much to topple the country.
Balian wondered what six people could do against such evil. He remembered the question that the Bishop of Jerusalem had asked him before the siege. "Who do you think you are?" Heraclius had demanded. "Can you alter the world?" What had he said in reply? Yes. He had said yes. And he did change the world, however slight that change was. The memory gave him confidence. They may only have six people, but they would change the fate of this doomed nation. Or die trying.
They reached Edoras the next morning. It was a city built on a hill with the palace —a simple structure with stone walls and a thatched roof— on the very top and the houses surrounding it. It was sparsely populated for a capital city. Orphans were abundant. Their parents had been killed either in war, or by the plague or the famine. The children stared at the strange newcomers. Their eyes were wide in their dirty thin faces. Although it was bitterly cold, they were clad only in ragged and threadbare garments. Their feet were bare. Many of them had running noses and they were shivering. They huddled together in somber groups, trying to preserve the little warmth they had.
Balian felt a stab of pity. He desperately wanted to help them. These were the people he swore to protect. He paused, but Aragorn indicated that they had to go up to the palace. Reluctantly, he left the children behind. He glanced backward at them. They would have to wait until they had completed their business up in the palace, whatever that was.
Although it had not looked like much from a distance, the palace of Rohan was really very large. Guy, who had lived in the magnificent palaces of Jerusalem, was not impressed however. He considered this to be a rundown barn and not fit for common nobility, much less a king.
A lady clothed in white with golden tresses had been standing on the porch of the palace when they had entered the city. Now she had disappeared. Balian wondered who she was. Maybe she was the king's daughter. From what Gandalf had said, she was definitely too young to be the king's wife, unless the Rohirrim did not view age difference as an obstacle to marriage.
"The Great Hall of Meduseld," Gandalf announced when they reached the bottom of the steps which led up to said hall. They dismounted and climbed up, only to be stopped by a contingent of palace guards.
"I cannot allow you and your companions before the king so armed, Gandalf Greyhame," said the captain "by order of…Grima Wormtongue." He delivered this announcement with a grimace and an apologetic tone as if he was reluctant to carry out the order.
Gandalf frowned, then nodded at the remaining members of the Fellowship. They began to disarm themselves. Balian handed a palace guard the sword of Ibelin and bade him to take good care of it. He was amazed at how many weapons Legolas seemed to have on him. Even as the elf disarmed himself, Aragorn grinned at him as if sharing a private joke. Legolas did not seem to find this joke as amusing as the ranger did. He glared at the man.
Balian suspected that the elf still had weapons hidden on his person.
Guy seemed insulted that he had to disarm. In the not-so-distant past, he was the one demanding that people disarm before seeing him.
Once they were all disarmed, Gandalf started to go in, but his way was barred by the captain of the guards. "Your staff," he said. Gandalf looked startled and gave the man a doleful look.
"You would not part an old man from his walking stick," said the wizard. He winked at the others
The captain looked doubtful but he allowed them to pass. Gandalf laid his hand on Legolas' arm to give the impression that he was weak and old. As they walked through the wooden doors, Aragorn smiled wryly. He had seen just how much damage Gandalf's 'walking stick' could cause.
It was dark inside the great hall as it was only lit by smoky torches which left black marks on the walls. On the throne at the very end of the hall sat an old man with pale rheumy eyes and scraggly white hair and beard. He was clad in a moth-eaten fur coat and looked as if he was dying. Balian deemed that this was the king of Rohan. Beside the king sat a sickly looking man with a pallid complexion. His colourless eyes looked everywhere and were full of cunning. He leant over and whispered into the King's ear.
"The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," cried Gandalf in greeting. Balian noticed that there were malicious looking men lurking in the shadows. He tensed as he realized that they had walked into a trap.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" demanded the king slowly in a tired and rasping voice.
"A just question, my liege," said the king's adviser. He rose from his place and approached Gandalf.
"Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear," he said in an arrogant tone that Guy was prone to adopt. "Láthspell I name you. Ill news is an ill guest."
"Be silent!" commanded Gandalf angrily. "Keep your foul tongue behind your teeth! I have not passed through fire and water to bandy crude words with a witless worm." With that, the wizard brandished his staff.
'This must be Grima Wormtongue,' Balian suddenly realized.
"His staff!" gasped Wormtongue. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"
The men in the shadows lunged at them, their weapons drawn. Balian's eye fell on a jar. He smashed it and picked up a large shard. He could see Legolas pulling daggers from his boots and tossing one to Aragorn. Balian threw himself at one of them men, brandishing his makeshift weapon. With expertise he slit the man's throat with the broken jar fragment. A blow with a bludgeon to the small of his back drove the breath from his body and brought him to his knees. He rolled way from another strike that would've brained him. The bludgeon struck the floor and the flagstones cracked from the force of the blow. Before the man could lift his weapon again, Balian leapt at him and pulled him to the floor. The two men wrestled on the stone. Balian, being of a lighter build, was at a disadvantage. He soon became the man at the bottom. Driven to the end of his wits, he head butted his adversary, who immediately fell backwards, clutching his head. Balian scrambled to his feet. The two faced each other warily, each resting on the balls of his feet and ready to leap. The other man lunged first. Balian jumped out of the way and tripped up his adversary. Before the man could recover, the blacksmith stamped down hard on his neck, crushing his windpipe.
The battle was brief but bloody. Many of the men lay dead or wounded. Legolas had suffered a gash to his arm and Aragorn's head was bleeding. Gimli's nose was bleeding and Guy sported a beautiful black eye. Although battered, the Fellowship was victorious. Gimli had one foot on Wormtongue's chest and was advising the man to stay still.
"I release you from the spell," said Gandalf, lifting his hand over the king. Nothing happened. The king laughed. It was not a laugh of joy but rather one of scorn. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," he sneered.
Gandalf threw off his grey cloak to reveal the brilliant white underneath. The king stiffened and leaned back in shock. He tried to shield his eyes from the light which Balian swore was the light of heaven. It illuminated the entire hall.
"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound!" Gandalf cried with determination. The king cried out as if in pain. Gandalf brandished his staff and seemed to be wrestling with an unseen adversary. The lady clad in white chose this moment to enter. She saw what was happening to the king, and made to run to his side. Aragorn grabbed her by the arm and bade her wait.
"If I go," snarled the King "Théoden dies!"
"You could not kill me," said Gandalf, advancing on him. "You will not kill him."
"Rohan is mine!" The king lunged at Gandalf with an infuriated roar. His fingers were curled like claws.
Gandalf roared as well. There was a flash of bright light and the king was thrown back into his seat. The light faded. Gandalf was panting with exertion.
Aragorn let go of the White Lady and she rushed to the king, kneeling at his feet. Before their eyes, the king began to transform. His beard and hair shortened and became a light wheaten brown. His eyes became clear and focused and he lost the deathly pallor. He looked around in amazement as if he had just been born. Then he saw the White Lady.
"I know your face," he whispered, cupping her chin in his hands. "Éowyn…"
Théoden looked up. "Gandalf?" he asked in disbelief.
"Breathe the free air again, my friend," said Gandalf. Théoden rose from his throne, and the people around him bowed their heads in reverence. He examined his hand, flexing his fingers as if to test the joints.
"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," said the wizard. The captain of the palace guards came forward, carrying a sword in a sheath decorated with intricate pictures of horses. He offered the hilt to Théoden he slowly wrapped his fingers around it and drew the weapon from its sheath. The blue steel of the blade seemed to glow. He raised it and tears of joy fell from Éowyn's eyes. Beneath Gimli's boot, Wormtongue shook with fear.
The king's eyes fell on the adviser and they narrowed with anger. "Take this vermin out of my halls!" he snarled. The palace guards readily complied. They roughly threw Wormtongue down the steps. The adviser cried out in pain as his body impacted roughly with the stone. He scrambled to his hands and knees even as the king advanced with a naked blade in his hand.
"I've only ever served you, my lord!" cried Wormtongue pitifully, backing away from his liege.
"Your leech craft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" snarled the king.
"Send me not from your side!" begged Wormtongue. Théoden lifted his sword and prepared to decapitate Wormtongue but Aragorn stopped him. Théoden looked at the ranger in confusion.
"Enough blood has been spilt on his account," said Aragorn.
Balian was confused. If this man had caused so many deaths then let him pay for it with his own life. He was not feeling particularly sympathetic towards Wormtongue. Such a man did not deserve to live. Guy was of the same opinion although both of them would have been severely insulted if it was revealed that they actually agreed on something for once.
Aragorn offered his hand to Grima. The adviser looked at it with loathing then spat on it. Disgusted, Aragorn withdrew his hand. Wormtongue wasted no time in flying down the stairs and pushing away the small crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle.
Balian suddenly felt lightheaded. Of all the Fellowship, he had fared the worst during the fight, on account of his wounds. He swayed on his feet. Legolas was at his side instantly, stopping him from following Wormtongue's example and rolling down the steps.
Éowyn was watching the people kneel before her uncle when a sudden movement caught her eye. It was the haradrim warrior who had fought Wormtongue's cronies. He had collapsed and if one of his friends had not been close enough to catch him, he would have fallen off the high podium of the hall.
"Is he alright?" she asked his friend, then instantly reprimanded herself for having asked such a ridiculous question to which the answer was obvious. Of course he was not alright. If he was then he wouldn't be unconscious.
"We need a room, my lady," said the warrior's friend. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen and she suddenly realized that he was one of the Firstborn.
"Come with me," she said. She would give him Éomer's chamber. The elf hefted the haradrim onto his back and followed her. The warrior did not move. The dwarf followed them, his face full of worry.
"Is the lad going to be alright?" he demanded. "What happened?"
"He's tired and wounded," replied the elf, depositing the warrior on the bed. Another man came in. He was the one who had prevented Éowyn from running to her uncle while Gandalf had performed his exorcism.
"How is he?" demanded the newcomer.
"Relax, Aragorn," said the elf. "He needs to rest. Oh, it would be helpful if the arrow stump in his shoulder is removed."
The one called Aragorn removed the haradrim's shirt to reveal a scarred and bloodied body.
"Who did this to him?" demanded Éowyn, feeling anger growing inside her.
"Orcs, and someone called Éomer," said Aragorn. "It was a misunderstanding. With Éomer I mean, not with the orcs."
Éomer did this? She was going to kill him.
A/N: This chapter's long to make up for the short chapter. Balian gets to meet Éowyn soon. I know they've seen each other but that does not constitute a meeting. Yes, I'm very cruel to Balian and I know I should stop torturing him, but it's so fun! Anyways, till next time and please leave me a review to tell me whether you liked it or hated it. I wanna know what you guys think.