Notes, Warnings etc
Dídauar is not being condescending with regards to Pippin. He is a child and therefore immature, though not as naïve as he was at the beginning of the quest.
Chapter Fourteen - Fate; She Is A Fickle Mistress
"Where are your going?" asked Dídauar, catching Halbarad's arm.
"Your brother is going to make the biggest mistake of his life," replied Halbarad with a growl. "Gandalf gave him the Palantír and the idiot is going to use it."
"He's what!" exclaimed Dídauar.
"I am going to use the Palantír," replied Aragorn, the elder child of Arathorn having stopped upon hearing his sister's voice.
"Why?" demanded Dídauar. "Estel that thing is dangerous. You saw what it did to Saruman. What is did to Pippin. Even Mithrandir wont touch it or let it be seen!"
"I have both the right and the strength to use it," replied Aragorn.
"You have the strength to challenge Sauron?" questioned Dídauar. "Estel, not even the strongest and wisest beings on this earth are capable of that. The Valar couldn't control one of their supposed servants. What makes you think a mortal will be able to cope?"
"It is either that or we let his attention remain on Pippin!" exploded Aragorn. Dídauar inhaled sharply.
"Pippin can be protected in other ways. For a start, he is no longer in Isengard. You do not have to do this!" she protested.
"I will not be crossed on this Dídauar," barked Aragorn. "He has stood unchallenged long enough." With that, Aragorn turned back on his heel and marched towards the room that he had been assigned.
"Do not leave his side," said Dídauar, turning to Halbarad. Halbarad nodded and hurried after his younger kinsman while Dídauar turned back into the throng, making as direct a path to Gandalf's side as she could, varying members of both the Dúnedain and Rohirrim began to succumb to the affects of their alcohol consumption. However, she didn't get further than ten yards before she was hauled into the middle of the horde by Erkenbrand, who thankfully had been watching his drinking level.
"A night like this would not be complete without a song from a guest," said the warrior. Dídauar shook her head in protest as Erkenbrand continued to back into the mass until he reached the empty space in the middle.
"What say you lads?" Several of the warriors cheered, including Gamling who had migrated down from the main table.
"Your guests have been singing to you all night," Dídauar protested, gesturing to Merry and Pippin who were still standing on the table and taking a moment to quench their quest, racing each other as they did so.
"Sadorennor, you are not backing down from a challenge are you?" questioned Gandalf as he became visible within the crowd. (Faithful to Middle-Earth)
"You have a habit of siding with those who wish to hear me sing," remarked Dídauar.
"You wouldn't oblige otherwise," smiled Gandalf. Dídauar sighed before sitting cross-legged on the table, hauling both Hobbits off their feet and on to her lap, Merry protesting as the remainder of his ale was spilt in the process. The only songs Dídauar could think of at that particular moment were the drinking songs that she had heard while on watch around The Shire and while Merry and Pippin had probably sung most of the ones she knew already, most of their audience was either beyond caring or beyond comprehension. Such a state of affairs was probably just as well because someone, be it Fate or Lórien, the master of Dreams and Visions, decided to visit another vision upon the warrior.
Engrossed in entertaining her audience, which Dídauar did with natural ease despite her protestations, and the smell of ale and cider being strong within the hall itself, she missed the telltale smell of spiced apple that preceded an episode. She also ignored the clouding of her vision that was also an indicator.
The two Hobbits on her knee yelped sharply in protest when Dídauar moved suddenly only to shout in terror as they watched her fall back her eyes completely out of focus and her body bucking violently under the additional strain. Gandalf and Théoden reacted to the shout, it not being one of jovial nonsense but of panic.
"Move!" commanded Théoden to the men that were surrounding Dídauar. The men parted as Théoden surged forward, and watched with mingling confusion, panic and wonder as Théoden set himself on the edge of the table, gathering one of Dídauar's hands in his own and cupping her cheek with the other, running his thumb gently over the skin just below her eye.
"Calm down," he murmured, feeling Dídauar's breathing and heart-rate increase to panic induced levels. "Shush, you'll be alright. Just calm down."
Dídauar gave a choked cry as she emerged from the vision, and she lay panting for breath struggling to regain her equilibrium. Théoden turned to Gamling.
"Find one of her kin who is sober," he ordered, gathering Dídauar to him and pushing his way through the crowd once more. "Bring them to her chamber. Master Hobbits kindly go with Gandalf and find Aragorn."
Théoden marched through the corridors of Helm's Deep, coming to a halt before Dídauar's room.
"Can you stand?" he asked of the woman in his arms. Dídauar nodded weakly and Théoden set her on her feet, holding a steadying arm around her waist, whilst he turned the door handle. Dídauar limped towards the bed, leaning heavily on Théoden as her head remained groggy. Gratefully she settled on the coverlet, closing her eyes though not quite falling asleep, just needing the quiet that the darkness promised. Théoden busied himself with removing her boots, the daggers at her ankle and wrist and her vambraces, before pulling up the thick woollen blankets that were folded at the bottom of the bed.
"Can you tell me what happened?" asked Théoden, setting himself beside Dídauar and gathering one of her hands again.
"Large battle by a golden city. So many people, so many bodies," murmured Dídauar. "A dead tree surrounded in flame and beginning to fall. A noble tower collapsing, wrapped in a banner of red."
"Did you recognise anyone?" asked Théoden. Dídauar shook her head carefully.
"Only faceless dead," she whispered. Théoden was prevented from replying by a gentle knock to the door and Tarcil appearing around the edge. Théoden smiled gently at the younger man, who bowed in respect.
"You sent for me my Lord," he said, closing the door behind him.
"I did. I'm afraid that your Captain has been taken ill," said Théoden. Tarcil cocked his head.
"Ill?" he echoed. "She was fine but half an hour ago."
"Some ills sneak up when least expected or desired," said Théoden. Tarcil immediately stiffened, his gaze flicking to Dídauar who had succumbed to the darkness that had offered her peace, even if it was for a few hours.
"She is suffering enough," whispered the young man, taking a step forward. Théoden canted his head.
"You know of her gift?" he asked. Tarcil let out a derisive snort.
"'Gift' is the last word I would use for it," he replied. "Curse would be a better choice. Has she told you what she Saw?"
"She did. But it made little sense," replied Théoden.
"Her vision never do at first glance," replied Tarcil taking a seat. "What did she tell you?"
"That thousands more will die. She called them the faceless, nameless dead. A battle outside a golden city and a tree surrounded by flame as it fell. Finally a tower collapsing, wrapped in a red cloak."
"They are faceless because she is not meant to save any of them," said Tarcil, his years of experience in helping Dídauar interpret her visions allowing him to draw quick conclusions. "And their number is so high because such is the way of battle, which will be worse than the one we have just fought. I have no idea about the others though."
"There stands a dead tree in the court of Minas Tirith," remarked Théoden.
"And has stood that way for nearly a hundred-and-fifty years, it is not the White Tree that is in danger of burning," replied Tarcil. "Though Minas Tirith may well be the golden city."
"In my language, its name means 'protecting hill'," commented Théoden.
"And in Sindarin, it means 'tower of the guard'. However when Anarion built it, it was called Minas Anor which means 'tower of the sun'," replied Tarcil. Théoden conceded that it was plausible, especially considering Sindarin was an official, if ill-used, language of the Gondorian court. Such a metaphor was indeed apt but it still didn't help them decipher what the vision meant.
"What of the tower wrapped in red?" asked Théoden. Tarcil shrugged.
"I have no idea. When she watched your son fall, she was shown a house collapsing. Maybe we are still waiting for the missing piece of the jigsaw," said the younger man, instantly regretting his choice of words as Théoden's face rapidly lost colour. "My Lord I am so sorry. I……"
"No its alright," said Théoden with a small, pained smile. "As much as I hate to accept that my son is dead, I understand that such is the fate of a warrior. It is rare for the noble and just to grow old and die peacefully in their sleep."
Tarcil caught the hint of self-recrimination in Théoden's words and rested a hand on his forearm, forgetting for the moment that this was a King.
"My Lord, for as long as I can remember, I have heard tales of you and your people. From the nine-year-old Prince who was still a little unsteady on his feet in a relatively new country to the youth who fought with his heart more than his head to the King who wanted nothing more than a safe country for his son to grow up in. Never once did I hear of the hierarchy hiding away with their comforts. Of a ruler who gave orders without looking out his front door first. Her words painted a picture of a man who would do anything if it meant his people would live to see another day, even if he did not."
"And a man who belongs to fiction only," sighed Théoden.
"No!" protested Tarcil. "Shadow is not one to paint fanciful tales. Reality is too much part of her life for her to escape it, even in her dreams. She spoke of a righteous ruler of Rohan and somewhere behind the walls you have erected about yourself, he still exists."
"You seem sure of your conclusions. You have only been in Rohan for two days," said Théoden.
"I watch anyone who gets close to Shadow," said Tarcil with a shrug as he stood. "And since you have a place in her heart, I will trust you. Good evening my Lord."
Théoden started. "You will not stay with her?"
Tarcil smiled. "It is not my hand that she is holding, nor is it my presence that has her calm," he said. "Goodnight, my Lord."
Gandalf was not a popular person come the morning. During the night he had made the decision to leave Rohan and that he would be taking Pippin with him. Pippin was distressed at this decision, which had been made with him being asked, and he looked pleadingly at Merry, begging his cousin to say something in his defence. Unfortunately, Merry was equally upset so unable to do anything but nervously fidget. Théoden's men were muttering about being abandoned once more when they faced a less than appreciated future while Halbarad had been plotting revenge on the wizard since he witnessed Aragorn react badly to looking in the Palantír then found out that Dídauar had received a vision at almost the exact same moment. Halbarad simply did not believe in coincidences and had deduced that Gandalf's manipulation of the situation was the cause. Dídauar and Aragorn were equally unimpressed with Gandalf after they discovered that their twin had spent the night unconscious and not from the effects of the alcohol they had consumed. As they listened to his plan, the temper that both had reputedly inherited from their mother began to rise.
"Sauron believes that the Palantír is still in Isengard and that the hobbit, he does not know which hobbit, is held prisoner there," Gandalf said as they were gathered in the hall of Helm's Deep, which was surprisingly clean considering the ruckus that had been created the night before.
"His gaze will have moved to Isengard and will be fixed there until his suspicions are confirmed or proved false. We must snatch that time. Once he realises his mistake, Sauron will swiftly move to rectify his blunder. Minas Tirith is now in grave danger for it is there that Sauron will attack upon his discovery."
"But why do I have to leave?" demanded Pippin seeing that no one was going to hurry to his defence.
"Because your foolish actions have placed not only you but your kin and the quest in jeopardy," replied Gandalf harshly. Dídauar snarled at the Istari causing him to raise an eyebrow.
"I looked in the Palantír as well yet you do not insist that I leave," said Aragorn folding his arms.
"You were merely a distraction to Sauron, a fly that needs to be squashed. He believes however that Pippin has the Ring. He must leave this place for his own protection. I had also hoped to find something useful for him to occupy his time with once we reach Minas Tirith."
"The heir to the one who weakened him for nearly three thousand years is merely a fly!" snorted Halbarad.
"When compared to the one who has the key to his immortality, yes he is a fly," replied Gandalf calmly.
Dídauar moved herself in front of Pippin, glaring at Gandalf. 'Do not blame Pippin for being a child!' she hissed in Sindarin. 'Saruman was considered wisest of your kind yet he fell into the snare which Sauron set, how was an immature Hobbit supposed to resist?'
'By listening when he was told no,' replied Gandalf, refusing to rise to Dídauar's temper.
'That only added to the temptation,' snapped back Dídauar. 'Minas Tirith is not a welcoming place and Denethor has become increasing xenophobic over the past few years. And do not forget that Pippin is the one for whom Boromir fell!'
'Kalya,' murmured Aragorn, resting a hand on her forearm. Cracks were beginning to appear in the mask that Dídauar was wearing and her temper was seeping through. However, it was not a good idea to have her release her pent-up frustration on Gandalf. For one thing, Dídauar respected the Istari and would be horrified to learn what she had done when her head cleared should she lay a hand on the other. She had enough to be dealing with without the additional guilt of lashing out at an ally.
'If you take him, you are responsible for his safety,' said Dídauar, her attention still on Gandalf. 'If he has so much as a scratch when I see him next, I will be holding you responsible.'
Gandalf chuckled at the threat, knowing that the next time they met, Dídauar would be begging for his forgiveness. Subconsciously, Dídauar acknowledged the same but for the moment, her she-wolf characteristic springing to the fore as it was prone to do in recent weeks. To her, Pippin was a cub that needed protected. Not mollycoddled into believing that he was incapable of doing anything, just coddled enough so that he was able to attempt something new but knew that there was still someone there who was accept that maybe this time wasn't the right time. Dídauar was confident that the 'old' Gandalf wouldn't have dragged the Hobbit away from what little stability he had. This new one however didn't seem to care what was in Pippin's best interests, only that Sauron was destroyed.
"Dídauar hold your tongue!" barked Aragorn. Dídauar stiffened upon hearing the name that crossed her brother's lips and cast her eyes to the ground in submission.
"When Gondor calls, Rohan must be ready to answer," said Gandalf, turning his attention back to Théoden, who had been sitting listening as the various parties argued. He felt sorry for the young Hobbit who had apologised on numerous occasions but was still being dragged from all he knew. At the same time he understood that for his own safety, and the safety of the people of Rohan, he had to leave. He gave a brief nod which was all the confirmation that Gandalf needed. The wizard turned on his heel with a call to Pippin to follow.
"Pip wait," said Dídauar taking a step forward. Pippin did as he was bid, looking expectedly at Dídauar, as was everyone else. Dídauar went to her knees before Pippin and untied a leather throng from around her neck. She pressed the attached charms, as well as a dagger, into Pippin's hand.
"Give this the Steward of Gondor. He will recognise it. If not, give it to his son, you will know him when you see him," she said. "The dagger is for you. May the Valar keep you safe, and I promise that this is not the last time you will say farewell to your friends."
"Peregrin Took!" snapped Gandalf from the doorway in which he stood having discovered the Pippin hadn't followed him. Dídauar growled in her throat.
"Say farewell to your friends, then follow the wizard," she said, nudging Pippin towards the company that stood behind her.