When Worlds Collide
Chapter 11: Freedom
The soft glow of firelight flickered on the walls of the hut while the majority of the occupants slept. It would have been peaceful except for the snoring of one particular dwarf. But other than that minor hiccup in the peace it was quiet.
Aragorn eased himself up from the wall he had been leaning against and silently limped past his sleeping elf friend and to the door. His leg was quite sore but nothing he couldn't handle. He had been lucky though. His leg had not been broken. A deep bruise likely went down to his bone, but for how bad it could have been he was strangely fortunate with his run in with the spider. His leg was strained and immensely sore, but in a few days the pain would dwindle to almost nothing. He knew when they made to leave in the morning Legolas would instantly turn into a mothering elf else saying he had to take it easy and shouldn't walk. It had happened too many times to count in the past. Smiling softly Aragorn gently pushed the hut's door open and leaned against its frame.
As his eyes wondered around the hurt village his mind went to his home. Middle Earth. He silently prayed that Saruman hadn't yet overrun Rohan. And he desperately hoped that Merry and Pippin were somewhere safe. If Saruman had gotten a hold of them…he promptly shook those thoughts out of his head. It would hurt too much to dwell on the thought of those young hobbits being tortured.
Aragorn's mind slowly meandered through his memories of the fellowship before it settled on one image. An elderly man with a wild beard cloaked completely in gray. "Gandalf," he whispered softly into the night air. "Everything failed once you fell. I failed. I couldn't keep everyone together. I'm sorry my friend. I know you had higher hopes for me. Please, forgive me."
Aragorn leaned his forehead against the doorframe and let out a barely audible sigh. He would never admit it to anyone, not even Legolas, but he was homesick. He wanted to go back to Middle Earth. There was nothing there for him but war and fighting, but at least there he had a true purpose. But here, in Japan, he felt like he was just a burden. He hoped he and his friends were helping but he honestly believed that Kagome and the others would have been better off if they had never shown up.
At the sound of a soft moan from inside the hut Aragorn slightly jumped. He quickly moved back inside and let the door close quietly behind him. He located the person who had moaned and went to see if he could be of aid. Inuyasha laid beside the young miko, his face bathed in the soft orange glow of the fire. Seeing the slight grimace of pain set in on the young male's face, Aragorn moved swiftly to his side.
Inuyasha barely opened one eye when he heard someone kneel down beside him. Both his eyes opened fully when he saw it was the man. "What?" he scowled, making sure to keep his voice low to prevent Kagome from waking. Lord knows he didn't need her getting angry with him for some stupid reason.
Aragorn held a hand up in a placating gesture. "You were severely injured Inuyasha. I am merely seeing if you needed anything to help ease your pain."
Inuyasha averted his gaze from the man to the wall in front of him. "Damn human, why must you be so helpful?" he growled. "You almost died too."
Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. "I have almost died many times in the past. And I was careless against the spider. If I were more careful you probably would not be hurt quite so bad. For that I am sorry."
Inuyasha closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Thinking he had fallen asleep Aragorn moved to stand back up when Inuyasha's voice once again broke the night air.
"I never wanted any of you three to be severely hurt or killed," said Inuyasha stiffly. He couldn't believe he just told the human that. But then when one is put into a near death situation your eyes do tend to be opened a little wider. Perhaps the newcomers did only mean help; after all, he had yet to smell any treachery or lies on any of them and no one was that good at masking their scent.
"I do not blame you for how you were treating us," responded Aragorn. "What happened is in the past. Everyone is alive. To me, that is what really matters."
"Kagome," continued Inuyasha softly. "T-Thank you for looking after her against the orcs. That girl is reckless, she needs all the looking after she can get."
Laughing softly Aragorn said, "Not a problem. But I must say, she is quite good with a bow and arrows."
"Yes, yes she is," sighed Inuyasha before once again drifting off into a deep, healing sleep.
Aragorn stood back up and moved back to his friends. Resuming his place between Legolas and Gimli he sighed in contentment. The situation with Inuyasha really was beginning to look up. And he had been right. All it had taken was a near death incident to bring that change about.
With quick, purposeful strides an elderly man strode through the depths of Fangorn Forest. If one did not know who he was one would wonder what an old man was doing in the midst of a forest such as Fangorn. But this elderly man was none other than a powerful wizard. A wizard sent back from death to complete a quest. But the quest now stood on the brink of destruction. The disappearance of three major players made sure the quest would be near impossible to complete.
Clenching his staff in one gnarled old hand Gandalf hardened his gaze and quickened his pace. It was taking all of his willpower and wisdom as a wizard to not simply turn around and attempt to solved the puzzle of his friend's disappearance right than and there. He knew Aragorn was needed to save Middle Earth. He knew this. And yet he was walking away from where Aragorn was last seen.
"Warn Theoden," he muttered to himself. "I've got to warn Theoden before I can do anything else." If Gandalf were one to let anger control him he would have been livid by this point. He had to warn Theoden. But Theoden was still firmly in Saruman's grasp. He somehow had to get to Theoden, with his staff, and free the king without being apprehended by the guards. All without killing anyone.
And that would just be the beginning. He would then have to convince the newly freed king to arm himself for war against Saruman. And then leave Theoden to his own devices so he could attempt to find Aragorn. And he had to do it all in a very short span of time as Saruman was constantly prepping himself for war. And the time was constantly ticking away.
Gandalf sighed in frustration. He had quickly gone from being one of the key players to the only one. His mood lifted somewhat when he caught a glimpse of the fields outside of Fangorn. Once he exited the forest he looked back into it one last time. Somewhere in there was Treebeard, Merry, and Pippin.
"At least they're safe," said Gandalf softly. If he had been required to take the two young hobbits with him his chances of succeeding would have slimmed tremendously. The hobbits meant well, this he could not deny. But their place was with Treebeard at this point in time. Gandalf needed them there and on one level he felt that Treebeard and the Ents needed the hobbits as well for they also played a role in the fate of Middle Earth. Nodding briskly at Fangorn he bid a silent farewell to the hobbits.
Returning his attention to the fields he pursed his lips and let out a long, fluttering whistle. His eyes swept over the plains and they brightened considerably when he caught sight of the beautiful stallion running towards him.
The stallion was pure white and almost seemed to glow with the sun bouncing off its coat. Warm, friendly, brown eyes shone at Gandalf and he brushed his muzzle against the wizard's face.
"Shadowfax," spoke Gandalf, his love for the horse showing clearly in his voice. The horse nickered in his own greeting.
Not wasting another moment Gandalf moved to Shadowfax's side and with an ease that seemed to defy his age he jumped on the horse's back. Holding his staff in one hand and grasping Shadowfax's mane lightly in the other he bent over to speak in the horse's ear.
"Run Shadowfax," he urged. "If ever there was a need for haste, this is it. Now, run!"
With a graceful toss of his head Shadowfax wasted no time in listening to the wizard. Soon nothing but a white streak could be seen across the plains of Rohan as the horse tried for all he was worth to give the wizard more desperately needed time.
In the distance a lone rough hill could be seen jutting out from the plains of Rohan. It didn't look as if it belonged for all around it were gentle plains. But it was just for that reason that Theoden had placed Edoras, the Rohan stronghold, atop this hill. No enemy could hope to sneak up on Edoras; they would be seen from miles away. The hill also offered the added benefit of having the advantage in case of a battle. But if Edoras were ever surrounded then the advantage would quickly become a fault. The hill would become a cage; a deathbed for Edora's people, there was no escape if it was ever surrounded.
Gandalf greatly feared for Edora's, and ultimately Rohan's, survival. If Theoden did not do something, anything, to prepare his people for war all would be lost. Saruman would overrun Edoras before the men could even pick up their spears and mount their horses. As it currently stood Edoras was weak, too weak to hold off any decent sized force for long. And if what Gandalf had seen when he was imprisoned it was that Saruman was preparing an anything but little army.
Shadowfax slowed to a trot when they reached the gates of Edoras. As he and Gandalf silently made their way deeper into the heart of Edoras men and women garbed in dark clothing and expressions full of distrust followed them with their eyes. Gandalf remained impassive and continued staring straight ahead. If he did anything too hasty or brash now he would be thrown out and all hope would be lost.
When he reached the final flight of steps to Meduseld, the king's Golden Hall, Gandalf got off of Shadowfax and bid the horse to make his way towards the stables. The men of Rohan knew Shadowfax so Gandalf knew the horse would be well cared for.
Straightening up, Gandalf made his way to the top of the stairs. When he reached the doors he was not the least bit surprised to see guards immediately come and stand before him.
The lead guard, known as Hama, spoke. "I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of…Grima Wormtongue."
Gandalf could hear the slight sound of displeasure in Hama's voice when he mentioned Grima's name. He was silently pleased. Perhaps in his attempt to free the king from Saruman's grasp the guards would let him be.
With a slight nod of agreement Gandalf undid Glamdring, his sword, from his side and handed it over to a waiting guard. He waited for admission with a pleased smile.
The guard eyed the wizard's imposing white staff. "Your staff," he finally said.
Gandalf looked from his staff back to the guard with a hint of disappointment on his face. "Oh, you would not part an old man from his walking stick." He added to his act by looking with slight shock at Hama as if not believing the audacity of the guard demanding an old man to give up his means of support.
His ploy worked. Hama looked at Gandalf for a few moments to try and find any sign of deception on the wizard's part. He found none and with eyes lowered to the ground he turned on his heel to lead the wizard to his king.
Gandalf followed the guard, who with a slight bow to the king, stepped to the side. When Gandalf entered the hall the doors promptly shut behind him. The wizard continued his silent trek up to the middle of the hall. He eyed the hunched figure sitting by the king, Grima Wormtongue, suspiciously. He was the one poisoning Theoden's mind for Saruman. Glancing to his sides Gandalf's eyes narrowed when he saw men, clearly not the king's guards, walking in line with him along the sides of the hall.
"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King," spoke Gandalf, breaking the tense atmosphere that threatened to smother everyone within the hall. He scowled when Grima whispered something into the king's ear.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" asked the sickly King Theoden in stunted speech. He turned his head to seek Grima's approval, which only succeeded in angering Gandalf further. The hold on Theoden was great, there was almost nothing left of the formerly strong king. He looked like he would keel over dead at any second, the command of Rohan given almost entirely over to Grima.
"A just question my liege," said Grima before standing up to speak directly to the wizard. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear."
Gandalf continued walking closer to the king, careful to keep his staff hidden within the folds of his gray cloak. He was now pinned into the hall. Grima's men clearly surrounded him and they simply waited for the signal from Grima to attack.
"Lathspell, I name him," continued Grima, walking ever closer to Gandalf. "Ill news is an ill guest."
The wizard and man both came to a stop a couple of feet apart. Gandalf looked at Grima with clear contempt.
"Be silent," he commanded. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." Gandalf almost spit out the last word before bringing his staff up into Grima's face.
Grima's eyes widened in shock. "His staff!" he uttered in almost disbelief. The worthless guards had let the wizard in with his staff! He eyed his men. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"
Those were the only words the foul looking men needed before rushing the lone wizard. The guards from outside the hall looked on in shock, they were at a clear loss of what to do. On one hand it appeared that a wizard was threatening their king. But on the other their king had been so ill lately, and the wizard was Gandalf, why would Gandalf harm King Theoden? Gandalf eyed the king's guards as Grima's men almost stalked him in the hall.
"My friends!" he shouted in a strong, commanding voice. "Those who are loyal to Theoden! I see you despair the thought of your beloved king being in such a weakened state." Before Gandalf could say anything further a few men attacked him. Deftly sidestepping their clumsy strikes he quickly hit them with his staff, successfully knocking them to the ground and earning him a few more much needed seconds.
"Do not let this despair overcome you as your king can, and will, be saved! Now, come! Free yourselves from Grima's grasp and allow me to return your king to his former glory!"
The king's guards looked from their sickly king, to Gandalf, to each other. With a slight nod from Hama the men rushed to the wizard's aid.
As the two opposing sides of men crashed into each other Gandalf set his sights back on Theoden as the guards protected him from Grima's men. "Theoden!" he called out. "Son of Thengel!" Lowering his voice as he drew closer to the king he continued. "Too long have you sat in the Shadows. Hearken to me!" Raising one hand up he said, "I release you from the spell."
Much to Gandalf's, and the guards who had efficiently put down the resistance, surprise, the king cackled madly. It was the most life the guards had seen from their king in some time now.
"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" said Theoden in a mocking tone.
Gandalf looked victorious. Without a work he quickly threw off the weathered gray cloak he had been wearing. Many gasps could be heard from behind him as well as one very surprised yell from the king. The king was thrown backwards into his throne from the white, shining, wizard standing in front of him.
Gandalf appeared all powerful at that moment. No longer was he Gandalf the Grey. He was Gandalf the White, sent back until his job was complete. He shone with reverence and power and almost appeared to strengthen right in front of the guards. No more was he the elderly man from before. No, now before everyone stood a warrior. "I will draw you Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," he said with promise in his voice.
With his staff held in front of him Gandalf stepped closer to the king who was thrown violently against his throne. Struggling to right himself Theoden sneered. "If I go, Theoden dies!"
In response Gandalf thrust his staff at the king and moved even closer. "You did not kill me, you will not kill him."
Fighting against the wizard's superior power Theoden glared at Gandalf with nothing but hate. "Rohan is mine!" he said through a voice laden with pain.
Once again Gandalf thrust his staff at Theoden. "Be gone," he said in a voice full of authority.
Theoden and Gandalf stared at one another, both concentrating to destroy the other. With a cry Theoden launched himself out of his throne and came at Gandalf. With a shout of his own Gandalf raised his staff to meet the maniacal king head on.
It was over in a second. The king fell backwards in defeat while Gandalf lowered his staff.
Moaning, Theoden began falling before a young woman clothed in white ran forward to catch him. Helping him back up the woman stared in shock and wonderment as the king visibly grew healthy and young again. Tears glistened in her eyes when he turned to her.
"I know your face…Eowyn," he whispered softly, smiling in happiness when her name passed his lips.
Gandalf smiled softly and stepped back from the throne. Theoden looked up, shocked to discover the wizard standing before him.
"Gandalf?" he questioned, staring at the wizard in confusion. Eowyn looked at the wizard as well, but her face clearly showed her thanks and gratitude to the wizard for freeing Theoden.
"Breathe the free air again, my friend," answered Gandalf.
Unsteadily rising to his feet Theoden stared in wonder around him. At the sight of Gandalf grinning before him Theoden appeared confused once again.
"Dark have been my dreams of late," said Theoden, so softly it was as if he were talking to himself. He vaguely recalled parts of dreams. Some he would be locked in a dark, dank cell while a mysteriously being simply laughed. In others he saw the villages of Rohan being burned, its people destroyed. And still in others he saw those he cared for, Theodred, Eomer, and Eowyn, dying at the hands of orcs. He shuddered unconsciously as he recalled snippets of his dreams. He looked down at his hands, slowly opening them and staring at them.
Gandalf looked at the recently freed king with kindness. "Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," he said with wisdom.
At those words Hama knelt in front of the king, a sword held in his outstretched hands. Everyone watched with hope and bated breath as Theoden eyed the sword. He tentatively reached out and placed his hand on the hilt. With renewed strength his fingers wrapped around the hilt and slowly, ever so slowly, he drew out the sword. Finally freeing the hilt of its restraining sheath he held it up in the air, everyone immediately kneeling down in front of him.
Their king had returned. He had been freed.
Last revised: December 7, 2006