"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."
-Unknown
Kaz followed the line of Éowyn's outstretched hand, gazing upon Edoras with fascination.
Like Upbourn, Edoras had been constructed atop a hill. From their vantage point, Kaz could see the rooftops of dwellings leading down the hill like toppling dominos. A tall, thick wooden wall-much bigger than the wall of Upbourn-encircled Edoras, separating the city from the world beyond.
A large expanse of grassland stretched out beyond the barricade, leading onward until it was out of sight. She noted the white and blue peaks of mountains in the distance, barely perceivable amidst the cover of clouds.
Kaz wondered if the grassland before them was Harrowdale, the same valley from which she and the Upbourn survivors had come. It was very likely, for she thought she recalled Aldrich or Palma saying something about how Edoras lay at the very end of the valley.
Villagers in long, dark clothing bustled past them, some leading horses and others herding children. An old woman in a dark dress looked up from sweeping her front porch, staring at the Kaz-shaped cloak as though her curious, beady eyes could peer right through it. A man who had been speaking to the woman, most likely her husband, stopped in mid-sentence to follow her gaze.
One by one the villagers halted what they were doing to stare directly at Kaz. It was eerie, the way they appraised her in somber silence. No yelling, no running, no speaking in hushed tones behind raised hands. It made her want to turn tail and flee back inside the relative safety of the Healing Houses.
Kaz hugged the shapeless, heavy thing more closely around herself. Though she needn't of bothered—the garment already succeeded in masquerading her form completely.
A gentle hand on her back made her jump. Yet it was only Éowyn, silently easing her forward. The woman made sure that Kaz was at her heels before she guided her into the capital.
Kaz felt eyes like burning embers on her skin as she plodded along behind the woman. She wondered what all they had heard about her. Likely they had heard of her pink hair and omnipotent dream powers. Maybe they have even heard of this wacky, unbelievable place from where had traveled with her fake family. Who knows? She might even have two heads and can breathe fire. Or she has bat wings. Or a tail.
As she carefully stepped over a line of chickens, a pair of little boots entered her line of sight. Kaz blinked and looked up, meeting the gaze of a wide-eyed little boy. He was about Tranter's age, with big blue eyes that goggled at her.
Kaz, not knowing what else to do, stopped and offered the boy a smile and a little wave. The corners of the boy's lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile before he was suddenly lurched from Kaz's vision. She lifted her head to watch a woman-his mother?- seize the boy by the hand and drag him away in a flurry of activity.
Kaz watched them go for a half-second before hurrying to keep pace with Éowyn. Probably for the best, I was about to suck out that little boy's soul from his eardrums anyway, Kaz thought drily to herself.
She thought of little Tranter, hoping that he had made it in the fray. Common sense screamed no, but her faith held fast.
Éowyn took a sharp turn and began to trudge up the mountainous pathway, headed towards the high point on the massive hill. Kaz caught a glimpse of a cluster of large buildings seated upon the hill and figured that's where they were headed. She stumbled and gasped in her attempt to keep up with the lithe woman, the cloak suffocating and hot and feeling as though it weighed a metric ton.
There was a slight bite in the air but it did nothing to quell the heat from her exertion. When they had finally succeeded in hiking up the top of the hill, Kaz's pink locks were stuck to her forehead and her ruined clothing seemed to be glued to her body. On top of everything else, Kaz was going to be meeting the King as a sweaty, flushed mess.
"You really don't want me to make a good impression, do you?" Kaz grouched unhappily, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. She barely resisted the urge to rip the cloak from her body and launch it down the hill. With the torrents of wind rising from the valley of Harrowdale, Kaz wondered what sort of distance the cloak would make.
Éowyn shushed her, continuing onward until she realized that her little Jawa was no longer following her. The woman turned, one blonde eyebrow arching in question. She took a few steps back, closing the distance between herself and Kaz.
"Miss Klara, please we must make haste. The King is expecting you."
Why was Éowyn so eager to get her to the Golden Hall, anyway? Kaz looked like she'd been through hell. Like a car ran over her and backed up again a couple hundred times. On top of this, her hair was the color of Pepto-Bismol and her clothes-or what was left of them, anyway-contrasted so starkly with everyone else's it was like she showed up to a funeral in a bathing suit.
Despite this, Éowyn seemed almost impatient to parade her in front of the King of her fuckin' city. Why? What did the woman have to gain from her freak show other than public ridicule?
Or maybe everyone in this dreamscape was just as nutty as Kaz. God help them.
"Excuse me if I'm not eager to get stared at like a freak again," Kaz said instead, catching the gaze of a farmer as he passed by the women. His stare distracted him to the point where he nearly crashed into a horse-drawn cart, sending his basket of produce flying every which way. "Well, more than I am already, anyway."
Éowyn's gaze softened at her admission. It was at that moment that Kaz realized Éowyn was on that very, very short list of people that hadn't yet looked at her as if she was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her exchange with Kaz had always been borne of curiosity, never trepidation. Kaz suddenly felt guilty for her words.
"You misunderstand my intentions, Miss Klara. You are unlike any woman I have ever met. You are unlike any woman this entire city has ever met," Éowyn told her, her tone hushed but soothing. "This 'Chicago' must be quite a place, to develop women with such skill and strength of character."
A flush burned across Kaz's cheeks, and this time it had nothing to do with their trek up the small mountain. Praise was certainly the last thing she expected to hear from the other woman. It was as if Éowyn admired her. But that was just silly… wasn't it?
"I intend for King Théoden to bear witness to the skill and resolve of Chicagoean women. I believe all of Rohan would benefit from the ways of the Chicagos."
Oh. So that was it, then. Éowyn wanted brownie points for her sex. Despite herself, Kaz immediately liked the blonde woman. She wondered what sort of animosity most other women had to bear in this world. At the memory of Tompkin's ignorant, bigoted remarks Kaz bristled.
Kaz's conception of Éowyn suddenly painted her as a spirited, Joan of Arc-type character perpetually burdened by the patriarchal society that comprised this dreamscape. Kaz's heart ached for the blonde woman, fictional or not.
Kaz realized that she was still looking at her, and the younger woman's eyes snapped up to meet Éowyn's hazel ones.
"I… I realize I have acted selfishly. Would you like to delay meeting the King until you have washed and changed your clothing? I can inform Théoden of this dilemma, I am sure he will understand."
"Oh, no no," Kaz responded. Although a bath and a fresh set of clothes sounded delightful, who was she to reject the woman's ploy to garner more respect for their mutual gender? Though Kaz wasn't quite sure how Éowyn was going to pull that one off with Kaz looking like she just tumbled out of an industrial meat grinder, but she was interested in finding out. "I totally understand what you're trying to do and I'm happy to help."
Éowyn searched her face. "Are you certain?"
"As long as you do all the talking, absolutely," Kaz replied, smiling up at the older woman. "Besides, we're already here, so let's go!"
Kaz took one purposeful step forward, yet in her exaggerated step she had forgotten about the length of the cloak draped around her. She tripped over its hem, landing in a heap of material on the ground. Well, she would have landed in a heap of material if Éowyn hadn't snagged the cloak from the back at the last moment. Kaz flailed pathetically for half a second before she realized what was happening and sagged in the other's grip.
Éowyn let out a small, amused chuckle.
"We will remove this garment when we enter the Golden Hall, for I don't believe clumsiness will aide in convincing the court of your warrior nature."
"Yeah… good idea."
Though the smattering of buildings atop the hill of Edoras weren't much to look at from far away, close-up the Golden Hall was an impressive structure.
It was not entirely swathed in gold, as Kaz had first imagined. However, golden embellishments adorned the edging along the rooftop and composed the sun-like symbol plastered on the front of the edifice. She wondered fleetingly if it was real gold before chastising herself. The culture of her dreamscape was closely akin to the Middle Ages, she doubted that gold-colored spray paint was even a thought. Of course it was real.
And then she saw them.
Ugh. Stairs.
A winding set of stairs was carefully cut into the mountain itself, leading up into the structure. Dragging her butt up those stairs while dressed in a fuckin' carpet sounded positively awful. Kaz could feel the beginnings of a whine stir in the back of her throat. She'd rather shove a sharp stick in her eye. Or five.
Éowyn must've perceived her grumbling, for the older woman looked at Kaz briefly before gazing around them. As the pair had climbing the steep incline, the number of villagers had notably tapered off. The only souls at the top of the hill consisted of a smattering of young men dressed in armor and yielding swords and heavy wooden shields. A matching pair of these men was positioned by the entrance of the Golden Hall. It wasn't difficult to assume these men were guards.
"You may remove the cloak," Éowyn told her, apparently satisfied with their lack of audience. Adorned upon her face was a knowing smile.
Kaz couldn't rip the offending article off her body fast enough. It slipped through her grasp and fell with a heavy thud on the ground, sending a cloud of dust into the air. She sheepishly picked the cloak back up to hastily pat at the dust, yet Éowyn was already climbing up the stairs.
Kaz draped the article of clothing over one arm and scurried after her.
Kaz caught her breath easily as she and Éowyn mounted the top stair. As the women approached the door, she noticed that it, too, had the same gold embellishments that adorned the roof. Celtic-like designs were etched into the pillars and door frame.
Kaz had the sudden urge to touch them- she had never seen that much glittering gold in her life-yet the steely gaze of a guard halted that thought. They had no moved from their positions on either side of the pillars and doors, swathed in silver and bronze armor and yielding heavy shields adorned with a sun-like icon that matched the symbol on the roof.
The four of them peered directly at her from out of the eyeholes of their helmets, their gazes flicking to her stomach, her face, her hair and back again.
She raised a brow at them and put her hands on her hips, yet the men didn't even have the decency to avert their eyes in embarrassment as she expected. The staring continued. Kaz grumbled to herself.
Éowyn turned to her then, a smile spreading across her fair features.
"Welcome, Miss Klara, to Medusëld, the Golden Hall of Edoras."
Kaz mustered a smile for the other women, despite the discomfort she felt at being the object of attention of the other men. Éowyn nodded at one of the guards, her demeanor becoming professionally distant.
"King Théoden is expecting us."
One of the guards stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Kaz.
"I cannot allow you before Théoden-King armed. Are there any weapons upon your person?"
Kaz barely suppressed an exasperated eye-roll. What in the world would she be hiding? Unless she was trying to smuggle a knife in in her underwear, her tattered clothing didn't leave many options.
"No, but you can take this. I'm sick of carrying it," she replied, shoving the heavy cloak at the guard. He accepted the clothing in more surprise than anything, looking down at it in confusion.
"Thank you," Kaz continued cheekily, brushing past the guard and standing beside Éowyn. She shot the other woman a sidelong glance, wondering why the guards hadn't of bothered to check her for weapons. Perhaps Éowyn had more pull here in Edoras than she let on.
Éowyn gave Kaz one last look before pushing open the double doors.
The smell is what hit her first. A blast of stale air smacked her right in the face, coupled with the musty stench of dust and men.
It was dark in the hall, darker than Kaz had expected. For a building nicknamed the "Golden Hall," an uncanny gloom had settled over the place. The very air was heavy, ripe with melancholy. The sunlight streaming in from the ceiling windows seemed to be gobbled up by the darkness before it reached the floor. It was unearthly, in a way.
Kaz could see shapes of men clustered on the outer edges of the hall, their forms like long shadows in the murky surroundings. The gold of their rings glinted in the darkness, and Kaz assumed the knot of men were royals of some sort.
As her eyes adjusted to her dim surroundings, Kaz could scarcely make out the intricate golden carvings which reached across the hall's ceilings and pillars. Great paintings and murals adored the walls, shrouded by shadows. Even the great, star-like icon cut into the wall above the throne seemed to shine less brightly than it should have.
It was as though a creature of darkness had moved in and made the throne room its permanent home, stretching out like a giant cat and immersing itself into every cavity, reducing the place to a mere shadow of its former glory.
The carpet stretched onward until it hit a small, stage-like structure. Four steps led up to an impressive throne inlaid with gold and whetted, sturdy wood.
The throne was notably vacant. Kaz looked to Éowyn in confusion. Was this 'Théoden' going to make a grand appearance later? Like with trumpets and the whole kit n' kaboodle?
Éowyn's expression matched her own. Apparently, she had expected the King to be perched in his chair just as much as Kaz did.
"Miss Klara, please wait here," the woman instructed her before striding purposefully down the carpet in the direction of the throne.
Wait, what? Éowyn was just going to leave her, standing awkwardly in the middle of a large, eerie room with these faceless figures peering out at her from the shadows? Oh no, fuck this.
Kaz had made to dart after the other woman, yet a voice made her pause.
"Klara?"
A familiar head emerged from the shadows.
"Allard!" Kaz found herself saying automatically, immediately gravitating towards the man. She hadn't intended to physically assault Allard, yet Kaz was suddenly launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around his torso.
She hadn't known the man more than 24 hours, yet the emotion that seized her upon seeing him was overwhelming… she couldn't explain it. After seeing Aldrich cut down in the heat of battle, Kaz yearned to see the little group of Ubourners. She knew it was a dream, that it was all fake… all fictional… but she needed to know that they were alright.
Allard accepted her hug without hesitation, his strong arms wrapping around Kaz's slight frame. The callouses on his fingertips scratched against the back of her neck.
He then drew her back, his hands clutching her arms as he gazed at her in awe.
"I thought you were surely dead!" Allard breathed, blinking swiftly as though Kaz would evaporate from his grasp. "When Juliet said you were on the path of recovery, we could scarcely believe it!"
We?
Kaz shrugged out of Allard's clutch, her eyes darting around the hall. "Allard, who else made it? Who else is here?"
"Just us, child."
That was a familiar voice. Kaz's head swiveled on its axis, locating the source of the words immediately.
Tompkin emerged from the shadows, looking almost apologetic. One of the farmers came up behind him… Warden? Rhett? Kaz still hadn't figured out which one had been which.
There was no one behind the two men. Kaz squinted into the darkness for what seemed like ages, yet no one else came forward. She felt the familiar weight of Allard's hand on her shoulder.
"And Juliet lives thanks to you, little warrior."
Her shoulders sagged. Aldrich... she witnessed his fall. But Palma? Clothilde? The tiny Tranter? Even the other half of Warden/Rhett?
Her eyes stung as a sob got stuck in her throat. Kaz couldn't help but feel responsible. She was the newcomer, she was the outcast. They had accepted her in their group with little hesitation and they ended up getting attacked. If she had just woken up earlier… if she had regained her senses more quickly she may have been able to save Aldrich. Maybe Juliet wouldn't have been so preoccupied with rousing her and would've been able to get away with Clothilde and Tranter. Maybe…
Her train of thought was halted as the sound of a heavy door slamming reverberated throughout the hall. Kaz had little time to appreciate the acoustics of the building before catching sight of Éowyn. She had emerged from a side door near the throne, chin held high and looking much more irritated that when she had left.
A hunched figure in black garb followed her closely, discernibly ogling the exposed flesh at the back of Éowyn's neck. Kaz shuddered involuntarily at the lecherous expression so apparent on the man's face.
Like Kaz and Juliet, this man's features did not coincide with the blonde, blue-eyed population of Rohan. Dark hair framed the man's face in small, greasy circlets. His eyes were of a pale hue, nearly the same shade as his alabaster flesh. While the men of Rohan were broad-chested and sturdy, this man appeared almost weak and frail. The furs draped around his body seemed to nearly drown him.
This man looked certainly at home in the darkness of the Golden Hall, as it appeared he was in serious need of some sunlight. His appearance reminded Kaz of a vampire, miserably pining away in its dungeon. She wondered if he would burn up and turn to ash if he ventured outside. Could this be King Théoden? This man certainly didn't correspond with the image Kaz had constructed in her head.
"This is the woman? She is naught a child," the man suddenly spoke, his voice as dark and slippery as the rest of him.
"Miss Klara, this is Worm-Gríma, chief advisor to Théoden-King."
Oh. It came rushing to her then, the distaste that Éowyn had expressed when she mentioned Wormtongue's name back in the Healing Houses. From the woman's near-slip in introducing the man, Kaz was able to assume that this character must be this 'Wormtongue.' So, Éowyn wasn't a fan. Kaz didn't blame her.
Gríma did not appear perturbed by Éowyn's word slip, instead stepping around the woman to venture closer to Kaz. He approached her, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders hunched forward. The man looked positively villainous in his posture and his pale eyes seemed to bore right through her.
Kaz squeezed her hands into tight fists, resisting the urge to cross her arms over chest. Éowyn wanted her to be a badass warrior lady, so Kaz was determined not to show Gríma that he made her nervous. She lifted her chin, gazing into those pale eyes with resolve.
She felt, more than saw, Allard and Tompkin shift closer to her. So, they must feel it too. Although she was trying to act tough, Kaz was secretly grateful for their presence.
Gríma halted before her, his eyes flicking to her hair, her face, and then to the gaping, bloody hole in her hoodie. He didn't seem to notice the two men hovering around them, nor Éowyn who had so carefully approached them. Disembodied murmurs emerged from the long silhouettes of the royals tucked in the shadows.
"You dispatched two Orc-beasts?" Gríma spoke then, those pale eyes meeting her own. They seem to devour her, tearing at her mental layers and peering straight into her very soul. Kaz fought the urge to squirm under that gaze.
She realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly.
"I did," Kaz replied, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady.
Gríma shot a look at Allard, then Tompkin. Kaz sensed Tompkin nod as Allard spoke.
"She eradicated two of the orc-beasts with the skill and strength of a seasoned warrior."
Gríma's features curled into a snarl then, his lip curling over his teeth.
"It is sorcery, ill magic! A harbinger of wickedness sheathed in the skin of a child!"
A pale, wiry hand shot out from beneath of folds of a dark robe, fisting a large chunk of Kaz's pink hair. She cried out in pain and surprise as Gríma gave a vicious yank, nearly lifting Kaz to the tips of her toes. She reached up to scrabble at the attacking hand yet he had already released her, sending her sprawling on the carpet.
There was shouting then, and Kaz raised her head to see that Tompkin and Allard had moved immediately so they were standing protectively over her. Éowyn had also moved so that she was facing Gríma, her eyes glittering dangerously. Kaz noticed the other woman's fists were trembling—it looked as though she would have loved to strike the King's advisor in that moment.
Warden/Rhett knelt by her, asking if she was alright. Kaz nodded but otherwise ignored him, unwilling to miss the exchange before her.
"She is no threat to Rohan!" Allard insisted, his voice trembling like Éowyn's fists in barely-suppressed anger.
"You treat a woman in this manner?!" Tompkin continued, sounding about as angry as Allard. Kaz wondered when their relationship had changed; she had thought that Tompkin despised her. Though inherently backwards in his thoughts towards women, perhaps he held more chivalry than Kaz gave him credit for.
"She is no woman," Gríma crowed confidently, seemingly unperturbed by the three individuals surrounding him. "She has deceived you with her appearance, deluded you with her innocence. However, she cannot hide the hue of her hair. It is a mark of her treachery, a testament of her true intentions."
"Why would she then fight for the people of Upbourn? For what purpose? She has saved lives," Allard shot back.
"She hails from the west, Lord Gríma, from an island across the Great Sea," Tompkin added. Again, Kaz was stunned by how Tompkin so readily coming to her defense. His hand unconsciously groped at the empty sheath that once held his sword.
She hurriedly scrambled to her feet, feeling vulnerable lying spread across the carpet.
"I have heard of no such island," Gríma spat, rounding on Kaz once more.
"I'm not surprised," Kaz shot back, surprising herself and everyone else with her boldness. "If this is how you treat people different than you!"
His eyes narrowed to pale slits, observing her with unconcealed disdain. "Then tell me, forerunner of deceit, what is your purpose in Rohan?"
"Her parents were slain-" Allard began, yet was quickly silenced by Gríma.
Kaz just gaped at the question, wracking her brain. She drew an absolute blank. What in the hell did she tell Aldrich she was here for?
"It does not know!" Gríma squawked, lifting up his hands. "It cannot summon a proper lie! Guards! Guards!"
The door to the Golden Hall suddenly burst open, assailing the group with a veneer of yellow sunlight. The group squinted at the onslaught of light and Gríma actually cried out, raising one sleeve to block the sun from his face. Kaz half expected him to start melting under the sun's rays like a wax statue. He didn't.
A tribe of guards poured in, funneling through the double doors and swarming them, weapons drawn.
"Seize this child-fraud and lock it away!" Gríma exclaimed.
"No!" Allard yelled at the same moment, attempting to bodily shoulder the guards away from Kaz.
"Upbourner stand down!" Éowyn hollered at that moment, her voice rising above the din. Allard hesitated at her words immediately, allowing the soldiers the opportunity to push past him and Tompkin. Kaz felt metal-clad hands on her arms and shoulders, heaving her forward.
"Lord Gríma, Miss Klara is no threat to Edoras. She has saved lives, she has fought admirably. I implore you to see reason," Éowyn begged of the dark-clad man, who was inching back from the sunlight.
"Foolish woman, so easily swayed. Do you not see the threat right before your eyes? Of course not, so secure within these walls you know naught of the demons of this world."
The guards began to push Kaz forward then, and Kaz tried to stubbornly plant her feet into the carpet. This did not sway the men, however, as they were able to bodily yank her forward. Kaz felt her feet lift from the ground and her arm felt like it was going to fly out of its socket. She stumbled after them clumsily.
"It is you that is foolish!" Éowyn cried, anger coloring her cheeks. "I wish to consult my uncle, he should know if this!"
"I am to be the decisive power while King Théoden is recovers," Gríma responded through gritted teeth, glowering at her. "You know this, so take care to mind your tongue."
At this point, the guards had managed to drag Kaz deeper into the hall. Pissed off by the situation and frustrated at her own helplessness, Kaz focused her energy to summon her omnipotent dream powers. This is just a dream… a dream where I'm going to kick some soldier ass.
With burning adrenaline igniting her, Kaz roughly jerked back her arm in the soldier's grip. The soldier was snapped back as well, the momentum pitching him back into Kaz. She caught a quick glimpse of the whites in the man's surprised eyes before the fist on her opposing arm connected solidly with the exposed part of the soldier's face.
The man was launched several feet, landing in a pile of clattering armor. His helmet flew off his head and rolled on the carpet several feet away.
The other soldiers hesitated, stunned by the sudden attack of this small, pink-headed girl. Kaz pressed her advantage, jumping up and delivering a swift mid-air roundhouse kick to another soldier. The kicked man joined the other soldier on the carpet in a racket of metal. Two down… two to go.
"Miss Klara!"
Éowyn's voice made her pause, uncertain. Kaz looked over at the woman. Éowyn was shaking her head, eyes wide, mouthing the word 'no' over and over again.
A sharp pain suddenly blossomed in the back of her head and her vision erupted to white hot nothingness. Kaz was unconscious before her body hit the floor.
An incessant beeping noise invaded her senses. The rhythmic tone niggled her mind, which blazed with the fiercest headache Kaz had ever experienced.
She cracked open her eyes, immediately shutting them again when an overwhelming glare of white permeated her vision and provoked her smarting head.
A few heartbeats passed and she attempted to open her eyes again. Kaz squinted into the room, waiting patiently for her eyes to adjust to brightness.
She was lying on her back on a hospital room. Sunlight streamed through a large bay window to her left.
A crisp white sheet was pulled over her, draped around her torso. She was wearing a flimsy hospital gown that seemed to barely cover her ass-she could feel the bed sheet where it settled on her bare legs.
Someone was holding her hand. Kaz looked to her right.
It was her dad. He was face down on a spare corner of her bed and breathing deeply, indicating that he had fallen asleep in that position. Kaz felt a small smile pull up the corners of her lips. Her dad was still wearing his puffy winter jacket. His hair was greasy and he smelled as though he hadn't showered in days.
This aside, she had never been so glad to see him in her life. All the anger and irritation she had held towards him was chased away in that very moment. Her Dad wasn't slain by orcs in Upbourn. He was right here when she needed him. Holding her hand. Looking out for her.
Kaz maneuvered her spare hand from underneath the bed sheet, reaching up to pull her father's head closer to herself. She craned her neck forward to plant a chaste kiss into his hair.
"I love you, Dad."