She examined her face in the mirror. Red eyes, cheeks rubbed raw by her tears. Ailith was no beauty but grief made her even less of one. How could Théodred have loved her?
With a sigh, she turned to her washbowl and cleaned her face. Théoden had not even acknowledged his son's death when Éowyn told him. Ailith straightened up, drying her face. As she put the towel down, her mind clicked. With Théodred dead and Éomer banished, Éowyn was the next in line for the throne. The Lords would tear her apart trying to gain positions of power before she even had the time to assert her own authority. It was horrible that Éowyn would have no time to mourn her uncle and King but it was important that Ailith helped her get a firm hold on the throne before someone tried to supplant her.
She groaned and leant against the stand. At this rate she would return to the Fortress as an old woman, crippled and barren.
Théodred was waiting for her. It was her duty to prepare the body for burial. Meduseld was so quiet and outside, the city seemed to be deserted. Everyone was mourning the passing of their Prince.
As she reached his room, she nearly collided with Éowyn hurrying out.
"Even when I have nothing left, he still pursues me," she said angrily, tears in her eyes. She swept off. Ailith pushed open the door carefully with one hand as the other went to the dirk on her belt. Gríma was standing over Théodred's body, a mildly interested expression on his pallid face.
"Get out," Ailith said.
"I am paying my respects to the fallen son of my lord and King," he said without looking around.
"I said, get out!" she snarled. She drew the dirk. He turned and backed away from the bed, his eyes fixed with horror on the blade.
"You are not allowed to draw a blade in the Golden Hall!" he said hurriedly.
"The law says that we cannot draw blades in the presence of the King! Forgive me, is he in here?" she said, advancing on him.
"You wouldn't dare-" he stuttered.
"If you ever go near Éowyn again, I will kill you myself. My mother and father are dead; my King is ill; the people loyal to me are many leagues away; one of the men I called brother is banished by your hands and I am still mourning the passing of the other. If you dare try to take my sister from me, I will gut you like a common beast and trample your corpse under the hooves of my horse until even the crebain shall pass you by in disgust!" she hissed, pressing the dirk against his stomach. He whimpered and she stepped back. "You call yourself a Man of Rohan? There are boys learning to trot on their ponies who have more courage than you," she said, shaking her head."Get out of my sight."
"My lady! My lady!" a voice was screaming. A serving girl scrambled into the room. "My lady! There are strangers in the Hall, they are going to kill the King!" she screamed, her eyes wide and frightful. Ailith dropped Théodred's shoulder guards and shoved past the shaking girl. She sprinted for the Great Hall. She skidded in and shoved her way through the crowd.
There were four of them. A dark-haired man, an elf, a dwarf... and Gandalf. In that single instant she saw him, her apprehension vanished. Gandalf was back; they were saved. He was walking steadily up the Hall, swathed in his grey cloak, his eyes locked with Théoden's. Gríma's men were desperately trying to reach him but his companions would effortlessly move to block them. The dwarf knocked Gríma to the ground and growled "I wouldn't move if I were you," at him.
"Don't worry, if he moves I'll get him for you," she found herself muttering. The dwarf looked up at her and chuckled darkly.
"Théoden, Lord of the Riddermark and King of Rohan. Too long have you sat in the shadows!" Gandalf was saying. "Come back to your people! I release you from this enchantment!"
He gestured in front of Théoden. Ailith had never seen magic before and she was slightly disappointed by the lack of mysticism and wonder. There was a small pause and then a loud, cold laughter filled the Hall.
"You are weak. These are my lands now, Gandalf the Grey!" a new voice called and Ailith shrank back in horror. This strange new voice was not that of her King and yet it came from his mouth. His was as kind as this was cruel.
Gandalf tensed and then the grey cloak flew off his shoulders. A blinding white light filled the Hall and the court winced and covered their eyes, Ailith included. She lowered her arm slightly and tried to peer into the glare. She saw a slight figure rush forward only to be grabbed by one of the strangers. There was a thunderous cry and the white light subsided to reveal her King slumped in his throne. He gave a soft moan and started to fall forwards. Éowyn broke out of the stranger's grip and rushed forward to catch him. She heaved him back into the throne.
The years seemed to lift from him until the King she had once known and loved was once again sitting in front of them. He turned to his niece, recognition finally blooming in his eyes, and lovingly cupped her cheek.
"I know your face," he said softly. "Éowyn."
His eyes moved slowly around the Hall as if taking it in for the first time.
"Gandalf?" he asked. Ailith knew why he would be unsure. Gandalf the Grey was a figure of authority and wisdom but he was often mistaken for a simple traveller in his mud-stained cloak. Gandalf the White, clothed as he was in a robe of purest white, was an advisor to Kings. But then he smiled and Ailith saw that he was still the gentle being she had met before.
"Indeed, my friend," he said. "You are free once more."
"Dark have been my dreams of late," Théoden said, getting to his feet with the help of Éowyn. He looked down at his trembling hands.
"Your strength will return to you in time. Perhaps if you drew your sword again..." Gandalf said. Háma rushed forward with the King's scabbard. He humbly knelt, offering up the sword. Théoden gripped the hilt and the sword slipped from its sheath. Ailith's eyes welled with tears and she beamed across the Hall at Éowyn. All was well in Meduseld once more.
That is, all was well until Théoden saw Gríma cowering on the floor. His expression darkened.
"I want him out of here," he commanded, pointing his sword at the pathetic creature. The dwarf released him and Háma and Gamling man-handled him from the Hall. They threw him bodily down the steps of Meduseld. Théoden and the court followed, the King descending the steps towards Gríma.
"You, your twisted whisperings poisoned my mind! You would have seen me crawl along the floor like a beast!" he shouted.
"No my lord! I am your servant! Do not send me away!" Gríma called beseechingly. Théoden raised his sword and Ailith's heart leapt with it. She longed to see the blade curve down and hack into the man she hated so. However, Gandalf's human companion jumped forward and grabbed the King's wrist.
"No! No, my lord. Enough blood has been spilt on his account," he said. Ailith sighed and folded her arms as Gríma was allowed to just walk free. He deserved to die, no matter what the stranger thought.
"You seem ill at ease with your King's decision," a voice said behind her. She turned to see the elf and the dwarf watching her.
"He deserved to die. He is a traitor to our country and if he is allowed to go then who knows what damage he will cause," she said curtly.
The elf regarded her carefully.
"So, you will not be able to forgive him? You would show him no mercy?" he asked.
"Put it this way: if I ever see him again, I will kill him myself," she told him firmly. The dwarf chuckled again.
"I like the way this one thinks," he said to his companion. "Much better than that idiot we met out on the Plains."
"You've seen Éomer," she breathed, giving him her full attention.
"He didn't give us his name but he was tall and arrogant," the dwarf informed her. The elf gave him a pained look even as she laughed.
"Yes, that sounds like him," she said. "Forgive me, my name is Ailith. On behalf of the people of the Mark, I want to thank you for giving us back our King."
"Don't you worry lass. It was no trouble," the dwarf said warmly.
"I am Legolas and this is Gimli, son of Glóin," the elf said. Ailith's eyes widened.
"Glóin? As in, companion to Thorin Oakenshield?" she gabbled excitedly like a small child. As Gimli roared with laughter for a third time, a bemused expression on Legolas' face, Éowyn slipped up beside Ailith and whispered in her ear. Five words; five words that drained the colour from Ailith's face and brought her sadness crashing back down upon her chest.
"He wants to see Théodred."
AN- I am actively trying to avoid just writing out the movie script as personally I think it is a bit lazy to do so. I've included some direct lifts if I think they fit but I am going to try to do my best to use my own words. :)