Broken - Chapter XII

Acquaintance

"Théodred?"

Dríana's words were but a whisper and not even Gwyn heard them, but Théodred seemed to stir. Unable to make her muscles move, Dríana just watched as Gwyn put him gently down on a ragged blanket and told the man called Dáfur to boil her some water.

Most of the prisoners remained silent as if this was no news to them, but Dáfur and another woman called Ósle helped Gwyn, who seemed to know exactly what to do. However, they all fell silent as Dríana finally gathered the courage to kneel beside Théodred and take his cold hand… and it was her repeated whisper that finally broke the silence.

"Lord Théodred?"

Gwyn's shocked eyes turned to look at Dríana. "What did you say?"

Dríana looked up, perplexed. "What? I just…"

"What did you call him?" Gwyn insisted more forcefully and Dríana let go of Théodred's hand.

"Théodred. I called him Théodred. Why?" By now Dríana could see nine pairs of curious and somewhat shocked eyes looking at her.

"My god." Gwyn gasped, looking down at the unconscious prince of Rohan. "Do you mean that he… he is the King's son?"

Dríana nodded silently before speaking. "You didn't know?"

"He never told us." Dáfur snorted, although Dríana could see that he wasn't angry in the least. Just shocked.

"He was brought to our camp almost three weeks ago and he's barely been talking to us…" Gwyn said with a sigh.

"Gwyn's the only one who's gotten a word out of him. And she's the one who's been keeping him as sound as all those beatings allow him to." Dáfur added with a meaningful glance at the others.

Dríana wasn't sure if she really wanted an answer to her question, but it soon became too hard to suppress it. "What are they doing to him?"

Gwyn shrugged. "Bema knows what. I never understood either why they were treating him so badly when they barely touched us… but now I see. He told me simply to call him Dred. Now I suppose that's short of Théodred."

Dred. Dríana thought sadly. How ironic.

-0-0-0-

Some hours later, Dríana was sitting by herself in the cave when a sudden moan from Théodred startled her. She quickly stood up and made her way to his side as his eyes fluttered open. His gaze fell upon her and she saw him frown slightly at the sight of her.

Ignoring his gaze, Dríana took up a wet cloth and stroked his brow gently. She was checking on his wounds that were healing all right, when his sudden words startled her.

"Do I know you?"

She smiled a bit uncertainly. "Not exactly." Although it's the second time you ask me that question.

Dríana helped him up to a sitting position. "One could say that our paths have crossed…"

His frown deepened at her words and he eyed her expectantly. When she didn't continue, Théodred looked away and leaned his head on the cave wall, his eyes distant and expressionless.

This was not the Théodred who had been the Marshall of Westfold… and yet he looked as fair and strong as ever, despite being at least a stone thinner than she remembered.

After a silence that seemed to last forever, Dríana finally spoke up. "You saved me and my sister from those Orcs not so long ago. And then…"

"You walked upon me when I was getting dressed in my tent at Helm's Deep."

For the first time in a very long time, Théodred smiled. It wasn't much of a smile, but the corners of his mouth slightly turned upwards, taking the woman by surprise. "I remember you. Dríana, was it?"

Dríana nodded a bit surprised that he would remember her name. "Yes, my lord."

At those words Théodred's face seemed to pale and Dríana cursed her carelessness. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to…"

Théodred shook his head. "Never mind. It's just quite some time ago I heard someone call me that… and it awoke unpleasant memories."

He turned to look at her with his beautiful blue green eyes and Dríana felt like wanting to let go of everything else and just let those mesmerizing orbs swallow her in an everlasting embrace.

She was just about to speak when her hand touched cold steel in her pocket and she suddenly remembered the pendant. Allowing a shy smile to grace her features, she brought the item out of its hide and looked at Théodred uncertainly.

"I… I have something that belongs to you." She said after a moment of hesitation and opened her fist.

The look on Théodred's face almost brought tears to her eyes, and encouraged by his reaction, she continued. "I found it on the ground just north of the river and thought I had seen it before… and, well… that moment I knew that you… well, that you…"

"What?" Théodred said without taking his eyes off the ornament.

Dríana closed her eyes. "That you hadn't just left."

She felt the ornament leave her palm and as she opened her eyes, she found Théodred looking coldly at her. "So that's what you thought… all of you? That I had run away…"

He stood up and looked down on her. "Tell me, what was the story? That I was too afraid to face my father? That I was a raving lunatic who left my men in the dead of night? Perhaps he sent you after me in hope that I would blindly follow a woman back and…"

Dríana had stood up as well and was glaring at him with anger and contempt to match his own. "I did not ride through the entire realm to have you blaming me for the King's actions. I left everything behind to come and look for you. Bema knows you could have been halfway to the Elven woods by now… or even dead. But I still came. You know why?"

She paused to take a deep breath and to steady her voice. "I didn't believe them… I couldn't."

Théodred just stared at her and Dríana sat down on the ground with a sigh. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault, my lord. You wouldn't know how disheartening it was…" She let her gaze fall to the ground, unable to look Théodred in the eye.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke. "You wouldn't know either… so I guess we're kind of even."

Dríana knew that he was referring to his perspective of things and swallowed the lump in her throat. Looking up she finally met his eyes, and to her surprise they no longer held the hostility she had seen moments ago, but looked sad and exhausted. The fire that had once dwelled in those eyes was gone.

"It's not too late, you know. I know we're almost strangers... and you are still my Lord, but I'd be grateful if you could tell me…"

She was interrupted by the sound of footfalls coming their way. A few moments later, Gwyn, Dáfur and the other eight prisoners came exhaustedly into the cave and stopped their silent conversation at the sight of Dríana and Théodred standing a few feet away from each other.

Théodred gave Dríana a meaningful glance. "Maybe some other time… when I'm ready."

Sighing heavily, Dríana made her way to the cold fireplace and started working on the fire. However, Théodred's voice interrupted her. "There's no need for that. We are leaving again…"

Dríana looked up with a frown. "What? So late?"

"It's rather early actually." Théodred shrugged. "Maybe four in the morning." He looked down on the ornament in his palm and smiled. "And thank you… for this."

Dríana smiled. "You're welcome, my lord."

Several feet away, Gwyn was having a hard time suppressing her tears and she couldn't take her eyes off the two young Rohirrim. When she was sure that her voice wouldn't break, she spoke.

"It was a damn good thing you ended up here, lady Dríana." She ignored the surprised looks from the others and looked at the blond man she had tended to so many times. "My lord, we had no idea…"

"Please, don't call me that. I'm no longer a Prince of Rohan."

Upon seeing their saddened expressions, Théodred smiled ruefully with an attempt to encourage them. "Believe me, it's better that way."

He then turned towards Dríana. "And you, my lady… are up for an explanation. Why did you go looking for a man, who according to your own words, could have been halfway to Mirkwood by now?"

Dríana couldn't hide her blush despite the chill in the cave. And she knew that everyone was watching, including the man who unknowingly made her feel like a silly young girl in love for the first time.

Try as she might, she could not divert her thoughts from the inevitable. All she could think of was the proud warrior on his great steed, that golden hair of his and his bright blue green eyes, the sound of his voice when he called for his riders, the calm look on his face when she was taken aback by the sight of his bare chest… oh yes, that bare chest...

Ashamed of her own thoughts, Dríana tried to shake them off, knowing that he was watching. And then, with a curious frown, he bent down beside her and waited patiently for her to meet his eyes. When she did, he reached for her hand and in that moment she knew that her racing heart was an answer enough for him. Then, still holding her hand he stood up, forcing her to her feet as well.

And his words caught her completely off guard. "Perhaps we should find a way out of here then."