AN: Hello again! Here is another upload! Nice round Chapter 20... on the 25th... But look on the bright side! 5 months till Christmas :D ... Anyway, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I really love reading them. I am actually going away on holiday, but I will hopefully... probably still upload. Just bear with me if I don't.
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The Golden Halls
Rosalie was right. Her butt did hurt. Aragorn didn't comment, merely smiled every time they hit a bump and the girl in front winced. Rohan was nothing but plains, the three horses and their riders flying across them, the wizard leading them not actually telling them the destination. It was obvious that Shadowfax was the fastest, but Arod and Hasufel kept going, straining against the Horse Lords powerful strides and tried to keep up.
This meant that Rosalie had a lot of free time to do nothing but annoy Aragorn or watch the surroundings, which unfortunately for her, didn't change a lot. She sighed loudly and Aragorn breathed out through his nose. "I'm bored," She moaned and the ranger sighed louder than she did. On the horse next to them, Gimli and Legolas cracked identical smirks, finally finding something they could agree on. "Then what are you going to do about it?" He mimicked her tone and she stared up at him. "Wanna play I spy?" She asked innocently and the ranger frowned.
"I spy?" He repeated, and the girl grinned. "Yeah! I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... A." Aragorn looked down at her, half frowning, half amused and Rosalie could hear laughter from the other horse. "Something that begins with A?" Rosalie shook her head at him. "Can you only repeat what I say? Guess!"
Aragorn frowned at her, but there was a tiny smile that told the girl she hadn't offended him too much. He glanced around quickly, and then froze and a giant smile appeared on his face. "Is it me?" he asked almost incredulously and Rosalie gave him a cheesy grin. "Nope." She almost giggled, elongating the 'p'. The smile melted and Aragorn shook his head, grumbling, looking out in front of them. "The real answer was Arod," She cooed, looking over at the grey horse. His ears twitched at the sound of his name, but stayed focused on the path ahead of him. No one on the other horse was hiding their laughter and from a head of them, Rosalie swore she could hear Gandalf chuckle.
After hours, one short stop and several arguments later, Shadowfax slowed down. The plains had become hillier, broken into dips and turns. There was something in the distance, just a blur on the horizon. It was a city, she thought, built high upon a hill. Thick wooden walls framed small structures Rosalie guessed were houses. They were very spaced out with a giant mansion at the very top of the mound; even from this distance she could see the magnificence. Shadowfax halted and Gandalf waited patiently for Arod, Hasufel and their riders to catch up. "Wow." Rosalie breathed and Aragorn made a noise in agreement. "Edoras and the golden hall of the Meduseld," The wizard declared. "There goes Théoden, king of Rohan. His mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over him is now very strong."
Rosalie frowned at Gandalf. "Are you saying that Saruman, the crazy wizard, is controlling Théoden's mind?" Gandalf stared at her, nodding quickly. "Just wanted to be sure..." She mumbled and cleared her throat. "So what crazy plan have you got?" She felt four pairs of eyes on her, not including the horses. The wizard among them sighed. "We are going to wait until tomorrow to confront them. For now, we let the horses rest." Legolas glanced up at Edoras. "Why? The scouts can surely see us already." Gandalf turned to him, grinning and that twinkle in his eyes. The elf began to smile as well, raising an eyebrow.
They were in one of the smaller valleys, hidden from the watchful eyes of Edoras scouts. Apparently, Gandalf had cast some sort of spell to hide them all but they refused to take any chances so didn't light a fire. The horses were a little bit away, grazing peacefully though Arod and Hasufel stayed close to Shadowfax. Earlier, the ranger had yanked Rosalie's bag out of her hands. He pulled out the weapons, carefully inspecting them and then handing them back. "Still good," He murmured.
They got up early in the morning, Rosalie still half asleep when she got into the saddle. She ran a hand through her hair, cringing at the amount of grease. Why? Seriously, why? She thought to herself and tied it up quickly, hoping it would hide most of the grease. While Aragorn and Gimli's heads were also soaked in grease, Legolas' hair looked fine, something that irked her. Gandalf, surprisingly, also looked fine, astride Shadowfax; the bright white of the two minds, wizard and horse, against the surroundings was startling.
It took them several hours, but the city of Edoras grew in front of their eyes and a gate of spiked logs greeted them. Stone faces under battered helmets gazed down at them from lookouts. The group slowed down, horses walking slowly up to Meduseld. All the people they came across on their walk up stopped what they were doing, glaring at the newcomers, and most staring at the blue-haired girl on the chestnut horse. Unconsciously, she ran a hand over her head, smoothing down invisible bumps. The people out on the streets, if you could call the dirt tracks that, were mainly women and children, almost all wearing black clothes and gloomy expressions.
"Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here." Gandalf murmured and the dwarf snorted. "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." He grumbled quietly, but kept quiet after the wizard, the ranger and the elf shot him identical looks. Well he's not wrong, Rosalie thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut, avoiding the obvious stares from Edoras citizens.
They got off their horses, tying them to a post by the base of the hall. Deep grey stone steps ascended to the hall. Around heavy wooden doors were thick stone pillars, guards stationed between every one and beside the doors. As the group reached the top, a guard dressed in layers of chainmail approached. He had dark blonde hair, a strange mixture of yellow, red and brown depending on the light and an almost well trimmed beard. He sighed, looking them all up and down, seeming a little shocked when he reached the gentle blue tinge of Rosalie's hair in the shade.
He cleared his throat, holding up a hand. "I cannot allow you before King Théoden so armed, Gandalf of Greyhame, by order of Gríma Wormtongue." He spat the last few words out, venom in every syllable. Who the heck names their kid Gríma Wormtongue?! She thought to herself, that's just tempting fate to make them evil! The girl was pulled out of her thoughts when another guard stepped forward, a tray in his hands. Three sighs sounded behind her, and everyone was reaching for their weapons, reluctantly giving them to the guards. Rosalie sighed internally and dropped her sword and knives onto the small pile. The guard raised an eyebrow at her, as if asking why she carried weapons. She looked him dead in the eyes and smiled beatifically, and a little creepily. It had the desired effect; the guard cast his eyes away hastily, and stumbled back, still holding everyone's weapons. Gandalf nodded and took a step forward but the original guard stopped them again.
"Your staff." He nodded towards the white wood staff, and Gandalf looked to the staff and then back at the man, a little smile on his face. "You wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick." He said, putting a silent would you? on the end of his sentence. The guard paused, considering this and then backed off, letting them through. The wizard grabbed Legolas' arm, hobbling through now open gates, reinforcing that idea of Gandalf the old man. Rosalie shook her head, fighting to keep a smile off her face as she followed Aragorn and Gimli into Meduseld.
The guard led them in, bowing before his King and then left. Every few feet, there were pillars lining the hall, some small doors leading off to other places and along the walls were soldiers in identical chain mail dresses, spears in their hands and swords on their belts. They wore dark green cloaks and helmets with small eye holes, watching the group's every move. At the end of the hall, were two figures huddled together. One sat hunched over in a large golden chair with sallow skin, grey straggly hair and cloudy eyes. The other was much younger and sat next to the throne. He had pale skin and black greasy hair and dark clothes. Gandalf walked calmly towards them and the younger man looked up at them, eyes narrowing when he saw the wizard approaching.
"My lord," He whispered into Théoden's ear, "Gandalf the grey is coming." Behind them, the door closed, Legolas and Gimli both turning at the noise and Rosalie heard the lock click, but the group did not stop. There were a few people in the room, all dressed in darker clothes and a party similar to theirs mirrored their steps as they walked next to them, sometimes hidden by the pillars, eyes never leaving them. Rosalie fought the urge to shiver. "He is a herald of woe." He hissed and cloudy blue eyes flickered upwards. "The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." Gandalf's voice echoed in the almost silent halls. The man leaned over again. "He is not welcome." This seemed to get a reaction from the king.
Théoden raised his head, sloppily. "Why... should I... welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" The king's words were breathy, like he was tired and he looked over at his companion, as if for approval. Is he drunk? Rosalie thought to herself as she watched the younger man nod in agreement, acting like Théoden was a child and not the senior citizen he seemed to be. "A just question my liege." The man stood up dramatically. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear." He had puffed out his chest, as if trying to appear more regal than he was. Beside her, Aragorn and Gandalf shared a look while Rosalie tried not to roll her eyes. The man got off the steps, sliding towards them, and the group on the other side of the hall were still walking in time with them.
"Lath spell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest!" He spat out, and Gandalf glared at him. "Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to exchange banded words with this worm." Rosalie could've smiled at Gandalf's words but she felt a little foolish for not realising that this man was Gríma, the one with the terrible name. The wizard raised his staff sharply, almost hitting Gríma and the man stumbled back. "His staff! I told you to take the wizard's staff!" Gríma groaned, walking away from them.
Suddenly, the group of men that had been following them charged at the group from behind the columns. Several lunged at Rosalie and she flinched and punched him in the face. Her hand throbbed and the man reeled, stumbling backwards, a strangely nice feeling running through Rosalie. Always wanted to do that, she thought gleefully, The movies sure don't make it look like it hurts that much though. The men seemed to focus more on the other males in her group, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Legolas kicked one man into another one, knocking both of them over. From the corner of her eye, she saw a man charge at her and she ducked, kicking at his legs. There was a funny crunch and the guy groaned, sinking to the floor and she cringed. "Sorry," The girl whispered but the man looked a little busy dealing with his leg. Aragorn was like a Navy SEAL, throwing punches and kicks with incredible accuracy and destroying target after target. The men seemed to ignore Gimli, like they thought he was weaker, until he decked one of the assailants as he tried to reach Rosalie.
By the side of the hall, a blonde haired man reached for his sword, but the guard from the gate stopped him, watching with interest as the little party proceeded to decimate their opponents. All while this happened, none of the other people in the hall stopped them, or stepped in to help Gríma's henchmen. Gandalf walked freely and calmly up to the steps of the throne, no one stopping him.
"Théoden, son of Thenger, too long have you sat in the shadows." Gandalf called and suddenly, the air began to shift and charge like they were in a thunderstorm. Théoden's wispy white hair whipped around him, trapped in an invisible wind and he sat up straighter in his throne. Around the wizard, punches and kicks were thrown, the group dodging and ducking blows and sending men to the ground. Two men stalked towards Rosalie, like predators circling prey and she brought her hands up. One sprung at her and she punched at his chest. Strangely, the other man didn't help his friend, merely watching what Rosalie did instead. The first guy got up again, and rushed at her and she punched him again, watching him fall to the floor.
Gríma was huddled into himself far from the fighting, and suddenly ran at the door, slipping through Rosalie's fingertips but Gimli barged into him, knocking him to the floor. Wormtongue flinched at his, pale eyes wide as he stared up at the dwarf. Gimli leaned down, smiling grimly. "I would stay down if I were you," He growled.
Gandalf was still advancing on the King, all of Gríma's henchmen littered around the group. They glanced at each other, trying to subtly check for injuries and Gimli grinned at Rosalie. He jerked his head to the man on the floor, the first one that tried to jump her. His nose was a dark reddish colour, blood trickling from one of his nostrils. "Think you broke his nose," Gimli sounded proud and for some reason, Rosalie smiled, though it looked more like a grimace. "It was... strangely satisfying." The dwarf let out a few deep chuckles but Legolas shot him a silencing look before turning back to Gandalf. Gimli glared at his back.
"Hearken to me!" Théoden glared up at the wizard, hatred deep in his eyes. The charge in the air intensified, the hairs on her arms rising. Around the room, guards and people grew closer, wanting to watch the showdown of Gandalf and Théoden. The king let out a weak growl and Gandalf held his staff just above the king's head. "I release you." He whispered hoarsely, holding his hand out and closing his eyes. They twitched from under his eyelids and he started mouthing the words to whatever spell he was going to do, face screwing up in concentration.
Théoden flinched, waiting for the impact but after a few seconds started laughing, but it sounded more like a wheeze. His eyes flashed and he looked more alive than he had for most of the conversation and Gandalf's eyes opened. "You have no power here, Gandalf the grey." He continued to laugh and the wizard glared at him, before throwing open his cloak, revealing a glow. The glow wasn't just from his clothes but from under his skin and Théoden was thrown back in his chair, back straight and head held aloft. The power in the air grew, charging and unconsciously, Rosalie took a few steps forward, Legolas moving backwards.
"I will draw you, Saruman, like poison is drawn from a wound." Authority and power rung in every word and Théoden was hunched back in his chair, as if trying to escape from Gandalf's invisible, magical grasp. Gandalf held his staff aloft, the glow strongest around it. A woman with long blonde hair ran out from a doorway, headed towards Gandalf and Théoden but Aragorn grabbed her arm, pulling her backwards. "Wait," He murmured into her ear and held her tight as the room watched the king squirm and groan under whatever magic the wizard was performing.
"If I go," Théoden's voice had changed and lowered, like there were two people talking at once. "Théoden dies," The voices snarled. Gandalf raised his staff again and the king's head hit the back of the throne. "You did not kill me, you will not kill him." Gandalf said confidently, apparently not disturbed by the groans and moans of pain the king was making. Théoden's mouth twisted into a snarl, "Rohan is mine." He growled and his head was bashed again. "Be gone." Gandalf uttered and Théoden quivered. Suddenly, he roared, rushing from his seat and Gandalf bellowed as well, hitting his head with the end of his staff. The king staggered back to his throne, and then... it was like he was melting.
Aragorn let go of the woman who ran to the king's side, holding him. The pale, almost powdery skin began to clear and become pink. Wrinkles smoothed and the grey straggly hair receded into his scalp, turning golden, though a few streaks of grey could be seen. He seemed to straighten and gnarled fingertips shrunk and became smooth and round. The dead, fish-like eyes cleared, the iris deepening to a shining blue. Marks on the skin cleared and the beard became short and trimmed once more, revealing a man in his late forties.
He stared, as if confused, at the woman who had ran to his side. "I know your face," He whispered, still staring at her before smiling. "Eówyn," He sighed, holding her face delicately. "Eówyn." Théoden breathed and the woman let out a watery laugh. Rosalie smiled at the two of them, nudging the elf who looked down at her, showing off his own grin. The king looked around at his surroundings, his eye catching the wizard's. "Gandalf?" He asked and the wizard sighed, smiling faintly. "Breathe the free air again, my friend." The wizard rumbled, and slowly, the king rose, most of his weight supported by Eówyn. Around them, the people of Edoras began to bow, and the man standing before them, the true Théoden, looked more like a king than he had just moments before. "Dark have been my dreams of late," He murmured, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself. Gandalf answered him anyway. "Fingers would remember their own strength better, if they grasped your sword."
The guard stepped forward, holding the hilt of a magnificent sword out to the king. He stared at it, looking a little bewildered before grasping it, the faint sound of scraping metal echoing in the hall. Théoden's eyes searched the hall, momentarily stopping on Rosalie's blue tinged hair but then his eyes trailed over to the shaking mass of black on the floor and his eyes narrowed.
The king had a surprisingly strong throw as Rosalie watched Gríma bounce down the stone steps they had walked up only twenty or thirty minutes before. Théoden followed Wormtongue down the steps, a snarl set deep on his features. "I have only ever served you, my lord!" Panic bled into every word and his voice became more shrill. Gríma crawled backwards down the steps, the king still advancing on him, looking a lot like a panther with sleek, deadly movements. "Your witchcraft would've had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" He shouted and Gríma held up a hand. "Send me not from your side!" He begged and Théoden let out another shout as he raised his sword, glaring daggers at the man below him.
A hand snatched his arm, and Aragorn stepped between them. "No, my lord! No, my lord," Aragorn soothed Théoden's rage. "Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account." Théoden lowered his sword, still glaring at Gríma. Wormtongue growled, running down the last few steps. "Get out of my way!" He snarled, forcing his way through the crowds at the bottom of the stairs. They watched as he stumbled and ran, fleeing towards the stables. A few minutes later, a black horse galloped out of them, riding out and through the gates, a few cheers rising from the houses lower in the city.
Aragorn turned to the crowds. "Hail Théoden, King!" He shouted and the crowd roared and clapped in harmony, a symphony of praise for the newly awoken king. He wore a faint smile on his face, but it melted into a frown as he searched for some face in the crowd of soldiers and citizens. "Where is Théodred?" A strange silence fell across the guards and Eówyn looked like she had been slapped across the face. "Where is my son?"