AN: As I said on my other story, I am going to be slowing down upload rate, but I won't forget altogether- I promise. Anyway, enjoy! See if you can find the Doctor Who reference. And Happy New Year!
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Rohan's Answer
Rosalie sighed, squirming in her place next to Merry on the floor of Meduseld. The little Hobbit left behind by Gandalf and Pippin had been close to tears when he returned from their farewell, and had made a beeline for his room he was sharing with the rest of the Fellowship, save the girl. They all gave him his space.
Legolas was also giving Rosalie her space, which she didn't really want. He had only spoken a handful of words to her since the celebrations, since Pippin left, and she had barely seen him apart from at meals. The girl had no clue where the elf went all the time, whether he was alone or not, all she knew was that she felt lonely, a strange emptiness inside her, and in the atmosphere around her. It was horrible.
It had been close to a week since Gandalf left. A week since Pippin left. A week since Legolas had stopped talking to her. A week where nothing that happened seemed right to the girl.
Gimli was as always kind yet gruff. He didn't speak too much, especially since he had found that food platter a few minutes ago. Rosalie smiled faintly, watching Merry eye the dwarf's food with growing interest. I'm gonna enjoy watching you try and nick something off of his plate Merry. I really will, she thought. Suddenly, a familiar face burst through the doors, a few guards trailing after him, sharing panicky glances with each other and at their King.
"The beacons of Minas Tirith!" Aragorn shouted, still running towards Théoden. A few other guards stiffened around the King, raising their weapons at the ranger. Aragorn seemed to take no notice. "The beacons are lit!" He finally came to a staggering halt. "Gondor calls for aid," he panted heavily, eyes never leaving the King. All three members of the Fellowship in the hall had risen, uncomfortable at the amount of weapons currently pointed at their friend, though Rosalie was more focused on the tall blonde who trailed in after Aragorn. Storm blue met bottle green, and he looked away first.
Rosalie gulped, looking down at her feet. Don't focus on him. Not now. This is much more important than him. She cursed mentally, shaking her head. Will he accept? He seemed pretty bitter about it before? The girl thought, thinking back to the shouting the King had done when Gandalf mentioned it before.
Théoden sighed through his nose, staring down at Aragorn impassively. He glanced at Gamling, and the advisor nodded almost imperceptibly. The King sighed, glancing around the hall. "And Rohan shall answer." He stated loudly, and the hall seemed to take a collective breath. "Muster the Rohirrim!"
Meduseld burst into action. Théoden leapt off his throne, striding powerfully out of the Hall, soldiers and advisors alike hurrying to keep up with him. The King passed all of them, not giving any of them a backwards glance, as Merry, Rosalie and Gimli subconsciously crept towards the ranger and the elf. Again, the girl glanced up at Legolas, only to be ignored. She glanced away, hurt, and focused back on the advancing King.
"Assemble the army at Dunharrow, as many men as can be found." Théoden ordered, glancing down onto the chaos in Edoras his words had caused. "You have two days." He instructed, looking directly at Éomer. "On the third, we ride for Gondor. And war." The leader of the Rohirrim was dismissed, immediately jumping into the throngs of people. "Gamling!" The King called, and wordlessly, the man appeared by his side.
"Make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow." Gamling bowed and nodded quickly, and then retreated. Aragorn caught Rosalie's hand dragging her along behind him, Gimli and the elf, down towards the stables. Where are we - wait, are we going now? I thought we had two more days?! She protested in her head, trying to pull her arm back. The ranger had a strong grip.
"Hey, I need to pack first!" Rosalie protested, and Gimli chuckled good-naturedly.
"Where'd you think Merry went? You took too long, standin' around, gawking at everything..." The dwarf laughed again, and the girl flushed. At least he didn't point out, or maybe notice, what I was staring at... There's the bright side. The girl thought to herself.
As expected, the stables were heaving, noise and sweat and smell drowning the girl. She blinked, and thankfully, Aragorn let go of her wrist. Horses called and whispered to each other, following the humans pulling them along and out into the sunlight. It seemed strange to her that the weather was so bright on such a gloomy day. Then again, inside was stifling with people.
Aragorn and Legolas were both racking up horses, the dwarf grumbling as he started rifling through, presumably, his pack. Merry was breathing heavily, and Rosalie looked at him quizzically. When did he get here? She wondered, and then shook herself. See, you need to focus - stop thinking about you-know-who.
Rosalie glanced into the next stall over, eyes roaming around them for anything familiar. She did a double take. "Éowyn?" She murmured, and Aragorn peered over the top of the horse he was tacking as well.
"You ride with us?" The ranger asked, and instantly, the noblewoman's face turned stony. She turned away with a huff and a quick glare in Aragorn's direction. He cringed slightly, as Rosalie shot him a withering look. Gimli smirked, watching the interactions.
"Just to the encampment," she stated, not looking at them. Éowyn hesitated, eventually peeking up at the group, eyes lingering on the ranger before darting to the rest of them. The girl got the message. She coughed, not too subtly, tugging on Gimli and Legolas' arms. The elf immediately pulled his away, as if she was contagious, and stalked away from Aragorn and Éowyn, giving them some room. But they were still close enough to hear.
"It's tradition for women of the court to farewell the men." The noblewoman said, re-tucking blankets around her horse's saddle. Something glittered briefly before Éowyn tugged on the blanket roughly, masking what Rosalie thought looked a lot like a sword handle. The woman sighed, looking up at Aragorn expectantly. "The men have found their captain. They will follow you into battle, even into death. You have given us hope."
The ranger nodded uncertainly, and the girl smirked at the floor, knowing just how much Aragorn would appreciate it if he saw it. Clicking her tongue, Éowyn left the stables, leaving only the last of the original Fellowship in there. Wordlessly, Aragorn followed her, not meeting any of their eyes. Gimli huffed, patting her hand reassuringly and walked out after him, nudging Merry to do the same. Realising what was happening, the Mirkwood elf strode quickly towards the doors, and finally, she burst.
"Do you really hate me so much you can't stand to be near me?" She asked, a little louder than she wanted it to be. Legolas paused, but didn't look back.
"I do not hate you." He murmured almost silently. Rosalie glared at his back.
"You've got a funny way of showing it." She remarked. Legolas' hands clenched, back straightening, and he carried on out of the stables. The girls shoulders slumped, and she leaned backwards, yelping when she realised the wall was further back than she realised.
Outside, Éomer's deep voice began to boom, and Rosalie jumped into flurried movement. "Now is the time, Riders of Rohan!" He shouted, and she swore at herself repeatedly. See?! This is why you can't have nice things! She rolled her eyes. That doesn't even make sense! "Vows you have taken now fulfil them all!" He paused shortly, watching the spot of blue scurrying in between people, desperately trying to find the man she was riding with. "For Lord and Land!" Éomer finished, and his horse haughtily trotted forward, soon joined by his King, his advisor and friend Gamling, and then Lord Aragorn's party, including the blue-haired girl, tomato-red cheeks startling against her hair.
When enough time had passed for Rosalie to raise her head somewhat proudly, Merry was giggling across from her, sat in front of Éowyn as there weren't any spare horses. Apparently, when horses got too old in Edoras, they were set free, which was strange for Rosalie. Hey, to them, your hair is strange. Plus, it probably beats being penned in a field for the rest of its life. Behind them, rows of riders snaked out of the timbers gates, long and curved, slinking through the hills and plains surrounding them, and Rosalie settled back, fishing her iPod out of her pocket, sticking the headphones in and smothering the rest of the world.
Dunharrow was a cliff face. That was it. Walled in by trees, it gave a sheltered resting place for the Riddermark, protecting them from any foes, weather or monsters that loomed in the darkness. Many soldiers had already reached the meeting place before them, setting up fires and tents, both gently swaying in the afternoon breeze. It hadn't been a long trip, at least for Rosalie and her music, but in front of her, Aragorn looked happy to finally slide down from his horse, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders as he did so.
But he didn't stop moving. Instead, he turned round, and pulled the reigns from the girl's loose grip. She frowned down at him quizzically, and the ranger shared with her a rare smile. He quirked his head. "M'lady," he mocked and Rosalie shook her head.
"Prat," she shot back, and the side of his mouth rose again. Without another word, but a few chortles from Gimli who had heard it all, Aragorn pulled on the lead, tugging Brego along after Théoden and Éomer as their horses plodded down a rocky path up the Cliffside.
The upper clearing was a lot smaller, with only a single tent already set up. The tent was a lot bigger and finer than any of the ones below them; while below they were usually single-man tents of some kind of beige canvas, this tent was a dark red with tassels around the opening and could fit four or five people comfortably inside. It was fit for a King. And I guess it needs to be.
Guards around the Royal Company leapt off their rides, immediately beginning to pull more canvases and materials out of bags, setting up tents quickly before the sun set. The ranger tossed his head at Rosalie, and she sighed, getting off the horse to help. They had arrived early apparently, and so were going to be staying for the next two nights and then riding onto Gondor.
Merry sat down heavily across from her, panting gently, sweat budding at his forehead. The girl smiled at him wearily, and then looked up at their finished masterpiece. It had taken them a ridiculously long time to pitch up that tent, but they did manage it in the end. Even if they had to suffer through a certain dwarf and his blonde companions' merciless teasing first. The duo had taken over an hour to build one tent, more a tepee shape then the cuboids that Éomer and Gamling had set up for themselves in half the time Rosalie and Merry took.
Night was beginning to fall; the sky layered with different hues, clouds like wisps of icing dyed every colour from red to purple from the fading sun. Smoky fires let loose tongues of smoke wafting lazily through the air, replicating darker versions of the clouds above. A horn had sounded in the distance, and one of the sentries raced into the woods, returning with a few dozen horsemen in two, the captain of the platoon marching forward and up the path. He was tall, blonde and strong, like everyone in Rohan, and just like everyone in Rohan, he did a double-take and gasped when he saw the young woman, deep blue hair glowing softly in the evening light.
As always, Rosalie held his gaze until the man flushed purple, like the clouds were, and looked away, striding towards Théoden's tent, as if Rosalie's burning stare was poisonous.
Aragorn rescued her, handing both the girl and the Hobbit a bowl of stew. She eyed it dubiously, glancing across the clearing where the noblewoman and her brother talked quietly. The ranger followed her gaze. "Éowyn did not make it," he clarified, and the girl let out a sigh of relief. Good, it's probably not toxic. She sat down, squeezed between Gimli and Aragorn, and raised the spoon to her lips. Steam curled upwards soothingly, and unconsciously, she relaxed. At least it smells good.
"I did." Rosalie froze at the small words, looking up at the elf who had spoken. To the untrained eye, he looked the same as ever, but she had grown to understand him, to read his face, learned to see past the mask he used. She could see the softness in his eyes, something she had missed for the past few days of silence and stoicness. She nodded, mouthing her thanks before taking a sip, eyes fluttering shut.
She didn't see Legolas bob his head in return, too busy revelling in a second bite. Damn, he's actually a good cook. Merry had given up using his spoon, simply holding the bowl to his lips, throat moving rapidly. The girl felt it was still a little too hot for that, but her stomach yearned for more. It had been a long day, and her insides had been singing whale songs for a while which always made the Hobbit and the Dwarf laugh and showed off the girl's more colourful language.
The ranger stretched out and got up, muttering his "goodnights" and leaving for a smaller tent close to the Kings. Rosalie watched him go, eyes catching a small break in the rock wall of the upper campsite. Green grass circled the entrance, turning grey and bone coloured as withered climbing vines clung dead to the chipped rock face. Something echoed through her mind, hushed whispers lingering on the edges, and the longer she stared at it, she felt more as if the air around her was turning to ice, the fire at her feet growing cold, the voices of her friends muting. Hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
"Rosalie?" The girl jumped at her name, snapping straight, not realising she had been leaning back. Legolas frowned at her, azure eyes darkened with worry as they darted from her face to what she was caught staring at. His eyes widened, face hardening from its relaxed pose earlier. The girl sighed, shutting her eyes before re-opening them. What was that? She wondered, but dismissed it turning to Merry who was looking up at her uncertainly. "Are you alright?"
She nodded hastily, throwing herself back into the conversation, refusing to give into the temptation to turn back and peek at the strange, small path behind them all.
More and more soldiers and riders arrived, responding to their King's call for aid. With the ever-increasing army, the lower campsite grew in noise and swelled in size, the number of jolly-orange fires doubling, men packed around them tripling. Rosalie stuck to her friends' sides like glue, uncomfortable, feeling a lot like prey, surrounded by looks of shock, horror and disgust pointed at her. It's the hair, she thought sadly as another captain or group leader or guard swaggered through camp, searching for the King and reacting the same way everyone she had met did.
Merry glowered at the man before leaning into his friend. "Ignore 'em. They're all just wondering what such a pretty girl is doing with a Hobbit and a Dwarf." She chuckled weakly but it sounded more like a sigh. Maybe it's the trousers... she mused, eyeing Éowyn's long skirts distastefully. No, it's the hair. She sighed again, tuning out the sudden squabble as Merry tried to defend himself from an irate Dwarf with all his father's "good-looks".
Théoden stood at the ledge, surveying his expanding ranks, hair glowing in the sunlight. Aragorn stepped up to his side. Neither greeted the other. "Six thousand spears," the King said gruffly. "Less than half of what I hoped for."
The ranger frowned. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor." He whispered urgently, eyes blazing. Rosalie gulped nervously. That wasn't good, not good at all. Théoden knew it too.
"More will come." He offered, but even to the girl, it didn't sound hopeful. Aragorn grit his teeth.
"Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat." He stated bluntly, but the King didn't turn his head. "We have until dawn, then we must ride."
A horse shrieked, a cold wind bursting into camp and whistling past tents, causing the girl to start. Another horse screamed again, rearing as his rider desperately tried to calm him. "The horses are restless, and the men are quiet." Rosalie jumped again at Legolas' voice, turning to see both the elf and Éomer joining them. The man nodded, glancing behind them.
"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain."
Gimli's eyes were glazed as he stared off at something behind them as well. The girl could guess what it was. It's the crack. The crack in the wall. "That road there... Where does that lead?"
She wanted to turn, to see if Gimli really meant that road, but stayed firmly facing forward. Legolas' eyes met hers. It was somewhat calming. "It is the road to the Dinwald. The door under the mountain." She shivered at the name.
"None who venture there ever return." Éomer added. "That mountain is evil." Rosalie felt like she was having a panic attack. Her hands felt clammy, pulse racing, throat closing in fear. Stop it! You're meant to be stronger than this. It's just a silly ghost story. Legolas' eyes hadn't left hers.
The dwarf got bored, and spotted the ranger. "Aragorn! Let's find some food!" They all rose from their spots and feather-light fingers touched her shoulder. The elf looked down at her, looking as if he was searching for something inside her soul.
"Someone is looking for you." He said finally, stepping back as she realised how close they'd been. Now her heart was pounding, and she heard Éowyn calling her name. How does he have such an effect on me? He hadn't broken eye contact, until the noblewoman grabbed her hand, dragging her backwards through the maze of tents and she lost sight of the elf.
An hour later, both women stood inside a tent, staring appraisingly at the Hobbit in front of them. Merry had been dressed in dark trousers, a chain-mail shirt below a dark red shirt with the crest of Rohan on it and a small helmet fitting snugly around his head, eyes glinting from inside. Éowyn smiled, before turning around, rummaging through the open chest behind her. She pulled out a short sword and handed it to him. "There, a true esquire of Rohan."
Merry grinned excitedly. "I'm ready!" He swung his chosen weapon down, the metal ringing arcing through the space between Rosalie and Éowyn who both froze instinctively. The Hobbit's face dropped as he looked down at the floor, gazing up at the girl fearfully. Éowyn let out a nervous giggle, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed. Rosalie let out a sigh through her nose.
On the floor a single lock of hair lay limp, some parts a shiny dark colour, others burning blue in the candlelight.
The girl looked to her friend. "Is it noticeable?" She asked worriedly, and the blonde shook her head, still laughing. The girl glared at Merry, but there was no real force behind it.
"Sorry," he squeaked, running his fingers down the blade. "It isn't all that dangerous," he added, and Rosalie teasingly narrowed her eyes. Except to hair, you monster. "It's not even sharp." Éowyn huffed, crossing her arms.
"Well that's not good - you won't kill many Orcs with a blunt blade." She said, and walked over to the tent flap, raising it for Merry to pass through. "Come on, to the smithy, go!" She flapped her arms, and the Hobbit smiled brightly, running away from them. Her brother shook his head.
"You should not encourage him." He said sternly, and Rosalie frowned, looking at him sharply. The noblewoman did the same.
"You should not doubt him." She said, turning up her nose at her brother, and the girl fought to hide her smirk.
"I do not doubt his heart, only the reach of his arm." He and his companion chuckled at his joke, and both women glared at them.
"Why should Merry be left behind?" Éowyn demanded, whirling on Éomer. "He has as much cause to go to war as you! Why can he not fight for those he loves?" She asked, going quiet at the end, and Rosalie nodded her head in agreement, understanding Éowyn's frustration, but at the same time, thinking about a certain pair of beautiful eyes staring down at her. Damn it Rosalie, you've got it bad for him.