Chapter 8 - Of Rhun's Deserts and Dorwinion Wine
Vezely sensed the forest's age when she stood on its borders awaiting Gandalf and his companions. Entering it, ill thoughts of her time in Mirkword resurfaced and unsettled her. She had not been raised to understand her Elven senses or utilize them properly, so her judgment of nature was not always sound.
"It's those talking trees again," Gimli mumbled, sounding miffed.
She looked at Gimli slightly surprised, adding quietly, "Foul thoughts of Mirkwood cloud my mind," for she could not deny her uneasiness.
"They do not mean us harm. For they have released much of their anger on the orcs," Legolas told them reassuringly, his own ears attending to their words. "The Elves taught them to talk long ago." Then speaking to Vezely in Elvish, "Listen carefully and you can hear them."
She calmed her mind and let her hearing decipher the exchanges, finding that perhaps the chatter was not as hostile as she assumed. He watched as she adjusted her senses, grateful when her uneasiness melted away.
"Yes, I hear them now," she murmured in contemplation, but in the common tongue, conscious that Gimli was there.
Legolas noted what he assumed was a slight apprehension of speaking Elvish in front of the others, reminding him of his determination to have her use it more often. Despite his mind forbidding him to look too far ahead, the possibility of her staying West after the war did cross his mind. An ability to speak Elvish would be an asset to her feeling welcome, he thought, an asset he should assist with if possible. Why he felt such an obligation he didn't query for currently his interest was in exploring the forest as they marched through it and he wished the trail would not end. "If only I had more time to linger here to understand their thoughts," he stated further attending to their chatter.
"And I to linger in the caves of Helm's Deep," Gimli replied assuredly, "For there is an endless pilgrimage worth having!"
"And I would give gold to be excused," Legolas scoffed uninterested, "And double to be let out if strayed in."
"You know not what you speak!" Gimli said determined, "Your father may have built fair halls in Mirkwood, but they are mere hovels compared to these. Endless halls, chamber after chamber, stairs after stairs going straight into the heart of the mountain. There you can hear an everlasting music of water, see gems and crystals brighter than Kheled-zaram in starlight. For their riches are beyond desire to mine, they are to glimpse and marvel and wonder at…"
Legolas had not heard Gimli speak as such before, "You move me, for I almost regret not seeing them. Perhaps we will have the good fortune to return here, that we may be delivered safe from war and together journey both wood and cave, exploring the wonders that move us."
"Aye, I may endure Fangorn if the caves are also to be shared," he agreed warmly, setting to such a promise. A moment later he asked, "And there must be marvels unknown to us in Rhun. Come lass, tell us of a place worth such exploration."
Vezely who had been touched by their conversation, was caught without a certain answer. "If I had the choice, I would not be closed in a dark cave or strangled by the humid woods of Fangorn," she declared considering how each felt too close to her time in captivity. "In Rhun, there are deserts that stretch beyond Elvish eyesight, expanses of sand and parched riverbeds, of dust and dirt that cannot be tilled; a land barren, a wasteland. There even the sun repels the earth, forming waves at eye level. The only sound is of wind traveling and gravel turning over itself…"
Legolas and Gimli listened intrigued, unaware that such a landscape existed; though each were unsure why it would warrant exploration for the young Elf. "If there is nothing there," Gimli queried, "Why desire to take such a journey?"
Vezely wondered, thinking back to why she took such a path the year following her captivity, having decided to leave the care of the Blue Wizards in order to reorder her memories. She continued after a moment of thought, "It is free of desire. A land unwanted by all those who live in Middle Earth, and thus it allows you to journey through nothing but your own thoughts."
"You speak from experience," Legolas remarked carefully.
She smiled slightly, "I do. But its wonders are not just its ability to reorder thoughts. You can find life living there amongst the barrenness, surviving on not more than is needed. Life where you think there is none. I saw flowers of hues brighter than any cloth yet dyed or jewel yet cut. They grow on plants of thorns and spikes. Strange, aged creatures live under rocks and earth, surfacing only to be warmed by the sun. To me, seeing this is worth more than gazing at rocks or listening to trees."
"And if safely you emerge from this war, you would return to this land barren but of life?" Gimli asked curious.
"Unlikely, I will go where my sword is needed," Vezely told them of her charge, holding no thoughts of a future of peace where she could roam without care, "Such a place never needs to see war."
"Ah, but you assume the end of this war will only breed more war," Gimli queried her belief.
"Yes, for if this war ends well in the West, the East will not be at peace," she replied forthrightly, knowing what factions remain will not resettle quietly.
Legolas furthered considered her words, reading into them and gaining another slice of her past and her future hopes; but if hopes they were he wasn't sure. Before the conversation continued, light filtered through the dark in front of them. Seen in the distance was the flooded tower of Orthanc, but it sat beyond the destruction of rows of trees hacked down to feed its once burning fires. Isengard's factories were no more. They continued on slowly, wading their horses through the knee deep water to the crumbled gates, finding two jovial hobbits smoking long pipes.
"Welcome my Lords…to Isengard!" the one greeted proudly, standing up.
This caused Gimli to rebuke gruffly but amused, "You young rascals! A merry chase you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!"
Vezely noticed the wide smile on Aragorn's face and realized these two were part of their fellowship.
The one sitting down seemed even more inebriated by the ale and relaxed by the leaf, adding, "We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good."
"Salted pork?" Gimli inquired, his stomach practically growling the words.
"Hobbits," Gandalf laughed amused.
"We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard," the first one stated; a sense of pride flaring in his chest.
Vezely had never seen hobbits before, though she knew of them in her past for having studied the peopled lands of Middle Earth for potential places of conquest. They were non-hostiles, farmers mostly, who kept to themselves.
The two introduced themselves to the unknowns in the group as they jumped onto the backs of Aragorn and Eomer's horses. Merry and Pippin, they preferred to be called. They seemed unfazed when introduced to King Theodon of Rohan, for they themselves were lords of Isengard, or perhaps they were just tipsy from the meed and pipe weed. Vezely introduced herself as Vez and they were somewhat surprised to see a woman among the crew. "My lady," Pippin tipped his pipe to her, which amused her enough to give him a small smile, much to his delight.
They continued foreword and were greeted by Treebeard, an Ent, the likes of which none had seen. "Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."
The group stirred a bit uncomfortably and Vezely adjusted her headscarf to further cover her face for fear of catching the wizard's eye.
"Show yourself," Aragorn said bravely.
"Be careful. Even in defeat Saruman is dangerous," Gandalf warned.
Gimli added impatiently, "Then let's just have his head and be done with it."
"No, we need him alive. We need him to talk," Gandalf replied back sternly.
A voice called out from above, and Saruman slowly came into view, standing on the top of the tower. All heads looked up to see him leaning on his scepter. His voice carried gracefully down to them, "You have fought many wars and slain many men Théoden king, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"
Théoden responded softly at first, "We shall have peace," but then took a more defiant stand, "We shall have peace… when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace."
Vezely felt it could be her that those words were spoken to, having committed the same crimes centuries past. Her armies descended on these lands, destroying settlements, killing all who stood in their way. She did not show mercy to those whose lives she took, as Theodon showed to her at Helm's Deep.
Despite Gandalf's plea for information, giving Saruman a chance to start to make amends, the old wizard had something to bargain with. From his robes he pulled out a slate black orb, which appeared to contain a glowing red ember in the middle of it. It was a Palintir, a seeing and communication device. Vezely had seen a Palintir before, for she was also once deep in the enemy's council and knew well of their uses. Gandalf moved Shadowfax forward, away from the group, perhaps trying to deflect attention to himself.
"…You're all going to die," Sarumon added malevolently, "But you know this don't you, Gandalf," the wizard sneered at Aragorn, "You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king…"
Vezely felt oddly understanding of the wizard's current position, for in the past, if pressed into a corner would she be willing to admit defeat while carrying the weight of Sauron's orders on her back? Does she not also harbor doubts to the success of the West's plans against the armies of the East?
Saruman then added insult to members of the fellowship, referring to the Halfling who was making his way to Mordor. "…The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."
Angered, Gimli prodded Legolas to shoot him, but Gandalf desired mercy, only to be rebuked by a fireball from his staff. The flames engulfed Gandalf and Shadowfax, both of which reappeared unscathed. The wizard's eyes moved to Vezely momentarily, as if assessing another move.
"Saruman," Gandalf's voice ascended, turning his attention, "Your staff is broken." Saruman's staff shattered in his hand.
Grima Wormtongue then appeared on the tower, only to be batted down by the wizard after Theodon's attempt to coax him free. Still hoping to draw information, Gandalf called, "Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know!"
"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here," he called in his last bargaining chip, but before Gandalf could command, Grima had stabbed Sarumon in the back twice. Hoping to defer death of the wizard before such information could be obtained, Legolas quickly fired an arrow into Grima. But to no effect, Saruman fell off the tower to be impaled by the spoke of a large water wheel before them.
Gandalf spoke assuredly to Theodon, "Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."
Treebeard began to speak of the washing away of Saruman and the coming of young trees, as the wheel turned Saruman's body under the water, an act which released the Palantir from the wizard's robes. The young hobbit, Pippin, quickly jumped off of Aragorn's horse to retrieve the fallen orb, much to the worry of Gandalf who commanded he give it to him. Observing Gandalf quickly cover it up in his robe reminded Vezely of its dangerousness; she often wondered where the others existed and who they serviced.
The strangeness of the situation - the failed attempt of getting more solid information, the fall of Saruman at the hand of Grima - all made for an uneasy departure from Isengaurd. Yet before they moved in the same direction they had entered, the young hobbits insisted on grabbing some of the food and pipe weed from the tower's kitchen to go, much to the pleasure of Gimli.
Along with the others, Vezely dismounted her horse and waded through the shin deep water in order to browse the kitchen's pantry. She found a closed door which led to a wine cellar; she opened it slowly, finding some resistance from the debris which had lodged underneath it. Inside was a long corridor of shelves lined with glass wine bottles and jugs hailing from lands throughout Middle Earth. She walked down it, stopping in front of a section of Dorwinion wine, from a land on the northwestern shores of the Sea of Rhun. Being an all too common sight in Rhun and in her recent life; these bottles stirred Vezely's memory.
"You can drown your thoughts all you want, but that doesn't mean they won't resurface," the old wizard said with conviction after he opened the small den's sliding door to find Vezely seated at a low table, her legs crossed below her and elbows propped upon it. A Dorwinion wine bottle sat empty nearby while plates of food sat untouched. It was the Blue Wizard Romestano's home, where Vezely was a guest after her release from Dol Guldur.
She simply turned her eyes away, unconcerned. She appeared languid and frail, her skin lacking any healthy glow, her hair long and still knotted in parts. She had not been out of captivity but for a few months and looked to still be sick with plague.
The wizard took a seat across from her, having brought a freshly brewed pot of tea from the kitchen. He overturned two small cups and poured them each with the hot green liquid. "And if you don't eat, you'll never get your strength up to fight."
Suddenly her eyes went to his, "You would have me fight?"
He smirked, knowing he struck a chord, "You continue to assume we released you only to deliver another punishment."
This was precisely what Vezely assumed. She believed it was only a matter of time until she was called upon to face her past crimes; that these wizards would take her West where the so-called "free peoples" reigned and give her over to men, or worse yet, Elves, who would undoubtedly have her head. She did not speak, only searched his face with her eyes which then glazed back to being void of emotions.
"We would see you commit to higher purpose," Romestano added, after taking a sip of the hot tea. "But such purpose we cannot dictate. You must forge your own path in this land now marred by Shadow, where there are yet fights to be had."
"You would have me fight for the resistance," she replied slightly perturbed, "You might as well just hand me over to my former enemies."
Romestano smirked at her sarcasm, for it showed life yet stirred in her. He considered her jest before replying, "You will someday willingly find yourself in their midst and you will ask for forgiveness and perhaps, they will forgive you. But only if you move on from here."
"And you assume I'd seek forgiveness?" She asked mockingly, shifting in her seat and taking the empty wine bottle in her hand, wishing more of its liquid lay inside.
"The light of the Eldar has not yet abandoned you," he smiled undeterred by her mood, "You know not of your ancestry or what brought you to Rhun, in time it will make more sense, you'll see. Now," he pushed the bowl of rice towards her, "If you desire ever to hold a sword in your hand again, eat…"
"Ah, you've hit gold you have!" Merry called from the doorway, breaking Vezely from these thoughts; he had found the door ajar and popped in to take a look.
Pippin was quick to follow, "Oh, what do we have here?"
"If it's anything like the wizard's taste in pipe weed, we are in luck," Merry added, wading through the water towards her.
Vezely smiled at the Halflings who exuded an airiness she was not use to. "There must be at least three-hundred bottles in here," she said to them calmly, having pushed her prior thoughts away.
"And here I am without a wagon," Merry said with feigned seriousness, stopping in front of her.
"Yes, but you've got two hands and a few pockets," Pippin added.
"Indeed," Merry replied nodding, "Any recommendations?" he asked Vez.
Vezely pulled one Dowinion wine bottle from the shelf, brushing the dust from its glass to view its year. "Here," she handed it to him casually, "Something close to where I came from."
Merry inspected it as if an expert, "Very good year," he mused, causing Vezely to give him an amused look. He pulled two more off the shelf before leaving with his arms full.
"I'll also take one of those, and this one, oh, and this one too," Pippin said confidently, grabbing another Dorwinion bottle and others as he left.
Vezely did not grab one for herself; she had become dependent on it after her captivity and preferred not to be reminded of its taste or its ability to remove her from her troubles.
"Ah, I see you've found the wine," Vezely heard Gandalf exclaim to the hobbits before she exited the cellar.
Leaving the cellar, Vezely found Legolas conversing with Treebeard, exclaiming his desire and bargain to return to Fangorn with Gimli, which the Ent took concern to due to dwarves being axe-bearers. "I have good will to Elves, and any Elf that comes with you is welcome. But you ask much. This is a strange friendship!"
Vezely noted how proud Legolas appeared when discussing this friendship, for it must be rare for even an Ent took notice. She watched him from afar, before noting Eomer's eyes lingering on her momentarily.
Eomer, who stood aside his uncle, asked him quietly, "Are you sure this woman can be trusted?"
"She would have allowed me to take her life if I thought not," he said remembering the situation at Helm's Deep. "The past is always entwined with the future. I believe as Gandalf that she has some role to play." He then placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder, looking into his eyes seriously, "Keep an eye on her if it settles you, but know I hold greater concerns."
Unexpectedly the forests of Fangorn provided a welcomed atmosphere for Vezely, for Saurman's words and her memories in the cellar hit too close to home. They would ride swiftly to Edoras, stopping only momentarily along the way for food and a few hours rest, the latter found quickly by the two hobbits who had finished a bottle of Dorwinion wine and with still being slightly intoxicated from pipe weed, they needed to sleep it off.
Theodon had been mildly injured at Helm's Deep and took the respite to address his wounds which began a group conversation on battle scars. Vezely listened to the conversation as she quietly honed her sais, feeling the rhythm to be soothing and wanting to appear busy in order to avoid sharing in the conversation.
"…Elves of course do not scar, thus you cannot prove such valor," Gimli mocked, taking a jibe at Legolas in order to make his story of being wounded seem grander.
"How is it that Vez came to lose an ear then?" Theodon asked a question the others would not have, for fear of providing insult to injury. But Theodon did not have such reservations or reserved politeness for someone he had already shown much to.
Stopping mid-hone, Vezely smirked slightly before looking up to answer this query, for it was a story that still held much contempt. The momentary silence made the atmosphere uncomfortable, but Theodon did not remove his gaze or rescind his question.
Gandalf intervened cautiously, "Only if Vez would like to tell it," sensing this could tread into delicate territory for the young Elf.
"She should," Theodon insisted unconcerned, "For it must be an interesting story, one which such a calm night would welcome."
She finally replied; her tone trying to appear removed from the incident, "My second in command took it upon usurping power."
"Usurping?" Theodon queried.
"He did not challenge me for the title. Instead, Sauron shifted power to him, turning my army against me. One against an army is not fair odds," she added, now with obvious contempt in her voice.
Theodon's eyes narrowed, for he did not fully grasp from her explanation this system of leadership. "Explain what you mean by challenge."
"Men of the East do not follow a leader simply because his father tells them to," she replied coolly, knowingly being condescending to the West's system of rulership. "Leaders are often challenged if deemed weak."
"You would not mean a fight to the death?" Eomer interrupted perturbed, but slightly amused if it were true, since for him it would prove their barbarity.
She shifted her eyes to his, replying as if unfazed by his reaction, "That is what I mean," causing one of Eomer's eyebrows to cock up.
"And you have been challenged before?" Theodon added, curious of this form of leadership so different than his own.
She slowly rolled up her sleeve, displaying a row of Rhunic characters tattooed on her upper arm, each representing a challenger's name. "Many times," Vezely replied resolute, "First, for not being Balchoth by blood, despite being raised as one and being passed the title. The transition period after my father's death…was trying," these thoughts bothered her slightly, then she spoke assuredly, "Despite Sauron's endorsement, I had to prove my strength."
"A fight to the death is not to be taken lightly," Gimli added, considering such contests.
"It is not," Vezely replied sincerely, "These markings are names and will forever be etched in my skin; the challengers will not be forgotten."
Eomer then asked intrigued, "And are these matches weapons based?"
Vezely wondered if she should divulge for fear of appearing more culturally removed, "It is the challenger's choice of the weapon, which may appear as an advantage. Leaders, however, are expected to be skilled in all weaponry. Or, if they wanted to be more interesting, no weapons."
"To kill a man with your bare hands, few are provided such an opportunity anymore," Theodon wondered aloud of such a task.
Vezely eyes met his, showing that she agreed with his unfortunate assertion.
"And have you been close to defeat?" Aragorn suddenly joined the conversation, finding himself between remorse and interest.
"I have. But the scars to prove such did not stay. When I was newly appointed leader, my father's younger brother challenged me. He had more experience in battle and smartly chose a scythe, a weapon I had little feel for. It was the closest I came to losing," she remembered the tense situation carefully, "The title should have been his if not for Sauron's interference. He was one of the few unconvinced by the dark lord's offer and predicted it would lead to the death of his people," she said slightly disturbed in how it came true. "But I do not feel remorse for such deeds, or for the men whose lives I took in these fights," she said resolutely, "For it is custom, and remains accepted by those who rule that they can and should be challenged. It is what the West would deem barbaric, is it not?" She looked around at her companions who were unsure of what to say, her eyes stopping on Theodon.
"It is the method of changing leadership that is barbaric," he replied, holding his composure.
"Though seemingly appropriate for a warrior clan," Gandalf intervened casually.
"Perhaps," Theodon agreed considering, "And what became of this usurper who robbed you of your ear?"
She shifted uncomfortably, for rumors of this man's longevity and terror continued to plague the East, though his continued existence could not be fully confirmed or even possible for a mortal. Such unconfirmed information need not be shared, she thought. Her reply did display her bitterness to the deed, however. "He probably died in glorious battle leading the army I built. I never got to repay him the honor he bestowed upon me."
"I noticed you still wear the Balchoth ring," Gandalf noted the ring carved with the Rhunic character for sun on her finger.
Vezely smiled slightly at the wizard's keen perception, "I would not have retrieved it so recently, yet it holds sentimental value of a time when my life was not dictated by Sauron, a time when there was some reason for my existence. A fleeting time, perhaps."
"Vez does not give herself enough credit," Gandalf replied kindly, "For Sauron to shift power, you had to have disappointed him in some way."
She returned the query with a look of skepticism before Gandalf continued. "You at times refused to kill innocent woman and children, despite orders. Sauron was not pleased, and your restraint suggested to the White Council that you were not lost."
Vezely's eyes shifted away from him. This was not something she thought well of herself for; for yes, she refused to wipe entire villages from the map as the years went by, but it did not mean she hadn't been responsible for equal devastation beforehand or that her blade was not stained with innocent's blood. She never wanted to admit that a few softer tactics answered for her replacement and imprisonment, or proved she now deserved mercy from her former enemies.
Gandalf continued, "Sauron passed leadership to one easier to control and you unfortunately were discarded. It would have been a similar fate for Saruman; he did desire equal power for himself, but Sauron would not have shared it. A puppet only, once you disobey, no more. Even in defeat, Sarumon's allegiance was strong, but fear also took him. You were not as such," he smiled at her, though she did not meet his smile with her eyes which remained locked on the ground in front of her. "If that ring reminds you of more honorable times, then it should stay with you. We can all use remembrance of nobler times. For Vez, it is not found in old wounds."
She looked upon Gandalf at last, and smiled warmly back at the old wizard who had an affectionate way of phrasing his words about her. Like the Blue Wizards, he admittedly was fond of the young Elf and her brazenness; she was a rarity and a rare story, one not easily forgotten in his long life of many acquaintances. And she was one whose tragedy he fully desired to be amended.
But Eomer remained skeptical of such tidings, "And you wore that ring to the Battle of the Wold?"
"I did," Vez replied quietly, "But its conference of leadership is not the sentimentality it holds, nor does it serve to bring back memories of such events. Its meaning is personal," she stopped, not wanting to share anymore.
"Yet it can appear as if honoring the horde that raged destruction on our lands," he said with feigned civility, "To a continued desire for leadership. That is how I see it."
Legolas's eyes narrowed on Eomer, "It is of no such meaning," he stated slightly tempered by the accusation, for he did not like this horse master's play with words, currently or prior upon their first meeting.
Vezely calmly intervened, "Those days are long gone, the Balchoth are destroyed…" she hesitated on how to continue, "This ring is all I have left of the ones who raised me, but if it offers offense," she removed it from her finger and held it towards him, "Take it. I am wary of being challenged for it."
Eomer did not retrieve the ring, nor return words. Instead Aragorn put his hand up, "No one here intends to offend the other," he looked at Eomer, then to other members of the group. "Whatever history we hold we must continue into the future together under mended circumstances. Vezely fights for Rohan, for Middle Earth. Her charge today need not be questioned against ours."
She removed her eyes from Eomer as he replied, "Fair enough. I do not seek to detach you from a mere trinket."
Vezely closed her hand around her ring; grateful for the validation her companions had given her, but feeling uncomfortable still, she quietly stood up and left the group, nodding to Aragorn and Legolas in gratitude before leaving.
While Legolas considered following her, Gandalf had already made a motion to go. He found her in introspective thought.
"Memories run deep," the old wizard stated, coming to her side.
"I do not blame his distrust," she replied calmly, "For trusting myself is hard at times."
"Says all you have once strayed down the wrong path," he stated pleasantly, "You were perceptive to believe Saruman might see your presence as a tactic, but I do not believe he would have succeeded in turning your mind if given the chance. Sauron failed and you today stand as a testament to that."
"You credit my story far too much," she said skeptically.
"And you far too little," he responded quickly, and then slowly added his reasoning, "You stand as proof that darkness can be rescinded, that what is good can be built back from the ruins because that good does not leave in the first place." He placed a hand softly on her shoulder, "I ask that you continue to fight by Rohan's side in this war and you will regain what you lost, and you will feel whole again."
"Mithrandir," she called to him as he walked away, "Thank you."