The funeral of the Kings' son was a heart-breaking display. The sorrow of the people of Rohan filled the air as the Kings' heir was put to rest besides his kin.
Back in the Hall, I look over my weapons as they have been returned to me, checking if the blade of my sword isn't notched. I nod in satisfaction when I find nothing, strapping it to my side. I do not like the thought of a stranger handling my blade after I worked so hard on it.
Looking up, I lock eyes with the shield maiden, Éowyn. She seems to have a strong character, putting up a brave font despite all that happens around her. As soon as she notices me looking, her eyes flit elsewhere, though her curiosity is still to be seen in them. I wonder what she could find so interesting about me.
My eyes are drawn elsewhere as the door burst open, revealing Gandalf and the King, followed by guards who carry two greatly weakened children. I quickly gather they came alone from a village two days' travel from here. It was attacked and they are most likely orphaned. Éowyn makes sure they are fed and recover their strength as they explain what happen.
"They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the Wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree." Éowyn exclaims, anger coursing through her. "Where's mama?" the little girl, Freda, inquires as tears gather at the corners of her eyes. Her brother says naught, nearly too tired to swallow his meal. "Ssh." Éowyn shushes, stroking her hair.
It's a sad fact that children like them are left without parents every day because of Sauron's and Saruman's doings. It will only be more frequent now that the war is spreading. My heart goes out to them, having been so unfortunate to share their fate.
"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You have to fight." Gandalf urges the King, hoping to act. Sadly, the King is a stubborn man, as we all will soon learn.
"You have two thousand good men riding North as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king." Aragorn reminds him. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is that you want of me. But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war." he counters.
"Open war is upon you. Whether you would risk it or not." Aragorn states pointedly. His words make the tension in the room grow. "When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." the King retorts his hard words in an equally hard voice.
Looking between the two, I feel the sharp edge of a knife that is cutting the tension between the two men. I nearly roll my eyes as I hear Gimli let out an obnoxious burp in the background.
"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asks, trying to come to a solution without anyone biting another's head off. "We leave for Helm's deep." are the Kings' words after some careful consideration. Seeing the look in his eyes, there is clearly no room left for arguing over the matter.
Very soon, the formerly quiet city is bustling as its residents hurry to gather their things before leaving their homes behind to join the growing group departing for Helm's deep. A long train of people starts down the hills.
"Helm's deep! They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?" Gimli huffs agitated when we have gathered in the stables. "He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's deep has saved them in the past." Aragorn says, coming to the Kings' defense.
"There is no way out of that ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses HAVE to hold." Gandalf voices, taking Shadowfax by the reigns. "They will hold." Aragorn says with much conviction.
With a grim face, Gandalf strokes the royal horse lovingly. "The Grey Pilgrim... that's what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time. With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East." he says, mounting Shadowfax and riding off swiftly before more can be said. I can only conclude that he has gone to look for aid.
"Prepare to leave my friends. Let us hope we will not be hindered on our way." Aragorn says, looking over at us as we stand silently by his side. Nodding, we part ways, looking to see if we may aid the people that struggle to get out of the city as fast as they can.
Many leagues and hours further, we find ourselves among a great troop of townspeople on their migration. Dry grass crunches softly beneath my feet as we cross the barren plains of Rohan. I have taken up the front with Legolas so as to scour for any dangers hidden from the sights of men, but for now, all seems at peace.
Glancing back, I notice the interaction between Aragorn and Éowyn. She seems to be quite taken by him and he might be with her if I read him correctly. Having Arwen at the back of my mind, I feel unsure about this. It's not up to me to dictate what they do though. Arwen has sailed by now and Aragorn is a free man and I only wish happiness for him.
"It makes one wonder on the future, does it not?" Legolas speaks, having fallen into pace by my side and having caught on to my train of thoughts. "The future…" I muse, sighing. "Have you given yours any thought?" he questions, looking at me as my face goes blank. He chuckles light-heartedly at that. "Never?" he urges.
I bite my lip. I have let my mind wonder and consider ideas, but the future has never been more unsure. Besides, everything I come up with holds such sadness, it kept me from dwelling on the matter for long. It's a lonely future for me I suppose. My friends will go their own ways, many of them die before I even grow what I consider to be old. I suppose others will part for the Grey havens once the war is over, including the elf walking next to me. The though alone ties my stomach in a knot. What will even be left for me after this?
"Therith." Legolas' stern voice burst through my thoughts. I look at him, to see a frown on his fine features. "Your thoughts are dark." he states, his voice growing worried. I look down in shame. "I'm sorry." I say in a mere whisper, before a gasp pushes past my lips as a hand envelops mine. I feel blood rushing to my head at the gesture.
Looking up at the now smiling elf, wide eyed, he squeezes a little tighter. "I believe your outlook on the future might be proven wrong if you are willing to take some new perspectives into consideration." he says cryptically. "New perspectives?" I repeat, musing over his words as his hand leaves mine. I'm about to question him further when the sound of laughter fills my ears. Looking back, I find Gimli on his back, having been thrown off his horse.
Looking back at the elf beside me, we share a knowing looking before sharing a laugh at our friends' expense.
It is late in the afternoon when we all make camp and settle down for the night. The people have grown tired from the long walk and are huddled around fires to ward of the cold as they rest their weary feet.
Éowyn passes around food, though no more than a tasteless broth. I smile at her politely, once again noticing the curiosity her eyes seem to hold whenever she comes near me. She passes me a bowl before she heads over to Aragorn who sits by himself, cleaning his sword.
I snicker as I watch his face as he takes a bite from the meal prepared by the lady. I can tell he's completely disgusted by the taste of it, but since Éowyn hovers over him, awaiting his reaction to her cooking, he feels obligated not to disappoint her. He hides his true feelings well as he nods appreciatively.
She looks relieved when Aragorn compliments her, but the minute she turns her back to him, he goes to throw the dish away. Sadly for him, she whips around to converse more, making him quickly hide his actions. The broth splashes over the side of his bowl, burning his fingers in the process. His face is thrown into a grimace that he has more trouble covering up.
After questioning him about a past battle and following his age, she once again urges poor Aragorn to eat, again waiting for him to do just that. I pity him. Éowyn has no idea how much trouble she causes my dear friend.
I walk up to him once she left, barely able to hold my laughter as he finally throws the last of his meal on the ground, much to his relief. Looking up at seeing my feet in front of him, he looks at me accusingly. "How can you even…?" he starts, at a loss for words as he watches me down the contents of the bowl without much effort. "Trust me, I've had worse. Though this is a close second." I chuckle. He shakes his head with a sigh.
"I'll take watch tonight." I state, looking towards the setting sun. "I'll be near if you need me." I tell him, slapping him on the back gently before making my way to the edge of the crowd and settling on one of the higher hills for the long night to come.