Hello...uh...hi. I know you might kinda want to kill me, but I did do a 6-month anniversary one-shot! It's called I Miss Her, and the link is on my profile. Or, if you follow me as an author, you should have seen the email. But then again, I do not know your lives. Nor do you know mine, and my life has been the reason for my recent (unplanned) hiatus. This chapter isn't quite done, but I'll give you enough to tide you over for the holidays.
After a few hours' gallop, Shadowfax slowed, nickering softly to Hasufel and Arod. Arod balked slightly at having to stop so suddenly, forcing Gimli to clutch Legolas's back tight, but Legolas patted his horse's neck and murmured to him softly. A hill rose before them, houses clinging to its sides like moss. At its summit stood a large hall, lavishly painted but starting to show signs of wear.
"Edoras," Gandalf said, "and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here." They set off again.
Outside of its doors, a woman stood. She was dressed all in white, her gold hair fluttering in the winds. Two poles flanked her, one with a banner still clinging on. As the three horses set off again, the wind caught hold of the banner and tore it away. Hasufel was spooked as it landed beside him, just outside of the city's gates. Aragorn patted him gently to calm him as they entered the city.
The huts were ramshackle and dull, leaning to one side as if they wanted to tumble down the slope. People watched as they ascended, all silent and dressed in black. "You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered gruffly. Legolas glanced around, seeing the pale and sad faces of the villagers, and couldn't help but agree. All of them seemed to have suffered a dreadful loss. When they reached the hall atop the hill, the woman had vanished. A small group of armed guards met them at the doors, led by a man whom Gandalf seemed to recognize.
"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame…" the guard paused, looking very much as though he had caught whiff of something unpleasant. "By order of Gríma Wormtongue."
Gandalf frowned, but nodded to his companions. Legolas unsheathed his twin blades, spinning them so that the hilts landed in the guard's palms. Tirnel's knives were in Arod's saddlebag, but he unsheathed Variele and set it in the hands of the guard who held his knives. Gandalf smiled as Gimli reluctantly released his axe.
"Your staff," the guard pressed.
"Oh, Háma. You would not part an old man from his walking stick?" Gandalf asked, acting offended and elderly. The guard's lip twitched, but he let them enter. Legolas offered his arm to Gandalf, who took it, winking. Aragorn smirked as they passed the doors.
The hall was dark and depressing, the great doors thudding shut behind them. Legolas glanced behind at the group of men that were sneaking along behind the pillars. Aragorn and Gimli walked to one side of a large fireplace as Legolas led Gandalf around the other. At the end of the hall, there was a plinth on which a throne stood. A wizened old man sat there, and a younger man who looked like a greasier version of Alfrid, a man of Laketown that Legolas had met some years ago.
"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf called.
The king lifted his head, which seemed to take a great deal of effort. "Why...should I...welcome...you, Gandalf...Stormcrow?" he asked, looking up at the greasy man as he spoke.
"A just question, my liege," the man whispered. He straightened and approached Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Láthspell, I name him; ill news is an ill guest."
"Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth," Gandalf snapped. "I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He raised his staff, which before had been hidden behind his cloak.
"His staff," Wormtongue hissed, hastily backing away. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"
The men who had been lurking charged suddenly, but they were unarmed. Legolas dove into combat, striking the man who was foolish enough to approach him.
Gandalf approached the throne. "Théoden, son of Thengel! Too long have you sat in the shadows."
Legolas took care of two others before turning back to Gandalf. A man tried to catch him from behind, but he flung up his right fist and smirked as the man's nose cracked under it. Wormtongue tried to scramble from the hall, but Gimli planted a foot on his back. "I would stay still if I were you," the dwarf hissed.
"Hearken to me!" Gandalf said. The king shrunk away from the wizard, but Gandalf continued to advance. "I release you…" a burst of magic filled the room. "From the spell."
The king began to shake, making a strange wheezing noise. Legolas frowned as he realised that the king was laughing at Gandalf. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey."
Gandalf cast off his cloak, glowing brightly with magic in the dim hall. The king gasped, thrown back against his throne.I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf said. He struck the air before the king with his staff, throwing the king back against his seat.
The woman who had stood outside the hall ran towards the king, but Aragorn caught her. "Wait," he whispered.
The king squinted up at Gandalf, an ugly sneer twisting his features. "If I go, Théoden dies!" the king growled, his voice suddenly that of Saruman.
Gandalf retorted by stabbing his staff out before him again. "You did not kill me; you will not kill him!"
"Rohan is mine!" Saruman snarled, straining the king's body against Gandalf's magic.
"Be gone!" Gandalf commanded, holding his staff before him like a spear. The king yelled and tried to lunge toward Gandalf, but Gandalf yelled back and hit the king squarely in the forehead.
Many miles away, Saruman was thrown away from his palantir, a burn growing across his forehead.
The king groaned as Gandalf stepped back, panting from magical exertion.
Aragorn released the woman, who rushed forward, catching the king before he fell. Grey hair was replaced by gold as the wrinkles faded, and in the place of a withered corpse-like man, a strong man sat. He reached forward and took the chin of the woman in his hand. "I know your face," he whispered. "Éowyn? Éowyn." The woman nodded, clutching the king's hand, tears brimming in her eyes. He looked at Gandalf, who stepped back with a wan smile. "Gandalf?"
"Breathe the free air again, my friend," Gandalf said.
The king stood, unsteady on his feet, but Éowyn supported him. "Dark have been my dreams of late," he whispered, moving his fingers as though they were stiff.
"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said, nodding towards Hama, who held a scabbard.
The king unsheathed the sword and gazed upon it, eyes wide. Then his sight shifted to Gríma, still held fast by Gimli. The greasy man tried to escape but was caught by the guards, carried out of the hall, and tossed down the steps, the king in hot pursuit with his sword. Gandalf pointed at the door and went through it, accompanied by the rest of the guards, Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas.
"I've only ever served you, my lord!" the wretched man cried, trying to get up from the landing on which he had come to rest.
Théoden continued to approach as Grima scrambled backwards. "Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" the king snarled.
"Send me not from your side!" Wormtongue begged, continuing to hurry backwards. The villagers were clustering around the base of the stairs, boxing him in.
Théoden raised his sword, and was about to strike when Aragorn caught him by the arms, staying his blade. "No, my lord! No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."
The ranger reached down to Wormtongue, but the foul man spat on Aragorn's outstretched hand before standing and shoving his way through the crowd. "Hail, Théoden King!" someone called, and the villagers knelt. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli bowed, but Gandalf muttered that he would become stuck if he tried to kneel.
Théoden didn't seem to notice this, but was looking around, confused and still angry about Grima. "Where is Théodred?" he called, tuning about to lookup at the hall where Éowyn was standing. "Where is my son?" Her face had gone as pale as her dress.
Later, Legolas watched as the body of the prince was carried from the hall on the shoulders of six men. Aragorn and Gandalf followed the bereaved king as he walked behind the body. Legolas walked beside Gimli as they approached the tombs, where Éowyn and other women waited. As the prince's body was placed in the grave, Éowyn began to sing a lament. Her voice was strong, though she faltered as the door was closed on the body.
After the funeral was over, Aragorn returned to the hall with Gimli and Legolas, though Gandalf and the king remained by the tomb. In the large hall, Legolas placed his back to a pillar near to the table where Gimli and Aragorn sat, smoking and eating. The hall was near empty, but the doors burst wide suddenly as Gandalf and the king entered, Gandalf bearing a small child in his arms. A younger child gripped the hem of the king's cloak as they approached. Legolas stepped forwards and took the unconscious boy from Gandalf, placing him on a bench at a nearby table. The little girl sat beside the boy, who must have been her brother.
"Éothain," she whimpered. "Wake up!"
The boy did not stir. Aragorn stood and began trying to wake him, taking several leaves of athelas from his pocket and passing them under the child's nose. The child gasped and sat up, then cried, "The orcs! The village! Freda, where is mama?" The little girl began to cry.
"They had no warning!" Éowyn snapped. The children were eating bowls of stew at the table, both looking as though they hadn't had a decent meal in a few days. "They were unarmed. Now the wild men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go." her voice dropped. "Rick, cot, and tree."
"Where is mama?" Freda asked, looking up at Éowyn as the woman draped a blanket over the children.
"Shh," Éowyn whispered.
While Éowyn soothed the children, Gandalf pulled Legolas aside and handed him a cloak very like the one that the elf wore then, but smaller and stained with scarlet. Tirnel's cloak. Legolas looked into the wizard's face, panic threatening to break through the thin walls of his composure, but Gandalf raised a hand. "I believe that she is alive," he muttered.
"How came you by this?" Legolas hissed. His hands shook slightly as his fingers passed over rips in the hem.
"It was in a clearing, close to where I found you. There were signs of a struggle, and these." He unwrapped two little silver knives from the cloak, both stained with black blood. "Keep hope, and do not ignore your connection," he whispered before walking over to a seat at the king's side.
Legolas walked back to Aragorn's side and set the cloak and knives down upon the bench. He would think about them later, but Gandalf's voice was raised.
"This is but a taste of what Saruman will unleash," the wizard snapped, gesturing to the children. Théoden's head was sagging, and his face was haggard and pale. "All the more potent now for he is driven by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight!"
"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn put in. "Eomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."
Théoden stood and stormed across the hall, saying, "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eomer cannot help us." Gandalf advanced on the king, but the king cut him off. "I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."
"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not!" Aragorn snapped.
Théoden crossed the hall to where the Ranger sat in a few steps. "When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."
Aragorn looked stonily back at the king, letting no expression cross his face. Gimli drained his tankard, letting loose a small belch and breaking the tension.
"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asked.
"We ride for the Hornburg," the king replied.
A man ran through the village, calling to its residents. "By order of the king, the city must empty! We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep! Do not burden yourselves with treasures. Take only what provisions you need.
"Helm's Deep!" Gimli scoffed. He and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf were heading for the stables. "They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them, if not their king?"
"He is only doing what he thinks to be best for his people," Aragorn said. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."
"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf interjected. "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre." They had reached Shadowfax's stall, and Gandalf spoke directly to Aragorn. "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."
Aragorn nodded. "They will hold."
Gandalf turned to Shadowfax. "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." He mounted the horse lord as Aragorn opened the stall's door wide, stepping back. "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."
Aragorn nodded. "Go." Shadowfax whipped by Aragorn, nearly plowing into Legolas and Gimli as he sprinted away.
Back in the hall, Éowyn took a sword out of a trunk and held it before her. She swung it, advancing on an invisible opponent. She whirled around and the blade locked against another: Aragorn was holding his curved dagger aloft, and he held it there. "You have some skill with a blade," he told her. She spun the blades about, driving his off. The point of her sword hovered above Aragorn's chest as the Ranger held his hands at shoulder height.
"Women of this country learned long ago," she said, walking back to where she had left the sheath, "women without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain."
"What do you fear, my lady?" Aragorn asked softly.
"A cage," she replied. "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."
Aragorn shook his head. "You're a daughter of kings. A shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate." He bowed his head and left her standing by her sword.
Outside, the long line of people was led by Théoden, cloaked in green. As he rode further away from his city, he looked back at it. The line of people was long and slow, a stream of dark dots fleeing the , he spurred his horse and rode on.
Well, they're off to Helm's Deep. Tirnel is alive! Legolas knows that now, and won't give up hope of finding her. (He will find her, of course, but in what condition?) This was a very rough chop, so be prepared for a rough entry on the next chapter. Love you all, sorry for the hold-up, and happy holidays!