AN: hey guys, i'm back with another chapter! I can't believe that we're entering The Return of the King! I think that there should be around 10 chapters left, I'm not really sure. But I plan on finishing this story before the end of summer :) I'm really motivated.
Thank you Ten Duel Commandments for your kind reviews! It's very motivating :)
.Chapter 30- Confrontations and Celebrations.
-xXx-
The morning sun filtered through the dissipating smoke as Theoden King, the remainder of the Fellowship and a couple of Rohirrims rode towards the ruins of Isengard. The once-imposing stronghold was now nothing more than a shattered ruin, its blackened towers crumbling into the flooded earth. Water still pooled in places, reflecting the twisted remains of Saruman's machinery, now silent and broken.
As they approached the outer walls, the riders slowed, taking in the devastation. The sheer scale of the destruction left them in awe. The river had reclaimed the land, and the Ents had wrought their vengeance. It was a sight none of them would forget.
"Look there!" Gimli's voice broke the silence, pointing ahead. "Is that… Merry and Pippin?"
Aragorn's keen eyes narrowed, spotting the familiar figures lounging casually on the rubble. The Hobbits were sitting amidst the ruins, smoke curling from their small pipes, looking completely at ease despite the chaos around them. And beside them, a figure in a cloak, pale and weary, but unmistakable.
"Alysae," Legolas breathed, a mixture of relief and anger tightening his chest. He spurred his horse forward, the others following close behind.
As they drew near, Merry and Pippin looked up, grinning widely. "Welcome, my lords!" Pippin called, waving cheerfully. "We're just enjoying a little rest after all the excitement."
Théoden, astonished by the casual demeanor of the Hobbits amidst such destruction, exchanged a glance with Aragorn. "You young rascals!" Gimli boomed, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You've had quite the adventure, haven't you?"
But it was Alysae who captured Legolas' attention. His heart pounded as he dismounted swiftly, moving towards her with long, purposeful strides. She looked up at him, her expression a mix of exhaustion and quiet resolve, knowing what was to come.
"Alysae!" he said, his voice a sharp whisper that betrayed the turmoil within him. Relief flooded his senses at the sight of her alive and seemingly unharmed, but it was quickly followed by a surge of anger. "What were you thinking?"
"Legolas…" Alysae began, standing to face her brother. She knew this confrontation was inevitable, and the exhaustion of the past days weighed heavily on her. "I couldn't just stay behind, not when there was so much at stake."
"You should have stayed in Lothlórien!" Legolas' voice was low, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his words. "You were supposed to be safe there, resting, recovering. Not out here risking your life—again!"
Alysae met his gaze, her eyes burning with a quiet fire. "And what would you have me do, Legolas? Wait idly while Middle-earth burns? I came because I needed to help, just as you did."
Legolas clenched his fists, torn between his protective instincts and the undeniable truth of her words. "You've always been stubborn," he murmured, his anger beginning to ebb away as relief took hold. "But to see you here, in the midst of all this…" His voice faltered, and he stepped forward, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I feared I had lost you."
Alysae returned the embrace, closing her eyes as she leaned into her brother's familiar warmth. "I'm sorry for worrying you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But I had to be here. We all have our parts to play." Her mind flashed back to the vision with Yavanna. The part she was to play was unknown as of now, but deep down she knew that the visit from the Valar had meant something.
Aragorn and Théoden had approached by then, taking in the scene around them with a mixture of awe and respect. The Ents, still standing tall and solemn, were silent now, their task completed. The devastation was immense, but the victory was clear.
"It seems you three have been busy," Aragorn remarked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Merry, Pippin, and Alysae. His gaze lingered on Alysae, noting the signs of weariness in her pale features. "You've done well."
"We had some help," Pippin said, gesturing towards Treebeard, who stood at a distance, watching over them like a silent sentinel. "But it was quite a sight, wasn't it? The Ents showed Saruman what happens when you mess with their forest."
Théoden surveyed the wreckage with a grim expression. "Is Saruman here?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.
Merry shook his head. "Locked himself away in that tower of his. But I doubt he'll be causing much more trouble, not after this."
"Indeed," Aragorn agreed, his eyes narrowing as he looked towards Orthanc. "We must deal with him, and soon. But first, we rest."
Gimli had been eyeing Alysae with concern, noting her pallor and the faint tremor in her hands. "Lass, you've had quite the ordeal. You should sit, rest a while."
Alysae nodded, feeling the exhaustion creeping up on her now that the adrenaline had faded. She leaned heavily against Legolas as they moved to sit on a nearby stone. "Thank you, Gimli. I think I will."
As they settled down, the others gathered around them, taking a moment to breathe in the calm after the storm. The sky above was clear, the morning light casting a golden hue over the ruined landscape. Despite the devastation, there was a sense of peace, a momentary respite from the long struggle that lay ahead.
Legolas kept a protective arm around Alysae, his heart still heavy with the knowledge that she had placed herself in such danger. But there was also pride in his eyes, recognizing the strength and courage it had taken for her to come this far. "We'll talk more later," he said quietly, his voice gentle now. "But for now, just rest."
Alysae nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. She was too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but be grateful for the comfort of her brother's presence.
As the group rested, the remnants of Saruman's once-great stronghold lay in ruins around them, a testament to the power of nature and the resilience of those who fought for Middle-earth. The battle had been won, but the war was far from over. Yet, in this moment, there was a sense of unity, of shared purpose, that gave them strength to face whatever came next.
And so, they sat together, amid the ruins of Isengard, ready to face the next challenge, the confrontation with Saruman.
-xxx-
The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the ruined fortress of Isengard. The once-mighty stronghold, with its towering spires and endless machinery, lay in shambles. The waters that had flooded the land during the attack had receded, leaving behind a landscape of destruction. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and scorched stone.
Alysae stood with her companions at the edge of the great circle of stone that surrounded the Tower of Orthanc, where Saruman still held his last refuge. The Ents, led by Treebeard, had reduced the once-imposing structure to a desolate island amid the wreckage. Alysae glanced at the twisted metal and shattered stone around them, remnants of Saruman's dark industry. It was hard to believe that such a place had once been a center of power and terror.
Beside her, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and King Théoden stood in a tense silence. Gandalf, his face set in a grim expression, was slightly ahead of them, his white robes catching the morning light as he stared up at the tower.
Alysae's heart pounded in her chest as they waited. She had heard the stories of Saruman's treachery, of how he had turned from wisdom to ambition, aligning himself with Sauron in a bid for power. Now, they were about to face the fallen wizard himself.
At last, there was movement at the top of the tower. A figure in white robes appeared, and Alysae felt a chill as she recognized Saruman. His face was gaunt, his eyes sharp with anger and desperation. Beside him, Gríma Wormtongue hovered, his presence as slimy and repugnant as ever (or so she was told).
Gandalf's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "Saruman! Come down and speak with us, or we shall come up to you!"
Saruman sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as it echoed down from the heights of Orthanc. "Gandalf the White. You have come to gloat, I suppose? To revel in your victory, now that you've destroyed everything I built?"
"There is no victory in this, Saruman," Gandalf replied, his tone cold. "You were once a great and wise leader, but you have fallen far. I offer you one last chance—come down and renounce your ways, or remain here as a prisoner of your own making."
Alysae watched as Saruman's face twisted in fury. His once-noble features were now contorted with bitterness and spite. He looked down at them with a mix of rage and fear, his hands clenched tightly around the railing of the tower.
"You offer me a chance?" Saruman spat. "What do you know of chances, Gandalf? You and your pitiful fellowship are nothing but fools, clinging to a dying hope! You think you have won, but the darkness is coming, and it will consume all!"
His words struck a nerve, and Alysae saw Gimli tighten his grip on his axe, his eyes blazing with anger. Legolas, ever calm, placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, keeping him steady.
Théoden stepped forward, his voice filled with the weight of all his people had suffered. "You betrayed Rohan, Saruman. You brought war and death to my lands, and for what? Power? Your lust for it has destroyed you!"
Saruman's gaze shifted to Théoden, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "Ah, King Théoden. How does it feel to know that your people suffered because of your own weakness? You allowed me to corrupt your mind, to turn you into a withered old man! You were a puppet, and I was the master."
Théoden's jaw tightened, but he held his ground, refusing to be drawn into Saruman's taunts.
As the confrontation continued, Alysae felt a strange sensation, a prickling at the back of her mind. She couldn't quite place it, but it was as if something—or someone—was trying to reach out to her. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, but the feeling persisted, growing stronger with each passing moment.
And then she saw it. Saruman's eyes, once filled with malice, flickered with something else—recognition. His gaze locked onto her, and a twisted smile spread across his face.
"So, the little one has come at last," Saruman hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "Alysae, the dead, the kind-hearted fool. You think you can stand against me? You, who have brushed against powers far beyond your understanding?"
Alysae's breath caught in her throat. How did he know her? She had never crossed paths with Saruman directly, yet here he was, speaking as if he knew her innermost thoughts and fears. But even stranger...The encounter with Yavanna, the fleeting vision, had been a deeply personal experience, one she hadn't shared with anyone. And yet, Saruman spoke as if he knew.
Gandalf, noticing Saruman's focus on Alysae, stepped forward, his voice firm and unyielding. "Do not attempt to sway her, Saruman. Your words hold no power here. Alysae is beyond your reach, and her spirit is stronger than you could ever imagine."
Saruman let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Stronger? She is nothing! Just another weak link in your chain, Gandalf. But mark my words—when the darkness comes, it will seek her out, just as it has sought out every living thing. No one escapes the gaze of the Eye."
Alysae felt a surge of anger at Saruman's words, but before she could respond, Gandalf raised his staff, his eyes blazing with power. "Enough, Saruman! Your reign of terror is over. Surrender the Palantír and your staff, and we will show you mercy. Refuse, and you will be left here, imprisoned in this ruin of your own making."
For a moment, it seemed as though Saruman might comply. He hesitated, his eyes darting between Gandalf and the Palantír that lay within his reach. But then his pride flared up, and his face hardened.
"You will get nothing from me!" Saruman snarled. "I will not be a pawn in your game, Gandalf. I will see you all burn before I bend my knee!"
With a sudden, violent motion, Saruman turned, clutching the Palantír as he tried to retreat into the tower. But before he could move, there was a flash of steel—a knife, thrown by Gríma, in a desperate act of betrayal, struck Saruman in the back.
The wizard gasped, his body stiffening as the Palantír slipped from his grasp and tumbled down the steps of Orthanc. With a final, choked cry, Saruman fell, his body plunging into the murky waters below.
For a long moment, there was only silence. The companions stood in stunned disbelief as they watched the once-great wizard disappear into the depths, his life snuffed out by his own treachery.
It was Gandalf who finally broke the silence, his voice somber. "So ends Saruman the White."
Alysae shivered, not from the cold, but from the realization that they had just witnessed the fall of one of the most powerful beings in Middle-earth. Saruman's words still echoed in her mind, a reminder of the darkness that continued to threaten them all. But more than that... It was the certitude that Sauron knew of her existence for reasons unknown to her. It didn't make sense. But then again, the presence of the Ring had greatly affected her. But why? What was so important about her?
As they turned to leave, Pippin jumped from his horse and reached into the murky water. He drew back a black sphere: the Palantir.
Gandalf took the stone from Pippin, wrapping it in a cloth to shield it from view. "It is not for mortal hands to wield. I will take it with me, away from the temptations it brings."
With that, the group turned and made their way back to the camp. Alysae walked in silence, her thoughts heavy. The confrontation with Saruman had shaken her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much darker. Her fingers trembled in the folds of her tunic.
As they left the ruins of Isengard behind, Alysae glanced back one last time at the tower of Orthanc, now a tomb for the fallen wizard. There was no triumph in this victory, only the sobering reminder of the power of darkness and the cost of pride.
And as they continued their journey, Alysae knew that the Battle of the Ents had been nothing with what was yet to come. She shivered.
-xxx-
The fire crackled softly in the cool night air, casting flickering shadows across the weary faces of the company. It was a rare moment of respite, and Alysae found herself seated near Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, her eyes tracing the lines of fatigue etched into their features. They had been through so much—she could sense it, though she did not yet know the full extent.
She glanced at Aragorn, her curiosity finally outweighing her hesitance. "Aragorn," she began, her voice quiet but steady, "what happened after we parted ways? When you left Lothlórien, where did your path lead?"
Aragorn's gaze, which had been distant and contemplative, focused on her. He sighed, the weight of their journey heavy on his shoulders, but he did not shy away from her question. "Much has happened since we left the Golden Wood," he said, his tone grave. "Too much, perhaps, to recount in a single night."
Alysae's brow furrowed, sensing the sorrow behind his words. "Tell me, please. I want to know everything."
Legolas, who had been sitting nearby, nodded in agreement. "She deserves to know, Aragorn. We have faced great trials, but she has faced her own as well."
Aragorn began slowly, recounting the harrowing events that had unfolded after they departed from Lothlórien. "We lost Boromir," he said, the name hanging heavily in the air. "He fell, defending Merry and Pippin from the Uruk-hai."
Alysae's breath caught in her throat. She remembered Boromir's strength, his determination to protect his companions. His kindness, especially. How he had taken the time to explain to her all that she asked about humans... The news of his death struck her like a blow. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her heart aching for the loss of the valiant warrior. Her mind flashed to Boromir's stories about his younger brother Faramir, who now had lost the only family that loved him.
Aragorn continued, his voice steady but laden with emotion. "We tracked the Uruk-hai who had taken Merry and Pippin. For three days, we pursued them across the plains of Rohan. We feared we would not reach them in time, but they escaped, finding refuge with the Ents in Fangorn Forest."
Alysae nodded, recalling her own encounter with the Ents. It had been a stroke of luck—or perhaps fate—that had brought them together.
"From there," Gimli chimed in, his voice gruff yet tinged with a somber note, "we found ourselves in the company of the Rohirrim. We rode to the aid of King Théoden at Helm's Deep."
Legolas' expression darkened slightly as he picked up the tale. "The battle was fierce. We were outnumbered, but we held the fortress until the dawn, when the riders of Rohan, led by Gandalf, came to our aid."
Alysae felt a chill run down her spine. She had heard tales of Helm's Deep—a place of legend, where many had fought and died. She could sense that Legolas wasn't exactly telling her the truth. He had a habit of toning things down for her benefit. "The battle," she asked hesitantly, "were there many losses?"
Aragorn exchanged a look with Legolas before answering. "Yes," he said softly. "Too many. But the tide turned when the Elves of Lothlórien arrived. They came to stand with us, to fight against the darkness."
Alysae's eyes widened in surprise. "Elves from Lothlórien?" she repeated, a mixture of hope and fear surging within her. "My friends… were they among them? Luinon, Belegieth…" She hesitated, her heart pounding as she asked, "And Haldir?"
Aragorn's expression grew even more somber, and Alysae's heart sank. "Luinon and Belegieth fought bravely," he said, "and they survived." She exhaled a sigh of relief. "But… Haldir…"
He trailed off, and Alysae's breath caught in her throat. She already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it, needed to confront the truth. "What happened to him?" she whispered.
Legolas, who had been silent for a moment, spoke up, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. "Haldir fell at Helm's Deep," he said, his words careful but unwavering. "He fought with great courage, leading the Elves as they stood beside us. But the battle was brutal, and… he did not survive."
Alysae felt the world tilt around her. Haldir had been more than just a friend—he had been someone she'd found infuriating, frustrating, and someone she'd had feelings for. Even if it had been foolish. Even if their last parting had been painful and bitter... The thought of him lying cold and lifeless on the battlefield was almost too much to bear.
She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I… I see," she managed to say, her voice trembling. "He was always so strong. I should have known he would fight to the end."
Gimli, who had been listening quietly, reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He was a fine Elf, lass," he said gruffly. "Fought like a true warrior. You would have been proud to see him."
Alysae nodded, though her heart felt heavy. "I wish I could have been there," she whispered. "To fight beside you, to say goodbye…" Even as she spoke those words, she knew that if she had been there, she would not have been on the front line.
Aragorn leaned closer, his voice gentle but firm. "Haldir knew what he was fighting for. He fought for his people, for Middle-earth, and for those he cared about. He would not want you to mourn him in despair, Alysae. He would want you to carry on, to keep fighting for the same cause."
Alysae took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to absorb Aragorn's words. It was true—Haldir had been a warrior, dedicated to his duty. But knowing that didn't lessen the pain of his loss.
"I will," she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else. "I'll keep fighting, for him, and for everyone else we've lost."
Legolas, her brother, moved closer, placing a hand on her arm. He had been quiet, observing her with a mixture of concern and understanding. "We will face what comes together," he said, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions. "You are not alone, Alysae."
She looked at him, drawing strength from his presence, from the bond they shared as siblings. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice steadier now. "Thank you all."
The night deepened around them, the fire burning low as the company settled into a contemplative silence. Alysae knew that there were more battles ahead, more losses to endure, but she also knew that she wasn't facing them alone. They would carry on, for the sake of those who had fallen and for the hope of a better future.
And in that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and family, Alysae found a measure of peace, even in the midst of her grief.
-xxx-
The journey back to Edoras was one of subdued relief, the tension of battle slowly giving way to a tentative sense of victory. Theoden led the company with a renewed sense of purpose, flanked by Éomer, Aragorn, and the others. The sun dipped low in the sky as they approached the city, casting a golden hue over the thatched roofs and the proud banners of Rohan.
As they passed through the gates, the people of Edoras came out to greet them, their cheers echoing through the streets. Alysae, riding alongside Legolas, felt a warmth in her chest at the sight—after all the darkness and despair, here was a place still full of life and hope.
The Golden Hall of Meduseld awaited them, its doors flung open in welcome. Inside, the great hall was prepared for a feast, tables laden with food and drink, the fire blazing brightly in the hearth. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and music.
As the company dismounted and entered the hall, Theoden turned to them, his face softened by a rare smile. "Tonight, we celebrate," he declared, his voice strong and clear. "For Rohan stands, and Isengard is fallen. We honor those who fought, and we remember those who were lost."
The hall erupted in cheers, the sound reverberating off the walls. Alysae couldn't help but smile as she looked around at her companions—Gimli already eyeing the ale, Merry and Pippin exchanging grins of anticipation, and even Aragorn allowing himself a moment of ease.
The warmth of the fire greeted her, but it did little to ease the weariness in her bones. She had traveled far and though she was glad to be among friends, the burden of recent events weighed heavily on her. Her near death experience, the mysterious vision of Yavanna, the confrontation with Saruman, the news of Haldir's death... She shook her head.
The hall was alive with the sounds of reunions, laughter, and quiet tears, but Alysae found herself drawn to a figure standing apart from the rest.
Near one of the tall, intricately carved pillars stood a woman whose presence commanded attention despite her quiet demeanor. She was dressed simply, yet with a grace that marked her as someone of importance. Her golden hair fell in soft waves, but it was her eyes that caught Alysae's attention—blue and piercing, yet clouded with sorrow.
Alysae hesitated, unsure whether to approach, but something about the woman's stance—a quiet strength coupled with deep sadness—called to her. Gathering her courage, Alysae approached with a gentle smile.
"Hello," Alysae greeted, her voice soft but warm. "I hope I'm not intruding."
The woman turned, her gaze meeting Alysae's. For a moment, she simply studied her, as if trying to reconcile the person before her with the stories she had heard. "You are not intruding," she replied, her voice steady, though touched by an underlying sadness. "You have traveled far. You must be weary."
Alysae nodded, though she sensed there was more to the woman's words. "I am," she admitted. "But it's good to be here, among friends. And you… you must be someone of great importance to these people. May I ask your name?"
The woman's expression softened slightly, and she offered a small nod. "I am Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, niece to King Théoden."
Alysae blinked in surprise, quickly bowing her head in respect. "It's an honor to meet you, Lady Éowyn. I'm Alysae, a friend of Aragorn and the others."
Éowyn's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I have heard of you, Lady Alysae. The men speak of your kindness, your way of bringing light even in the darkest of times. They say you have a gift for making others smile, even when the world seems to be falling apart."
Alysae felt a flush of embarrassment at the praise, but there was also a warmth in her heart knowing that her efforts, small as they were, had made a difference. "I only do what I can," she said modestly. "We all have our roles to play in these times. I may not be a fighter, but if I can bring some comfort or laughter, then I'm glad."
Éowyn studied her for a moment, as if weighing her words. "It is a rare gift, to find joy in such dark times," she said softly. "But it is a gift we need now more than ever. I envy you, Alysae. Your ability to remain so… unburdened."
Alysae's smile faltered as she caught the pain in Éowyn's voice. "I'm not as unburdened as you think," she said gently, thinking of the grief, horror, loss she had faced. "I carry my own worries, my own fears. But I've learned that sometimes, the best way to fight those fears is to look for the light, no matter how small."
Éowyn's gaze dropped, her fingers brushing the hem of her sleeve. "I have lost much," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I fear I will lose more before this war is over. I want to fight, to protect my people, but I am kept here, safe behind these walls, while others go to battle."
Alysae reached out, placing a comforting hand on Éowyn's arm. "I know it must be hard," she said softly. "To feel like you're not doing enough, like you're being held back. But you have a strength that goes beyond the battlefield, Éowyn. You are a beacon of hope to your people, just by being who you are."
Éowyn looked up, her eyes meeting Alysae's with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "Hope," she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. "It seems such a fragile thing, in times like these."
"Maybe," Alysae agreed. "But it's the fragile things that often surprise us with their resilience. And you, Lady Éowyn, are far stronger than you know."
Éowyn searched Alysae's face, as if trying to find some hidden truth in her words. After a long moment, she nodded, a flicker of resolve returning to her gaze. "Thank you, Alysae," she said quietly. "Your words mean more than you know."
Alysae squeezed her arm gently, offering a reassuring smile. "We all need each other, Éowyn. And together, we can face whatever comes."
As the conversation drew to a close, Alysae felt a connection had been forged between them—a bond of shared understanding, of struggles both spoken and unspoken. She had come to Edoras with her friends, but in meeting Éowyn, she had found another kindred spirit, someone who, like her, was searching for a way to make a difference in a world that seemed intent on tearing itself apart.
And as they stood together in the golden hall of Meduseld, surrounded by the echoes of victory and loss, Alysae knew that they were not alone.
-xxx-
In a small chamber off the main hall, Éowyn and the women of Edoras helped Alysae wash away the dust and grime of their journey. They brought out a gown of soft green fabric, adorned with intricate embroidery that echoed the motifs of Rohan—horses, leaves, and flowing lines that spoke of the open plains and the wind-swept grasslands.
As Éowyn helped her into the gown, Alysae couldn't help but marvel at the delicate craftsmanship. "This is beautiful," she murmured, feeling the soft fabric against her skin. "I haven't worn anything like this in… I don't even remember when." It seemed like so long ago now that she had been in Lothlorien.
Éowyn smiled, fastening a brooch at Alysae's shoulder. "It suits you," she said simply, stepping back to admire the transformation. "Tonight, let us set aside our burdens, if only for a little while. There will be time enough for sorrow in the days to come."
Alysae nodded, her heart lightened by Éowyn's kindness. Together, they returned to the hall, where the feast was already in full swing. The mood was jubilant, with music and laughter filling the air. The long tables were filled with soldiers, nobles, and villagers alike, all gathered to celebrate their hard-won victory.
Alysae found herself seated between Legolas and Gimli, the latter already well into his third mug of ale. The dwarf raised his drink to her as she sat down. "There's no better way to celebrate than with good food, good drink, and good friends, lass!" he declared with a wide grin.
Legolas chuckled, his sharp eyes taking in Alysae's new attire. "You look like a true lady of Rohan, sister," he remarked, his voice filled with quiet pride.
Alysae blushed slightly, but before she could respond, Merry and Pippin appeared at her side, each holding a plate piled high with food. "This is a proper feast!" Merry exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "You've got to try the roasted lamb, Alysae. It's the best I've ever had!"
Pippin nodded vigorously, already chewing on a piece of bread. "And the ale! You won't find better anywhere in the Shire."
Alysae laughed, the sound light and free in the warm atmosphere of the hall. It felt good to laugh, to be surrounded by those she cared about, and to momentarily forget the weight of the war. For tonight, at least, they could pretend that all was well in the world.
As the night wore on, Alysae found herself drawn into conversation after conversation, sharing stories of their travels, listening to tales of Rohan's history, and even joining in on a few songs, though her voice was quiet compared to the boisterous singing of the Rohirrim.
But throughout the evening, she couldn't help but notice Éowyn watching Aragorn from across the hall, her expression tinged with something that Alysae recognized all too well—longing. She wondered if Éowyn's heart, like her own, was torn between duty and desire, between what was and what could never be. She knew that there was no way that Aragorn would ever move on from Arwen. Their love was as steady as the foundation of the Earth and Eowyn would only end up hurt.
As the fires burned low and the revelry began to quiet, Alysae found herself standing on a balcony overlooking the city, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the hall. She leaned on the stone railing, her thoughts drifting to the battles yet to come, the friends they had lost, and those they still fought to protect. Faces swam before her eyes: the proud set of Haldir's brows, the regal and powerful glow of Yavanna, the sneer on Saruman's face...
Éowyn joined her, her presence a comforting one. They stood in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.
"It is a beautiful night," Éowyn said softly, breaking the silence. "But there is a storm on the horizon, I can feel it."
Alysae nodded, understanding all too well. "We must hold on to these moments," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "For they are fleeting." She thought of how little time she had left.
Éowyn glanced at her, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "You have a heavy burden, Alysae. But know this—you are not alone. None of us are."
Alysae smiled faintly, the weight of Éowyn's words settling over her like a comforting blanket. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."
As the two women stood together, looking out over the sleeping city of Edoras, they found solace in each other's company, a quiet strength that would carry them through the trials ahead.
Inside the hall, the fires still burned, and the echoes of laughter and song lingered in the air—a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was still light, still hope, and still a reason to fight.
-xxx-
pls let me know what you think! also I love that Eowyn and Alysae are becoming besties.