Chapter 21: Theoden

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Legolas tightened his hold on Nestarel's waist and pulled her more into his chest as they rode up the hill and towards the halls where the king dwelled.  Nestarel appreciated his warmth. She was happy that had covered herself with the hood of her cloak. This was the first time that she was in the city of men and the eerie feeling that floated in the air was suffocating her. Everything and everyone was so gloomy and sad. It was like the shadow of fear and death was looming over their heads.

People of Rohan were looking up at them as they passed by. They receive sidelong looks from the villagers. Some were hopeful, some suspicious, and some indifferent. Gimli fidgeted uncomfortably behind Aragorn. "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." he grunted.

Soon they reached the stairs which led to the doors of the golden hall and the company unmounted their horses and climbed the stairs. Guards approach the company as they climb the stairs to the hall. The double doors opened and walked out a man. Gandalf who had wrapped himself completely with his old cloak looked up and saw him. "Ah, my goodman, Hama." he said and smiled awkwardly at the man.

Hama stepped forward and spoke in the Common Speech. "I am the Doorward of Théoden," he said. "Háma is my name. I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of ..." the man paused for a second and said the next words with bitterness. "Grima Wormtongue."

Nestarel could easily feel his distaste toward that Grima Wormtongue. In fact all the guards looked uneasy when they heard the name. 

The company all started to took off their weapons and handed them over to the guards. When they were done, Gandalf stepped forward and smiled warmly at Hama. Hama sighed. "Your staff." He said.

"You would not part an old man from his walking stick." Groaned Gandalf. Nestarek hardly hid her smile. "Stay out of trouble." whispered Legolas near her ear before he went and stood at Gandalf's side and offered him his arm. Hama hesitated for a moment but then opened the way and let them in.

After being under the light of the sun the inside of the hall looked dark. Nestarel's breath caught in her throat. She was used to the halls of her homeland where fresh air was running through halls and corridors, but here in Medoseld although it was not smelling bad the air was stilled and smelled of ash and smoke. The pillars and floor were made of marble and beautiful flags and other shining things were hanging from walls. 

At the end of the hall, there was a throne upon a few stairs. An old man with a long white beard and hair was sitting on it. Nestarel frowned slightly. He looked sick. A pale man with shoulder-length dark hair, clad in all black had sat on a chair beside the king. He whispered something in the old man's ear.  Grima Wormtongue with no doubt. Nestarel doesn't like the man one bit.

Gandalf and Legolas were walking in front with Aragorn right behind them and Nestarela and Gimli behind him. Some men were walking alongside on their left with a menacing look on their faces, while Hama and his men were walking on their right while eyeing the other men and glancing at their king with fearful but hopeful eyes as well.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." said Gandalf breaking the heavy silence.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" said the old man in raspy and hard voice from not using it so much but Nestarel could sense laces of an authoritative and powerful spirit somewhere deep within him. 

"A just question my liege." said Grima to the king with a disgusting charm and he stood up and his cold glare fell on the friends while he descendant a few stairs. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is in ill guest." he spat venomously.

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