23 | Of Magic, Healers and Symbols
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Éowyn | Shieldmaiden of Rohan
Location: Meduseld, Edoras, Middle Earth, Arda
Time: November 2973 T.A
- Ten Years Ago -
A young girl tiptoed across the hall, the pattering of the rain hitting the wooden roof above her as it muted the creaky floorboards. Despite this, she remained barefoot, always alert for any sound of boots or muffles of soldiers even if her toes were numb and cold from the weather. She should have slipped on some socks at least, but the pair she liked were being washed by the maids.
Nevertheless, when she arrived at the door, she carefully pushed it with her might until she could peek through with her head. When she did, she could hear the hacking coughs and sniffs, causing her to move back as soon as she heard a voice.
"I know you are there."
Hitching a breath, she retracted away until the voice, low and yet smooth, called once more.
"There is nothing to be afraid of. You may come in, little one."
Perhaps it was her curiosity that made her follow their instruction.
Or it was what her father once said to her before he left to battle and died at the hand of orcs: that she was too enthralled by courage and seeing the unknown. The thrill of purpose. But she was young, she didn't yet understand it all even if her older brother always said she was to be protected. Not to go into such things as danger.
But she knew at this time, before her, she opened the door to find her mother's bedroom. And upon the bed laid her mother: her life waning, and her eyes not so bright as before.
However, the voice who called out to her wasn't her mother at all - but a man. Or was it an elf? Éowyn has heard so many tales about them, about Lothlorien and Mirkwood and how they had helped the Men of the North defeat the orcs. But what she loved to hear at her age was the tale of the light sorceress, how she had returned from the skies and brought light and aid at such dark times. How she defeated an army by just summoning light from the sun.
Her brother thought it was just a silly tale, only for children and for little girls to speak about. But it wasn't really a tale; there was once an elf maiden from the ancient lands of the west who helped the Men defeat the dark enemy: Sauron. That she too summoned light from the sun and burnt all their enemies in Mordor.
Those were the stories she adored, and why she felt that she was meeting one just like the sun lady. But instead of the sun, his eyes glowed like the moon, a melancholy beauty which his face showed along with the dark blue robes and brown gloves.
Éowyn walked closer, finding herself now running up to her mother's side whilst the person with the blue glowing eyes loomed over them. When she gazed down at her mother, even at the dim light, she saw how pale she looked. She wouldn't think someone should be this pale, especially her cracked lips and thinning blonde hair.
Her mother wavered a smile, whispering to her: "My child..." She coughed before she continued, "I do not think I will survive this."
She began to understand what her mother was saying, her heart aching as she shook her head. She clung to her mother's blanket, wavering, "No, mother." Éowyn spoke, "You are going to be alright. Ranyar can save you. He's saved so many lives." [1]
"Not this time, my flower." Her mother sadly answered, tears leaking through the sides of her face.
Her hands began to shake as she clutched her mother's hands tightly, lips trembling as she sensed her tears beginning to sting her cheeks. Éowyn turned her head towards the figure with the glowing eyes – her anger so much fueling her pleads.
She questioned harshly, "Why can't you save her?" Éowyn pleaded, "You saved our people. Can't you save my mother?"
The figure's face stared at her with a saddened expression, but no guilt laid before their face as he solemnly responded: "Her soul does not wish to stay in this place. It wishes to leave, to go to the halls of your family."
Éowyn looked back to her mother, who smiled weakly at her and said, "He is telling...the truth." Her mother coughed, "I know this...but I have been parted with your father for too long, Éowyn. My heart longs to be by his side."
"But Eomer and I—" She swallowed before she whispered, "Do not leave us, mother. We need you!"
As her mother's hand rose to cup her cheek, Éowyn continued to cry as her mother shushed her and whispered up to her, "You are so brave, my child. So young and yet so much light fills you that the Sunne Ælf may be within your heart." Her mother continued, "I love you, my shieldmaiden." [2]
Lowering her head down, she felt her mother press a kiss upon her forehead. Éowyn rose her head, watching her mother close her eyes as she coughed briefly – falling back soundly asleep. She let her mother's hands down, colder than her own fingertips as she tried to tidy her mother's hair and placed another kiss upon her brow.
Once she was done, Éowyn hiccupped and wiped away the tears on her face, sniffing as she felt a hand place onto her shoulder. Never had she had to glance so high up to look on one's face until then, and she thought that maybe they were an elf. They had long hair and fair skin, all seemed to look much like them.
But she knew Ranyar. Ranyar arrived at the moment they needed him the most.
An illness had taken them during the autumn season. Many were dying and to her surprise, she had survived it along with her brother and cousin. They didn't know who he was or what he was, only that he had entered the healing halls and after a night, about twenty of them survived and said that they had been blessed by the power beyond their beliefs – how the light had healed them, a gift from the Sunne Ælf.
The king did not trust him, especially Lord Grima: who was against Lord Ranyar being allowed in their kingdom. But when her mother grew ill, her uncle Théoden allowed Ranyar to tend to her. She was doing well in fact; a week ago she had been able to go outside and watch Eomer and Théodred spar with their newly learnt techniques whilst she saw Éowyn do her own training routine.
Then something changed. None of them understood it. Her uncle said that it was because her father was gone and that she missed him.
"Can you save her?" she asked Ranyar. "Please."
Ranyar's lips curled into a sad smile as he crouched down. Now levelled with their eyes, Éowyn was fixed onto his brightened gaze. She was afraid that if she stared more her eyes would be blinded. But instead, she felt warmth around her, a blanketed calmness as she heard him explain to her.
He began, "You cannot force a soul to be bound to their body, Éowyn. Souls have their time in this world and they will leave once they know it is time for them to go." Ranyar pulled a strand of her light blonde hair over her ear as he continued, "And the heart...the heart is a powerful tool. It is your mother's love that makes her soul move. To want to go to your father."
Éowyn watched as he pulled his hand away, slipping it behind his back before he showed his hand once more in front of her.
In the palm of his hand was a cloak pin. It was circular, with curved lines intercepting one another at the centre.
Ranyar brought her hand up to his, placing the warm pin into her palms as he spoke, "I have carried this pin since I became who I am today." He curled her fingers into the pin, staring back at her: "Whenever you feel that you are alone or scared, hold this pin. And that you are not alone and that you are courageous as any man or woman or being has ever been."
By his words, Éowyn couldn't help but ask him in return, "You're leaving, are you?"
"I must," He answered her. "Much like the wizards, I come here to aid your people if the time is dire. But I cannot stay too long, no fewer others need me."
"But you will come back...will you?"
Her voice croaked at the end, her hope wanting no more but to want to keep this man here. The only one who had cared for her and her brother more than anything.
Ranyar inhaled and stayed silent for a few seconds. It wasn't long until he answered her, "I will return someday. Perhaps in a time you may not need me or wished to have been, but one day there will be another." He spoke, "And I know in that time, the only person who will be saving them will be you: Éowyn. A fine shieldmaiden you will become."
Standing straight back up, Ranyar moved away as she could feel the warmth now dissipate as his figure moved across the room, robes gliding like dark waters until she loudly said to him.
"Ranyar."
Turning back to her, she could see his eyes glistening slightly under the light. Tears and sorrow now pouring out.
Éowyn ran across before enveloping the odd magical being by his waist. She began to regret at such a forward thing as she felt him stiffen. But soon his arms encased her and he brought himself down to let her head nestled over his shoulder. His hands brushed her hair down as she wept.
"Do not go!" She cried. "Let me go with you! Please!"
But the words she dreaded whispered into her ears.
He said with dismay, "I can't, little one." He pulled away once more, seeing more of his tears down his cheeks. "A life like mine is not fit for such a young soul like yours. And you are destined more for great things. Wondrous and brave. To become a warrior like your people."
"You're brave too," she told him, seeing him hide back a chuckle.
Ranyar replied, "I am just a wanderer, nothing more." He spoke, "Far gesund, Éowyn of Rohan." [3]
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Time: February 2981 T.A
He was honest when he said to her that he wouldn't come.
And even then the small ounce of anger she had on Ranyar still was brought in her mind today despite maturing and learning from what happened in life.
Ten years passed since he left. Indeed, the memory of Ranyar of all but faded in the minds of her people and even her brother and her uncle forgot who Ranyar even was let alone knew what he had done to save their people. Only one other believed in her stories of the wandering being. But Théodred, her beloved cousin and a great friend to Eomer, was slain and killed. Now, no one remembered his memory.
All but her.
When Ranyar left, she made sure to keep her memory of him intact, continued his promise to always keep the pin upon her. Perhaps it was some magical item he gave her, protecting her from all the bad things that seemed to be happening to everyone around her. But she lost that hope when all but life changed.
Then the sun fell.
Then winter entered like a rushing wave of a tide as their lands began to be filled with snow and the cold.
They drew out fires but even fuel can run out. But before then, before the sun and the word of Gondor slowly fell into ruin, her uncle, now the king, began to change. She knew that the poisonous words coming from Grima Wormtongue were slowly altering her uncle's choices. The neglect to aid Gondor despite them both struggling with Sauron and Saruman had her pulling her hair out in anger and frustration.
And yet she was forced to watch this unfold, helplessly watch her cousin's barely alive body come before them with Eomer begging for him to live.
Afterwards, she found her brother banished – taking some of the Rohirrim with him as she was left to tend to Meduseld and Théoden King. Whenever she felt like she was losing control, slowly being neglected in the cage she was in, she made sure to hold that pin tightly. To remember that her soul was bound for battle, to do what was right for her people.
Éowyn's wishes and hopes lifted when four unknown travellers entered Edoras. Her heart rose as she saw them, one being Gandalf the Grey (though now dressed in white) whilst the others were surprisingly from various backgrounds.
One was an elf, tall and slim with a sharpened grey gaze which didn't glow as much but appeared to brighten slightly in the moonlight. Beside him was a dwarf, with red hair and a beard to match, grumbling when they had to take their weapons away.
The other was the one she wasn't expecting.
Years ago she had seen that face, though now matured and eyes which seemed more like he had seen a thousand years. Lord Thorongil from the Dunedain, a ranger and a healer. She was confused as to why he was here when the last time she heard of him was when he went to help Osgiliath and Gondor along with the elf prince – Prince Legolas.
So why were they here? And what was their concern about meeting the king?
Éowyn stayed back and watched it all unfold, feeling her relief when Grima Wormtongue was finally put into place. But her fear and worry soon overcame when she saw the wizard do something with her uncle. Her uncle began to speak, but it wasn't the voice she heard.
Saruman the White's voice.
Thorongil had stopped her before her uncle collapsed, but finally, his façade of weariness faded and he looked to her with knowledge and that stoic eyes that reminded her of her father as a child. Gandalf brought Théoden King back from the chains of Saruman, but it was not enough.
She watched from the top of the staircase as her uncle almost tried to kill Grima, only spared as Thorongil stopped her uncle and advised him to spare Grima's life. Her worry worsened slightly, but a little more relief than when she saw Grima flee. At least then that the man would never touch her without her choice or speak disgusting words to her.
She remembered when she had once shouted back at him, angry because he dared to insult Ranyar and Lord Thorongil at her. Éowyn realised her mistake when Grima asked her about the ghost, thinking she was just in her childhood dreams.
Before they left their journey for Helm's Deep, Éowyn went to her cousin's tomb.
She placed another set of white flowers in front of them, clinging to the pin that now tied her cloak around her.
Staring at the engraved stone, she asked her cousin a question.
"Was he even real?" She asked him, "I do not know if all this time, that the saviour to our people ten years ago was all but a figure of my imagination. That I may have been ill myself and dreamt of him. The man with the glowing blue eyes."
When none answered, Éowyn lightly chuckled to herself – eyes stinging once more as she inhaled.
She continued, "But you remembered him. You believed me when I asked you about his name. That he cared for us and did all he could to keep my mother alive." Éowyn asked, "Why has he not returned? Especially when we need him the most?"
She was left with silence after that.
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Not before long, they were off. A trail of their people began following their king to seek refuge at the Hornburg.
She still felt anxiety coarse through her, but it was healed and ignored when she began to learn more about the strange visitors who arrived with Thorongil and Gandalf. Prince Legolas merely smiled and acknowledged her presence but did not try to gain any conversation with her (unless the dwarf was the one who began it, and it often led to them bickering about the differences of their kind whilst she and Thorongil shared a knowing glance at another).
She enjoyed her conversations with Gimli, the dwarf who spoke so fondly and proudly of his people of Erebor. About how great his cousin, King Fili, and his niece Princess Obara was. Her eyes and heart lit up at the thought of the half-dwarf princess, hearing that she was a great warrior and led her own armies at such a young age.
(Deep in her mind, she was a little jealous; dwarven princesses could fight alongside her people and yet she was not allowed to simply fend her's.)
Gimli told her that Princess Obara had no choice in her lifestyle. Being the only heir of her family, she needed to act and appear strong and proud of their people. The dwarf lord explained that King Fili's brother could not bear the title because of the woman he married. To Éowyn's surprise, a dwarf marrying an elf seemed so farfetched.
But she had then met Legolas and Gimli, and both of them appeared more married than rivals.
They continued to bicker and talk, discussing things she was not so sure she should listen to so she decided to walk beside Lord Thorongil. As she kept the reign of her horse, she noticed that Brego seemed so calm with the northern man, who glanced at her with a knowing nod.
She could feel her stomach churning, not sure if it was because of her hunger or something else.
But she then noticed the pin. A green gem upon an eagle's breast, silver in colour which glittered under the stars. Her mind came to the only conclusion, sensing her mouth move faster than her mind.
"Where is she? The woman who gave you that jewel?" Éowyn asked, realizing then how forward she was.
When he continued to look forward, she saw that his eyes had grown far away.
With a silent gulp, she asked him, "My lord?"
Thorongil blinked several times before he quietly responded to her, "She is with one of our companions in the Gondorian camp in Snowbourn." He told her, "One of our companions was deeply injured, and only she knew how to help him."
Éowyn wasn't expecting that, though it made her even more curious. Why was the woman who seemed to capture Thorongil's heart with the people of Gondor? Who was the man that was injured? And why were they still in Snowbourn? Had her uncle's messengers not warned them yet of the move? Perhaps Gandalf was going there and why he left in such haste.
Soon enough, she realised her heart which was slowly warming for the man beside should never have been. There was another who stole the heart of the lord she seemed to be pulled into. But her mind was caught on when he asked her something in return.
"That pin," He said, peering down at her. "I have seen that design."
If she wasn't holding a horse she would have stopped and froze at the spot. But she could only flick her eyes up to him, so quickly that her head should be spinning.
Instead, Éowyn asked him, "You have? Where?"
Perhaps it came out too much of a demand that she panicked when she saw him raise a brow.
Thankfully, Thorongil answered her simply, "The Lady of Rivendell wears that sigil." He told her, "It is the mark of the sorcerers of her world. The Sorcerers of the Mystic Arts."
Her heart skipped a beat as she placed a finger over the engraved pin.
A sorcerer...All this time.
Perhaps that was how he was able to heal them, which magic much like Gandalf did with her uncle...and how he made everyone forget.
All but her and Théodred.
But why?
So many questions filled her mind that she had forgotten who she was with. Shaking her head, she apologized profusely before she said, "It is just..." She trailed off, swallowing her breath before she looked at him. "Do you ever have dreams that seem so...real? That they must have been true and real?"
"I have," Thorongil replied, confused a little before he questioned, "Though it does not connect to what you have on you, Lady Éowyn."
A small chuckle left her lips, biting her lip as she stared back to the direction they were heading. "You would not believe what I say. Even my brother thinks that I dream and think too much of them."
Taking a deep breath, she began her tale. She told him about Ranyar, and how he came to them ten years prior.
Thorongil seemed interesting but didn't say or show that she was crazy. To her astonishment, he looked as if he believed her – a small smile resting upon him which Éowyn frowned. Maybe he was hiding his disbelief just like Eomer.
"I do not mock you, my lady," Thorongil told her, letting her worries settle but her stomach continue churning. He stared straight into her eyes as he said, "I believe what you say and I pray to tell you that you are very lucky to have remembered them. I do not know all of this...Ranyar, but both the Lord and Lady of Rivendell spoke of a similar person."
"Really?" She breathed out.
Thorongil admitted, "They have been searching for him, but at least we know that he has done some good in this world." He glanced down at her, looking at the pin.
Éowyn clutched the pin with her hand, breathing in before she spoke, "I wish he comes." There, she finally confessed what she wished so deeply of. "Or perhaps the Sunne Ælf or whoever she was. This world needs so much light after all of this darkness."
Her brother or uncle would fake smile at her if she spoke about the Sunne Ælf or Ranyar. Sometimes Grima would sneer at those names and tell her they weren't real.
But to see Thorongil's hopeful smile made her very heart fall deeper for the man as he softly replied, "I wish for such things as well. For we need more than just swords, but the very best of souls and hearts to defend us against evil." He said, "But I believe we share it. We all have that light in us; it is only when we use it that we will see day once more."
It was there she knew she was falling, regretting every moment as she knew his heart and soul was for someone else.
But just as Ranyar told her, the soul and heart work in tangent...and Éowyn had been too much in the dark in the past years to claw her way out a cage and meet the sun once more.
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They continued their journey within the night. She missed the warmth of the sun, spending days running through the plains of Rohan, feeling the grass within her fingertips. Using her days out as if she was finally breathing for once.
But this time felt different, not where she saw the racing figure of Thorongil as Prince Legolas told them that an orc scout had been killed and more were coming for them. Her heart had quickened, the panic and adrenaline churning like butter in her body as she raced to her uncle.
As Théoden spotted her, he ordered: "You must lead the people to Helm's Deep and make haste."
"I can fight!" She tugged his cloak, her plea in her eyes as he looked down at her. She wanted to help him, finally wield a sword and protect them with all she had been learnt.
But instead, the same answer came to him as her uncle refused and instructed, "No! You must do this, for me." He looked at her one last time before he pulled away, yelling to his men as he ordered; "Follow me!"
Éowyn had to hold her breath for a second, hide that bubbling annoyance in her mind. Why had she even asked when she knew what he would say. Just like how she begged her brother to practice with her or even asked Théodred to at least show her some tricks.
Ignoring her pride, she moved her focus to the people. Bringing the children and women and elderly, she gestured for them and panned her surroundings. She noticed that Thorongil along with her uncle had gone up to the next hill, so she shouted at them about their next decision.
"Make for the lower ground! Stay together!"
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They hurried for the next few leagues until they knew it was alright for them. But she made sure everyone was together, ensuring that the soldiers left with her had not fallen behind and continued onwards. It was only a couple of hours when they finally spotted the familiar wall of the Hornburg and the White Mountains behind them.
They descended to the fortress, adjusting her pack as the great doors opened. Éowyn's worry only rose more as she realised how many have come. Dozens - or perhaps even a hundred - have arrived all over the kingdom. Villages from nearby that have been burnt and pillaged by the Dunlendings and wild men have fled here.
When she saw the mother of the children who arrived at Edoras weeks ago rush to them, hugging them tightly, she smiled at their reunion and suddenly felt herself in their shoes.
In another life this could have her and Eomer, reuniting with their mother.
In a shuddered breath she recalled the words that came from Ranyar's mouth.
She was glad that her thoughts were distracted, decided to continue her work, and made sure those who came with her from Edoras was settled. The soldiers noticed her and informed her of the numbers, informing her of who was sick or injured and how many supplies they had. When she spotted that store of food they had, Éowyn had to keep her mouth shut. With the winter season extending more through spring, the crops won't be ready to grow. Not enough warm clothing to pass around as the snow fell before them.
She knew she needed to act and therefore began forming a plan. Fires needed to keep to a minimum but made sure those with fewer layers should be closer to them. People who were sick and injured or too young were to go inside and get out from the cold and snow.
Even thinking about the cold, Éowyn shivered and folded her arms. Her adrenaline had long been gone since the warg scout ambush. Removing the cloak she wore, she gave it to an elderly lady who was on the verge of looking frozen as ice hadn't she urged her inside.
As she continued to order the rest of the people, helping move the baskets of food and rations, she heard the sound of the gates of the keep open. Éowyn rushed down the stairs towards the bottom of the keep, hope and worry mixing in her stomach as she saw the smoke come out of her breath. Soon the soldier flooded in, some unscathed whilst others were either covered in mud and blood.
When she saw the first, her heart leapt in relief when she saw her uncle.
"So few." She breathed out, dismay and grief pouring out from her tone. "So few of you have returned."
Her uncle got off the horse, declaring out to those who remained on the first floor of the keep. Théoden responded, "Our people are safe. We have paid for it with many lives."
'With many lives that should never need to be sacrificed,' Éowyn thought.
Her restlessness now growing once all those who were alive entered. But as the gates began to close, she noticed in the group that one had yet to show their face.
Panic soon consumed her breath as she rushed past to see Lord Gimli and Prince Legolas. As she glanced down at the dwarf lord, Éowyn asked him: "Lord Thorongil...where is he?"
The two shared a saddened look before Gimli gazed up to her and responded, "He fell."
He fell.
Éowyn lost her breath, finding herself staring out towards the gates, pretending, and hoping that in a second: the northern ranger would come through.
However, those moments passed and she was left on her own with no hint or nudge that he would be coming back.
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She made herself push away the worrying thoughts to the back of her mind. For one thing, she would not believe that Thorongil perished during the scout attack; he was too stubborn and strong for such things. Falling into a ravine by the hand of a warg would not kill him.
'Or perhaps you are thinking like your childish self again,' She chided herself as she continued to work, using it as an excuse to let the news settle. 'You fear he would just be like Ranyar, that he would abandon you again when you need him the most.'
But the thing was, she didn't need Thorongil – they all did. Éowyn could tell a moving voice anywhere. His strength and ability to capture the hearts of people, down from the poorest soul to the best. How he spared Grima despite seeing Théoden almost attempt to kill him but was halted as Thorongil pulled back the sword that almost cut Grima's head.
That was what captured her, and what she wished for. Ranyar may have captured her by his mysterious aura and humbleness, but Lord Thorongil was someone who captured everyone's hearts.
So as the cheers arrived a day later, Éowyn dropped everything and raced through the bustling corridors. Her eyes settled on the face of the ranger, feeling her lips form into a grin.
She knew he was alive, and nothing else would make it happier for her as he noticed her and curtly nodded.
"My lord!" Éowyn smiled, bowing her head before she continued, "I am glad you are alive."
Thorongil returned it with his own, tiredly speaking: "Thank you, my lady." He glanced to Prince Legolas, who gestured with his chin before he replied, "But I must go to your uncle. He needs to know something."
Éowyn nodded silently, letting her excitement and her heart racing fall as the ranger dismissed himself and headed in the direction of the great hall. Hadn't realised she had been standing there for ages, thankfully someone had called to her and she excused herself to return to her work – never leaving that smile that was permanently on her as she brought her hands to find the pin still upon her dress.
Maybe Ranyar was still here, in another way perhaps.
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Aragorn | Heir of Gondor
Location: Helm's Deep, Rohan, Middle Earth, Arda
Time: March 2981 T.A
"A great host, you say?"
Théoden King's voice echoed across the hall.
They were standing in the keep's great hall, cold, damp and stagnant air looming over them that made the subject even more bland and daunting for all of them. Aragorn had to admit at least it was dry, compared to his soaked and frozen clothes. He was exhausted, ready to collapse at any moment.
But passing out could wait.
They needed to know what happened and what he saw.
And what he saw...was an entire army of orcs ready to destroy them all.
Aragorn regulated his breathing, calling out to Théoden King and his commanders, "All Isengard is emptied." He was grateful that at least Legolas and Gimli were beside him, nonetheless, hoping Lady Éowyn would have followed them. At least she would persuade her uncle then on what he called the truth.
But his thoughts with Éowyn were troubled, not because of his heart but how he would have to tell her sooner that he cannot give what she wanted back to her. She seemed to already note it, and yet her admiration for him was still obvious in her eyes.
Only one person he will always allow his heart to fall for, and he knew then he would have to admit to her that she was not the one.
"How many?"
Aragorn responded, "Five thousand strong at least."
Théoden King paced for several seconds, eyes peering until he turned to his left at him.
The king led them out of the front of the keep, his commanders following whilst he followed behind with Gimli and Legolas in tow.
"Let them come. I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle in the next few hours." Théoden told them, "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping wall or sets foot inside the Hornburg!"
Internally: Aragorn wanted to facepalm - perhaps imagining what Uncle Glorfindel or the twins would react if they heard Théoden King. No doubt Lord Maedhros would be laughing right in front of the king, angrily pointing out all the mistakes.
Gimli cleared his throat and grumbled, "This is no rabble of mindless Orcs. These are Uruk-Hai. Their armour is thick and their shields broad!"
Nodding, Aragorn agreed and added, "They also wield weapons that no other being has seen in Middle Earth."
"I'm sorry?" One of the commanders, Hama, gave a questionable expression.
Aragorn looked to his left, where Legolas gave a look that suggested that he certainly not explaining whatever he just said before he sighed mentally. Guess it was his turn then.
"We encountered them once. We do not know how many of the weapons they possess, perhaps a third of them may hold them." He explained to them.
Théoden narrowed his eyes and demanded, "What do you call these weapons?"
"Guns, my lord." Aragorn complied, "Long metal tubes which fire small pellets that could pierce through the skin. We do not know what other weapons they may possess."
A scoff left Théoden King's mouth, "No mere metal pellet could simply breach these very walls. I have fought many wars. I know how to defend my own keep!"
As they headed down the walls of the keep, the frustration quickly left him as Aragorn loudly told him, "They are not here to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come here to destroy its people, down to the last child!"
Suddenly, the king pulled him close by the scruff of his tunic and hissed back, "What would you have me do? Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread!" He flashed a hint of fear and warning in his tone, "If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."
As he let go of Aragorn's collar, Théoden King moved away and continued to stride back down. He could only watch and heave out an irritated noise. How much would he need to persuade the king of Rohan to get his head out of his—
Legolas gave him one last silent look, nudging his chin.
He flashed a glare back before he took a deep breath and exclaimed to them, "Send out riders, my lord! You must call for aid. Call for the Gondorians in Snowbourn!"
Stopping in his tracks, Théoden looked up to him and laughed. A cold and deadly laugh as he cried out, "Gondor was not here when the Westfold fell. And the elves? Dwarves?" He told him, "No, my lord Thorongil, we are alone."
Once they all left, he and Legolas were left outside looking at one another in worry.
They only had one person left to trust.
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The entirety of the armoury was in a chaotic hustle, from elderly men to young boys putting on whatever protection they could scour.
Those taller or who looked more prepared were placed in metal pieces of armour, gripping their swords as if they had never wielded one in their entire life.
As much as how angry Aragorn felt when Legolas had spoken to him, bluntly telling him that they will all die at the hands of Saruman's army no matter the efforts, he knew it was not the elven prince's fault for his own words. It was his friend's own heart and opinion and he knew he was just as worried as everybody was around them.
And then he shouted at him, regretting those words as Legolas stared in surprise at his statement before biting his tongue back.
They had been friends – almost brothers – in their time. For three decades they have roamed Middle Earth trying to help those in need, saving one another in almost deadly situations. And the cost of this all, the Fellowship, Rohan and Dagor Dagorath, Aragorn would not stop any of those things breaking anything he had with any of his siblings.
Soon the armoury was quiet, everyone preparing to go to their stations at the sound of Théoden King's orders. He decided to stay behind, wait for the time to get his own armour. Chainmail underneath his outer tunic alongside the cloak he was given by the Elves of Lothlorien. Aragorn knew the tunic and pieces had been enchanted somehow; perhaps Arwen had done so just before they left one another after Amon Hen.
Even mentioning her brought a pang in his chest, questions reeling in his mind as he remembered what Gandalf spoke of. Did the White Wizard go to them? If so, would he be able to persuade the people of Gondor to fight for them?
He grazed a hand over the Elessar which was now hidden under his inner tunic, the same hand which bore the Ring of Barahir.
He heard a breath until the voice spoke.
"I am sorry."
Glancing up, he found the light blonde-haired elf looking in his direction.
Legolas solemnly added, "Forgive me, I was not thinking clearly about what is occurring in your mind then. No less I am fortunate that I am able to fight alongside my brother."
Aragorn's gaze lingered longer, smiling faintly before he walked over and firmly placed a hand atop the elf's shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive, mellon nin." He told him, "And I am proud to fight alongside you as well, brother."
He shared a nod of gratitude before he brought his hand down and continued to ready himself. As he was sheathing a spare dagger and his sword to his hip, he heard Legolas ask him another question – one they were all internally thinking of since Gandalf's leave.
"Do you believe they will come?" The elven prince asked him.
He paused for a moment, breathing in as he turned to him and responded, "With what Gandalf hinted alongside the coincidence of Arwen and Boromir going to Snowbourn, I believe it is highly likely."
"Have you connected with her?"
"Only briefly." Aragorn paused, only to then reveal something which had irked him since he left the banks of that river. "She saved me."
Confusion rose in Legolas' face; he spoke, "I do not understand?"
"Neither do I," He exhaled, still remembering the very vivid memory which made his spine shiver. "It is something beyond our own understanding, Legolas. But she was there, I saw her. Felt her fingers."
It was more than that to him, even when he was barely awake or conscious, the warmth and aura of her presence remained on him for a time, almost feeling the breath of her lips and the tears that could be masked as the water he was swept in.
But instead, it felt real.
She was there, and only before she was only able to appear to him in his dreams or when he was alone – unable to touch her truly through the magic she possessed.
Legolas knew it as well and peered back. He said, "That has not happened before."
No.
They both knew Arwen must have done something. Had she become stronger since their parting?
Aragorn pondered for a moment, focusing on the sounds around him. The patter of water dripping from the walls or the cold gust of wind that swept through every corridor around the keep.
Suddenly he found his head spinning in the direction of the staircase. The sound of a horn blaring out.
Legolas looked at him before he gazed back to where the sound came from.
"...And that is no orc horn." He muttered before the elf prince sprinted out of the armoury – Aragorn tailing behind him.
Oh, they knew that wasn't any ordinary horn.
His chest soared with hope the moment Aragorn spotted within the crowd of mortal soldiers was the streams and groups of golden, green, and navy armour. The flag of the Kingdom of Lothlorien billowed from the poles of the bearers as well as the symbol of the Galadhrim in their way.
Aragorn halted at the top of the stairs to hear Théoden King breathless ask rhetorically.
"How is this possible?"
He should be asking the same thing as well...because this was not what he expected.
Standing before the elven army was the Marchwarden of Lothlorien himself. Haldir with his imposing stance and his simply Silvan and Sindarin braids and the golden armour mixed with a red and green cloak.
Haldir held his head high as he spoke to them in Westron, "I bring word from Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond, and Lady Illyria Ettelëa." He looked briefly to where he and Legolas stood before he returned his focus to the Rohirric King. "An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honour that allegiance."
Aragorn could not help but grin and silently thank the names that were spoken. He knew that Lady Galadriel must have done so for Arwen's account and for the Lord and Lady of Rivendell: he knew no matter Arwen and his presence – they would never let them fend at such a high risk.
Gradually, he began to realise the hints which both Arwen, the twins and Lady Illyria told him.
This was the hope they had mentioned.
'Maybe it is the end of the elves' time. But it doesn't mean you are alone in this, Estel.'
Lady Illyria's words echoed in his mind, the ones before they had left Rivendell.
'Help will come in the most unexpected places. And the most unexpected times when you need it.'
He and Legolas rushed down the steps before Aragorn could greet the Marchwarden properly. After sharing the elven gesture, he ignored all propriety and embraced the older elf, patting his back.
Haldir stiffened at his sudden gesture, awkwardly patting his back before Aragorn stepped away.
"Well met, Haldir." He smiled amusedly before he added, "You are most welcomed."
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It was not long until they had gone inside to adjust their plans to defend the keep. With Haldir and part of the Galadhrim with them, they had supposed another hundred to support their side despite the higher number of orcs and trolls arriving at their doorstep.
Aragorn made sure to let Haldir know of the possible new weapons which Saruman had created, making the Marchwarden's eyebrows rise slightly in a hidden astonishment of the description. Nevertheless, Haldir seemed to believe what he spoke and asked for any possible ways they could tackle the issue (even when Théoden King and several of his commanders still appeared disbelieved by the fact that metal pellets can kill people).
They knew the guns wouldn't pass through metal so at least those with full thick armour plates would be safe. But that would only consider at least a third of them and the rest would be exposed. They needed to take anyone down with those weapons first before they could take the soldiers next.
They might have not liked the plan, but they just had to continue with whatever they could do.
Once their meeting adjourned they returned to their stations. At that time, he was able to walk to his spot with Haldir himself, Legolas walking beside Gimli on the wall.
Aragorn looked out into the darkened plains as he asked the Marchwarden, "Has there been news?"
When he glanced back to Haldir, the elf simply answered: "Nothing to my knowledge." He elaborated, "The Lady of the Golden Wood speaks of Lord Cirdan's council and of Imladris."
He paused once he registered what he said.
Aragorn questioned quickly, "What's happened?"
Haldir noticed that even Legolas and Gimli were listening before he inhaled and began, "Saruman's army descended for the valley." He looked to Aragorn and continued, "Lord Elrond is gravely injured but they have survived. Lady Galadriel suspects that Lady Illyria took him to her world."
Mentally he swore to himself before he breathed in, causing his ribs to ache. But he didn't care any less, no more than how much that worry now was building up in his heart. His childhood home had been attacked as was Lady Illyria and Lord Maedhros hinted months ago. They wanted the jewel they possessed and the first thing line in doing so is attacking the people protecting it.
Was his foster father alright? What happened that caused him harm? The valley was impenetrable, they should have been able to defeat them.
Unless those orcs and other enemies had the same weapons they encountered.
A ragged sigh left his mouth as he murmured under his breath, "Arwen does not know of this." Glancing back to Haldir, he added "If so, she would have already contacted me."
His beloved would have known it the moment her father was injured. It was an odd gift that they all bore. The children of the Lady of Rivendell were always able to connect to those close to them, sensing their fëa at such a distance.
She would know eventually, and he feared how much it would take a toll on her.
Haldir cleared his throat before he mentioned, "If I may ask, where is she?"
When they arrived at their stations, settled at the centre of the wall between men and elves, he glanced sideways before returning his gaze at the field before them. Aragorn answered, "She is fortunately out of harm's way."
In the corner of his eye, he saw the mirth in Haldir's eyes.
"Though from the blood of the Oialëa, that may be impossible." The Marchwarden mused, glancing back to him with a rather complacent look. "I have grown to know who the Eternal's daughter is, Aragorn. She is no mere maiden."
'No,' He thought to himself. 'And that is what I'm afraid of.'
In his entire life knowing the Evenstar, she may have the patience and calmness of her father – but the fire of her mother's passion was underneath all of that.
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[1] - Ranyar: 'Wanderer' in Quenya
[2] - Sunne Ælf: 'Sun Elf' in Old English which is what I used mostly for the language of the people of Rohan.
[3] - Far gesund: 'Farewell' in Old English
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A/N: Welcome back to Hrive Utulie and we are 5 chapters away from the end of Part 2. :( It's been quite a long book but it's been worth it to try and maintain that same level of depth and dialogue with all the characters.
And why this chapter was heavily focused on Eowyn and finally introducing her into the family. I love her so much and I was so excited to finally get to write about her and her story. I wanted her to be able to integrate with the other plots so having Ranyar and her past was a nice hint on what's going to happen in Part 3.
As promised, two more chapters to upload today and then hopefully the final three chapters will be uploaded just before Rings of Power.
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Edited: 22/08/2022