"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder days. The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong." Gandalf says quite happily, and I glance nervously at Legolas. Ents?
"Strong? Oh, that's good." Gimli mutters sarcastically, earning a grumble from Gandalf.
"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf- Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."
"This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one." Gimli says under his breath, and I snort. True.
* * *
The light is bright, air clear and grass light and minty. Arod and Hasufel stand behind us at the other side of the Fangorn Forest. Gandalf whistles in a high pitch, then whistles again, but lower. A moment passes, and I see a flash of white on the left.
"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." Legolas says, in awe. The white horse is beautiful, pure white mane and tail flowing out behind him. The horse slow down, and approaches Gandalf.
"Shadowfax." Gandalf murmurs, smiling. "He's the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers." Gandalf strokes the horses face gently. Shadowfax looks up sharpy and whinnies loudly, and a few more echo after his call. Three horses- one white, one brown, and one red- gallop into view, and I gasp in delight when the red horse comes closer, stopping in front of me.
"Numen!" I cry, flinging my arms around the stallion's thick neck. My horse nuzzles into my shoulder, and I rub his forehead affectionately. Aragorn mounts Hasufel, Gimli and Legolas on Arod, and Gandalf on Shadowfax. I grasp onto Numen's mane, swinging myself up and sitting on his bare back. We set off at a fast gallop, Numen's mane whipping behind him. I wonder how he got here- perhaps Shadowfax called him from Rivendell, but that would be a long way...
"Oh Numen, I missed you so much..." I murmur to the flame-coloured horse, leaning forwards towards his ear. Numen tosses his head, startling me, and I laugh. I ride beside Aragorn, behind Gandalf, and we ride with matching strides.
* * *
The sky has darkened considerably, and there are no stars, but the moon is bright. My stomach growls loudly, and Gimli looks at me, amused. I blush and dismount beside Aragorn, pulling off my pack and taking out a small leaf-wrap. I unwrap it and nibble a bit of lembas bread, trying to save it as much as I can. I eat half of the cake, and tuck the rest into my pack. Numen grazes on the grass, and I unroll my bedroll, lying on the warm sheets. Aragorn and Gandalf stand at the edge of a cliff, looking east towards Mordor. I lie on my side, facing away, and listen to their quiet conversation.
"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rival." Gandalf mutters. "From the summit of Barad-dûr, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumour has reached him: the heir of Numenor still lives. Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become. And so, he'll strike hard and fast at the world of men. He will use his puppet, Saruman, to destroy Rohan."
Rohan? My eyes widen slightly. I've been to Rohan for a short amount of time when I travelled Middle Earth, and I felt a slight connection to the place, I don't know why. It seemed very comforting, like Mirkwood and Rivendell. The people were really kind to me, treating me with such respect you would think I was a princess or something. The King, Théoden, was very kind and welcoming, but there was a man, Grîma, who constantly tried to make him do evil things. I despise that man. I hope he's not there, still...
"War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge. For Rohan is weak, and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved. It's and old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all of their cunning, we have one advantage- the Ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams. And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor in the hands of hobbit."
My heart warms as I think of Frodo. I hope he is alright...
"Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo." Gandalf continues. Aragorn remains silent. "Everything depends on his speed and the secrecy of his quest. Do not regret your decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."
Oh, so Gandalf doesn't know about Sam going with Frodo?
"He's not alone." Aragorn says softly, echoing my thoughts. "Sam went with him."
"Did he?" Gandalf says, slightly surprised. "Did he, indeed? Good. Yes, very good."
They are silent for a few moments, and in that short amount of time, I close my eyes and sleep.
* * *
"Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduself. There fwells 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." Gandalf mutters darkly.
I raise an eyebrow as we gallop towards the gates. A banner floats carelessly throughout the air, landing by Aragorn, who stares at it before entering the gates. I frown; last time, Rohan was very orderly and strong. I worry for the city, and Théoden, if they have flags falling off of their poles. Numen walks through the gates, walking slowly through the silent city. Most, if not all, of the people are wearing black.
"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli mutters from atop Arod.
We dismount our horses at the bottom of the steps, and walked up to the hall of the King. Once we near the top, several guards emerge from the closed doors. Gandalf pulls the grey robes around himself tighter, to disguise and fool others into thinking he was still Gandalf the Grey.
"Ah." Gandalf says.
"I cannot allow you before Théoden-King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grîma Wormtoungue."
Grîma is still here?! I shrudder at the thought of the slimy man. And to think to approach him without a weapon?
Gandalf nods at us and I reluctantly unbuckle the sheaths from my belt, and one of the guards take them. Legolas flips his knives skillfully over his shoulder before handing them to the guard with a smirk. I snort at him.
"Your staff." One states, looking at Gandalf.
"Hmm? Oh. No, you would not part an old man from his walking stick?" Gandalf says, sounding older all of a sudden. I resist to roll my eyes as he leans heavily on Legolas. The guard hesitates before nodding, and letting us inside. The first thing I see is how dim the room is. It used to be bright and full of life, but now it is dark and dead. Next, I see Théoden slumped on his throne, looking far more aged than I ever thought a man could be. Next to him stands Grîma. I exhale sharply at the sight of the snake-like man, whispering something into Théoden's ear.
"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden-King." Gandalf says. Grîma whispers again.
"He is not welcome!" I glare at him, but he does not look at me.
"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Théoden asks, voice strained. He sounds completely opposite than how I remembered.... Saruman, I silently curse him in my mind for transforming the once lively and intelligent king into... this.
"A just question, my leige." Grîma says quietly, and I ball my hands into fists at my side. He has no right, no right at all!
"Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." He almost spits, standing in front of Gandalf.
"Be silent!" Gandalf snaps. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He raises his staff, and Grîma staggers backwards, away from the wizard.
"His staff! I told you to take the wizard's staff!" He nearly shrieks, and I snicker at his fear, stopping when the guards behind us run at us.
I wish I had my swords, I think wistfully, turning around to fight the men. They all rush past me, attacking Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli to get to Gandalf. I frown. Why aren't they coming for me? I shrug and approach a guard, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns away from Gandalf, releasing his staff and blinks at me. I punch him in the nose and he staggers back, not bothering to even hit me back. What the heck?
I continue to punch the guards in their faces, but none of them even try to defend themselves or retalliate.
"Théoden, son of Thengel. Too long have you sat in the shadows." I hear Gandalf say as I backhand one in the face. He groans and falls to the floor, and I smirk. There are only a few conscious men left, and Aragorn and Legolas seem to have them under control. Grîma lies on his back, Gimli's heavy foot on his chest, struggling to get away.
"I would stay still if I were you!" Gimli advises.
"Hearken to me! I release you from the spell." Gandalf says, and a moment passes, agonizingly silent. Then the king begins to laugh.
"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" He says mockingly, chuckling. Gandalf holds up his hand to the King and throws back his grey robes. Théoden is forced back by the white light, squinting.
"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Gandalf raises his staff, pinning the king against the back of his throne.
Footsteps echo through the halls and a young woman dashes forwards to the King, eyes wide. Aragorn pulls her back.
"Wait." He says softly.
"If I go, Théoden dies." Théoden hisses, but in Saruman's deep voice. I watch on in intrest and slight worry. What if it doesn't work?
"You did not kill me. You will not kill him." Gandalf says confidently.
"Rohan is mine!"
"Be gone!" Gandalf shouts, pointing his staff at the king, who slumps forwards, about to fall off his throne. The woman runs from Aragorn and gently pushes Théoden up onto his throne. I watch in amazement as the aged face of the king grows younguer, skin less wrinkly, eyes brighter and less tired looking.
"I know your face." Théoden whispers, gazing at the woman. "Éowyn... Éowyn." Éowyn's eyes are wet with tears. He looks up slowly. "Gandalf?"
"Breathe the free air again, my friend." Gandalf says, smiling.
"Vivienne." Théoden looks at me, slightly shocked for a moment.
"King Théoden." I nod at him respectfully and he smiles at me, before looking down at his hand.
"Dark have been my dreams of late." He mutters, flexing his fingers.
"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword." Gandalf says. A guard steps forwards from somewhere behind us and hands him the sheathed weapon. Théoden reaches out and wraps his fingers slowly around the hilt, and tightens his grip. He gently pulls it out of the sheath and raises it. I glance to my left, sensing movement, to see Gimli pulling a squirming Grîma back onto the ground. Théoden glares at Grîma and shouts for him to be kicked out. Two guards lift up the man and throw him out of the hall, and I watch as he tumbles down the stone stairway. The King follows, Gandalf behind him. I walk beside Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas outside, watching the unpleasant scene unfold.
"I've only ever served you, my lord." Grîma cries desperately, crawling in the opposite direction, away from the furious King.
"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden growls, raising his sword, about to strike. By now, a fairly large crowd had arrived, also watching. The King starts to lower his sword, but Aragorn stops him quickly. What's he doing?!
"No, my lord!" Aragorn cries. "Let him go- enough blood has been spilt on his account."
He holds out a hand to Grîma, still on the floor, but the creature spits on his hand, running through the crowd and pushing people away.
"Get out of my way!" I hear him shout, and watch in disgust as he runs into the stables. Aragorn shakes his hand, drops of spit flying off his fingers. I grimace. He turns to the King.
"Hail, Théoden-King." He says, dropping to his knees. One by one, everybody (including me) kneels before him, but Théoden looks around, like he's scanning the crowd.
"Where is Théodred?" He asks, voice barely a whisper. "Where is my son?"
Everybody bows their heads, and I glance around, guessing that he had passed in the time Saruman corrupted the King's mind.
"Théodred is dead." A female voice says sadly, and I turn around to see a woman wearing long, white robes, her hair and eyes dark. I guessed correctly, I think sadly, and let out a soft sigh. The woman looks at me, eyes widening slightly, and I tug on Legolas' arm. He glances at me, and we leave the King to grieve, the woman staring after me.