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━━━━ »•» act three. age of anguish

34. old strength  «•« ━━━━

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ third age ━━ year 3019

𓇻 north of rohan; fangorn forest

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FANGORN FOREST LOOKED A LOT MORE FRIENDLY WHEN WALKING SIDE BY SIDE WITH HER FRIENDS. The old branches were like kind hands showing the way, instead of claws out to get her. Gandalf walked with a quick pace, not wasting any more time. With her body bruised and still healing, Elgarain found it hard to keep up.

But Gyda, oathbound and loyal Gyda, walked closely beside her. Keeping a sharp eye on Elgarain's stumbling movements. And Elgarain was more than thankful for her presence.

"Tell me, why are we going to Edoras?" Gimli called out to where Gandalf was walking ahead. "It is no short distance."

"We hear of trouble in Rohan," Aragorn said, looking at Gandalf. "It goes ill with the king."

"Yes, and it will not be easily cured," Gandalf sighed. "That is why we must go quickly."

"Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here then? In this horrid, dark, tree-infested-" Gimli never got to finish his sentence, for he got interrupted by the groaning and cracking of branches. "Ah, I mean charming! Quite charming forest."

Gandalf came to a halt and turned to Gimli with a smile. "It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

"In one thing you have not changed, dear friend," Aragorn said, bowing closer towards the wizard with a smile. "You still speak in riddles."

Gandalf chuckled, a warm sound that she only now realized she had missed and she felt herself smiling as well. As if sensing her happiness, Aragorn's gaze found hers and the warmth within his eyes made butterflies come alive within her. Quickly, she averted her eyes.

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days," Gandalf continued to mumble. "The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong."

"Strong?" Gimli grumbled. "Oh, that's good."

"So, stop your fretting, Master Dwarf," Gandalf said, suddenly stern as he picked up the pace again. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."

"This new Gandalf is more grumpy than the old one," Gimli mumbled before following the wizard.

Elgarain chuckled softly. "Has he been complaining like this the entire time?" she asked, turning to look at Gyda.

Her guard nodded, a small smile tugging at her own lips. "Our master dwarf has found that running makes him quite unpleasant," she quipped.

"I can only imagine," Elgarain said softly but then her smile slowly faded. "What happened when the Uruk-Hai attacked? Did you find-" she cut herself off, but then took a deep breath and forced herself to continue. She had to know. "Did you find Boromir?"

Gyda's breath hitched in her throat and her eyes darkened. "I-I did. We did." She paused and closed her eyes for a moment. "He died with his friends surrounding him."

Elgarain tried her hardest to swallow the lump in her throat. "At least he wasn't alone in the end." It was far less than he deserved, but still it comforted her to know he hadn't been left between the rotting corpses of the Uruk-Hai. Boromir should have lived to see the white towers again, his people, his brother. But the world had robbed him of that life. Now, all she could try to do was honor his sacrifice. She would try to live for him.

The grim memory of the man of Gondor sat between them for a moment, before Gyda slowly turned to retrieve something from her satchel.

Broken in pieces, and stained with blood, is Elgarain's glaive, Rilya.

"It didn't survive the battle."

With trembling hands Elgarain took the pieces. "It has served me well," she muttered, then turned to look at Gyda with watery eyes. "Thank you for carrying this with you."

Gyda smiled softly, letting her hands trail over the wood one last time, as if silently thanking it. "It has."

"If you ever get the chance to visit Mirkwood again, you can bring me home a new one," Elgarain said while trying, and failing, to keep a smile from her face.

"Perhaps," Gyda replied with red cheeks.

Elgarain's gaze flickered to where Legolas was walking ahead of them, side by side with Gimli. Then she looked back to her friend and her heart felt heavy. "Don't push him away, Gyda." A trembling sigh fell from her lips. "Don't make the same mistake I did."

"It is not as easy as to just decide to..." She dared not to speak it out loud now. "We must complete this quest first. It is our duty."

"And what about our duty to our heart?" Elgarain wondered out loud. "Or perhaps such things aren't meant for us."

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Elgarain," Gyda mused. "And I promised I shall stand with you to shoulder its burden. Love must wait, if it stands in the way of your people."

She nodded. Wasn't the exact reason she had decided to break things off with Aragorn? They had both chosen to return to their people, to lead, instead of staying together. And yet, somehow, they had found each other again. But even if it did mean something, the quest was far more important than such feelings...Right?

Suddenly desperate to change the subject and get her mind off the Ranger, Elgarain decided to ask another question that had been plaguing her mind for days now. "I-I'm not sure how to say this and you're probably going to think I'm insane but..." She inhaled sharply and braced herself for whatever reaction she was about to receive. "I had the strangest dream two nights ago. You were in it, you said-"

"-You can't stay here, nesa." Gyda interrupted knowingly. "It was real Elgarain."

With wide eyes she stared at her guard. "But how? I've been thinking about it but I can't recall ever reading or hearing anything about sharing dreams. It shouldn't be possible."

"I haven't heard about such things either..." She hesitated. "Neither did Aragorn. But it must mean something, it has to."

"You told Aragorn? Why?"

"He was awake when I woke up after..." Gyda took a deep breath. "Something in me told me to tell him. That I could trust him with this. And...and I felt he deserved to know I had seen you."

Her heart was hammering within her chest and as if they had a will of their own, her eyes were drawn to where he was walking beside Gandalf. She couldn't remember the last time his steps had looked so light, as though the weight on his shoulders had finally lessened somewhat.

"He was scared for you."

Gyda's words pulled the sight of his ghostly pale face when he saw her, back from the depths of her memories. She had been scared to be the reason for his weariness and now Gyda confirmed that he had indeed been scared for her. Even if they had given up on their feelings for each other, he still called her his sun, as if his entire world revolved around her, even now. Maybe they would never truly be rid of the way their hearts called out to each other. Still, it would be best to ignore it. She wasn't sure she would survive such heartache again.

She sighed. "I wish I could push aside my feelings for the greater good as easily as you."

For the smallest of moments, a shadow seemed to linger on Gyda's features, as if she was in pain. But it was gone before Elgarain was even sure she'd seen it. "It gets easier with time," Gyda mumbled. Though she couldn't hide the way her eyes searched for Legolas.

Elgarain looked away before Gyda would see her smile. "I hope so," she whispered.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, the sun was at its highest point. Grasslands and hills stretched out around them as far as the eye could see. She was starting to understand Gimli's complaining. It was an awful long road to Edoras and simply thinking about it made her body ache with protest.

As they stepped out of the shadows of the trees, they were greeted by the neighing of three horses. They each wore saddles and reins crafted with the same symbols as the riders who attacked the Uruk-Hai during the night.

"Where did you find them?" Elgarain asked while petting the neck of a large brown horse.

"They were gifted to us by Éomer," Legolas explained while greeting the white horse. "We met his company on the road. He told us they were exiled for remaining loyal to Rohan. They were the ones who killed the Uruk-Hai." His eyes darkened with the weight of a memory. "His words had us believe you and the Hobbits were among the dead."

She placed a hand on his arm and offered him a reassuring smile. "Words will never be enough to tell you how grateful I am for coming after me. After us."

The Ellon squeezed her hand and accepted her words with a nod. Then he reached out to her horse and stroked his nose. "Éomer said his name is Baldor. He was meant for Gyda but she ran ahead of us to where they piled the carcasses and burned them."

She followed his pointed finger to a pile of burned bodies down the hill to their right. The only thing that remained of her captors. The smell of burned flesh made her stomach turn and she looked away.

"He can carry me now," Gyda's voice came from behind them.

Elgarain couldn't help but notice the way Legolas' eyes lingered on her as she walked towards the horse and took the reins. And her smile only widened when she locked eyes with Gimli, who was standing behind Legolas. The Dwarf was watching the two Elves with the very same amused smile she felt reflected on her own face.

"You can ride with me, Elgarain," Gyda said as she jumped on Baldor's back. Either she was pretending she hadn't seen the two of them exchanging looks or she was willfully ignoring it.

Then her guard offered her a hand and Elgarain gratefully let Gyda help her climb on the back of the horse. Her body ached with every movement. She already feared the moment she would have to dismount. As she looked around, she realized that they were one horse short. Gimli rode with Legolas but Gandalf could not ride with Aragorn, the two of them too heavy to be carried by one horse.

But Gandalf didn't seem too worried. He stepped forward and, surprising them all, let out a long and sharp whistle. The tune echoed across the plains and before it could fade completely, it was answered by the galloping hooves of a white horse.

"That is one of the Mearas," Legolas said in awe. "Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

The horse moved faster and more gracefully than any other creature she had ever seen. Such was the might of the Mearas. For they surpassed all other horses in intelligence, speed and strength. According to the old tales they were brought from the West by Oromë, the Huntsman of the Valar. The fact that she was looking at one with her very own eyes felt like a miracle. Her fingers were itching to capture the lines of the creature on paper.

With a soft neigh the horse slowed to a halt in front of the White Wizard, who petted him lovingly. "Shadowfax," Gandalf greeted him. "He is the lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers."

They set out at a fast pace. The horses seemed strengthened by the presence of Shadowfax and rode faster than any other Elgarain had ever seen. They rode on through sunset and through a large part of the night. When at last they halted it was far past midnight. She barely managed to dismount, her body stiff and aching.

"We will only rest for a short while," Gandalf said. "Sleep, I will stand on guard."

She didn't have to be told twice and searched for a place without rocks poking out of the grass. Barely managing to suppress a hiss of pain, she curled up and closed her eyes. But no matter how tired she was, sleep would not come. Even Gimli's soft snores could not comfort her, nor the hushed voices of Gyda and Legolas as they talked in whispered words only meant for the two of them.

She shivered beneath the cold winds that blew over the grasslands. There wasn't anywhere to hide from it. Whenever she closed her eyes and tried to will herself to fall asleep, her thoughts strayed back to the gray eyes of a ranger.

Aragorn was seated beside the fire and as she opened her eyes, she could see the flames forming dancing shadows on his skin. He caught her eye in the darkness and this time, she couldn't bring herself to look away. With a small smile he got to his feet and knelt down beside her. He took off his cloak and covered her with it.

"Sleep, Elgarain," he whispered. "You need it."

Tenderly he stroked her cheek and a shiver crawled down her spine. Then he got his feet and her eyes followed him as he walked towards where Gandalf was standing.

The wizard leaned on his staff as he gazed into the darkness. Save for the soft crackling of the fire, there were no sounds, no sign of any other living thing. A chill wind made the grass sway and Elgarain pulled Aragorn's cloak closer around her, burying her nose in it to breathe in a smell that was so indescribably his.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape," Gandalf muttered when Aragorn reached him. "Sauron will suffer no rival. 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 rumor has reached him. The heir of Númenor still lives. Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become."

For a moment the look on Aragorn's face reminded her of the one he'd worn that night he told her of his true heritage. His emotions were carefully hidden, as if he was forbidden from showing his true feelings about the fate that awaited him. And in that moment, she wished for nothing more than to reach out and embrace him, to tell him everything would work out in the end. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It would get easier with time.

When Gyda woke her, she was no longer covered with Aragorn's cloak, making her wonder if perhaps she'd dreamt the whole thing. She decided it didn't matter and got to work on breaking up the camp. She was feeling a bit better, more like her old self. Though as soon as she got back on the horse, all her old pains seemed to come alive once again. And they still had a long way to go.

Before the sun had risen completely, they were off again, riding as swift as the wind itself. Hours passed and still they rode on. Gimli, who seemed to have caught less sleep than needed, nodded off and would have fallen from his seat, if Legolas had not clutched and shaken him. Ever the horses followed their tireless leader, a white shadow moving ahead of them, like a falling star.

The miles went by, the green lands of Rohan passing them by in a blur. A bitter chill came into the air. Slowly in the East the dark faded to a cold gray. Red shafts of light leapt above the black walls of the Emyn Muil faraway upon their left. Dawn came clear and bright; a wind swept across their path, rushing through the bent grasses.

Elgarain hoped they would halt again soon, her body unable to take much more. But it turned out they didn't need to. Before them stood the mountains of the South: their peaks covered with everlasting snow. The grass-lands rolled against the hills that gathered at their feet. And on the plains in between them and the mountains rose a lonely hill.

As they got closer, she could see the city that was built upon it. Many carved wooden houses stood there proudly, encircled by a mighty wall with many watch towers, though very few guards. At the very top of the hill stood a great hall, built upon a green terrace. The roof was thatched in gold and glittered in the sunlight. The home of the horse lords.

"Edoras," Gandalf said, "And the golden hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over king Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

As they made their way towards the gate, a banner with a white horse fell upon the ground. Carried away by the wind from where it had fluttered high up in the sky. There were no guards to greet them as they passed beneath the gate. Elgarain couldn't help but frown at the lack of security in the king's city. Had all the soldiers been exiled as Éomer had? Was that how Saruman managed to shatter the might of Rohan?

Slowly they followed the road up the hill towards the hall. Men, women and children stopped with whatever they were doing to stare at the six strangers who entered their city. A heavy silence loaded the air and Elgarain shivered beneath the weight of the many eyes upon her.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered.

She could feel Gyda's muscles tense, one hand holding the reins while the other rested upon her sword. Her guard led Baldor all the way to the top, where they finally dismounted before the stairs that led to the hall of Meduseld. Their horses were taken away by a stable boy and, with trembling legs, Elgarain followed the others up the stairs and onto the green terrace.

The roof wasn't the only thing thatched with gold. The doors and pillars were both decorated with many beautiful golden figures as well. But she wasn't given time to admire the design. The doors were opened and a group of guards walked out to greet them. Each of them was clothed in chain mail and red and green colors.

"My name is Háma, head of Théoden's kingsguard," a man with long reddish hair announced himself. "I cannot allow you before Théoden king so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue."

Gandalf nodded and turned to look at them, silently ordering them to surrender their weapons.

The only weapon she had left was her broken spear and she handed it over with a pointed glare. The guard who took it looked at the pieces with a frown. Had she been human, he might have made a comment on the state of her weapon, but she wasn't and so he remained quiet.

Gyda, however, was far less happy to comply. As she removed her sword from her belt, she glared at the guard with stern eyes. "If anything happens to it, you will not live to see tomorrow," she said through gritted teeth.

"I will take good care of it milady, I swear," the guard muttered, unable to even look at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him but must have found something trustworthy within the man, because she finally handed her sword to him.

Once they handed over all of their weapons, Gandalf smiled at Háma, about to walk forward but the guard stopped him.

"Your staff."

"Hmm?" Gandalf said and looked at his staff as if only just remembering he was even holding it. "You would not part an old man from his walking stick."

Háma eyed the wizard skeptically before nodding with a sigh. He gestured for the guards to step aside and let them enter.

To really commit to his act, Gandalf leaned on Legolas' arm as he made his way through the gates.

Elgarain caught Aragorn's barely contained smile and had to bite her tongue to hide her own. Then she followed the others inside. The doors fell shut behind them with a heavy bang and it took her every bit of willpower not to turn and look over her shoulder.

The huge hall they entered was dark. Neither the torches on the wall nor the hearth in the middle of the room were burning. Yet there were still pieces of old glory visible. Banners and tapestries depicting old victories covered the walls. The roof was held up with pillars, which were decorated with the same beautiful patterns as those outside. At the very end of the hall, up on a dais, stood a masterfully carved throne.

Seated upon the throne was a man who looked as old as the very hill Edoras was built on. His skin was like parchment, yellowish and thin. His hair was gray and his eyes were void of all life. They were almost white, staring at the room without really seeing anything. It was somewhat of a miracle he could manage to hold up his head beneath the weight of the golden crown he was wearing. Even the many layers of fur he was drowning in did not seem to be enough to hold him warm.

King Théoden looked as though death was breathing down his neck.

Elgarain had been so distracted by the frail old man that she hadn't even noticed the one seated beside him on a small, simple chair. Not until he bent towards the king and started whispering in his ear. His skin too was sickly pale but it looked different, almost malicious in a way that was amplified by the thick black robe he was wearing. She knew with absolute certainty that this was Grima Wormtongue. The name was befitting for his slimy appearance.

"The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf bellowed as they walked forward.

The old man opened his mouth and spoke with a slow and cracking voice: "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" He turned to look at his advisor, as if asking if he had said the right thing.

"A just question, my liege," Grima said before getting to his feet. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear."

A soft nudge against her arm made her turn to look at Aragorn, who was walking beside her. His eyes were focused on a group of men hiding in the shadows of the hall. They were watching them closely, hands hovering near their weapons. They didn't look like the other men of Rohan she'd seen outside; their hair was shorter and their clothes torn and dirty. Mercenaries. Probably here to do Grima's dirty work.

"Láthspell, I name him," Grima rambled on while coming face to face with Gandalf. "Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent," Gandalf ordered with a thundering voice. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm."

Then he revealed his staff and Grima stumbled backwards.

"His staff," he muttered. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

He merely had to look at the men in the shadows for them to come rushing forward.

Aragorn jumped in front of her, catching a blow aimed at her head. Then he kicked the man in the stomach, forcing him down on the ground.

Another came at Aragorn from behind but Elgarain moved faster and brought him down with a well-aimed kick against his knee. For a moment Aragorn caught her eye and her stomach burned at the way his gaze scanned her, seeming impressed with her skill.

She shrugged at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

On her left Gyda, Gimli and Legolas took care of the others. Legolas punched the last man down without even bothering to turn and look at him. While Gimli ran towards Grima, who was trying to get away and pressed his heavy boot down against his chest. "I would stay still if I were you," he snarled at the slimy advisor.

All the while Gandalf had continued his way forward towards the old king. "Théoden, son of Thengel!" he thundered. "Too long have you sat in the shadows. Hearken to me!" Slowly he raised his hand and a soft wave of warmth reached her. "I release you from the spell."

A strangled noise left the chapped lips of the old man and it took her a second to realize the sound was laughter. The king was shaking as he laughed with a cracking voice that made the hairs in her neck prickle. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Gray," he spoke with a strength that his voice shouldn't have been able to have. It was no longer Théoden who was speaking, but Saruman.

As answer to the wizard's challenge, Gandalf removed the gray cloak he'd been wearing and revealed his white robes. Light seemed to illuminate the air surrounding him, coming from within Gandalf himself. The very air trembled with the might of his magic.

It was too bright for the shadows in Théoden's mind and he was thrown back into his throne with a shrill cry.

"I will draw you Saruman as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf said, his voice sounding strained as he fought with the other wizard. He pointed his staff at the king and once again she could feel his magic shimmering within the room.

Théoden seemed to grow even smaller as he shrunk back into his throne, groaning in pain.

Just then, a woman in a white dress came running into the throne room. Her wide eyes focused on the king as she rushed towards him. But Aragorn managed to grab her arm and pull her back before she would accidently interrupt Gandalf's healing process.

She looked at him with fiery eyes.

"Wait," he urged her.

The king hadn't even seen her, his eyes were focused on Gandalf standing in front of him. When he spoke again, all frailty had left his voice. Saruman had taken over completely. "If I go, Théoden dies."

But Gandalf brought his staff forward once again, throwing the old man back. "You did not kill me; you will not kill him."

Saruman, through Théoden, struggled to sit up straight and snarled: "Rohan is mine."

But Gandalf's warm and bright magic was no match for the servant of cold and dark. "Be gone," he ordered.

In one last act of defiance, Saruman forced the frail king to thrust himself forward. But Gandalf raised his staff and, in a flash of white, threw him back into his throne. All fight suddenly left him and Théoden groaned in pain, falling forward.

But the blonde woman in Aragorn's grasp pulled herself free and ran towards him, catching him before he'd fall over completely. As she held him, the years seemed to fade away from his face. His skin became smooth and returned to a healthy complexation. His hair turned blond again but the biggest change were his eyes; gone were the lifeless white shells that had covered them. Instead, they turned into a bright and strong blue.

Théoden frowned at the woman in front of him. "I know your face," he muttered. "Éowyn."

Éowyn laughed through her tears as she embraced him.

But then his eyes fell upon Gandalf, who looked exhausted from the struggle.

"Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," the white wizard told him.

King Théoden rose to his feet, looking stronger and years younger than when they'd entered the hall.

Now, he looked worthy of the crown upon his head. "Dark have been my dreams of late," he said softly, staring at his hands as if he still expected to see wrinkled and thin skin.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said.

Almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for this moment, Háma came rushing forward. He held out a beautifully carved sword, with two horse heads carved into the hilt.

Slowly, as though he didn't trust his own strength yet, Théoden wrapped his hands around the hilt and pulled the sword from its scabbard. But as if the steel reminded him of those who had wounded him, his gaze suddenly darkened. His eyes searched for his advisor, who was still captured in Gimli's grasp.

"Háma," he spoke with a low voice. "Remove my advisor from this hall."

"Yes, my lord," the head of the house guard spoke, seeming all too pleased with his order.

The guards of Meduseld took Grima from the Dwarf and carried him towards the doors. There, they threw him down the stairs that led towards the hall.

They followed the king outside, whose eyes were focused on the man. Only one single thing seemed to be on his mind at that moment, revenge. But Elgarain feared what would happen if the people of Rohan saw their king had returned as a vengeful man.

"I've only ever served you my lord," Grima pleaded.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden spat.

"Send me not from your sight!"

But Théoden seemed beyond reason and raised his sword with a growl. There was a very thin line between execution and murder. And a king could never be seen crossing it.

Elgarain turned to look away, unable to witness this act of revenge.

But Aragorn ran towards the king and caught his arm before he could bring down his sword. "No, my lord!" He cried out. "No, my lord. Let him go. Enough blood has been spilled on his account."

A trembling sigh of relief escaped her lips as Théoden lowered his sword.

Aragorn extended his hand to Grima but the man spat on it. Then he scrambled to his feet and pushed his way through the gathering crowd, escaping from the city while he still could.

"Hail, Théoden King!" A voice shouted out from the crowd.

Everyone gathered bowed down, paying their respect to the restored king. Even Aragorn lowered to his knees, maybe hoping to somehow make up for his act of defiance. Her entire body ached as she sank to her knees as well but she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the pain.

But Théoden hardly seemed to notice it. Instead, he turned to look at Éowyn with sudden realization that something was missing. Or rather, someone.

"Where's Théodred? Where's my son?" 

°∴,*⋅✲✦ ( ♕ ) ✦✲⋅*,∴°

𝕬𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝕹𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . .

There are so many small moments between Aragorn and Elgarain this chapter I'm actually screaming!! We might just be making some progress, finally ;)

I'm so excited to be writing this part of the story. Two towers is my favorite movie and book out of the three! I hope you guys are just as excited for this part of the story. Please leave some comments. I'd love to hear from you!

xx Nelly