Chapter 34

235 13 4
                                    

The company of five, as well as Théoden and Éowyn, were gathered in the Great Hall. Théoden's guard had melded into the twilight behind the supportive pillars and now stood just out of sight - but ready should any danger approach. It was easy to forget that they were there, except when the firelight flickered yellow on their polished spearheads.

It was nighttime now, and the torches were flickering bright in their sconces on the walls. Théoden sat on his throne, his palm to his forehead. Gandalf sat on the chair beside him, the chair that had previously been inhabited by Gríma Wormtongue.

The two refugee children that had arrived on the horse - Éothain and Freda - sat at one of the wooden tables, a bowl of hot stew in front of each. Éowyn sat beside them, murmuring comforting words. "They had no warning," the princess told her uncle. "They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through westfold, burning as they go, every rick, cot, and tree." A frown marred her perfect features.

Gimli, Legolas, and Beruthiel sat opposite the children. Gimli and Legolas had a tankard of ale in front of them, while Beruthiel sat with her clasped hands on the table, staring pensively at the grain of the wood and moving very little so as to not pull the stitches on her back.

"Where is mama?" the girl, Freda, asked plaintively. Éowyn hushed her, stroking her hair.

"This is but the taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash," Gandalf said up on the dais beside Théoden. "All the more potent, for he is driven mad by fear of Sauron."

Théoden sighed, rubbing his forehead. He wore a rich tunic of red velvet, trimmed with gold at the collar and cuff. No longer was he the old and bent king that had first greeted the company in the Golden Hall. He was now aged but regal and strong, a king of his realm.

"Ride out and meet him head on," Gandalf urged. "Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have a thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn said, referring to the company that Gríma had banished from Rohan. The Ranger, wearing a clean tunic over a buttoned shirt, paused in his pacing in front of the fire. "Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Théoden rose from his throne with a heaved sigh and stepped down from the dais, walking forward toward Aragorn. "They will be three hundred leagues from here by now!" he said, then turned back to look toward Gandalf. "Éomer cannot help us." Théoden looked at Gandalf, nodding to himself. "I know what it is that you want of me. But I would not bring further death to my people." He shook his head solemnly. "I will not risk open war."

Aragorn took his pipe out of his mouth, looking at Théoden with raised eyebrows. "Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," he said.

The king whirled around. "Last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan," he snapped.

Gandalf wearily sighed from his seat beside the throne. "Then what is the king's decision?"

"We make for Helm's Deep," Théoden said. His voice was calm and collected, but underneath that façade was a sea of self-doubt. "We weather the storm, and when Saruman has broken himself upon the impenetrable walls, we ride to Isengard."

Aragorn sighed, looking down. He felt that it would be most effective to cut Saruman off right away - cut the head off the snake, so to speak - but Isildur's Heir though he may be, he was powerless in Rohan. The corners of his eyes crinkled. Did Théoden remember him anymore? Aragorn had played with him when Théoden was a small child. Come to think of it, he had held Boromir as a baby too.

His mind immediately shut down as Boromir's name surfaced. Don't think about him. If you think about him, you'll have to remember him.

Beruthiel, for one, agreed with the king's thinking. Though Gondor had been able to hold out against Sauron for this long, it also had an advantage over Rohan in that it was separated from Mordor by the Anduin, while Isengard was in Rohan itself. Additionally, through Gríma's leechcraft, Rohan's king had been reduced greatly from his old status and power, while Denethor of Gondor was old but hale, and had both his sons - until recently.

Retreating to Helm's Deep would be the best possible idea for now. There was no time to gather a full army before Saruman's army made it to Edoras, and Helm's Deep was the strongest place in Rohan. No enemy had penetrated its walls in hundreds of years.

Hopefully, that would not change very soon...

🗡️👑🏹

Short chapter today, sorry, but I didn't want to start the next scene, have it get too long, and take a long time to publish it so, here is your 2.5 page chapter lol. Action (and angst) will start soon!

Sword and ArrowWhere stories live. Discover now