Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

Even on horseback the road to Edoras was long. If we hadn’t ventured into Fangorn and reunited with Gandalf then surely we would be many leagues behind. It felt odd to be riding; for the past weeks I had grown so accustomed to running. My feet greatly appreciated something else working hard for once. On horseback Edoras was at least a day and a half away, and so upon nightfall we rested. We could now afford sleep.

The night air was cool, but not cold. It was in fact the kind of night I loved back in Gondor. It felt lovely to crawl under my blankets and curl into my bed, perfectly warm. But out here in the plains of Rohan I had not but a cloak to cover me, and a lumpy pack to lay my head on. It was strange, that after all my years away; it was only now that I began to truly miss the small comforts of home.

I missed the familiarity of every wall and door, the smells that certain houses had as you walked by and the view that didn’t change each time you looked out the window. I missed warm, home cooked meals and take Feredir out with Boromir and his horse every week-end. I missed…my father. How he would bring home gifts for me whenever he could, and made sure he was home each night to tuck me in. I missed Boromir, and Faramir, and all things related to my childhood.

But it mattered not how oft I wished for them or dreamt of them; what was gone, was gone.

I lay on the ground debating whether or not I wanted to sleep. My body did, of course, my body yearned to; but I did not wish to succumb to nightmares only to wake filled with grief. By this time the snoring of Gimli was floating through the air; like a foreign lullaby that enticed me to give in. I settled down beside Feredir and tried to relax; but Gandalf was speaking in whispers that I couldn’t help but hear.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the East takes shape. 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. And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of men."

It was true. The world of men was surrounded on all fronts by servants of the Dark Lord. Rohan would soon be under siege from Saruman in Isengard; while Gondor struggled to keep back the tide of Mordor. On a grand scheme it seemed impossible that we could win this fight, this war. We were so few, man, so few and growing weak. How could we stand up against the union of Isengard and Mordor?

"He will use his puppet Saruman to destroy Rohan. 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 an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose."

I knew not if Théoden would make the right choice in taking council with Gandalf, but I risked a hope. If we could harness the army of Rohan and succeed in defeating Saruman, then the two realms could perhaps join together against Sauron. It was a distant hope, but a hope nonetheless.

"But for all 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 a hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed and the secrecy of his quest. Do not regret your decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."

"He is not alone.” At last Aragorn spoke. “Sam went with him."

"Did he? Did he indeed? Good. Yes, very good."

Coming to terms with the fact that sleep was now beyond me, I strung my cloak around my shoulders and picked up my weapons. I stood for a moment, debating whether or not I wanted to rouse Feredir, but decided against it. Instead I set off away from my companions in hopes for a little time to myself.

“Sneaking off, are we?” I was startled by is words, for his back remained facing me. It was only Aragorn who turned to look.

“My mind is very full.”

“Come, come Vanya. We also have things to discuss.” I wandered up to where Gandalf stood, momentarily meeting Aragorn’s eyes as we passed one another. I could not decipher what emotion he held within his gaze; but it pierced me nonetheless. “You are sick.”

“Sleep is a rare thing these past days, Mithrandir.”

“Yet it is apparent sleep is not the only thing you are repressing.” He turned from his surveying of the night sky to face me.

“I…I am scared of what I may see.” My voice was quiet as I averted his gaze. “I cannot bear to feel as helpless as I have before.”

“It is not a gift to be happy with, but one to be used, Vanya.” He put all of his weight on his staff as he lowered himself onto the ground. He motioned for me to join him and I did, crossing my legs and laying my hands in my lap. “We all have our paths. Whether or not certain parts are laden with obstacles is not our decision. We must only learn to overcome them.”

I let his words sink into me; knowing that although it may not have been what I wanted to hear, it was what I needed to. For the wisdom and knowledge of Gandalf was beyond the comprehension of any Gondorian mortal.

“I know what it is you fear. I know what it is you have seen; or, I can guess as much.” My anxiety level began to climb as I fiddled with my fingers. It was beginning to get extremely uncomfortable in my own skin. “Sometimes good things crumble away to reveal something greater.” I looked up at him, his words hitting me solidly. “You have yet a part to play in this story.”



The city was deathly quiet as we rode into it. The people of Edoras looked upon us with weary expressions; it seemed their very souls had been stolen. They wandered around in dark clothing and one by one began to disappear into the comfort of their homes. I had never seen a place so void of life.

“You’d find more cheer in a graveyard…” Gimli murmured as we came upon the end of the staircase which led up to Théoden's golden hall. It was true. The city was bereft of all joy or happiness; and I came to realize the city was contagious. I suddenly felt laden with discomfort and depression; I yearned to feel my blood warm under the golden trees of Lothlórien once more.

Despite the dwindling number of townsfolk, there was a steady supply of soldiers and guards. They stood at the doors and the stairs and the stables and amidst the houses; they guarded every entrance and exit and watched their stations vigorously. It was as if they expected traitors and spies to walk amongst them invisible-like; preparing for the moment their enemies uncovered themselves in broad daylight.

The five of us dismounted our horses; this group of strangers in an uneasy land in the midst of a brewing world-war. One of the guards motioned for a few stable boys to take our companions from us. I gave a nod of appreciation to them as they gingerly led the steeds towards the beautifully embellished stable. I followed after the others as we ascended the stairs, stopping before a man who looked at us wearily.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden king so armed, Gandalf Grayhame. By order of… Gríma Wormtongue." The name seemed like poison on the man’s tongue, but with approval from Gandalf we proceeded to hand over all of our weaponry to the guards. It was slightly uncomfortable to have the confused stares from the men shooting at me like arrows; but I did my best to put it out of my mind.

"Your staff." The soldier said wearily. Gandalf looked at the true weapon in his hand, leaning on it as he looked back at the man. With a sad look on his face, he pleaded.

“You would not part an old man from his walking stick?” The soldier hesitated for a moment before begrudgingly let him past. We fell into a line: Legolas linked arms with the wizard as he led us, I kept a calm bravado beside Aragorn as Gimli brought up the rear.

Inside the hall was worse than outside. The walls were lined with soldiers all guarding the King. Théoden sat upon his golden throne; white with age and weighed down with evil. Gandalf limped ahead as I sized up our surveyors. I had no weapons, and could not defeat them with strength alone; I would need to use strategy to win.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." Gandalf remarked as we edged closer. There was a pale man covered in black who hung by the King’s side like a worm. He whispered words to the King before turning to my company and I.

"Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Théoden wheezed. The man spoke once more before suddenly rising and strutting over to us. I prepared myself to attack as he loomed closer to Gandalf, instinctively reaching for the hilt of my sword before recalling it was no longer with me.

"Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear.” The man hissed with ugly venom. “Lathspell I name him. Ill news is in ill guest."

"Be silent!”Gandalf snapped with sudden authority. “Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!"

"His staff!” The man, whom I gathered now to be Gríma, was struck with fear. “I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

In an instant the entire hall was in motion. The guards of King Théoden were charging at us from all sides. They were, however, only after Gandalf; and so it was the Fellowship’s duty to protect him. It was intimidating to go forth with naught but my fists and wit; I felt so vulnerable and terribly exposed with none of my weapons to aid me. I also felt slightly useless. Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn were doing the bulk of the fighting. However I was successful in a few take-downs.

"Théoden, Son of Théngel. Too long have you sat in the shadows." Gandalf’s voice commanded the attention of us all. I stood between Aragorn and Legolas, all of our chests heaving as our lungs ached for breath. Looking on, it was as if all the beaten soldiers laying on the floor behind us were invisible; it was only Gandalf and Théoden I could see. Rising his hand and his staff, Gandalf spoke once more. "Harken to me! I release you from the spell."

After a few moments the king began to chuckle. It was slow and low and first, but it began to pick up both speed and volume; turning into a frightening and taunting cackle. "You have no power here Gandalf the Grey." He continued to laugh; the action causing his ghostly form to lean forward in amusement. But just as suddenly as it began, Gandalf silenced the king by removing his grey cloak and emitting a glow from the white robes beneath.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." It was a spectacle to see indeed, for the king was thrown back against his throne by an invisible force as The White Wizard took a step forward. Théoden began to squirm in his throne with each step Gandalf took closer. From the corner of my eye I saw the figure of a young girl begin to rush forward, but Aragorn was quick and held her back.

"If I go — Théoden dies." This voice was even more terrifying than Théoden’s laugh, because it was not his voice. I believed it to be Saruman, and the prospect gave me a shiver.

"You did not kill me. You will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine!"

"Be gone!"

Théoden continued to glare at Gandalf from his prison on his throne. The entire hall held their breath, awaiting what would come next. I looked uneasily between the two men waiting for one to move first. It was Théoden. With sudden energy and control he leapt at Gandalf, who quickly struck him on the head with his staff. He fell back as if his very soul had been knocked out; the life hanging somewhere outside of his body for a few moments before he groaned and slowly began to fall forward. The girl, whom I assumed to be his daughter, rushed forward to prevent him from slipping.

"I know your face.” Théoden said, youth seeping into him as each moment passed. The gray hair and beard were replaced with a golden colour and alertness in his eyes. Searching the face of the girl before him, he muttered her name. “Èowyn — Èowyn.” And then, as his eyes passed her confusion filled them. “Gandalf?”

"Breathe the free air again, my friend."