Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

With the king’s returned strength came a wave of change. There was much to be done now that he was in his right mind; the biggest priority being a proper burial for the soldiers that had fallen in a recent battle with some Uruk-hai. There was little for the four of my companions and myself to help with, and so we took advantage of the spare moments and supplied food and drink. We sat together at a table in the main hall as others gathered the required items. While we waited I asked for a brief history of the goings-on in Rohan.

Aragorn explained to me that Èowyn was the sister of Éomer, and Théoden was their uncle. Their cousin, Théodred, had just recently passed during the fight with the Uruks and so a funeral was to be held when everyone was ready. A messenger had been sent for Éomer and his men to return now that Théoden had recovered and Gríma was exiled from Rohan. I sipped my ale in silence after all had been relayed to me and attempted to build the strength for a funeral. The same luxury Boromir had been robbed of.

I had no time, however. We were notified that the procession was to begin momentarily and so I followed the others outside. The entire city had lined up behind the suspended body of Théodred and we began the march through Edoras. I linked my arm through Legolas’, keeping my head bowed and trying to push away the sound of sobs. A small part of me pretended this was for Boromir. But I knew if it were, there would be twice as many people, and I would be beside Faramir instead of Legolas.

Lady Èowyn’s voice echoed throughout the land, piercing the almost silent atmosphere we were submerged in. The march followed around to where the members of the royal family and court waited by the sepulcher’s entrance. King Théoden’s face was hardened with anguish; tears running down the faces of many as Èowyn’s voice trembled. But as much as I wished to show my sympathy, my empathy even, I could not. I thought only of how unfair it was for Théodred to have a gathering such as this when Boromir never would…



"They had no warning.” Èowyn said, casting a woeful look over at her uncle sitting upon his throne. “They were unarmed. Now the Wildmen are moving through westfold, burning as they go, every rick, cot and tree."

Gandalf sat beside the King who looked off down the hall, eyes fixated on a distant spot as his mind raced. There were two children sitting across from us; tired and cold, struggling to both clutch the blankets on their shoulders and the spoons in their tiny hands. They had ridden across the plains to raise the alarm: Rohan was being invaded.

“Where’s Mama?” The little girl cried out, Èowyn hushing her as Gandalf appealed to the King.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven mad by the fear of Sauron." Théoden’s face was blank as the Wizard counseled him. "Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak.” Aragorn said calmly. “Èomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now!” Théoden said, getting up suddenly and taking a few strides away from us all. “Èomer cannot help us. I know what is that you want of me. But I would not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether would risk it or not." Aragorn was clearly growing irritated by Théoden’s behavior.

"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." The King snapped.

“We are all friends here.” I began, finding it terribly disheartening that everyone found fighting a suitable solution to the current predicament. “Or should be; for the laughter of Mordor will be our only reward, if we quarrel.” The two kings only proceeded to have a staring match until Gandalf spoke.

"Then what is the king's decision?"

“The city will empty at dawn.” Théoden said finally. “We make for the refuge of Helm’s Deep. There we will find safety.”

Gandalf’s eyes rose to the ceiling as the front doors burst open. In their absence stood Éomer, a smile spreading across his face as he began to run down the hall. He called out to his uncle, who was frozen with confusion as he embraced his nephew.

“How?” Théoden breathed, gawking at Éomer as Èowyn rushed over to her brother.

“Your messenger was most rapid.” He said as the siblings embraced. Tears welled in Èowyn’s eyes as her brother continued his speech.”I took a few of my men separate from the Rohirrim to double back in search of more Uruks. That is when I received word of your recovery, and I hastened my pace to return.”

At last the two broke away, and Théoden came to his nephew with open arms. They talked of Éomer’s men and their distance, the Marshall relaying that upon a messenger’s word the men would be at Helm’s Deep in no more than six day’s time.

“Send word for the city to prepare for departure.” Théoden said as a few of the guards exited the hall. He followed his niece away down one of the corridors as Gandalf stormed out of the doors. He was trailed by Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas, who turned at the last moment to hold out his hand to me. It brought a smile to my face and I accepted his hand as we walked after the others.

"Helm's Deep!” Gandalf huffed as he stomped towards the stable. “They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people.”Aragorn replied calmly. “Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

"There is no way out than that of ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety, but what he'll get is a massacre." Gandalf stood beside Shadowfax, absentmindedly stroking his mane. "Théoden has a strong hold but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan."

“Why must you always leave?” I quietly whined. The wizard grimaced, but turned to Aragorn.

"He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

"They will hold."

"The Grey Pilgrim. That is what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now, I have no time.” He mounted Shadowfax and turned back to us, nodding. "Good luck. My search will not be in vain. Look to my coming, at first light, on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

“Go.” Aragorn urged. Legolas wrapped an arm around me, reinforcing the fact that he was still here, he was not leaving me. In a heartbeat the wizard was gone, a white smoke flashed where he once was; the speed of the horse uncanny.



The coldness seeped in through my clothing as the night kept me company; the stairs acting as a chair as I surveyed the sleeping city. I had grown too accustomed to sleeping on the ground (when and if I slept) that I couldn’t bring myself to sleep on a bed so comfortable so early in the night. It was comforting to know that everyone else had retired; I was quite content being alone.

In the moonlight I admired the haunting tone of my skin; the unnatural way it clung to my bones and the aches I occasionally felt in my body. I knew exactly why all of me felt as if I were falling apart. And even with words from Gandalf I had a hard time preparing to allow another vision into my mind. My numb fingers traced the full glass vial hanging from my neck. The secret it held within it was almost overwhelming, and part of me wished to cast it upon the ground and lose it forever. But it was impossible.

From my mind I was drawn; thrown down upon the stone steps by the sudden presence of Aragorn. I sighed lightly; knowing that he would scold me for my lack of interest in my own well being. He would be right, however. I could not have cared what happened to me; I wanted to just give up. I wanted my father back, I wanted Boromir back, I wanted to go home and for the world to be at peace and for the hobbits to be tucked safely away in the Shire…I wanted everything and nothing to change.

“Do you miss her?” It felt like a crime to break the comfortable silence we had built. “Arwen, do you miss her?”

“Yes.” The word was forced out in the quietest of voices. I nodded my head once, feeling a connection at once. An understanding.

“When I was sixteen, my father died in a battle at Osgiliath—my mother in childbirth. Boromir and his brother were my only friends. I ran away after that. To Mirkwood and then to Rivendell until I arrived at last in Arnor. I was meaning to go home when I met the hobbits…”I paused to laugh at the memory of our meeting. How frightened they had been, how innocent and ignorant they were of the world of the Big Folk. “I had meant to go home and find happiness…But I do not think now that it is an achievable goal. No matter where one goes, home or not, I know now there is always sadness.”

“My father,” He began after a moment “was killed by orcs when I was very young. My mother took me to Rivendell where Lord Elrond raised me. She feared I would be hunted like my forefathers if my lineage were to be revealed, and so until I was twenty I was called Estel. That was when I met Arwen…She was the most beautiful thing I had seen.”

“And then you finally get the courage to speak,” I continued for him, his nodding signifying I was right. “It’s as if you had known one another forever…and you tell yourself that nothing will change and that you will be with them for the rest of your life…”

“Then one day they’re no longer there.”

“And you cannot help but feel as if you should have done something to stop it.” Tears once again began to trickle down my cheek, illuminated like diamonds in the moonlight. “No matter how often you are told it was not your fault—˝

“You know deep within yourself that it is.”He whispered. We made eye contact for the first time, and I did not bother to wipe my cheeks. “Sometimes that is what you want to hear most; that it was your fault in place of pity or comfort.”

I had never expected to have had so much to relate to him with. In a swift and impulsive decision, I removed the necklace from its place and coaxed out my incriminating memory. Instructing him to simply breathe it in, I rubbed the substance in between my palms and spread it like a net before his face. Pushing it towards him, I watched as his eyes glazed silver for a moment as he saw the moment I’d relived a thousand times over.

“I did not save him. I knew what was to come and I…I…” Never before had I ever felt so weak and vulnerable. Collapsing into myself, the tears I thought I had drained at the falls of Rauos replenished themselves. As I curled up tighter to muffle my sobs, there was warmth surrounding me. A familiar pair of arms was sheltering me from myself. He made no attempt to console me; he offered no words of comfort or reassurance of where the blame should be laid. He gave me what I needed: a refuge in which I could release all of this pent up emotion.

All of the anger, the sadness, the confusion and the longing; I wanted to flush all of it out of my system. I so greatly missed how I had been before; the girl I once was. Back when I was only taking the hobbits to Bree, marching happily along with them and Aragorn to Rivendell. For even though there was danger, they times were better; the mood, lighter.

So many wishes, so few ever fulfilled.