All Shall Fade

Chapter 33

Spirit of the Festivities

Soon after our small party of riders left the cover of Fangorn forest and I found myself crouched low over Aduial’s neck to shield my face from the whipping wind as we galloped across the plains of Rohan. I glanced up occasionally, each time seeing the familiar city of Edoras growing a little closer, until the ground began to slope upwards, and before long we had slowed to a trot to enter the bustling city. My arrival here was very different to my original one, when everyone had been listless and mourning; now the houses were flurries of activity as people returned home after fleeing to Helm’s Deep. We rode to the steps in front of the hall and dismounted, and I fondly patted Aduial as she was led away. I’d met the horse less than a week ago, and already we’d been through so much, although I wasn’t in much of a hurry to repeat some of the experiences. I smiled a little as we began to climb the steps to where Eówyn and Eowdrin were waiting at the doors, although I had to stop my smile from fading as I noticed that Eówyn’s gaze was fixed upon Aragorn. I quickly forced myself to look as nonchalant as possible, but my façade was instantly ruined as Eowdrin came barrelling down the steps towards me.

“You’re back!” She cried, almost bowling me over with her enthusiastic hug. “Quick! You have to come inside and get ready!”

I frowned in confusion as she grabbed my wrist and started dragging me up the steps. “Uh, ready for what?” I asked as I noticed Legolas trying to hold back laughter as I appeared to be getting kidnapped.

“There’s going to be a feast!” She explained, pulling me into the hall and whisking me away to our shared room.

“Oh.” I breathed as she released me and I took the opportunity to flop down onto my bed. “Can I sleep first?” I sighed, burying my face in my unbearably soft pillow. All I wanted to do was rest and put all thoughts of the battle and Saruman behind me.

“Of course not!” Eowdrin sounded quite literally appalled that I had dared suggest such a thing as she grabbed my arm as if to drag me to my feet, but quickly dropped it as I hissed in pain, remembering that it was the arm I had injured. “Oh, sorry.” She murmured sheepishly as I sat up and began pulling off my coat.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt that much.” I lied with an easy smile – which vanished as I peeled off my chainmail, revealing the bloodstained sleeve of my shirt. I rolled up the sleeve and grimaced at the long, jagged wound that ran down the length of my forearm, still oozing a stomach-churning amount of blood now that the flow was no longer staunched by my sleeve.

“We should probably get that cleaned up.” Eowdrin said, quickly moving to get whatever she’d need to clean my wound as I examined it.

“Looks like it might need stitches…” I sighed, and then wondered if they had stitches here or not.

“I know,” Eowdrin replied lightly, “Don’t worry, I have lots of experience.” She smiled as she pulled up a chair in front of where I sat and took my arm, “Théodred always used to come home injured and I’d have to sew him up…” She trailed off and I saw the clear pain in her eyes as her thoughts wandered to her recently departed cousin. I didn’t really know what I should say to comfort her, so I just sat quietly as she cleaned away most of the blood from my arm before reaching for a candle that burned on the small table between our beds. I watched curiously as she picked up an alarmingly large needle and held the point in the flame to sterilise until it glowed red hot, and then she threaded it with what looked like a fine silk thread. I took this as my cue to look away to stop myself throwing up, and sure enough a few seconds later I felt the still-hot needle pierce my skin. I grimaced, biting down on my lower lip as I felt the thread painfully tug at the sensitive areas around the wound. I was instantly reminded of the few times I had visited a hospital to receive stitches. I couldn’t remember it ever being this painful.

“Oh for want of an anaesthetic…” I muttered over-dramatically, before I flinched as Eowdrin continued patching me up like a rag-doll. I tilted my head back, carefully studying the ceiling as she steadily pulled my skin back to cover the gaping wound. It was a few long minutes before she stopped, and I turned back to see her smiling at her neat handiwork. “Thanks.” I murmured, staring at the raised skin around the carefully closed wound.

“No problem.” She smiled, standing and putting away her ‘tools’. “I’ll bandage it after you’ve washed.” I nodded as she left the room, seemingly to organise water to be brought.

Soon after that I found myself being pushed into a room with a large wooden bath filled with steaming water. I quite happily surrendered to it after I’d been left alone as I realised that I hadn’t had a bath since Rivendell. I washed my hair and carefully scrubbed the last of the blood and dirt off my skin before climbing out of the now filthy water and drying myself off on a towel I found. I quickly wrapped it around myself as I heard a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” I called, wringing out my hair as Eowdrin walked in, bearing an armful of various fabrics. I raised an eyebrow as she dumped them on the floor and then turned around.

“Get changed, I’ll be back in a moment.” She waved her hand at me over her shoulder before closing the door and leaving me alone again. I shrugged to myself and began picking through the pile and producing what appeared to be a dress. I pulled it on over my head and slipped my arms through the three-quarter-length sleeves before turning to admire myself in the full-length mirror that stood on one side of the room. The skirt of the dress was a pale navy colour and the fabric almost reached the floor, just brushing over my bare toes. The top half was off-white, with an alarmingly low neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The waist was a little baggy, which I thought was odd until I spotted something lying on the floor that I had failed to notice. A dark grey corset. As I timidly picked it up, I was instantly reminded of the horror stories of nineteenth century women who would crush their waists with corsets until their internal organs were all squashed together, and they would faint at the slightest catch of breath because their lungs were so compressed. Just as I was sceptically examining the contraption, Eowdrin walked in, wearing a dress consisting of several shades of gold, and her hair loosely braided. “Good, you’re almost ready.” She smiled, and I bit my lip anxiously.

“You aren’t going to… You know, crush me to death in this thing, are you?” I asked, and she instantly burst out laughing.

“Of course not! It’s just to hold the dress in.” She assured me as she took the corset from my hands and wrapped it around my waist, before lacing it up at the back. I exhaled and smiled, glad to find I was still able to breathe, but my smile dropped as I saw myself in the mirror.

“I look like a tavern wench.” I scowled, folding my arms across my chest as I watched Eowdrin’s reflection moving to my side as she produced a clean bandage and carefully tied it around my stitched arm. I knew I’d probably worn more revealing things back home, but I got the feeling that I’d be more harshly judged here for my clothing.

“You don’t.” She insisted, producing a comb and running it through my slightly damp hair. “How do you want your hair?”

“Down.” I quickly insisted, wanting at least something to cover my bare shoulders. “Thank you.” I mumbled as she stepped back and smiled.

“It’s nothing, now come on, or we’ll be late!”

I smiled as I grabbed my boots from where I’d discarded them earlier and tugged them on, “Alright, I’m coming!” I laughed as she opened the door as we traipsed out into the hallway, and I bumped straight into someone. “S-sorry!” I stammered idiotically, rubbing my bumped nose as I looked up at the person I’d hindered with my clumsiness, and met Aragorn’s bemused eyes. “Oh.” I sighed, blushing as I noticed him looking me up and down. Oh God, he probably thought I looked like an idiot. I looked to Eowdrin for backup but she just smiled knowingly at me before turning away and walking down the hallway.

“See you in the hall!” She called over her shoulder as my blush deepened and I turned back to Aragorn, taking in the fact that he was now dressed in clean clothes and was no longer alarmingly bloodstained.

“So, um… What do you think?” I asked awkwardly and he smiled gently.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured, and I felt my breath catch in my throat for a moment as I stared at him, but before I could reply he’d quickly walked away, leaving me alone to gather my thoughts. I could still feel myself blushing as I paused to ponder what the hell had just happened, before I realised that Eowdrin was waiting for me. I hurried to the warmly lit hall and was met by a massive, noisy crowd. It seemed like every citizen of Edoras was crammed into the hall. I found Eowdrin and she grabbed my hand, pulling me to one of the many tables that had been set up near the front of the hall. I spotted Aragorn standing nearby and I had to stare at the ground before I started stupidly blushing again as a tankard of what looked and smelt like ale was thrust into my hands. I nervously clasped it as Eowdrin hurried up to the front of the hall. The crowd fell silent, and I saw Eówyn approaching the front where Théoden was standing, flanked by Eómer and Eowdrin. She handed him a goblet before going to stand alongside her sister as Théoden raised the cup in a toast.

“Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country.” He said loudly, lifting the cup, “Hail the victorious dead.”

“Hail!” The people replied loudly, raising their tankards before most of them downed the contents of the mug.

“Hail.” I murmured softly, before taking a tentative sip and wrinkling my nose. The alcohol here was definitely stronger than the stuff back home. Around me the feast started to kick off and Eowdrin bounded back down from her ceremonial position to join me at our appointed table.

I didn’t pay much attention to the conversations going on around me as I listlessly picked through my meal. My mind was elsewhere. Or to be more precise, my mind was focused on a place at the next table, where Aragorn was seated. He had to be the most confusing person I had ever met. No matter how many times I traced through my memories of him, I couldn’t figure out how he felt about me. When we first met he was unbelievably hostile, and then I thought we were friends, until I’m pretty sure it’s developing into something more, and then he goes ahead and kisses me and pretends that nothing happened – which I’d be perfectly happy to go along with except he keeps sending me all these conflicting signals. He ignores me, then tells me I look beautiful and then goes back to ignoring me? What the hell? I felt someone nudge my side and I realised I had been scowling at my empty plate as I glanced up at Eowdrin.

“Is something wrong?” She asked concernedly.

“Nothing.” I quickly replied, plastering a smile across my face as she sat back.

“Alright, it looks like Eómer is starting a drinking game over there, want to go watch?” I turned to see her brother standing by a large keg as Gimli sat down in front of him, and Legolas nervously stood by. I nodded and grabbed my tankard, taking a sip and then grimacing as I realised that I’d forgotten how vulgar I found the taste.

“Ugh, I’m such a lightweight…” I muttered as I got to my feet and followed Eowdrin over to where people were gathering to watch the drinking game.

“No pauses, no spills.” I heard Eómer instruct the Elf and the Dwarf as he handed them their tankards.

“And no regurgitation!” Gimli chuckled as he lifted his tankard, resulting in a round of laughter from the spectators.

“So… It’s a drinking game?” Legolas asked as he stared curiously at his own tankard.

“Aye!” The spectators answered.

“Last one standing wins!” Gimli grinned, laughing before he downed his ale in one go and his audience cried out in approval.

“Let’s drink to victory!” They shouted, “To victory!” I smiled in spite of my lousy mood as I watched Legolas take a timid sip of his ale. I glanced to the side and grinned at Eowdrin’s blush as she watched him. I figured she was a little preoccupied with her staring, so I quietly excused myself and began to look for somewhere to sit that wasn’t surrounded by rowdy drinkers. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Aragorn walking towards me, and made a deliberate swerve to avoid him, just as Eówyn cut between us.

“Westû Aragorn, hal.” She said, her words obviously meaning something in the native language of the Rohirrim as she handed him the goblet she had been carrying earlier. All these conflicting languages reminded me of a time when I’d stayed in a youth hostel in central Europe during my gap year. If you could name a country then it was almost certain that someone there could speak the language. I watched as Aragorn smiled and drank from the goblet, before handing it back to her and walking away. It was a moment before I realised that he was still walking towards me, so I turned away – instantly mingling with a large crowd as he passed me by.

“I am happy for you. He is an honourable man.” I turned back at the sound of Théoden’s voice, and saw him watching Aragorn’s retreating figure as he stood beside Eówyn.

“You are both honourable men.” She murmured, and I frowned as I felt a strange tightening in my chest. Eówyn was a factor I’d forgotten to add to the obscure equation that made up my relationship with Aragorn – whatever that was.

“It was not Théoden of Rohan who led our people to victory.” The King said softly, with a hint of sadness in his tone. I saw Eówyn look at him with clear concern etched across her features, before he inclined his head slightly, “Ach, don’t listen to me. You are young and tonight is for you.” They both shared a silent smile as I walked away, churning this new realisation over in my mind.

‘Of course Eówyn would be a better match for him.’ I thought, locating a seat at a relatively deserted table and sitting down, clasping my tankard tightly in both hands. ‘She’s from a royal family, she’s pretty, and she is actually from this world…’ I sighed, staring into the murky depths of my ale, ‘What does it matter anyway? He’s probably not interested in me – not when he could have her, or anyone else for that matter… Hell, he had Arwen. Anyone else would just be a step down after her.’ My train of thought was interrupted as someone sat down opposite me. I looked up and forced myself to smile weakly at Gandalf as he stared at me with those piercing eyes of his.

“You are troubled, Alice.” He stated, and I nodded silently. “Is it your nightmares?” I glanced up in alarm, wondering how he could possibly have known about them. I didn’t want to tell him about Aragorn, so I nodded again. “You need not dwell on Saruman; he was merely using you to fulfil his own evil ends.” I looked down at the scarred wooden surface of the table and sighed.

“I know.” I whispered, thinking back to what the wizard had said before he died. “What do you think he meant when he talked about my purpose here?” I asked, looking up at the white-robed wizard.

“That is something you must discover for yourself.” He said, and I knew that his words were wise, but they were still frustrating.

“But how will I know?”

“You will realise your purpose when the time is right, and not before that.” He murmured, and I sighed.

“Sure thing.” I muttered half-sarcastically, glancing to the side and blushing as I happened to catch the eye of the person I’d been trying to avoid all evening. As I attempted to analyse Aragorn’s unreadable expression, Gandalf cleared his throat.

“Is there anything else bothering you?” He asked, and I quickly turned back to him and shook my head. He didn’t need to know about my other nightmare, or Aragorn. I could tell he suspected something, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that in a way, he probably already knew. He nodded a little and stood, and for some reason I followed him, abandoning my unwanted tankard as I shadowed him through the atmospheric crowd as somewhere nearby, people began playing instruments. I heard a commotion ahead of us as Gandalf and I pushed our way to the front of the crowd, just in time to see Merry and Pippin begin dancing on top of a table, stamping their feet in time to the music as they began singing, sometimes in unison, sometimes solo.

“Oh you can search far and wide; you can drink the whole town dry!”

“But you’ll never find a beer so brown,”

“But you’ll never find a beer so brown,”

“As the one we drink in our hometown,”

“As the one we drink in our hometown!” Gandalf and I laughed at their out-of time singing as they jumped around.

“You can drink your fancy ales; you can drink them by the flagon! But the only brew for the brave and true-” Pippin abruptly stopped singing as he caught sight of Gandalf, and I could sense the confusing tension as the two stared at each other, before Merry shouted to his friend.

“Pippin!” The two Hobbits faced each other again and resumed their song.

“Comes from the Green Dragon!” They shouted in unison, to the sound of cheers and applause as I laughed at them draining their oversized tankards, just as I felt someone brush against my bare shoulder and I froze, glancing up at Aragorn as he watched the Hobbits.

“No news of Frodo?” He murmured, his eyes not leaving the scene before us as I exhaled softly, feeling guilty that we were here feasting whilst Frodo and Sam were out wandering in the wilderness – that is, if they were still alive.

“No word. Nothing.” Gandalf answered solemnly as I looked down at the ground. I had to believe that they were still alive. Otherwise we might as well give up now. I sensed Aragorn turn towards us, but I didn’t look up.

“We have time. Every day Frodo moves closer to Mordor.” He spoke past me to Gandalf, as if I wasn’t even there.

“Do we know that?” The wizard asked, turning towards us. Aragorn was silent for a moment before speaking.

“What does your heart tell you?” He asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My heart was in such a mess that I didn’t know what it was trying to tell me.

“That Frodo is alive.” Gandalf answered quietly, “Yes… Yes he’s alive.” I smiled a little, comforted by his belief, before I turned away and walked off into the crowd. I could feel Aragorn’s eyes following me as I left, or maybe it was just my imagination. I dodged a large group of people dancing to the festive music that had sprung up, reminding me of old Irish folk music that you would sometimes hear being played in pubs back home. I spotted Eowdrin sitting alone at a table and slid down opposite her.

“Hey,” I smiled as she looked away from the dancers she had been staring at. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing!” She stammered quickly, blushing as I noticed her gaze flicker to something behind me, and I turned to see Legolas leaning against a pillar, also watching the dancers. It seemed he must have won the drinking contest, as there was no sign of Gimli anywhere.

“If you want to ask him to dance, just do it.” I smirked, leaning my elbows on the table.

“But what if he says no?” She asked, and I laughed.

“Trust me, he won’t.” I glanced over at the Elf again, “I reckon he’s got a fair bit of alcohol in him, so he’ll probably be very suggestible.” Eowdrin smiled a little, and quickly drained what was left of her ale before standing up.

“Alright, I’m going to do it!” She said determinedly, “Unless…”

“Go!” I cried, standing and shoving her in the direction of Legolas before sitting down and watching out of the corner of my eye as she pulled him over to the other dancers and began talking him through the steps of what appeared to be a traditional dance. I laughed as I watched them tripping over each other’s feet, before I noticed that the room was beginning to clear of people, and I realised that it must be getting late. I stood and began to weave through the smaller crowds before I found a door leading out of the hall. I wasn’t sure if it was the door that led to the hallway that Eowdrin’s room was on, but I opened it and glanced in. The hallway was unfamiliar, but I began walking down it, glancing at the doors and hoping to find some kind of connecting hallway so I wouldn’t have to double back. I flinched as I heard the heavy wooden door slam shut behind me, and I turned, expecting to find that it had been closed by someone in the hall, but instead found myself faced with Aragorn.