Journey’s End

Chapter 20

Flight to Helm’s Deep

We stood amongst the people of Edoras just outside the city walls. The mood of sorrow and loss was infectious, and I found myself fighting back a tear as the body of Théodred, the king’s son, was carried past. Aragorn slipped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a comforting squeeze as Eówyn, the niece of Théoden and the blond woman we had encountered in the throne room, began to chant in the Ancestral language of the Rohirrim.

Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended

giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde

þat heo mano arer his þruc ne deores

on meagorinc deorcas, belu

I knew little of this language, but enough to know that she spoke of her cousin, and his unfortunate death.

As the tomb of the young man was sealed, the crowd began to drift away and Aragorn began to lead me back to the city. We walked into the Hall of Meduseld, where the afternoon meal was being served. I sat down at one of the long tables and put my head in my hands.

“I hate death.” I murmured as Aragorn sat down beside me.

“It is an unavoidable part of life, and a path that we all must take.” He sighed, resting one hand on my shoulder. I slumped against him with a sigh and closed my eyes, only to reopen them as a bowl of soup was set in front of me. I thanked the servant who had left it and began to stir it absentmindedly.

“You will feel better if you eat.” Aragorn advised me as he began his meal. I nodded and started eating.

I had just cleared my bowl, when the doors of the hall burst open and Théoden and Gandalf walked in, each carrying a child in their arms. I sprang to my feet and dashed towards them.

“What happened?” I cried.

“I don’t know.” Gandalf sighed, setting a frightened-looking little girl down at the table. “They appeared on a horse, the boy was unconscious.” I looked over at Aragorn as he tried to rouse the boy in Théoden’s arms. He awoke looking weak.

“They need food.” Aragorn stated as the boy was seated beside the girl, I could see now that they were siblings. Two bowls of steaming soup were set before the children, and I took a seat opposite them. They ate hungrily, and soon the bowls were empty. I asked a servant to bring them more food and then turned back to the children, just as Eówyn entered the room.

“Who are these children?” She asked, taking a seat beside me, sounding concerned.

“I don’t know.” I replied. “What are your names?” I asked the children. The little girl looked up.

“My name is Freda, and my brother is Eothain.” She said.

“Where are you from?” I murmured.

“Our village is in the Westfold.” Eothain said, taking control of the conversation. He was older than his sister by at least five years. “We were forced to flee and leave our mother when the Uruk-Hai and Wildmen attacked.”

“Uruk-Hai?” Eówyn asked.

“An elite form of Orc that follow Saruman.” I explained briefly.

“Why did they attack you?” I asked, pushing for more information.

“I don’t know.” Eothain sighed. “But they killed many people, and burned our homes.” Eówyn stood, and turned to Théoden, who sat in his throne.

“They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree.” She told him.

“Where is momma?” Freda asked. I hushed her, knowing that it was unlikely that her mother was alive. “Momma said she would find us here…” She whispered sadly.

“Have hope.” I comforted her, “Remember that there is always hope.”

“This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight.” Gandalf said to Théoden.

“You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Eómer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king.” Aragorn informed the king.

“They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Eómer cannot help us.” Théoden muttered. “I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war.” He said sadly.

“Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not.” Aragorn murmured.

“When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan.” Théoden snapped and I almost moved to defend Aragorn as an automatic reaction, but Gandalf quickly calmed the situation.

“Then what is the king's decision?” Asked Gandalf.

Less than a few minutes later, I stood outside the hall, listening to Hama, the guard, making an announcement.

“By order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need.”

The people of the city began making their way out of their houses, and loading carts with their possessions. I dashed down the steps, following Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf.

“Helm's Deep! They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?” Gimli cried angrily.

“He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past.” Aragorn murmured as we walked into the stables.

“He will not fight because he feels guilty for neglecting his people.” I sighed, leaning on a stable door.

“There is no way out of that of ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan.” Gandalf sighed as he walked into Shadowfax’s stable. “He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defences have to hold.” He said, turning to Aragorn.

“They will hold.” He murmured.

“The Grey Pilgrim. That's what they used to call me.” Gandalf muttered as he mounted Shadowfax, “Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time. Good luck. My search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light of the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east.”

“Go.” Aragorn sighed opening the stable door. Shadowfax galloped out, causing several people, including Legolas and Gimli, to jump back.

“Where is he going?” I asked.

“To find Eómer and his company.” Aragorn replied.

“Well,” I sighed, “I need to find a horse. I can’t ride around behind you forever.” I smiled and began to walk down the aisle of stables.

“My Lady!” I heard a guard call; I turned and saw him wave me over to a stable. “This horse’s rider fell in battle; you can use him, for the only other horse is wild.”

I smiled.

“Thank you, what is his name?”

“Falas my Lady.” The guard replied, and then walked away. I slowly let myself into the stable. The horse was facing away from me, but wheeled round as I closed the door, his ears where laid flat back against his head, a sign of distrust. I looked him up and down, he was a beautiful dark bay, with a black mane and tail, and long, white socks. I didn’t look into his eyes, as he would see me as a threat then. I walked forward slowly, with my hand outstretched.

‘Please don’t bite me, please don’t bite me.’ I thought over and over as Falas sniffed my fingers curiously. As he gradually accepted my presence, I moved towards him and scratched his head.

“Good boy.” I murmured, smiling as his ears flicked forward at the sound of my voice. I scratched the base of his ear and ran my hand along his back. He was a powerful animal; the Rohirrim took great pride in their horses. I backed away, and let myself out of the stable. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” I laughed as Falas followed me to the door. I turned with a grin plastered across my face as I went to search for his saddle.

I met Aragorn in the room where the Tack was kept; he was collecting Hasufel’s saddle.

“So you found a horse?” He asked. I nodded.

“I did.” I smiled, lifting the heavy saddle and swinging Falas’s bridle over my shoulder. As we walked out of the room, I heard a loud whinny and looked up to see several men struggling with a dark bay horse. Aragorn handed his saddle to a stable hand and approached the horse curiously.

“That horse is half mad, my Lord. There's nothing you can do. Leave him.” A man advised him, but he paid no attention.

“Fæste! Stille nú, fæste... stille nú... Hwæt nemnað ðe? Hwæt nemnað ðe?” (Oh fast! Be quiet now... What is your name?)He murmured, taking the horse’s reins from one of the men and stroking the animal’s neck.

“His name is Brego. He was my cousin's horse.” I turned, only now noticing that Eówyn was also in the stables.

“Brego? Ðin nama is cynglic.” (Brego? Your name is kingly.) Aragorn spoke calmly to the horse, rubbing his forehead.

“I have heard of the magic of Elves, but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North. You speak as one of their own.” Eówyn said in amazement.

“I was raised in Rivendell for a time. Turn this fellow free. He has seen enough of war.” Aragorn murmured, patting Brego’s neck, and turning back to Hasufel.

I returned to Falas’s stable and set his saddle on his back.

“We’re going on a journey…” I sighed, slipping the bridle over his head. “How long has it been since you were last ridden?” I asked the horse. Of course, he gave no answer. I half-smiled to myself and lead him out of the stable, almost bumping into Aragorn and Hasufel.

“I see you’ve made a friend.” He commented as Falas rested his muzzle on my shoulder.

“I suppose I have.” I murmured, “But I’m not the only one who has been making friends.” I nodded towards Brego, as he was lead out of the stables to be turned free.

“He saw his master fall.” Aragorn sighed, “And it has broken his heart.”

I reached out and patted Hasufel thoughtfully, I had no doubt that horses felt as much as people did, and it was horrifying to see them mourn. Falas head butted me grumpily, as he saw me make a fuss over another horse.

“He’s jealous.” Aragorn commented with a laugh, beginning to walk out of the stables.

“You’ll have to watch out then.” I smirked, as someone took Falas’s reins and Aragorn and I walked back to the hall to collect our belongings. The people of the city were preparing to depart all around us, and the hall was buzzing with activity.

I walked past Eówyn as she pulled a sword out of an old wooden chest and smiled at her. We had not properly talked together, or even been introduced, but I felt that she was a good person. I walked to the table where I had laid out my various weapons and other belongings. I fastened my cloak around my neck, and began attaching the sheath of my sword to my belt. I then sheathed my hunting knife, and slipped Galadriel’s dagger inside my boot, just as I heard the sound of two blades meeting.

“You have some skill with a blade.” I heard Aragorn murmur.

“The women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain.”

So he was speaking to Eówyn. I did not turn around, but listened to their conversation from a distance, as I polished my sword.

“What do you fear, my lady?”

“A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire.”

Eówyn sounded sad, and I tried to imagine what it would be like if I was not allowed to fight. I could barely wrap my mind around the idea of not being able to fight for my friends.

“You are a daughter of kings. A shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.” I heard Aragorn sheathe his blade as Eówyn walked away. He then approached me.

“Are you ready to leave?” He asked. I turned and nodded, sheathing my sword as I did so.

“Of course.” I grinned.