Chapter Two- Consequences

Gaviwyr arched his back and flexed all of his known muscles, shifting uncomfortably atop his steed.  He knew that he should have stopped for the night, allowing himself and his four legged companion some much needed rest, but his anxiousness to reach Minas Tirith in time for Eowyn’s wedding, coupled with his desire to see Xanthe, had bade him press on. 

A light snow had begun falling a few hours past dawn on this last day of his return trip, and despite its wet chill, Gaviwyr still felt a strangely delightful burning in his chest.  Allowing his horse to lead him as he had successfully done for the majority of the trip, Gaviwyr reflected upon the last few weeks of his life; weeks that he knew would change forever who he was and what he would become.

After his initial appeal to Xanthe’s mother, which had been surprisingly fortuitous, the family had insisted that he stay the night at their home, and not leave for Minas Tirith until the morning.  Gaviwyr had naively assumed that they understood his fatigue and were providing him with the opportunity to rest.  He soon saw, however, that rest was not likely to come, and that if indeed they were mindful of his fatigue, it was obviously not a priority to them.

He was set upon immediately by Ysenia, obliged to tell her all about himself.  Her questions ranged from where he was born, how he had become Captain, and what his family did for a living-- she even went so far as to coyly inquire as to his courting habits. 

Gaviwyr was understandably nervous at first, worried primarily about saying something that would make Xanthe’s mother change her mind regarding his worthiness to court her daughter.  Soon enough though, he found that he was chatting away almost as easily with her as he would with Eomer, which was not necessarily a good thing.

Throughout this interrogation session, Xanthe’s aunt and uncle had been diligent hosts.  Noradol had taken care of Gaviwyr’s horse while Corla had seen to getting him fed and cleaned up, even offering him some of Olihre’s clean clothing, since he had not had the foresight to pack any.  This offer left Gaviwyr grinning as he remembered his own offer of clothing to Olihre in Minas Tirith, when the boy found that he had packed nothing suitable for a formal dinner.

As much as Gaviwyr enjoyed spending time with Xanthe’s family, he also realized rather disconcertingly that they now knew more about him than Xanthe did.  Even more unsettling was when Ysenia started asking him about her daughter, forcing Gaviwyr to confront the fact that he hardly new anything about her either.  Other than the fact that she was strong-willed and curiously emotional.

As he rode now with his head down to avoid the crystalline flakes, Gaviwyr resolved to spend some actual time getting to know Xanthe before he asked for her hand. 

“After all, she hardly knows me.” he said to his horse, who ignored him entirely and continued its brisk trot.

*          *          *

Xanthe had been riding hard for some time, allowing the edge of the White Mountains to be her guide.  Exactly what they were guiding her to, she wasn’t sure, she only knew that the longer she rode, the colder she became, and the more alive she felt. 

Through the increasingly heavy snowfall she could see the sun making its way to its peak position in the sky, telling her that her presence had surely been missed by now. 

Perhaps my ‘feminine issues’ have been discovered…she thought wryly.

*          *          *

“Aren’t elves supposed to be exceptionally good trackers?”

Legolas stifled a low growl in the back of his throat and turned patiently to Olihre.  “We ARE exceptionally good my friend, but there is only so much one can ascertain from a heavily used road that has been recently covered in a virgin snowfall.”

Olihre turned red at this comprehensive response.  He looked at Legolas ruefully, and offered him the most apologetic glance he could muster.  He knew that he had been a rather troublesome traveling companion for the past few hours, and that the elf had been exceedingly long-suffering with him.  He was going almost mad with worry over his little sister, and he had inadvertently found that the elf made just as good a target for his frustration as any other would.

“Perhaps she left the road?” he wondered aloud.

Legolas twisted his mouth into an apprehensive expression before shaking his head.  “If she did I fear we will not find her.  The heavy snow has covered any tracks that she may have left.”

He didn’t need to say anymore.  Olihre knew what this meant-- if his sister had ventured from the road at any time, she was on her own.  They couldn’t possibly guess where she might be along the immense mountain range.  “Let’s hope she wasn’t so foolish.”

*          *          *

Gaviwyr’s horse shuddered beneath him.  “Easy boy, we’re near enough, just a few hours more.”

The snow that had once been falling lightly was now swirling wildly about them as they struggled along the muddy road.  As if in reply to Gaviwyr’s urging, the horse threw its head back in protest and halted right where it was.  None of Gaviwyr’s prodding could convince the beast to continue forward, and finally Gaviwyr was forced to dismount and take the reigns in his hands.

Though Gaviwyr was frustrated by this inconvenient delay, he also understood his companion’s hesitancy to continue.  The wind that had kicked up was savage and unrelenting, and the horse’s mane was nearly frozen stiff.  In reality, Gaviwyr felt somewhat guilty for leading his steed into such a predicament. 

“It’s an early storm, boy…I didn’t see it coming.” Gaviwyr soothed as he reached up and massaged his steed’s ears, trying to restore some warmth to them.  As he did so he realized that he was rather cold as well, though the numbness that had spread over him had prevented him from realizing it.

“Perhaps we should hunker down for a bit, eh?” 

He patted the horse on the nose and urged him towards the gradual incline that descended from the road to the mountains beyond.  The distance was not so far, but the frequent ravines and icy streams made the journey an arduous one. 

Gaviwyr was thankful for a steed who seemed to possess as much common sense and foresight as any human.  The horse seemed to understand that he was being led to shelter, and therefore he cooperated fully, even under such dire conditions.

A half an hour later, his shoes soaking wet, and his hair frozen stiff, Gaviwyr led his horse into a sheltered alcove up against the side of the rocky bluffs that formed the base of the enormous White Mountain range.  Gaviwyr left his packs tied to the horse, knowing that it would provide at least some warmth and protection.  He then sat with his back against the rocks, the cliff providing relief from the wind and snow. 

“Just a little while…” he yawned as he relented to the cold numbness that lulled him into a hazy slumber.

*          *          *

Xanthe may not have been fully aware of what she planned to do once she left the road, but she did know she hadn’t been planning on dying.  The biting cold that had brought such relief to Xanthe’s dulled senses, also served to rejuvenate her mind, which was now frantically trying to decide what to do.

How could I have been so stupid!  I am going to freeze to death out here!

Xanthe looked towards the mountains on her right, searching for a place where she might find relief from the blowing snow and wind.  The slopes of the mountain where she was were too gradual to provide any relief; however, as she peered ahead through the blizzard, she saw that the slopes gradually turned to rocky cliffs.

“We can make it,” she said to her half-frozen mare.  “Just a little ways further.”

*          *          *

Back at the palace, nerves were on end.

“The sun will be setting in a few hours; they’ll surely come to harm in this storm!”

“Eomer, we have to keep our wits about us…panicking will serve no purpose.” 

“Surely Aragorn, but sitting complacently while those I love are suffering is not my idea of wisdom.”

Lothiriel had been listening silently to the men for long enough.  “Eomer,” she began, as she walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “It is plain to me that you will not relax as long as you are here.  Why not ride out and find them?”

Aragorn felt a slight annoyance towards this woman who obviously didn’t understand the harshness of reality.  “The slight frost that you observed this morning, My Lady, is now a fully formed blizzard.  If we ride out now, there is a very good chance that we will be disabled.”

“So we just leave them?” Eowyn demanded.

“Nay, we do all that we can to prepare for their return…here.”  Aragorn understood the concerns of the others, but he also considered himself to be superiorly experienced in these matters, and he wished that they would heed his advice and be calm.

“What if they can’t return?” Arwen queried with a steely voice.

Not her too…  Aragorn pressed his lips together and took a deep breath.  “I would ask that everyone please sit!”  Realizing that it had sounded more a demand than a request, he continued, “Please, just sit for a moment and hear my thoughts.”

Obvious strain, and even a bit of hostility hung in the air before anyone moved.  Aragorn wondered if he had gone too far by using such a commanding tone with such distinguished persons.  Relief swept through him however when he saw Lothiriel sit, beckoning for Eowyn to join her.

Imrahil and Arwen sat also, which left Eomer, who finally nodded his head in compliance and collapsed next to Gimli, who had stayed peculiarly silent throughout.

“It seems you still command the loyalty off all men, My King.” Arwen said in a dangerously low voice.

Aragorn was hardly comfortable with so many important eyes awaiting his judgment.  “So it seems, though I assure you, I do not relish this position.” He waited a moment before continuing.  “I do not want to sound cold or callous to any of you, for I know you each care for those who are departed in your own way.  I merely ask you to put your faith in our friends.  Legolas would certainly have seen the storm coming, and he and Olihre are no doubt sheltering from it right now.”

“But what of Xanthe?” Lothiriel pressed. 

Aragorn looked thoughtfully at the Princess, “They have likely come upon her, and she is probably in their care as we speak.”  He hesitated and looked at Eomer before continuing.  “If they have not found her by now, we certainly cannot hope to ride out in a blizzard and do any better.”

Gimli chose this moment to break his stoic silence.  “All of these ‘probably’s’ and ‘likely’s’ do not sit well with me Aragorn!  I have traveled with Legolas for some time, and know him to be competent, but I would not leave the value of his life resting on a ‘maybe!’”

Arwen could not help but smile.  “When he returns, Master Dwarf, you can tell him that, for he WILL return.”

Aragorn was thankful for his wife’s ability to read other’s emotions and to pacify them, though he wasn’t sure how well it would work with this exceedingly complex dwarf. 

“In truth Gimli, there was a time when I would have been the first to ride out into danger and do what I could.  Sitting still would have been my death, not my strategy.  But now, there are others to think about as well.  Can Eomer and I ride out and leave those we love behind, fearing for our safety?  Nay friend, not unless it was our last option.”

Eomer blushed slightly as his eyes instantly found Lothiriel and Eowyn.  “As much as I spurn the notion, I must admit, it is true.  There are others to think of”

Gimli had evidently had enough.  “Well I have no one to think of but myself and my own selfish desire to see my friend again, whole and unfrozen!”

Aragorn knew what Gimli was about to do, and he held his hand up in protest.  “Gimli, before you speak, understand that we could never allow you to go out on your own.  If you choose to go, you are requiring us to go with you!”

Suddenly the faces of Lothiriel, Eowyn and Arwen were turned towards Gimli, each speaking volumes without a word. 

Gimli felt the unnatural pressure of these sirens bearing down on him as his face turned red and his temper turned even redder.    “Oh, be gone with you all!  I will just have to wait for a time when you’ve got your backs turned!”

*          *          *

“Olihre…we must…of…storm!”

Olihre could only hear bits of what Legolas was yelling to him, but if the elf was feeling as he was right now, he was sure that he also understood their need to find cover.

Legolas had been eyeing the horizon all morning, and sometime around noon he had announced matter-of-factly that a large storm was coming.  Olihre had immediately turned his horse towards the mountains on his right, but Legolas has stayed him, insisting that they still had time before it hit, and that they should continue their search for Xanthe as long as they could.  Either the storm had approached faster than Legolas had guessed it would, or Olihre had misinterpreted his meaning of “time,” for they were now in a full scale blizzard. 

“This way!” he called to Legolas, who was battling with the wind that was whipping his hair all about, making it difficult to see anything.  He valiantly fought to control his horse with one hand, while holding his locks out of the way with the other. 

“Quickly…horses…disturbed!”  Legolas called ahead as he directed his horse towards Olihre’s distant form.

The two struggled onward, knowing that they were making hardly any progress at all, despite the energy and time they were devoting. 

“…terrain…too difficult!” Legolas shouted to Olihre, whose horse was complaining loudly about having to cross a frozen stream after having just slid all the way down a steep embankment.

“What can we do?” he called back in exasperation. 

Bringing his horse along side of Olihre’s, Legolas spoke directly into his ear.  “If we continue on foot, we’ll make better time, but the horses may get lost and freeze to death!”  Legolas’s voice was becoming rough and his throat burned from the constant yelling.

Olihre shook his head.  “If Xanthe’s hurt, we’ll need them; we’ve got to continue!”

“I agree, but let’s cut diagonally, the stream narrows further down, we can cross more easily when we get there!”

Olihre nodded his head in consent and guided his horse parallel to the stream.  Several minutes later they were still fighting their way forward when Legolas suddenly shot past Olihre on his horse, holding his arm out behind him, motioning for him to halt.

“What is it?” Olihre yelled, licking his chapped lips and rubbing his frozen hands together.

Legolas felt his heart stop beating.  His stomach was a mess of tangles and knots worse than his hair as he turned back to Olihre.  “There’s a horse in the stream, up ahead,” he muttered.

The words were lost in the tempest, prompting Olihre to move closer to Legolas.  When he came within arms length of his friend, he opened his mouth to ask again, but before he could, his weary eyes caught sight of something that left him paralyzed. 

“No!” he cried, before turning away in terror.  Legolas swiftly grabbed the reigns from his hands, leading Olihre’s horse some fifty yards further downstream.

As they approached the horrible sight, Legolas turned tearfully towards Olihre.  “Perhaps I should look first…”

Olihre did not reply.  Launching himself off the horse, he ran to the edge of the water, throwing himself down on his hands and knees as he crawled towards the beast.

The thin ice over the stream was broken harshly, revealing only the left side of the horse.  Its head and legs were underwater, serving as a breaking point for the fast current that swept quickly by.

“Xanthe!” Olihre cried as he scrambled over the ice.

“Olihre, no-- it won’t hold you!”  Legolas was running as fast as he could with the snow blowing in his face.

Olihre heard what Legolas said, but did not have the energy to reply.  His attention and energy was focused solely on getting to what he was sure would be the frozen body of his sister, pinned underneath he horse.

“Olihre!”  This time Legolas was closer.  He leaned over and grabbed Olihre by the back of his cloaked, hauling him up in what seemed like an impossible feat for one so lean. 

Nearly tossing him back onto solid ground, Legolas yelled, “The ice will not break under me, stay here!”

Olihre was beyond words.  He felt the bitter bile of horror rising up within him as he leaned over and expelled his stomach’s contents into the snow beside him.  Collapsing into the snow, Olihre broke into uncontrolled sobs, broken here and there by gasps for air that stung his lungs.

Legolas tried to block out the sounds of his friend’s anguish as he carefully treaded towards the dead horse.  Focus…listen to the life around you…do not let your emotions distract you from this danger…  Legolas’s promptings were soon forgotten when he reached the horse and peered beneath the waters surface.  Eru, no!

*          *          *

Gaviwyr had been resting fitfully, forcing himself awake every few minutes to make sure his horse was still standing.  He knew that if the creature sat down, its would not likely rise again. 

As he opened his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in an hour, he saw the rear of his horse some ways off, far beyond the shelter of the cliff walls.  What is that infernal beast doing?

He scrambled to his feet and brushing the snow off his backside.  His eyes were glued to his horse, who in turn seemed to be watching something with rapt attention.  “What is wrong with y…”

Gaviwyr had to shake his head to make sure what he thought he was seeing was actually there.  Some ways beyond the horse was the form of a woman, collapsed into a mass of wet clothing, half buried by a deep snowdrift.

The woman held no shape, nor was her face visible through the dark hair that was matted against her body, and yet somehow, Gaviwyr knew immediately who she was.  “Xanthe!”

The deathly pale woman made no movement or sound as she was shaken roughly by the frantic man hovering over her.  “Xanthe wake up!”

Gaviwyr pulled her long frame into his arms and ran with her to the shelter of the cliffs, stumbling painfully along the way, but taking no notice of his own pain.  When he reached the cliff he lowered her onto the ground for a moment as he pulled his cloak off and wrapped it around her nearly bare frame.  After doing so, he lifted her again and pulled her into his lap, rubbing his fingers harshly over her face and arms. 

“Wake up…Xanthe wake up…you can’t do this…please wake up!”

Gaviwyr would have though her dead, the stiffness of her body and lifelessness of her face indicating as much, but he could faintly feel her chest rising and falling as he worked to restore warmth to her limbs.

As he frantically administered to her, he could see out of the corner of his eye that his horse had returned and was now standing watchfully before them, as if he were a worried family member or a friend.  “If only you could speak…” Gaviwyr mumbled without much thought, “…I’d send you for help.”

The horse snorted loudly, releasing a cloud of steam from its nostrils.  It stamped its feet in indecision for a moment before turning and walking away, changing direction various times before finally choosing one it liked and following it.

Gaviwyr hardly even noticed that his horse had gone, so concerned was he for the being in his arms.  Her breathing had become even more shallow, and his rubbing seemed to be doing nothing to relax her seized muscles.  Gaviwyr himself was beginning to feel dizzy.  The cold in the air was burning his nostril and throat, and the wet form on top of him was adding to his discomfort.

In desperation Gaviwyr began shouting, pounding his fists into the snow beside him.  His breath finally caught in his throat and choked him until he was coughing wildly, clutching Xanthe’s shoulders as his body convulsed.  Tears came to his eyes as he leaned over her face and pressed his cheek to hers.  “…why are you here…why…why are you here…”