Ch. 34 - Four nights…
Onwards they rode for hours, Éowyn was silent for fear she should be discovered so close to Edoras and thereby sent home. That she could not bear. Again she marvelled at the speed with which they rode. After the day’s ride Rohan’s forces camped in Willow Wood. Éowyn dismounted Windfola with a groan that she quickly stifled. Born to the saddle though she was, she was not used to long, enforced rides, Then there was the problem of Merry and how to keep him hidden. She used the bustle of the camp building as some sort of cover. Merry slipped off the horse as quietly as he could. Éowyn whispered, “Lay down!” Merry dropped himself like a young tree felled by a woodsman’s cruel axe. Éowyn had to suppress a giggle at the dramatic reaction to her request. “Shhh!” she whispered as she threw her cloak over him, “Stop wiggling. I’ll put the tent up and you can go in there!”
“Aye, My Lady!” the cloak whispered.
“Shh!” She nudged the cloak, finding some part of Merry’s bottom half.
“Sir Rider, why are you kicking your cloak?” Éowyn turned around and found herself facing Lord Elfhelm. Her blood froze.
At first glance Elfhelm did not recognise her but that only lasted for a few seconds. Then his eyes grew wide.
Éowyn saw that he was about to speak but she held up her hand to forestall his words. She whispered, “Merry, stay there!” She looked at Elfhelm, “Come with me!” and she guided him to a portion of the woods not apparently inhabited by unpacked tents and open ears.
When they were far enough away from camp, Éowyn looked at Elfhelm and nodded for him to speak but quietly. “My Lady!” he whispered fervently, “What are you doing here?”
Éowyn looked at him conspiratorily, “I should think that would be fairly obvious.”
Elfhelm gave a chagrined nod, “But why? I do not think that the King nor your brother would allow or approve of this!”
“Hence the disguise. I am Dernhelm in your Eored!”
Elfhelm whispered even more fervently, “I must tell the King! It would be more than my life is worth that you should be injured in my Eore– ”
“No!” Éowyn stated with such urgency, such pent up frustration that Elfhelm stopped mid-sentence noticing the desperation in her eyes. “Please. I must be allowed to come.” She searched Elfhelm’s blue eyes. “I know this is against the King’s word, I know asking this could cause much trouble for you. And I would not ask if I did not feel this was of the utmost importance.” Elfhelm was silent, listening. She drew from that silence that he was uncertain so she forged on, pleading, reasoning, asking that he believe her. “But I just know somehow that I must be there. Please.” As long as he was silent she felt there was still a chance so she continued doggedly onwards pleading as if her life depended on this. Because in her mind; it did. “This is not mere folly. I must be allowed to fight.” He searched her face but still remained silent, possibly lean one direction. Which she did not know. She tried a different tack, “If I am found out then I shall say the truth, that I joined without your knowledge and stayed throughout.”
“My Lady, I could not allow that. If I do this thing then I will also bear responsibility.” Elfhelm stated in a most serious way. Éowyn stood awaiting his decision. Elfhelm looked at Éowyn standing there stoic, yet he could feel the unexplained torrents of emotion behind light blue eyes. Knowing that this was against the King’s word hung heavily upon him. Knowing the love that both the King and her own brother had for Éowyn also weighed heavy. And these considerations almost swayed his thoughts but Théoden trusted his marshals to be able make decisions. And looking into Éowyn’s eyes he saw determination and resilience and in a flash of understanding he knew that if even he was to say no, Éowyn would simply find another way to follow. It was best he keep her under his wing. It was the most protection he could offer.
“And the halfling?” Elfhelm sighed heavily, giving in.
Éowyn was at first unsure but she began to think Elfhelm would allow them to stay. “Well, he must be allowed to remain as well, but perhaps we do not speak of him?” She added hesitantly.
Elfhelm rubbed his face, “I must be losing touch with whatever sense I may have had to allow this. Béma protect us…” Éowyn looked at him, fierce gratitude written across her face. Her posture relaxed.
“The only reason I am even considering this is because of the way Aethered says you can swing a blade and the fierce loyalty your boys, as you call them, showed to you. Some of them even approached insolence when they were told you would not be leading them.” Elfhelm admonished in a stern whisper.
Éowyn blushed and because of that was really glad she had not removed her helm when they began this talk. She was touched more than she could say that her boys spoke up for her. “Háláf? Haling? Héohelm?” she queried.
“And Aethered!” Elfhelm proclaimed indignantly.
Éowyn smiled despite herself, “My Boys!” She asked, “Where are they?”
“With Grimbold’s Eored. It was thought best not to split them up.”
“Good! That is good,” Éowyn stated, trying to not let the heartbreak she felt show in her voice. “So, we are agreed?” She looked pointedly at Elfhelm.
“Aye, My Lady. We are agreed,” Elfhelm stated resignedly. He fervently wished he could change her mind. He could not even contemplate the reaction of either Théoden or Éomer should they find out somehow. It did not bear thinking about. They left that portion of the woods in differing emotions, Éowyn to relief and Elfhelm with a pit of dread in his stomach as vast as the Westfold as they made their way back to camp.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Imagination was Merry’s torment while waiting for Éowyn to return. He kept imagining that Elfhelm would quickly go to the King and Merry would not only be sent back to Dunharrow but released from his duties as the esquire to the King and sent home in disgrace. He would not allow that he thought fervently. He stared through the cloak covering him seeing little points of light peeking through the loose weave of the fabric. They brought to mind many points of light coming together to fight against the dark. He had to be one of those little lights. He had to be; he must be.
“Merry!”
“Aye, My la-” he stopped himself, “Aye?” he anxiously finished.
“You stay there while I put up our tent. We will talk then.”
After a few minutes the tent was up and Merry was inside and very happy to be breathing air not cloaked, so to speak. He looked at Éowyn expectantly.
“We can continue,” Éowyn began. “Lord Elfhelm will not reveal our presence to the King.”
Merry breathed a large sigh of relief. “But you will still have to ride under my cloak and I’m not entirely sure what he is going to tell those in his Eored about you.”
“He can say whatever he likes, My Lady!” Merry whispered fervently, “So long as I am allowed to ride with them.”
Éowyn whispered to her co-conspirator, “I quite agree, my friend, I quite agree,” She looked at Merry’s determined eyes and felt a kinship between her and the stout and spirited Hobbit, both travelling to protect those they love. “I packed some provisions as much as I could gather from the kitchens in Edoras. I don’t know if it is enough for two, but it is at least something.”
“It’ll do, My La- Sir Dernhelm!” Just then Merry’s stomach made itself known with a massive growl. Merry looked sheepish.
“Well, we had better feed that beast, shall we?” Éowyn stated, a glint of amusement showing in her eyes, replacing briefly the somber look that had come to reside in her eyes since they rode from Edoras. Merry again grinned sheepishly.
As they ate a portion of their rations for supper Merry saw the gloom fall upon Éowyn once again. It struck him to the heart that so valiant a lady should suffer so. Normally he, like any hobbit, would banter and paint things not quite dark as they really were but somehow that did not seem appropriate. So he sat quiet, nibbling on some dried fruit.
Éowyn was pondering the enormity of what they were undertaking and the betrayal of her own decisions. The pain of not leading her boys. It was necessary, she felt that to the core of her being but that did not make it any less painful and she truly hated this deception; this lie she was living. And now she had involved Elfhelm in her deception. What was it that Holdlith had said? That every choice would have a cost. She sighed heavily.
“Is there truly nothing I can do to lighten your spirit?” came a whispered hobbit concern.
Éowyn looked at her little friend, “Oh Merry!” she whispered, “I wish there was. But I am now bound to this lie and I must see it through. Although it does weigh on me. Yet, know that your presence does gladden my heart.”
Merry smiled at that and it lightened his spirit just a bit. They fell back into silence. Merry ached for Pippin’s cheery voice. His laughter and cheeky smile. He missed all his companions fiercely. He wrapped in his cloak and tried to sleep away his sorrows.
He awoke and he was in the Green Dragon and there was Pippin sitting beside him with a half pint in his hand sipping and commenting on Lily Bracegridle and comely she was. Merry looked over to the bar and there was Lily standing behind the bar handing three half pints to Farmer Maggot and laughing. And then suddenly it was not Farmer Maggot but the orc that chased them into the forest of Fangorn and then the orc stared straight at him and shouted, “Maggot!” he growled and grabbed Pippin. Merry shouted, ‘No, not again!’ and the Orc grabbed him.” He awoke quickly and saw Éowyn at his side.
“Shh! Merry…It was only a dream. Her face filled with concern.
Sitting up Merry shook his head awake. He saw the concern on her face, “I am sorry, My Lady,” and sighed as he scrubbed his face with his hands in an effort to rub away the nightmare only to realise he was still in the bigger waking nightmare.
“There is no need for apology, my friend. We are all caught in this nightmare. It is no small wonder that it should invade our dreams as well.” She sat next to him and put an arm around the small, lonely hobbit. “Try to get some sleep.” She then motioned for him to put his head in her lap which he accepted after a pause of a few seconds. As Merry relaxed as much as was possible in a mailed coated lap Éowyn whispered, “Nothing is as it should be but we must muddle through as best we can,” as she stroked his hair trying to bring comfort as she would a child. She softly hummed a lullaby that her mother would croon when Éowyn was a child and having a sleepless night. And there they remained until the break of the next dawnless day.
The next three days followed upon the same pattern, meager rations, a hard day's ride. The unnatural gloom spreading its tendrils of despondency throughout the day presaging another restless night for all, but those within the proximity of Dernhelm’s tent listened to lullabies in the night. No one made mention of this unexplained happening because they did not want it to stop. It gave comfort to all near enough. Éowyn had only sought to ease the sorrow and grief of one lonely little hobbit and unknowingly gave comfort to those close enough to hear.
On the fourth night Merry just had to get out of the tent. He felt they were far enough away from Edoras to be sent home and his natural curiosity finally got the better of him. Éowyn had somehow found sleep and he did not wish to disturb her. Under his own Elven garb he stole into the night. He saw Éomer enter Théoden’s tent and then Grimbold. He supposed the King held council even at this late hour. The time was late; the pervasive gloom of the night sky obscured the stars and the moon so he could only guess at the hour. The drums that he had been hearing sounded again. He sat near a tree trunk and pondered the lack of stars and what those drums meant, wondering if the Shire was free of this gloom. The Shire… where he could be in the meadow by Brandy Hall looking at the plough up in the night sky. He choked back a sob, not though anyone would notice. A tall figure approached and stumbled over his legs. He heard a curse, “Damn these roots!”
“I am not a tree root, Sir,” Merry said indignantly, “Nor a bag, but a bruised hobbit. The least you can do in amends is tell me what is afoot.”
Elfhelm looked straight at Merry, seeing past the elven cloak that shrouded his personage usually quite effectively, but the fabric held only passive quality. Once detected one could be seen. At least his existence was being acknowledged, Merry thought ruefully.
“Anything that can keep so in this devil’s mirk,” Elfhelm swore in frustration as he shook his head as if to be rid of such frustration. The saying was at least mirky to Merry and he waited for explanation but he saw there was none coming. He opened his mouth and quickly shut it again realising he had nothing to say. Elfhelm saw the puzzlement on the hobbit’s face by lantern light and relented somewhat, “My Lord sends word that we must set ourselves in readiness: orders may come for a sudden move.”
Merry did not like the sound of that, “Is the enemy upon us then? The drums that I have been hearing.” he asked anxiously, “Is that them?”
“Nay, that is not them. They do not track us yet. You heard the Woses, the Wild Men of the Woods.”
“Woses?” Merry questioned.
“Remnants of an older time, they are.
“Are they friendly?” Merry asked hoping for a positive answer but not really expecting one. His optimism had taken quite a beating since they left Edoras. Actually long before that if he was honest.
“Not quite.” came the answer.
“Enemies?” he whispered.
The Marshal shook his head, “Not quite.” Again he took pity upon the frustrated confusion clear on the small, earnest face. “They want no part with outsiders. They wish to be left alone, but the darkness and the coming of the orcs, disturbs them. Be glad they are not our enemies for they use poisoned arrows.” Merry looked truly alarmed, “It is said.” Elfhelm quickly amended to allay the hobbit’s concern. “They also have woodcraft beyond compare and have offered their services to Théoden King, One of their headmen is sent to him now.” Elfhelm stopped there and leveled a look at Merry. “Will those amends suffice your bruising?” Merry nodded. “Good. Now get yourself off Master Bag! I must be about the King’s commands. And you must be getting yourself away as well. You guard one who is precious beyond all measure.” He bowed his head and disappeared into the shadows.
~*~*~*~*~
Merry looked after him. And then to the King’s tent. Poisoned arrows. He shuddered a little; he did not like the sound of that. Dread surrounded his heart. He needed to know and so did Éowyn. They were both frustrated by the lack of knowledge on this journey. He wrapped his elven cloak around him and weaved around the various trees until he was closed enough to the King’s tent. Through light cast from a large lantern he saw from his vantage point nestled among the trees Théoden, Éomer and a squat shape of a man sitting in front of them on the ground. He looked familiar. Merry realized where he had seen him. Not him per se. But ancestors perhaps, the pukelman of stone leading to Dunharrow. Here was a living embodiment on those worn figures in stone. He could never have been able to describe why but he felt something akin to hope. He would listen more and bring this news to Éowyn in hopes to bring her cheer. That was most desperately needed and a service he could perform for her.
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