Sword and Arrow

Chapter 35

Guards stationed at various locations throughout the city of Edoras were reading off scrolls printed with the King's orders. "By the order of the King, the city must empty," Hama, the doorwarden of Meduseld, was proclaiming at the square beneath the Golden Hall. "We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need."

Not that many will listen to that order, Beruthiel thought to herself as she walked down the street with Aragorn and Gimli. They'll panic and take their most valuable belongings, and then we'll be slowed down. A true demonstration of Dunedain healing, Beruthiel's back had healed considerably overnight, though it still hurt for her to twist around.

"Helm's Deep!" Gimli spat as the three hurried after Gandalf. "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 answered. "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf said from in front of them. "Théoden is walking into a trap." The wizard shook his head. "He thinks he is leading his people to safety, but what he'll get is a massacre."

"Théoden has a strong hold, but I fear for him," Gandalf said as they entered the stables. Why they were going into the stables, Beruthiel had no idea. "I fear for the survival of Rohan."

The wizard turned to look Aragorn in the eye. "He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

Aragorn slowly nodded. "They will hold."

At the end of the stable, in the very last stall, a gleaming white horse was penned. Shadowfax. Gandalf approached his horse and turned to look at it, speaking softly as if to himself. "The Grey Pilgrim." The wizard nodded. "That was what they used to call me." He sighed. "Three hundred lives of men I have walked this earth, and now, I have no time."

Looking at the white wizard, Beruthiel just now realized how old he was. How many years, decades, centuries he had seen, how many wars he had fought and how many kings he had advised. And there were elves, elves she had known and talked to, that were older...

Gandalf turned back to the three. "Good luck," he said, nodding again. "My search will not be in vain." In a fluid motion, he mounted the horse, holding his staff to the side as he looked down at them. "Look to my coming, at first light, on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

Aragorn nodded slowly, stepping to the side as he opened the stall door. "Go."

Gandalf touched his heels to the horse's sides and Shadowfax sprinted out of the stables, already in full gallop. People carrying baskets full of blankets and food jumped out of his way as the horse and the wizard dashed down the streets of Edoras, out the wooden gates, and through the golden fields.

The city was full of activity. Women rushed to and fro carrying food and blankets and other necessary goods while men gathered weapons and shields. Spears were collected, swords were taken from the old, dusty armories, and shields were taken down from their stacks. In the expansive stables of the Rohirrim, horses were being bridled and saddled with lance stirrups.

Beruthiel and Gimli had left the stables to go help Legolas with whatever he was doing, but Aragorn had remained behind. A horse reared on its hind legs in front of him, whinnying and snorting as its handlers tried to calm it and pull it down.

Aragorn approached the two men with ropes who were trying to control it but were ending up being dragged across the floor.

"That horse is half mad, my lord," a soldier holding shields said as he passed. "There's nothing you can do. Leave him."