The Second Heir

The Revival of the King

    EDITED 6-25-17

~.~

The band had been riding hard for two days, stopping only for a brief period to rest, lest they should fall off their saddles. The horses rode hard though, invigorated by the presence of their lord, Shadowfax.

Emryn kept her head bowed against the icy wind swooping down from the White mountains, only raising her head to scope her surroundings for the Golden Hall atop Edoras. It was in one such time that her eyes spied it on the horizon.

"Legolas! What can your elf eyes make of that?" She shouted over the wind.

The elf followed her line of sight to the city. "There is a large hall, with columns of gold and men in bright mail guarding it. The city is surrounded by a fence of thorns, and many mounds of earth lay around her edge."

Emryn smiled at the description, the details of the rustic beauty of the place resurfacing in her mind. "Many years it has been since I have laid eyes on her beauty. I fear the people are the ones who have changed, however. Eomer gave an ill account of the hospitality," she finished sadly. What happened to the many festivals, the bright lights?

They rode up to the gate, but were stopped by the guards.

"Halt strangers!" One cried out in Rohirric. "By Theoden King's will none enter here who are not friends of Rohan. What are your names?"

"We are indeed friends of Rohan, Rider. I am Gandalf the Grey, and the others are as follows: this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, of the Kings of Gondor, and his sister, Emryn. The elf is Legolas of Mirkwood and the dwarf is Gimli son of Gloin of the dwarven kingdom of Erebor. As for proof of our friendship, look upon our horses! This is Hasufel, Arod, and Gwaeryn. They were gifted to us by the Third Marshal of the Mark. My own mount is Shadowfax, lord of all horses. Is this not enough cause to gain us entry?" Gandalf questioned in the same tongue.

The riders looked troubled, when the first spoke up again. "The Third Marshal is no longer a friend of Rohan, anymore than that steed belongs to you. Shadowfax once dwelt in these stables ere you turned him wild."

Emryn was angered. Eomer is more loyal to this country than the King himself! This must be that Wormtomgue's doing, she thought, remembering the warning he had given them. "The Mearas were wild to begin with. And if that is not enough, then know this: both my brother and I have passed through these gates before, and rejoiced in your great hall. We mean no harm, we only wish to speak to Theoden King. Is that so great a wish to be ungranted?" She asked, also in Rohirric.

"You lot are worse than the elves! Speak in a language we all understand!" She heard the dwarf mutter behind her.

The riders whispered to each other before turning back to them. "I will take your names to my King to hear his command. Wait here," said the second rider before disappearing.

These gates used to be open to all, Emryn thought sadly. Those had been days of peace here, truly.

The rider returned quickly. "You are granted entrance, but you must leave your weapons at the door," he called down to them, and the gates opened.

They rode up through the town, once full of happy chatter, now replaced with a depressing silence.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," she heard Gimli say behind her. She was forced to agree. The children hid behind their mother's skirts as they passed, and the adults eyed them with distrust.