With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 48: Taste of Freedom

Gimli gladly suffered being taken down from the horse, anxious to put space between him and the beast and settle his feet on firm ground once more. Recalling Aragorn's words in Rivendell on the affection the Rohirrim held for their horses, he withheld any comments on his own estimation of the animals.

Stretching his legs a bit, he walked quickly to keep pace with the longer legs of the men who escorted them, though he suspected they might consider it guarding. After all, Merry and he were regarded as trespassers here, and the king might have more interest in an explanation of their presence in Rohan than in a message of warning they could not prove. He was unsure whether any here would listen to a dwarf and a hobbit—a race of people the Rohirrim apparently had not believed truly existed. It did not bode well for the travelers.

They ascended countless stairs to a building roofed in gold. In the twilight, Gimli could discern pillars adorned with elaborate devices. There was a beauty to the structure, one Gimli would rather see committed to stone. He wondered how long such wooden construction could last.

The guards led them into a large narrow room where fires burned in a center pit as well as in a few sconces to the rear. Faint starlight shone through the windows high above. At the far end, amidst tapestry and color, an empty golden throne sat alone. A figure came through a doorway to the side of the throne, dressed in dark robes that heightened his pallor. The man's scowl did not ease Gimli's worries, particularly if this man were the King of Rohan.

"What is this?" the man asked sharply.

"Grima," Ealward began. "We must bring these two before the king. We found them crossing the land without leave. But theirs is a remarkable tale, with news more noteworthy, if they are to be believed. It warrants a hearing by the king."

"News? What news is there we have not already heard? Who are these that they would have more knowledge than Saruman himself?" Grima turned to Gimli, his voice chilly. "What dealings need a dwarf with Rohan that he must enter without permission?"

It seemed the Rohirrim held no more affection for Dwarves than most Elves held. To make matters worse, it sounded as though they had lost the race to Edoras. "Saruman! That is precisely of whom we must speak to the king. We were his prisoners in Isengard, and now he has plans for Rohan."

A frightful smile crept over Grima's face. "Saruman indeed has plans for us—to win in battle against Sauron. Do you have a better cause than defeating Sauron?"

Gimli saw this man's manipulation but would not play the game. "All his plots are trickery! Orcs march here as we speak, prepared to descend on Edoras. We passed them on our way as we came with all the speed we could muster."

"The orcs answer to Saruman. They will fight whomever Saruman orders them to fight," the pale man said carefully. He looked at them more closely. "You have yet to bring us news, dwarf, and you are still trespassers. Have you no more to say?"

Gimli fought to reign in his impatience. He had never excelled at diplomacy. He wanted nothing more than to roar at this man, but such behavior would only get them expelled from Rohan—or worse. The Rohirrim had been deceived by Saruman. Gimli would simply have to make them see that.

He cleared his throat and forced calm into his voice. "We were prisoners of Saruman for many days. Another prisoner overheard his schemes. He has misled you in some way, you can be certain. He makes arrangements with Sauron even as he plots to wage war on him. He is not to be trusted!"

The pale man's eyebrows rose. "Arrangements with Sauron? That could be interesting." The quiet voice suddenly burst. "If it were true! Lies! All of this!" He turned to Ealward. "There is no need to bring them to the king. Take them below to a cell."

Gimli opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a moment. Then he gave his last effort. "You must listen! Saruman will deceive you. He wishes to rule Rohan! He will do it if you let him!"

Another small smile appeared on Grima's face. He bent close to Gimli's face and said quietly. "And perhaps I will." And he stalked away.

Gaping, Gimli turned to Ealward. The warrior looked resigned to following his orders. How had it gone so horribly wrong? They had fled their prison, left their friends behind, for Rohan—only to have Rohan imprison them. Gimli turned to Merry, who simply shook his head. They had no choice but to follow Ealward to their new prison.