Gleina na Agar: LOTR story (Reader)

Wizardry in Melduseld

 "Edoras, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld..." Gandalf spoke as you rode up to the brow of a hill. You peeped out from behind Aragorn's shoulder, still gripping his chest tightly so as not to fall off. Seated upon a rather strange rock formation settled amongst the bare hills, the royal city towered above the land, surveying its reign. And yet, it seemed sullen and devoid of life, like everything it stood for had been taken away from it.

Gandalf nodded in its direction, "There dwells Theoden, King of Rohan. Who's mind is overthrown. For Saruman's hold over King Theoden is very strong."

You let out a ragged sigh laced with your nerves at the reminder. You were going to have to go up against one of the most powerful beings in Middle Earth in a few minutes, and you only hoped you were up to the task! Aragorn felt your chest heave, and placed his hand over yours trying to reassure you.

Riding up to the wooden walls of the outer city, a tattered red and green flag with a prancing horse of white danced over the wind to rest at your feet. The whole city turned out to be dark and dreary, lacking in color or joy, bled dry of life itself. A cold wind whipped and tore at your clothes, spinning tight knots into your hair and sending chills under your skin. This was not a cheery place, and one you were eager to leave once the task was done.

Gimli, looked around and muttered, "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard."

Squinting your eyes against the sunlight, a beacon of pure white caught your eye near Meduseld. A lady dressed in bright white stood there, surveying your appearance before turning to race back inside. Whoever she was, she seemed to be the only person who still had life or hope in her yet.

You were greeted immediately by three guards before you even reached the top step. The middle one addressed Gandalf directly, "I cannot allow you before the King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Grima Wormtongue."

You curled your lip at the mention of the name. He didn't sound to pleasant, and you really didn't want to give up your means of defence, but you were about to greet a sickly king. Gandalf nodded, signaling each of you to unload your weapons. The first thing they took was Gandalf's staff. Gimli grumbled through the whole thing, and Legolas smirked a little death stare at the guards, but did as they were told. They didn't need weapons to fight. Your sighed and handed both your dagger and Bellhûn over to them, feeling a little defensive over your sword.

He cleared his throat, gesturing to you, "Your staff, miss?"

You had one moment of panic at the thought of loosing your staff. That was your tool to help the king, but you quickly thought of a persuasion, "You wouldn't take away a crutch from the injured, would you?" You batted your eyes and stuck out your lip ever so slightly. With not much hesitation, the guard nodded and stood aside to let you pass.

You grinned to yourself. There were times when flirting actually did the trick, and you did carry the appearance of being gravely wounded. Now that you thought of it, you still looked pretty gruesome. Even more so now that your bruises were healing in a greenish-yellow color all over your body. Keeping up appearances, you leaned heavily on your staff with a pretend limp. The one thing that haunted your thoughts was performing the spell correctly! Everyone was relying on you, and you wanted to prove to Gandalf that you had grown.

As you entered the hall, it grew immensely darker. No fires were lit and dull, colorless banners limped over the beams. It could have indeed been a graveyard. The air was almost colder inside than out in the blasting wind. A feeble man who seemed to be blind and withered from time sat in a throw of furs, while another dark, sickly pale man whispered something into his ear. With a creaking groan, the guards locked the doors and slowly stalked you on both sides of the hall, watching every little move.