Light of Edoras

Chapter 8

Aragorn stood to stand next to Gandalf, carefully stuffing weed in his pipe as he walked towards him. The night clung to the land like a wet blanket thick and omniscient.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the East takes shape. Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-dur, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Numenor still lives."

Aragorn remained passive, not a trace of emotion touched his face, yet his eyes held another story.

Gandalf turned to Aragorn, speaking with a sense of urgency, "Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become. And so he'll strike hard and fast at the world of Men. He will use his puppet Saruman to destroy Rohan. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge...for Rohan is weak and ready to fall," he said shaking his head as he turned to survey the land once more, "The king's mind is enslaved, it's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning...we have one advantage," Aragorn looked at Gandalf in slight disbelief that there could be any silver lining at all, "The Ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it...has not yet entered their darkest dreams. And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor...in the hands of a Hobbit. Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed...and the secrecy of his quest."

Aragorn felt a pang of guilt pull at his gut. Gandalf sensed this and spoke to him once more.

"Do not regret your decision to leave him," he said trying to convince himself of his next words, "Frodo must finish this task alone."

Aragorn smiled sadly, "He's not alone. Sam went with him."

Gandalf smiled; perhaps the quest was not as dismal as he had originally thought, "Did he? Did he indeed? Good," he said nodding, "Yes, very good."

Lyrian dabbed the rough cloth on the swollen skin beneath her eye hissing as the water stung the open cut. She reluctantly looked up at the looking glass, something she generally avoided doing at all costs; she cringed at the sight she saw. Her entire left eye was red and puffy and the scratch that stretched from her the middle of her cheek past her eye where Grima's ring had cut her smiled an ugly sneer. Her skin, save for her eye was pale and seemed stretched too thin in places. She sighed as she leaned against the washing cabinet and stared into the shaking water below her. The only reason the water was shaking was from the pure rage that Lyrian was attempting to control as it raged through her. She closed her eyes trying to rid herself of the memory and dirty feeling she had leftover from mere moments before.

Lyrian stood in the Hall's pantry looking for something to eat, she had missed the midday meal, and the kitchen servants were now eating theirs' and she had no wish for them to get up on her account. She settled for some cheese and bread, not having the stomach for anything stronger. She turned and jumped slightly finding herself face to face with Grima, a lust burning in his eyes that caused her stomach to plummet in fear.

"What is it you want Grima?" she asked, her voice cold like the steel of a blade.

Grima smiled an equally cold smile and slowly stepped closer to her, the lust growing stronger with each step.

"What I want to know," he said as he trapped Lyrian against the wall of the pantry, "is why my bride to be, is never where I can find her, and always seems to slip from my grasp."

Lyrian continued to stare at him unflinchingly, though she could feel her heart pounding.

"Why," he continued his face no more than an inch away from hers, "we are to be married in a week, and I have received nothing more from you than a simple glance."