I swung my sword hilt in my hand and caught it with tense ease. Gimli cried out and the man leapt to the tip of the boulders. I was suddenly blinded with a flash of pure white. Axe fell to the ground with a clang. Arrow burst into flame in air. The sword of Aragorn blazed. I recoiled as my own went soaring and met the man’s hand. “Mithrandir! Mithrandir!” Legolas yelped and I fell to my knees, grateful tears flowing from my eyes. The wizard had returned, as the one in white instead of beggar grey. After running a sleeve over my face briefly, I ran to greet my dear friend. “Gandalf! You have returned!” I paused for a moment in front of him and beamed. “Bless Valar for this turn in fortune! Bless Valar!” I threw my head to the sky in a moment of thankfulness before casting my sight once more onto the image. I put a hand out to touch his garment and rubbed the soft material between my fingers. “Tis not a dream! Gandalf Greyhame, you have returned!” “Gandalf. Yes, that was the name. I was Gandalf. Yes, you may still call me Gandalf. Stop shaking, child!” I glanced at my hand and it was indeed quivering. “Be merry! We meet again. At the turn of the tide. The great storm is coming, but the tide had turned.” “Indeed it has,” Aragorn agreed. I was merry. I was filled with a new hope and the darkness shall not succeed. The white shall.

*

Edoras. I shuddered. If this place was filled with men like the Lord Eomer…I would go mad. Utterly mad. Must…escape… I glanced over my shoulder but could not see anything because of Legolas. I had protested at Gandalf’s decision but he had only smiled. I rolled my eyes and pondered my grandmother’s words. ‘Greetings daughter’s daughter, you be still here. Make no rash action in this time of doubt for hope has come on its silver wings to thee, though it you might not see. You shall cast aside all grief; you shall conquer this world. Take heart and care. My thought travels with you and always shall.’ Unrecognised hope? I tossed aside the riddle and clung to the mane of Arod.

I briefly closed my eyes on passing the grave mounds, and opened them to reveal gates of which I have not laid eye on before. I recoiled slightly at the sight of spears and men in silver-mail. “You still hold a grudge against the Lord Eomer?” from behind, Legolas questioned me. “He insulted my close kin!” I retorted. “And what is this conflict I hear of?” I glanced over to Gandalf and smiled wryly, “Ah…you wish not to know. Yet I thought it was rather obvious as I did not wish to come here!” He opened his mouth with a twinkle in his eye but, thankfully, closed it as the guards leapt to their feet. They rambled in an uncommon tongue and I turned to the wizard. “And what do they say?” He quietened me with a wave from an impatient hand. I tuned out the words and stared into the wall. I was startled out of my thoughts with the opening of the solemn gates and I looked curiously into the city before dismounting. I ignored Legolas’ offered hand and left Arod in the care of a staring guard. I rolled my eyes. I was rather sick of stares and have every step I take, admired. One day I was going to rebel, and cut my hair. I stifled a giggle imagining the look on my grandmother’s, or even my father’s face if I returned to either Elven dwelling with short hair and no reasonable excuse for such. But what would cutting my hair do to improve my situation? I shrugged inwardly. Sometimes I confuse even myself.

*

“Aragorn, for Valar’s sake! Give the man your blade! I care not how precious it is to you!” Aragorn turned his defiant gaze back onto me and quickly shook his head. I threw my arms up in the air in complete frustration. “If I abandon my weapons, Aragorn, will you abandon yours?” He frowned, “But you have already…” I grinned, “Ah, my sword, bow and quiver? Yes. But that is not all.” I put a hand to my sleeve and withdrew a knife. Another came from my other wrist. I gathered my collection of them and carefully gave them to the guard who had identified himself as Hama. Aragorn’s jaw dropped, “You have five small blades hidden on you at all times?” I merely gave him a mysterious smile, “Luckily, I have been forced to use them only thrice. Now, hand your sword to the man.” He hesitated and I growled in my throat. “Right, I have been patient enough! You will not give it willingly? Then I shall take it by force!” I snatched the weapon from his sheath and tossed it to Hama. Aragorn looked from me to Hama and back at me, speechless. Gandalf smiled, “I see that Aragorn has been kept in order in my absence. Now, Aragorn, stop acting childish. Gimli?” I turned to the dwarf clutching his axe with a glint in my eye. He wordlessly handed his weapon to the doorkeeper, keeping a cautious eye on me. I grinned before taking a step towards the door.

“Pardon me, but the staff must remain behind as well,” a nervous voice came. A verbal fight broke out and I stepped in-between the arguers. “Hama, door warden of the glorious country of horses, renowned for its greatness and also for its kindly sympathy for the weak and frail, I beg of you to allow my dear friend keep his staff. He is aged and needs his prop to walk. You would not deprive an old man of his support would you?” I gave him my most imploring, innocent look imaginable and he relented grudgingly. We entered past the heavy doors that were standing tall with pride, yet drooping slightly with their weight. Legolas gave me a sideward look, “I see you have not lost your talent that you displayed in Moria.” I grinned, “It is a skill that I shall hopefully never lose. It is a powerful weapon to fall back on when needed.” I caught sight of the king and bowed my head in acknowledgment. I stood still and my eyes wandered about the room, examining this and that before my sight fell onto a man, sitting at the feet of the king. I took an instant dislike to the creature that was unashamedly leering at me. I shuddered slightly before gazing into a stone pillar, purposefully ignoring his stares. Despicable being.

*

I resisted the urge to kill the miserable creature after his comments on Lothlorien, but only when Gandalf firmly held my wrist. I was greatly pleased when the one known as Wormtongue was cast onto the ground and then, after he was completely exposed as a liar, fled out of the room. The king’s curse was broken and his trust was now placed in Lord Eomer. I was not extremely impressed yet even with my feeling of resentment against him, I could tell that even he would make a better leader than Grima. Gandalf had broken the spell, torn the twisted mask of Grima. He was a spy; I could see it in his eyes, a spy for the enemy. A spy for the fallen wizard. A spy for Saruman.

*

“Now my guests, come! Come and take refreshment as haste allows, yet surely the maiden would prefer to change first?” I turned unbelieving eyes onto the Lord then, with encouragement from the others, forced a polite smile. “Of course, my Lord,” I spoke behind slightly gritted teeth and was directed down a passage. I reassured myself by simply washing my face and hands and ignoring all other suggestions, of gowns and combs. I requested the departure of the handmaiden, telling her that I could remember the way well enough. She left reluctantly and I sighed.

I lifted my head suddenly at the sound of a muffled cry. I listened intently before heading toward the curious sounds. As the shouts increased in volume and desperation, I increased my speed until I was flying through the halls. My gaze hardened as I saw the maiden from before, trapped against a wall, attempted to fight her way out of a situation. Wormtongue was advancing and his intentions were clearly ill. A young lad was contenting himself by kicking the shins of Grima and yelling curses. As the boy was then thrown across the room, a blaze of fury took hold of me. I grabbed my remaining knife from my boot and pressed it to Wormtongue’s neck. “Release her,” my voice was as ice. He froze before looking at me with distain. “She is my betrothed!” I rolled my eyes, “Of course. And I be a dwarf. Release her or suffer the consequences.” He called my bluff and ignored me. I grabbed him and backed him into the corner, advancing with my knife, with steel eyes. “Leave. Now.” He nodded faintly before fleeing for his life. I gave him a last look of disgust and prayed that I would never lay eyes on him again.

I turned back to the maiden who was nursing the boy’s skinned knee. I placed my blade once more in my shoe and fumbled for a few leaves of dried athelas. I pressed them to the wound and muttered a chant under my breath. The hurt disappeared leaving no trace and I smiled, helping the lad to his feet. “Greetings once more, Lady, lad. Are you harmed?” The woman held a look of damaged pride and swiftly shook her head. I understood that expression well, as I would often use it myself. I withdrew my knife once more and handed it to her, “Although your fighting abilities are impressive, steel has a tendency to drive fear into one’s heart.” I smiled at both and turned to leave. “Wait!” I glanced over my shoulder to the lad. He smiled proudly, “I am Eower. What is your name?” “Faith. Is this your mother?” He shook his head quickly, “No. My father’s-sister.” I raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Well, I must depart. Farewell!”

Rohan was in a state of madness. Rohan and its inhabitants were beyond mad. They were insane. Hopefully Gandalf has come in time to rescue this Valar forsaken place. The spells of Saruman were beginning to depart. Yet evil lurks around every corner, as I knew well. And the black is yet stronger than the white. Yet the white shall defeat the dark. And, if not, then I would die fighting for the victory of the good. Has Rohan already fallen to the tricks of evil? I thought over this while entering the grand hall. Blessed be Gandalf. Without the White Rider we are all doomed. My thoughts were confused. White... Dark... Gandalf... Rohan... War… Eomer… What? Where did that come from? I blinked. I must be going mad. Completely mad.