𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Thirty-One: Southlinch

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"They had no warning," Éowyn said, "They were unarmed. Now the Wildemen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree."

"Where is mama?" the little girl cried out, looking frantically between Éowyn and I.

"Shh," I kneeled beside the child, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "It's alright..."

The Hall fell silent for a few long moments, as people boiled over this information. A sickly feeling rose from my stomach to my throat as I thought of all the towns the Wildemen had yet to destroy. All the families and children they'd yet to murder. I shuddered.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash," Gandalf spoke through the silence, "All the more potent, for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out, and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have 2000 good men riding North as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you," Aragorn said, "His men will return and fight for their King."

"They will be 300 leagues from here by now," Théoden threw up his hands in defeat, standing from his throne and pacing the room, "Éomer cannot help us."

Gandalf stood up, following behind Théoden as he strode aimlessly about the Hall. I caught the eye of Aragorn, who sat with Gimli and Legolas across the Hall. I immediately dropped his gaze, looking instead back at Théoden as he spoke again.

"I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people."

"Death has come to your people, Théoden, it's not a matter of whether or not you refuse it, for it has arrived in Rohan," I spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to the far back corner of the Hall, "It is only a question of how you shall handle it. Your people will face death, but it is up to you, their King, to minimize it."

"Be that as it may, Elena, I will not risk open war," he responded, looking at me grimly.

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not," Aragorn said.

"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan."

"Aragorn merely seeks to remind you of the dire situation you're in. And if I were you, I would not speak to my allies so," I spoke up again, "If you truly are Théoden, King of Rohan, make a decision that would see Rohan past this war. Do not cower beneath the threat of Saruman. Face him. Fight him. Protect your Kingdom, even if you must engage in open war."

Théoden turned again to look at me, this time his expression sour. I avoided everyone's gaze but his, returning his scowl with a determined glare. The heat of the fires and scones that lined the Hall's interior blazed at my skin, creating beads of perspiration on my face, as Théoden and I stared each other down.

"What is the King's decision?" Gandalf asked.

"I've yet to reach one, Gandalf, the fate of my people is not something I can decide upon a whim," he answered, stalking towards the archway at the front of the Hall, "I will have come to a decision by dawn's light."

"Pray it be the right one," I whispered under my breath as he left the Hall.

Idle chat broke out amongst those who remained in the Hall.

"You should not have spoken to him so," Éowyn commented, sinking into the bench across from the children, "He is weary, at a loss, threatened by the death of his people."