Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

"You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

Even hours later, Lord Elrond's words rang in Théadain's ears as she bent over the basin of cold water in her room, splashing it over her face and neck to clear her mind.

"What have I agreed to?" She groaned to her rippling, warped reflection in the basin, grabbing a cloth to dry her face as she moved to collapse on the chaise on her balcony, watching the shadows grow long on the buildings as the sun set and running over the events of the day in her mind.

Théadain had barely had a moment to catch her breath after the chaos caused by Gandalf's outburst of Black Speech. Though she had not understood the words they had seemed to pull the breath from her body and settle a crushing feeling of dread of her shoulders. Seeing the clear pain that it caused the elves painted on their faces nearly made her cry out for the wizard to stop, but she could not have found the strength. Boromir had stumbled back to his seat as soon as the effect had taken hold of him, and she was glad of it. In truth, she had been frightened by the way he had reached for the simple gold ring that Frodo had placed on the stone plinth.

There was no doubt in her mind that it was truly Sauron's Ring. From the moment her eyes had settled on it, she had been uneasy. She felt the seductive draw of it and her repulsion at the object of power conflicting in her mind.

"It is a gift..." She looked to the man at her side once more as he stood and dread gripped her stomach, his eyes had not left the ring since he had sat, and she doubted he had heard anything the wizard had said in warning; "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at by. By the blood of my people are your lands kept safe-"

"Safe?" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, her body rising to her feet almost of its own accord, spurred on by the anger that had suddenly flared in her at her friend's words, "No lands are safe, Boromir. It is by the blood of the men of Rohan that we keep our own lands safe, don't you dare credit yourself with their sacrifice." She breathed, her eyes boring in to his as he turned to glare at her, surprising her with the malice she saw in his own eyes. "Gondor has failed to stop the threat of Mordor reaching other lands, and I have seen the cost of that failure."

"How can the bastard daughter of a fading king accuse us of failure?" He snarled, taking an aggressive step towards her, "Your land is weak and your bloodline weaker, Théadain. You lead your ragged band of horsemen and call yourself a Marshal – you do not know what it is to defend a kingdom."

She fought to control the sheer rage that rose in her at his words, like a flame catching paper. "Call me bastard again, Stewardson." She spat, "I know what I am. At least I do not carry delusions of sitting on a throne I cannot have. Not even a ring of power can grant you that."

Rain on the Mountain | Aragorn | The Lord of the RingsWhere stories live. Discover now