2: Running the Gauntlet

Beyond the door on the east side of the dais, Aragorn and Gilhael found themselves in a small anteroom where apparently Thengel and his family took their ease before and after court. There were two other doors, one opposite the door they had just entered, the other to their right, presumably leading to the royal apartments and other parts of the king’s house. The parlor was sparsely but comfortably appointed with a trestle table and cushioned chairs. Servants were busy placing salvers and dishes piled high with viands on a sideboard as they entered.

A quiet word from Morwen sent the servants out and the royal family and their two guests were soon alone to fend for themselves. Thengel breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at his guests ruefully.

"I’ve been back in Rohan for four years and I am still not used to it."

Aragorn found himself grinning in sympathy and Gilhael laughed outright and said, "Eall is earfoðlic eorþan ríce."

It sounded like a quote to Aragorn’s untrained ear.

Thengel laughed. "You speak the tongue of the Rohirrim well, Lord Gilhael."

The older Dúnadan nodded. "I spent a season or two among the people of the Westfold many years ago, my lord king. My cousin" — here he nodded to Aragorn — "having heard my tales decided to spend some time among your people, to learn their ways and their language. I agreed to accompany him."

That, at least, was the story the two Dúnedain had concocted on their journey south.

"You are kin, then?"

"Yes, lord," Gilhael answered. "Thorongil is my father’s brother’s son. We are descended from Celebrindor who was the fifth king of Arthedain after Arnor was divided into three kingdoms."

"Then you are of royal blood," Thengel stated, but Aragorn shook his head.

"Nay, lord. The royal line of Arnor is reckoned through Arvedui Last-King and his son, Aranarth. My kinsman and I are of noble blood, but we are not royal."

"Our lord gave us leave to come south for a time to follow our own fortunes."

Thengel looked upon the Dúnedain shrewdly. For his part, Aragorn met the king’s gaze calmly. "So you wish to ride with my éored?"

"It is my desire, lord," Aragorn answered with a slight bow to his head.

Thengel nodded. "Then we will see. I..."

"Ada," said a small plaintive voice. "Nana says to come eat."

Thengel looked down at his youngest child tugging on his tunic and smiled. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to my younger daughter, Théodhild."

Aragorn and Gilhael bowed to the child clinging to her father, causing the girl to blush and hide her face in Thengel’s tunic. Thengel laughed and patted her head.

"Now that won’t do, my dear. Come, show these gentlemen your curtsey as nana taught you."

Théodhild turned back to her father’s guests and with a shy smile gave a tremulous curtsey before hiding her face once more in her father’s tunic. The three men smiled indulgently.

"Come," Thengel gestured. "Let me introduce you to the rest of my family."

With that, Thengel scooped his daughter into his arms and strode to where his wife stood patiently, waiting with the other two children.

"My other daughter, Théodfrid, and my son and heir, Théoden. Children, this is Lord Gilhael and Lord Thorongil. They are Dúnedain from the North."

Théodfrid curtsied to the two men with studied grace and Aragorn could see that she was in the first bloom of young womanhood. Théoden bowed with the awkwardness of any boy his age and flashed an impish grin at the two men. Aragorn found himself smiling back even as he gave his own bow to the boy.

"And this is my beloved wife and mother of my children, Morwen."

The two men bowed deeply to the dark-haired woman, who acknowledged them with a nod and a smile.

"Let us not stand on ceremony, my lords, else this fine repast will go to waste," she said, her voice deep, but not manly. Her accent was not as broad as Thengel’s and there was a lilt to it that differed from what Aragorn was used to hearing among the Dúnedain.

As they turned towards the food-laden table, the door opened and Hildered entered, bearing the weapons of the Dúnedain. Behind him came another young man so like to the first that Aragorn suspected they were twins. The two young men bowed.

"Here are the weapons, Uncle," Hildered said with a smile, speaking in Westron, as he handed the weapons to their owners.

"Good, good." Thengel replied and proceeded to introduce the newcomers. "My sister-sons, Hildered and Hilderic. Their father is Hildebrand of Hildegrimsdale in the Westfold. He acts as my First Marshal of the Mark."

"And Father has asked us to remind you, Uncle, that he prefers to be home tending his horses," Hilderic said with a laugh that was echoed by his twin. Aragorn noticed that for all that the two looked alike, Hilderic was a half hand shorter than his brother and his eyes a deeper shade of blue.

Thengel merely shook his head. This appeared to be an old argument or perhaps even an old family joke, if it had been going on for the last four years since Thengel had become king. The king smiled indulgently at his nephews. "Well as long as you are here, you might as well join us."

They needed no further encouragement and soon they were all eating. Thengel informed his nephews that he was accepting the service of the two Dúnedain and instructed Hilderic to provide them with whatever they needed.

"I have a mind to assign you to Hilderic’s éored," Thengel explained. "Hildered, as his father’s heir, is needed here, but Hilderic commands the muster of the Westfold. There have been troubling rumors from there of late and I would have your thoughts of what you may have seen along your route."

Gilhael nodded in acknowledgement. "We noticed signs of unrest while traveling through Dunland and the people of the Westfold eyed us with suspicion. Indeed, except in one instance, they generally treated us with little courtesy even when they could see we were no spies of the Dunlendings."

"That saddens and angers me," Thengel said with a frown. "Ever have my people cherished guest rights and the laws of hospitality. That they would disregard them speaks ill of the times."

At this point Morwen interjected, quietly suggesting that the topic of conversation change for the children’s sake. She spoke softly but firmly and Thengel, Aragorn noticed wryly to himself, had the intelligence to know when to follow one of his wife’s suggestions. She then proceeded to ask Aragorn and Gilhael about their families.

"My father’s name is Beren," Aragorn replied. "My mother is named Region."

"That means "Holly", doesn’t it?" Théodfrid asked shyly.

Aragorn nodded with a smile.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Théoden then asked.

"I have two brothers, both older than I," Aragorn answered and Gilhael had to hide a smile. His Uncle Beren was in fact the father of three daughters and Gilhael thought how surprised his uncle would be to find that his Chieftain had given him three sons as well, two of them among the Firstborn.

"You’re lucky," the youngster said with a martyred sigh and his two sisters scowled at him with equal disdain.

The men laughed and Thengel ruffled his son’s hair. Morwen smiled indulgently and turned to Aragorn. "Théoden will be turning nine next week."

"Ada is going to give me a horse," the boy said excitedly, momentarily forgetting his burden of being surrounded by female siblings.

Morwen frowned slightly. "That is news to me, husband. Perhaps we should hold judgment on this, for I do not think Théoden is quite old enough yet."

"But nana!" Théoden protested.

"Hush, child. Not in front of guests," his father admonished. "We will speak of this later." This last was addressed to his wife who merely nodded.

A strained silence ensued. Théoden frowned and there were tears in his eyes. Aragorn smiled at the æðeling in sympathy.

"When I was about your age, I wanted a horse of my own as well," he said quietly. "Ada was willing but nana was not. In fact, it was the first time I ever saw my nana defy my ada with regards to my upbringing." He paused, remembering, and chuckled. "I was so upset that I declared that if I couldn’t have a horse for my birthday I didn’t want a birthday at all."

"What happened?" the boy asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

Aragorn smiled widely. "My brothers, who are somewhat older than I, began arguing over who would get my other presents if I didn’t want them. I was so upset at the idea that they would get my presents that I relented and told everyone that I would have a birthday after all, with or without a horse."

The adults all laughed at that and even the children, including Théoden, snickered. Gilhael sat there pretending that he had already heard this story on numerous occasions at family gatherings, all the while wondering at this rare glimpse of family life in Imladris. He remembered his Aunt Gilraen and was shocked at the idea of that refined lady defying anyone about anything, never mind the immortal Lord of Imladris. It amused him to remember that his Chieftain’s "somewhat older brothers" had seen three thousand years of history already and the image of them arguing over their younger brother’s presents like a couple of squabbling elflings was just too funny, and quite typical of the two. Gilhael remembered some of the patrols he had been on with the sons of Elrond and could well imagine what they were like when at home.

When the laughter had died down Thengel said, "I will have my First Marshal test your skills in weapons and horses tomorrow. Today, you may spend in familiarizing yourself with Edoras. Hilderic will be your guide. Perhaps you will do us the honor of dining with us tonight."

Aragorn and Gilhael rose and bowed. "The honor is all ours, Thengel King," Aragorn said.

****

Hilderic led the two Dúnedain through the door to the main hall, explaining the history of Meduseld and the building of Edoras, much of which the Dúnedain already knew, but pretended otherwise, for the young man was obviously very proud of his history and eager to show off his knowledge to these two strangers.

"It is a very well-built city," Aragorn said at one point as they stood outside the gates, taking in the surrounding view of open plain and mountains. "The Eorlingas have much to be proud of."

Hilderic nearly beamed with pride at the praise. "I know little of your people, lords," the young man said shyly. "Are your cities as beautiful as Edoras?"

Gilhael glanced at Aragorn who raised an eyebrow before turning back to Hilderic. "Most of our cities lie now in ruins, for ever has the Enemy sought to destroy us. Our people are few and most live in small villages, such as can be found in the Westfold. Only one city remains, a fortress named Fornost, and that cannot compare with Edoras in beauty, though it is far older."

Hilderic frowned, staring out into the distance. "I think that’s very sad."

Aragorn placed a hand on the Rohir’s shoulder. "It is the way it is," he said softly. "But we Dúnedain live in the hope that someday it will be different and that the royal city of Annúminas will be rebuilt. That hope is sometimes the only thing that has sustained us over the long centuries."

Hilderic stared at the two men and Gilhael nodded in confirmation, though he was looking at his royal cousin. That is not our only hope, Aragorn, he thought to himself as the three made their way back into the city. Your returning to us was a hope unlooked for, a hope we thought long dead.

****

The next morning Hilderic and his twin came for the Dúnedain to take them to where their father, Hildebrand, awaited them. Aragorn and Gilhael had met the man the night before at dinner. It had been a private affair with only Thengel and his immediate family, including Hildebrand and his sons, present. Their mother, Goldwyn, remained in the family steading in the Westfold overseeing their estate. When Thengel had informed Hildebrand of his decision to accept the two men’s services and wanted Hildebrand to test their mettle, the First Marshal of the Mark had looked somewhat skeptically at them. He could see that the older cousin was a seasoned warrior and the fact that he had ridden with the Rohirrim some years before made him more acceptable to the older man’s eyes, but Thorongil was something else altogether. He looked young, younger than his own sons, though there was something in his eyes that belied that and Hildebrand had not known what to make of him. Thus, when the two Northerners had come to him the next morning, he was still of two minds about them.

"Let us see what you can do," he said simply and ordered them to horse. Gilhael had brought his horse with him to the place outside the city where Hildebrand would test them, but Aragorn had not, merely smiling when Hilderic and Hildered had questioned him about it.

Hildebrand looked at the younger Dúnadan with some annoyance. "Where is your horse, Lord Thorongil? Surely even one of the Dúnedain is capable of bringing his horse with him when there is need."

Others of the king’s household, standing about to see their First Marshal test these foreigners, snickered and made crude remarks in their own language at the young man’s expense.

Aragorn merely smiled. "Indeed, lord." Without looking around he gave a piercing whistle in a pattern unknown to the Rohirrim. At first, nothing happened, and then a neigh was heard and Mithfaron came galloping towards his beloved master. When Aragorn had visited him earlier at the stable he had told the horse his plans. Gilhael, saddling Baranroch, had merely smiled, well used to his Chieftain’s elvish way with his horse.

Now the great grey came to a halt before his rider and Aragorn reached up and stroked him on the forehead, speaking softly in Sindarin. Hildebrand cleared his throat to get Aragorn’s attention.

"I think you forgot your saddle, young man," he said somewhat dryly, now feeling more amused than annoyed.

"Mithfaron does not suffer one gladly, lord," Aragorn said softly. "Please, let us get on with it."

Hildebrand stared at the Dúnedain for a few minutes before shrugging. "Very well. I have decided only one test of skill will do. See those targets?" He pointed to a series of posts crudely carved in the shapes of men with some padded material around their "chest". A red heart was painted on them. They were spaced out across the field. Some were on the other side of a shallow stream that ran behind the tor on which Edoras sat before joining the Snowbourne further west. The targets were set so that not all of them were facing the same way. A rider would have to weave back and forth to find each target’s heart. "Race your horses between the targets hitting each one with an arrow. Fear not the stream, for it is shallow here and safe for a horse to ford without mishap. Run between the two posts on either bank and you will have no trouble crossing. Who will go first?"

The Dúnedain glanced at each other and with a subtle nod from Aragorn, Gilhael mounted up, nocking his first arrow. He did not fear this test, for indeed, he had often done such an exercise when he was with the Rohirrim before and had made a point of keeping up his practice whenever his duties as a Ranger permitted. Lord Halberen had been impressed enough by Gilhael’s skills as a horse bowman that he had sent him to Imladris to train among the elves for a summer. He had not seen Aragorn then for "Estel" had been on an extended camping trip with his brothers, a reward for having successfully completed a series of hunting and tracking exercises designed to test the young boy’s burgeoning skills.

Aragorn watched as his cousin ran the course, confident of Gilhael’s skill. The older Dúnedain did not disappoint and he completed the course, piercing the heart, or very near to it, of most of the targets. In fact, a close examination found that he had missed only two targets completely. The Rohirrim shouted their approval and even Hildebrand nodded in satisfaction as Gilhael returned to the starting point.

"I can’t believe I missed those two targets," he said with a grimace as he dismounted. "And they weren’t even the most difficult ones."

Hildebrand shook his head and answered before Aragorn could say a word. "That was remarkable riding, my lord. Few among the Rohirrim could do as well." Then he turned to Aragorn with a skeptical eye. "Now it is your turn, my young lord."

Aragorn nodded and, taking up his bow, leaped lightly upon Mithfaron, speaking to him softly in Sindarin. Only Gilhael knew that his Chieftain was explaining to the horse the exact course they were to take and what he planned to do.

Hildered, standing by his father, gave a laugh that had a taunting ring to it. "Whatever are you doing, my lord? The day is wasting away and you just sit there."

If Aragorn was offended he gave no sign. Instead he merely smiled down at the young man. "I was merely explaining to Mithfaron what was required of us. It helps if you have your horse’s permission to ride him in a certain manner."

Hildered blushed at the gentle rebuke and the other Rohirrim laughed good-naturedly. Then, without warning, Aragorn shouted.

"Noro lim, Mithfaron, noro lim!"

The horse gave a loud snort and bunching up his muscles moved gracefully into a gallop. All watched as the young Dúnedain ran the course even more swiftly than had his cousin. His shots were true and none missed their intended target. At the moment horse and rider forded the stream all gasped as Aragorn leaned forward and in a single fluid motion stood upon the horse’s back and began shooting at the rest of the targets. Mithfaron never slowed. Indeed, if anything, the elven horse galloped faster. Here, Aragorn’s skill was not as great. Three arrows found their targets, though off-center to the hearts, but that was of no consequence. Had they been against real men, the shots would have been just as fatal.

When the last arrow was spent, Aragorn returned to sitting his horse, bringing him back to the starting point. There were no cheers this time, only stunned silence. Hildebrand had to consciously remember to close his mouth and tell his sons to do the same. Only Gilhael affected a nonchalant stance and raised an eyebrow as Aragorn approached.

"You’ve not been practicing, Cousin. Your brothers would be very disappointed at your performance here."

Aragorn, for his part, merely laughed. "Indeed. They would take great pleasure, separately and jointly, in berating me for my sloppiness. I fear my recent injuries made me clumsy."

"Cl-clumsy?" Hilderic stammered, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Injuries?" his twin said almost at the same time.

Aragorn climbed off Mithfaron’s back with as much grace as he had mounted him, patting the horse affectionately, and nodded. "Yes. Last year I was injured during a boar hunt and it took a long time for me to heal."

"Injured how and how come you to learn such skill with horse and bow?"

All turned to see Thengel striding towards them, flinging back the hood of his cloak. He had come down to watch the test but had remained hidden behind his cloak, not wanting to cause a distraction. He had been impressed by Gilhael’s skill with horse and bow but Thorongil’s ride had left him feeling somewhat dizzy. He had never seen such a display of horsemanship before.

Aragorn bowed. "My lord king."

"You have not answered my questions, Lord Thorongil," Thengel said somewhat sharply.

Aragorn, for his part, did not flinch at the king’s tone but stood straight and proud. "The boar fell on me," he said simply and the men standing there stared at him in wonder.

"All four hundred pounds of him," Gilhael said with an ironic twist of a smile and not a few there winced at the image those words conveyed.

Thengel blanched at the thought. "It is a marvel that you are even alive then, young man. Now tell me how you come by such skill as you have demonstrated here."

Gilhael, however, was the one to answer. "It is customary, my lord king, for certain of our young men who show exceptional skill, to be sent to Imladris to be trained by the Elves. So did my cousin here when he was still a youngster, for he showed great promise and the Elves were quick to exploit it and refine it."

Now all looked at the younger Dúnadan with not a little awe, for though Imladris was but a rumor to most of the Rohirrim, still they knew that the Firstborn yet dwelt in Middle-earth. That here stood one in their midst who had been elf-trained was something they had not expected to see.

Thengel glanced briefly at Hildebrand, who gave his king an almost imperceptible nod, before speaking again. "Well, my lord Thorongil, it seems you and your cousin will do after all. Welcome to the éored."

At that the rest of the Rohirrim cheered and rushed to congratulate the two Dúnedain. Aragorn found himself grinning and even the more taciturn Gilhael laughed as men began pounding them on their backs. Mithfaron eyed the humans with equine disdain, shaking his head in disgust at the two-legs dancing about him, but he never left his beloved master’s side.

****

All words and phrases are Rohirric (Anglo-Saxon) unless otherwise noted.

Eall is earfoðlic eorþan ríce: "All is hardship in the earthly kingdom", The Wanderer, line 106.

Éored: a troop of Riders of Rohan, usually consisting of 120 men, including the captain. Anglo-Saxon meaning "cavalry, band, troop". While the normal meaning of this word would imply that all 120 men are riding as a group, I sometimes use it more generally to mean "some number of riders belonging to the éored who are riding as a group". When Thengel, for instance, rides informally he is accompanied by members of his personal éored who are thegns, or household retainers of noble birth, but not necessarily by the entire éored.

Ada: (Sindarin) Papa; hypocoristic form of adar: father.

Nana: (Sindarin) Mama; hypocoristic form of naneth: mother.

Æðeling: Prince and heir to the throne.

Eorlingas: The People of Eorl, who led the Rohirrim to the aid of Cirion and Gondor at the Battle of the Celebrant Fields, T.A. 2510.

Noro lim: (Sindarin) Run swift.