20: Dunharrow

It took several hours to reach Harrowdale and the road leading to Dunharrow. The last time Aragorn had come this way the valley had been shrouded in fog and he had seen little of it. Now, he could well admire its grim beauty and majestic setting. As they approached the valley he could see three mountains forming a juncture. Grimbold pointed to the closest one.

"That is the Írensaga," he said, then moved his finger. "And to the south is the Starkhorn. The one in the middle is Dwimorberg of dire legend, for it is the most haunted of all the mountains here. We must make for the Stair of the Hold that lies to the east."

So saying, the Rider led the way through the narrowing valley towards the Dwimorberg, towering high and grim with its peak enshrouded by snow and clouds. Even with the sun shining high it had a menacing look to it and young Théodfrid cowered somewhat in Aragorn’s arms, turning her head from the view.

"Fear not, little shieldmaid," Aragorn whispered encouragingly. "It is but a mountain."

Théodfrid looked up at Aragorn and seeing the compassion in his eyes, nodded and smiled gamely, turning back to face forward, her posture straight. Aragorn hid a smile even as he admired her attempt at courage.

The road to Dunharrow proved to be a narrow switchback path that zigzagged up a sheer cliff. At each turn of the road Aragorn saw a stone figure shaped like a man. When they came to the first one, Aragorn slowed his horse to take a closer look. The others slowed as well.

"We call them Púkul-men," Grimbold explained.

"Who carved them?"

Grimbold shrugged. "Our ancestors found them as you see them," he said then urged his horse forward. Aragorn and the others followed suit.

It was slow going and required steady nerves on the part of the riders, but they climbed the path without mishap. At the top of the path they came to a level grassy field. The road continued towards the Dwimorberg and was lined on either side by uncarved standing stones forming an avenue. The stones were at least twice the height of a man and evenly spaced.

"This is the Firienfeld," Grimbold said as he helped Morwen down before dismounting. He pointed down the road. "That will lead to the Dimholt and beyond that..." he shivered suddenly and turned away, refusing to elaborate. Aragorn raised an eyebrow and gave Morwen a glance, but she merely shook her head, as much at a loss as he over the Rider’s reticence in speaking about where they were. He gave Théodfrid a hand down and then dismounted.

"Why have we stopped, Earntungol?" Théodfrid asked Aragorn, looking perplexed. "Do we not go to Dunharrow?"

It was Grimbold who answered her. "It is best to see if we will be welcomed first, my lady," he said with a grim smile. "I will take Earntungol with me. Let the rest of you remain here and be ready to flee back down the Stair if it goes ill with us."

With that he gave Aragorn a nod and started towards the redoubt. The Dúnadan bent down and spoke softly to the two girls who were now standing together holding hands, both looking a bit frightened. "I would leave Mithfaron in your capable hands, little shieldmaids," he said with a smile and was rewarded with smiles and eager nods in return. He gave Mithfaron a soft command in Sindarin which the horse acknowledged with a nod of his head then followed Grimbold down the stone-lined avenue towards the keep that made up the refuge.

It lay to the west of the avenue, some several hundred yards from the edge of the cliff, hard against the mountainside. The keep itself was behind a ditch that Aragorn saw was quite deep, perhaps the height of three tall men and half as wide. A thicket of brambles grew wildly along the keep side of the ditch, further deterring any would-be attackers. The keep itself was behind a high stone wall pierced by a gate between two round watchtowers. A wooden causeway crossed the ditch at this point and Aragorn could see that it was a simple drawbridge that could be taken up to further frustrate anyone foolish enough to attack. The gate was made of bog oak banded with iron.

As they approached the causeway, Aragorn saw men on the wall and a contingent of warriors came forth from the gate to greet them.

"Westu hál, Grimbold," one of them cried out and Grimbold smiled and greeted the man with a smile.

"Westu hál, Alric," he said, giving the man a hearty clasp. "So what mischief have you been up to lately my friend?"

The other man laughed. Aragorn saw a tall man coming into middle age, though he was still obviously hale. His hair was darker than most of the Rohirrim, nearly the shade of autumn brown, and his eyes were more grey than blue. Aragorn wondered if the man had any Gondorian blood in him.

"So what do you here, my friend?" Alric asked, giving Aragorn a quick glance that missed nothing.

Grimbold frowned. "What news of Edoras have you had of late?"

Alric raised an eyebrow. "None. You are the first to come from there... assuming you did indeed come from there."

Grimbold nodded. "I have the Lady Morwen and her daughters with me. Thengel King is gone to the Eastfold and... there is trouble." The Rider did not elaborate, but Alric apparently was shrewd enough to understand and only nodded.

"Then by all means bring the lady within that we may see to her comfort until such time as her lord comes to claim her and their children." Alric paused and gave the two men a troubled look. "You speak not of the prince. Did Thengel King take his heir into the Eastfold with him?"

Grimbold shook his head. "He did not, but I will not speak further of this here in the open." The finality of his tone alerted Alric and with a single nod the Captain of Dunharrow turned and began issuing orders, while Grimbold gave Aragorn a nod, the meaning of which the Dúnadan understood, for he turned and went back to where the others waited, assuring them that all was well.

Soon they were all crossing the causeway into the keep. Aragorn saw that there was but a single wall surrounding a courtyard where outbuildings and a small stable were situated. The keep itself turned out to be a series of caves fronted by a stone entrance built before the mountain and closed by a single door of bog oak. The caves were not very large. Indeed, the largest was perhaps only half the size of the throne hall in Meduseld. This was the main cave and served as a general meeting hall. Other, smaller, caves served as sleeping quarters and storage rooms. It was even rougher than Helm’s Deep for it was never meant to be more than a temporary refuge in times of trouble.

Alric greeted Morwen with respect and smiled warmly at the girls, asking them questions about their favorite foods and games and Aragorn suspected that the man had daughters of his own or perhaps granddaughters. Gléomer, Aragorn insisted, was taken to one of the smaller caves where the Dúnadan then examined him to ascertain the extent of the injuries garnered from his imprisonment. There had been no real opportunity for Aragorn to see to any of the Steward’s hurts. When Grimbold assured Alric that Aragorn was a healer as well as a warrior, the captain ordered one of his men to see that the Ranger was given whatever he needed to treat Lord Gléomer.

Luckily, in spite of the man’s age and the ill treatment he had been given, Aragorn found little wrong with Thengel’s steward other than fatigue and ordered the man to get some rest after they had all had a hot meal. Morwen also pleaded fatigue and was soon shown to Alric’s own quarters, patently the best the keep had to offer, and she and her daughters were soon asleep.

Aragorn, Grimbold and Alric sat together in the main cave to discuss what was going on while drinking ale. Hardbeorht and Wídfara were seeing to the horses (on Grimbold’s orders) and then getting some rest (on Aragorn’s orders).

Grimbold quickly filled Alric in on what they knew, which was little enough.

"Lord Gléomer was able to give us some details," he told Alric. "Apparently, within a week of Thengel leaving for the Eastfold a troop of Riders approached the city from the east claiming to have been sent by Thengel to help protect Edoras. None questioned them, but no sooner had they entered the city than they occupied Meduseld, and took Lady Morwen prisoner along with Lord Gléomer. Those on guard at the gate and walls were quickly overthrown and before anyone truly understood what was happening, the city had been taken. It was only then that Guthláf of Gálmódingsdæl made himself known and declared himself lord of Edoras." The man spat in disgust and Alric went white when he heard the traitor’s name. "That was the situation as we found it when we arrived from the Westfold," Grimbold added. He then went on to describe how they had entered Edoras and rescued Lady Morwen.

Aragorn then picked up the tale and described how he ended up rescuing Lord Gléomer while searching for Théoden. "The two guards knew not who had taken the boy," he said in summary. "They only knew that Théoden was not within Edoras. Even Lord Gléomer does not know what the boy’s fate is. I promised Lady Morwen that I would find her son and bring him back to her."

"How do you plan to do that?" Alric asked, not entirely sure if he trusted this Outlander, though Grimbold seemed to accept him, which was telling enough. "You do not know where to look."

"I know where not to look," Aragorn answered with a grim smile, "and that’s a start." He paused for a moment to take a pull on his ale. "I think we may find the answers we seek at Aldburg. Is that not where Thengel King was heading? Wherever Théoden is, Thengel needs to be apprised of the situation. I doubt he even knows that Edoras has fallen into traitors’ hands."

Both Rohirrim grimaced at that but did not contradict the Dúnadan. "What should we do then?" Grimbold asked. "I think the road to the Eastfold will be watched and we will not get far."

Aragorn nodded in agreement. "There is always the back door."

Alric raised an eyebrow at that, but Grimbold merely smiled, though grimly. "Aye," he said, "there is always the back door."

****

Morwen wanted to go with them to Aldburg when she learned what Grimbold and Aragorn planned. Both men looked at her in surprise, each one surreptitiously glancing at the gentle swell of her belly before returning their gaze to her face. She realized what they were doing and blushed in a combination of embarrassment and anger, unconsciously placing a protective hand across her abdomen.

"I’m pregnant," she proclaimed, "not dead. I can ride. The babe is in no danger from that."

"No," Aragorn said firmly before anyone else could speak. "No danger from riding to be sure, but there are other dangers my lady and as a healer..."

"Not my healer," Morwen retorted.

"As a healer," Aragorn reiterated, speaking a little more forcibly, "I would advise against it, my lady." He was suddenly reminded of his adar whenever one of his brothers decided to argue with Elrond about recovering from an injury. He did his best to keep the smile from both his face and voice. "The trail is rough and the destination is uncertain for we do not know what we will find when we reach Aldburg."

"Théoden is my son," the lady said plaintively, clutching at her gown.

"Yes, he is, my lady," Grimbold said. "But to be blunt, he may also be dead and you may well be carrying the king’s new heir."

Morwen went white and reeled slightly. Aragorn grabbed her by the elbow and led her to a seat, ordering Wídfara to bring the lady some water. He gave Grimbold a glare, which the Rider ignored.

"I would give you wine, lady," Aragorn said solicitously as Wídfara came with the water, "but my adar cautioned me about giving wine to pregnant women, especially in the early stages of their pregnancy. He thinks that spirits may be detrimental to the health of the unborn, though he has never been able to prove it to his own satisfaction. However, I trust his judgment in these matters."

Morwen merely nodded, only half listening as she accepted the goblet from Wídfara, trying to regain her composure. "He’s not dead," she whispered. "My son is not dead."

"Nor do I think it," Aragorn said gently, kneeling before her and checking her pulse. It was a bit fast but slowing and her color was returning. "But the sad truth is we don’t know and until we do we must assume the worst. For that reason alone you must remain here in Dunharrow with your daughters. They will have need of a mother’s comfort in the coming days whatever the outcome of all this."

Alric spoke up then. "There is also this to consider, my lady... the refugees from Edoras who make their way here."

Morwen gave the captain a questioning look.

"Oh, there will be refugees, never doubt it, my lady," the man said somberly. "Guthláf may hold Edoras but he cannot hold the people. Some will find their way out of the city, especially if they learn of your escape, and make their way here. It will comfort them to find you here to greet them in the King’s name."

For a long moment there was silence as the men waited for Morwen to think things through. Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Then it behooves me to be here to so greet them when they do arrive, Captain. My thanks for reminding me of my duty to my lord and land." She bowed her head and Aragorn could see her struggling not to weep. He placed a hand on her arm and she looked up at him.

"I promise you, my lady," the Dúnadan said, "I will do all in my power to find your son and if he is in the hands of your lord’s enemies, to rescue him and return him to you."

"As do I," Grimbold said.

"And I," Wídfara echoed, somewhat defiantly. Grimbold and Alric gave the younger Rider an appraising look but Wídfara remained steadfast in the face of his elders’ skepticism.

"It will be well, Wídfara son of Éonoth," Aragorn said, rising and holding out his hand to the Rider. "I welcome you to the hunt. You have proven yourself a true friend and a valiant Rider."

Wídfara’s eyes widened in surprise but he grasped Aragorn’s arm and gave him a grateful look. Grimbold and Alric exchanged glances but Grimbold merely shrugged at Alric’s unspoken question.

"I will not forbid it. Lord Hilderic included Widfara in our group for Lord Earntungol’s sake. If Earntungol wishes the lad to accompany us, I will not gainsay it."

"When do you leave?" Morwen asked, rising somewhat unsteadily but determinedly.

"Tomorrow," Grimbold announced baldly and Aragorn and Wídfara both nodded in agreement.

****

The next morning, however, brought snow. Lots of it.

It came during the night with the clouds lowering from the Írensaga as they swept across the face of the mountains. Dunharrow was soon blanketed in white, an eerie silence descending upon the Firienfeld as dawn crept across the land. The standing stones stood stark against the lightening sky like silent sentinels, shrouded by drifts as the wind raced itself across the open plateau, whistling strangely and sounding like the ghosts of the cursed Men of the Mountains. Or so Wídfara claimed as he and Aragorn and Grimbold stood upon the parapet of one of the towers and looked out.

"Ghosts there may be," Aragorn said with a faint smile, "but I doubt even they would want to be out in this. Do we brave the mountain trail or wait this out?"

Grimbold shook his head. "There is no trail now, my friend. The snow will have hidden it. We must wait this out." He cast a knowing look at the grey-white sky. "This will not last but it may well be several days before we can move on."

Aragorn shrugged. "There is nothing we can do about that, but I fear the delay. I fear what may become of the boy."

Grimbold put a hand on the Dúnadan’s shoulder. "As do I. We must pray that no harm has come to the æðeling."

The snow fell all that day, but by evening the storm had passed and the night was now white with stars glittering like ice shards in the black velvet sky. Théodfrid and Théodhild were happily playing in the courtyard. The two girls had been cooped up all day as the storm raged and, while they had tried to be good, it was obvious that they needed release from their confinement and their mother needed relief from their presence.

"I will take them off your hands, my lady," Aragorn had told Morwen, who accepted his offer with gratitude. The pregnancy was not going as smoothly as her previous ones and she was tiring more frequently.

Aragorn recruited Wídfara and together the two young men helped the girls to build a snowman and then to engage in a riotous snowball fight that managed to rope in half the Riders. Alric and Grimbold looked on in amusement at the antics of the men playing with the royal children. When Théodhild invited them to join in the fun they both claimed to be too old for such games. Aragorn responded by deftly hitting them both in the face with snowballs. When the two men finally caught up with him, they showed the Dúnadan no mercy, but all three were laughing by the end of it.

Another storm hit Dunharrow late the next afternoon but this one blew itself out after about an hour. Aragorn consulted with Alric who assured him that if no more snow fell they might try to leave in a couple of days.

"Let’s give the sun time to work on the snow a bit," the captain said. "That trail is treacherous enough without the snow adding to your misery."

Aragorn had no choice but to agree. Luckily, the snow held off and the sun burned bright the next day, warming the plateau enough that much of the snow melted, much to the girls’ chagrin. The men, however, were relieved.

"We’ll give it another day," Grimbold told Aragorn. "We will leave in two days' time. If we depart at dawn we can make it to the other side before sunset. I do not care to spend the night out in the open, not with the chance of storms."

So it was decided.

Late in the morning of the next day, Aragorn was standing on the parapet of the northern watch tower with Wídfara. Neither was speaking. Wídfara sat with his back to the battlement, his cloak wrapped around him, simply enjoying the fresh air. He was finding the enforced stay at Dunharrow to be not to his liking and yearned for the open steppes. Aragorn was looking out upon the Firienfeld, puffing on his pipe and ignoring the cold, thinking and wondering what they might find when they finally reached Aldburg. The movement of people approaching the keep caught his attention and he straightened, staring intently out into the blank white that surrounded them. Wídfara was alerted by Aragorn’s stance.

"What is it, Earntungol?" Wídfara asked, struggling to stand. "Why stare you so where there is naught to see?"

"There are people moving towards us," Aragorn said grimly.

"Are you sure?" the younger man asked, peering out into the snow-blanketed land. He could not see anything.

"Yes," Aragorn said with a nod. "I think Alric’s refugees are about to descend upon us." With that, he turned and made his way down through the tower and out into the courtyard, running towards the gate. Wídfara ran to the keep to alert Alric.

Aragorn did not bother to wait at the gate itself but crossed the causeway and ran towards the small group struggling through the high drifts. As he came closer he saw that there were about twenty people, mostly women and children with a few old men and one or two teenaged boys. The group stopped as he reached them, looking wary.

"Are there others?" Aragorn asked without preamble. "Are any injured?"

None of the refugees moved or spoke at first, too surprised at the sight of the dark-haired stranger who towered over them, for he was easily the tallest person there. Finally, a young woman spoke up, clutching at her clothes. A teenaged boy who looked to be about sixteen stood next her, carrying a babe wrapped in a wool blanket in one arm while the other was draped protectively over the woman’s shoulders.

"We are all you see, my lord," the woman said. "None suffer injury save what the cold would do to us."

"That is well. Come, there is hot food and warm shelter awaiting you all." With that Aragorn urged them forward and the refugees eagerly complied. Aragorn gestured to the young man and after the woman gave him a nod, he put the baby into Aragorn’s arms. The Dúnadan covered the sleeping child with his own cloak. The woman gave him a grateful smile.

"I am Ashlind and the little one is Wulfstan," she said, shifting her cloak to cover herself again. "You are the Lord Earntungol."

"Yes," Aragorn said as he walked beside her.

"My man told me of you," the woman said. Aragorn gave her an enquiring look. "Rædwulf," she answered and Aragorn nodded.

"I am glad he was able to see you safely away from Edoras. How did you escape?"

"The same way as you, my lord," came the answer from behind him, and Aragorn turned to see the older boy grinning at him. He returned the grin. "Aldred son of Aldwine, my lord," the lad introduced himself, giving Aragorn a brief bow of the head. "Ashlind is my older sister. Her husband led us to the same culvert from which you escaped."

"Is this all that managed the feat?"

The boy shook his head. "I do not know, lord. Rædwulf would only say that he would try to get as many away as he could." He frowned then. "I hope he is not found out. He is a good man and a worthy warrior... even if he did marry my sister." He gave a merry laugh as Ashlind turned and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Lord Earntungol!"

Aragorn looked up to see Wídfara running towards him with Grimbold and Alric right behind. The refugees stopped as one. Aragorn continued on a couple of paces then stopped to wait for the three men to come to him.

"Refugees from Edoras as you predicted, Captain," he said without preamble. "They appear to be the first wave. There may be others."

Alric nodded grimly, then turned his attention to the refugees. "Be welcome to Dunharrow. Come, let us see you inside and away from this cold." He gestured and with an encouraging nod from Aragorn, the group set off again.

Soon they were all within the keep. Alric issued orders for a small group of men to go to the Stairs and see if other refugees were making their way towards them. Morwen was there at the entrance of the keep along with her daughters. The sight of her put heart into the small band and there were glad cries all around. With practiced ease, Morwen went among the women and children and enquired after their families even as Théodfrid proudly ladled out soup and Théodhild distributed bread. Aragorn, meanwhile, went among them and quietly and unobtrusively checked to see that none had suffered unduly from the cold. Except for a few sniffles, though, all seemed in good health and anything wrong with them would be quickly cured by warm food and sleep.

Alric and Grimbold began organizing the distribution of bedding, moving the guards out to the two watchtowers for the duration while the inner caves were given over to the refugees. Wídfara returned with the group that had gone to the Stairs to report that they had espied a second band of refugees making their slow way up the mountain.

"I think there may be injured," Wídfara said, "though I cannot be sure."

Aragorn nodded and without another word left the keep and headed to the Stairs to see for himself. This second group was smaller, perhaps only six or eight people, not including the babes being carried. Aragorn saw one woman stumble, nearly falling off the path. He made his way to her.

"Go up, go up," he admonished the others, who had stopped at his approach. "There is food and shelter waiting for you." He bent down and helped the woman who had fallen to stand, then seeing that she was near to fainting, he scooped her into his arms and followed the others who now were climbing as quickly as they could manage, knowing that a warm welcome awaited them. The Dúnadan cast a knowing eye over the small band making note of those who appeared to be suffering from frostbite. One older man also had a gash on his head, the blood having frozen in the cold.

Wídfara and other guardsmen were at the top of the Stairs to aid them. As they continued towards the keep, Aragorn gave Wídfara quiet orders and when they came into the courtyard, the younger man deftly separated out the three suffering from frostbite and the man with the head wound and led them to an inner cave. Aragorn followed with his own burden, now unconscious. It took a while to treat them all to his own satisfaction. The woman who had fallen regained consciousness long enough to sip on some broth before Aragorn sent her back to sleep with a quiet song. He was concerned about her condition for he could not see a reason for her being unconscious for so long. She had a slight fever but that was all.

The frostbite victims were also asleep. The man with the gash, one Offa, remained awake long enough to fill Alric and the others in on what was happening in Edoras while Aragorn stitched him up. He was one of the king’s stablemasters and had gotten the gash when he twisted his ankle on some ice and fell.

"Death stalks the city," the man said grimly.

"What do you mean?" Alric asked.

Offa gave the Captain of Dunharrow a grave look tinged with fear. "Plague is what I mean, Captain Alric. Plague has entered Edoras and spares no one, whether loyal to Thengel King or not."

"Plague?" Aragorn whispered, stopping his ministration to stare at the stablemaster in horror and stealing a quick glance at the unconscious woman.

"Aye," Offa said. "Twelve of us fled Edoras together. Four... four died along the way. We did not know they were carrying the plague with them."

"Alric, go and bring the rest of those from the second group of refugees here," Aragorn said with great authority, "they must be isolated until we know for sure none carried the plague here."

"It may already be too late, Earntungol," Grimbold protested even as Alric grabbed one of the guardsmen and began issuing orders.

Aragorn nodded. "Perhaps, but they have just arrived and few have yet interacted with them, for those from the first group are asleep. My main concern is Lady Morwen and her unborn child."

Grimbold paled at that. Aragorn, meanwhile, finished his task of sewing up Offa’s head. "How does the plague manifest itself?" he asked the stablemaster.

"It begins with a fever that is followed by a wracking cough which brings up a bloody phlegm," the man answered. "It acts quickly from what I have seen. Those who come down with it are dead within a day or two."

"How soon do people who have been exposed to it come down with the first symptoms?" Grimbold asked. Aragorn was now checking on the woman, feeling her skin.

Offa shrugged. "Of that I am not sure, but those of our group who died did so within a day of each other and the last one died yesterday. No one else seems to be suffering any symptoms as yet."

"We will need to keep a watch, though," Aragorn said, rapidly thinking. He turned to Alric. "Those guardsmen who helped to bring this group into the keep should also be isolated for now. Grimbold is correct. It may already be too late for us, but it’s all we can do at the moment until we know for sure. Until then, it is best that we not allow any more refugees into the keep. They will have to set up camps in the Firienfeld."

"How long before we know for sure?" Alric asked, frowning.

Aragorn shrugged. "I think if no one comes down with it by tomorrow night, we will be safe enough, but all future groups of refugees should not be allowed inside the gates until we know for sure they are not carrying the plague."

Alric grimaced, nodding at the same time. "You are correct, of course. But you know what this means?"

Aragorn sighed, giving his own nod. "It means that we may already be dead."

No one disputed his words.

****

Æðeling: Prince, heir to the throne.