Fear No Darkness

Chapter Two
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The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.

— Gilbert K. Chesterton
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"Apparently the little imp could not resist looking into the stone, and now Gandalf has had to ride to Mundberg. The palantír warned of an impending attack on the White City, and he has gone to alert Denethor."

Théoden sat in his chair by the fire, casually running the fingers of one hand through the thick reddish curls. Edlyn sat on the floor in front of him, her hair spilling across his lap, as she leaned back between his knees and sipped her brandy. "Someone should alert them, if they are indeed in danger," she commented.

The king took a draught from his cup. "I do not disagree. I do, however, question why Gandalf thinks Rohan should go to their aid. They did not come to ours when our people were threatened. We have removed the threat of Isengard, with no thanks to Gondor."

Théoden's fingers twined absentmindedly in the soft waves cascading over his knee, running through to the ends as he gazed at the fire. Edlyn sat quietly, staring straight ahead, her head leaned against one of his knees. He glanced down at her, the elegant profile outlined by the firelight.

Nearly sixteen years ago he had met her, when her husband had been killed. A younger woman of not quite forty at the time, he had given his condolences on her loss. A widow with two young sons. He had thought her attractive at the time but thought nothing else of it. Five years later she had come to him to petition for his assistance in a land dispute she had with a neighboring nobleman who seemed to think that he could push her around simply because she was a woman.

Théoden almost laughed out loud at the memory. At the hearing he had held, she had put the offender in his place quickly and resolutely. As for the king himself, he was a man vanquished. Never had he been so taken so quickly with any woman. He kept his distance even then for a time, until fate had at last brought them to a place where it was no longer a necessity that their feelings for each other be restrained. Her young sons were grown men. And now, ten years later, she still took his breath away.

He sighed deeply. Of noble birth, she kept all manner of propriety when in public. Among the courtiers, they were simple acquaintances. That was the way she preferred it. She felt it unseemly for a widow of a high-ranking officer to take up with her husband's Lord, but she could not change her affection for the king. So she chosen discretion instead, and Théoden had respected her wishes.

Having her here again had given him a sense of inner peace he had not had in a long time, but this latest news threatened to disturb it.

"Théoden," she began quietly, "you did not have time to send a call for aid. You do not know that Gondor would not have answered."

The king looked down at her. "Gondor has been waging her own battles, with Mordor attacking them from the east."

"But still, you do not know that they would not have sent aid, had you called for it."

Théoden fell silent, contemplating her words. She stared into the fire.

"Gondor has long known the troubles that have plagued us," he countered.

Edlyn turned to face him, peering up into his face in the dim light. "Théoden," she said firmly, "You are a noble minded man. You wish always to do that which is right."

The king lowered his cup from his mouth, drawing his lips into a tight line. "I would hope that I do," he stated softly.

"Your forefather took an oath. An oath that has been passed down through all the kings of the Mark. An oath to come to the aid of Gondor, if they were to call."

He sighed deeply. She was correct. Years ago Éorl the Young had made that oath to the Steward Círion of Gondor, who had gifted them with the land on which they now dwelled. It was an oath sworn to and upheld by every king that had served Rohan through the years.

"Edlyn, Denethor cares not what happens in Rohan, as long as we keep his nothern borders safe. He does not--"

Edlyn moved to her knees, setting her cup down on the table beside his chair. Leaning forward, she cupped his face in her hands. "Your responsibility," she said, interrupting him, as only one who is dearly loved by the king would dare to do, "is not to the Steward Denethor, freond min." She held his gaze with hers, soft dove grey edged with steel. "Your oath is to the realm of Gondor. Regardless of your personal feelings about Lord Denethor's Stewardship, you have an obligation to fulfill the oath taken by your forefathers. It is you, after all, who will answer to them if you do not."

She held his face in her hands, awaiting a response from him. The king met her gaze, her words like a wave of ice water. The words his father Théngel has spoken often came back to him. "...their need shall be our need, and whatsoever evil or threat, or assault may come upon them we will aid them to the utmost end of our strength. This vow shall descend to my heirs all such as may come after me in our new land, and let them keep it in faith unbroken, lest the Shadow fall upon them and they become accursed." He spoke the words softly and slowly, as if digesting their meaning for the first time.

Edlyn raised one eyebrow expectantly, her hands still on his face. Théoden reached up, grasping her hands in his. "Once again, my dearest Edlyn, you are correct."

She smiled. "You must make whatever decision you feel is best for your people, Théoden."

Théoden shook his head. "I do not look earnestly for war, my Lady," he said softly, "but I will ride to Gondor alone, sword drawn, ere I allow that Shadow to overtake me again. If Gondor calls, Rohan will fulfill the Oath." He stood, raising her to her feet and pulling her into his embrace.

"If the beacons are lit, Edlyn, I will ride to war."

"I would expect no less of you, Théoden," she answered softly.

"Edlyn, I may not return."

She leaned back, her grey eyes once again soft, lips curved into a smile. "I would rather risk losing you to an honorable death than see you back under the spell of that worm."

"I do not wish to leave you alone and uncared for."

Stepping away from him, she walked toward the fireplace and turned back to face him. "Freond, I have told you. I will not be uncared for. My sons will see to it-"

"Your sons will ride to war, like the rest of us, and --"

"And if that be the case then so be it!" She spoke with finality, staring down into the fluttering flames. "Théoden, we have discussed this before." Edlyn met his gaze, her shoulders straight. "I will not usurp your heirs for the throne. I know that now Theodred will not rise to your seat, and if you go to war, Éomer will be at your side as ever. Should the unthinkable happen, and both you and Éomer not return, then the Lady Éowyn should take your place, not me. Call me selfish, my Lord, but I do not want that responsibility. I have no wish to be a queen."

The king sighed. This was not the first time he had heard this argument. She had the same answer every time he had asked her to marry him, of which he had lost count. He walked to where she stood, taking her hand. "Edlyn, I only wish to make known my love for you. Should I die, no one will know."

"Théoden, I will know."

He leaned forward, touching his lips to her temple. "In my heart, you will always be my queen," he told her.

"And that is enough," she responded quietly, smiling up at him. "That is all I would ask for."

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Freond min - my love