Chapter 377: Rapid Reinforcement
"My house lies deep in the forest, under the feet of the mountains."
While Gandalf and the others hastened towards the King's house in Rohan, Fangorn itself seemed almost at peace.
Merry and Pippin sat upon Treebeard's shoulder, speaking softly together as the old Ent strode on.
"I gave Gandalf my word that I would keep you from harm," Treebeard rumbled. "So you shall be kept in safety. You may rest in my house, and fear nothing."
He paused, as if he were listening to things far off.
"Hoom. The road is long, and perhaps you would like to hear one of my songs."
Then Treebeard began to chant, his voice deep and sonorous, rough with age, and yet strangely gentle. Before long the hobbits had fallen asleep.
"Very well," he murmured. "Sleep, then, while you may. Sleep in peace."
After a while he spoke again, more softly.
"But I have matters still to consider. I feel a shadow stirring on the borders of Fangorn."
"And across the river, in the Brown Lands, new things are growing, stubborn things. Square things. They are not easy to speak with, and they do not speak as trees should."
He fell silent, and his eyes seemed to look far away.
"This must be spoken of. An Entmoot must be called."
…
"The Great Eye sits in Barad-dûr, ever watchful, never resting."
As they rode through the western lands of Rohan, Gandalf spoke, sharing what lay on his mind.
"Sauron is uneasy. He is afraid."
"He fears the rising city-states of Men. He fears their lord, and he fears what you may yet bring to pass. Therefore, when he was assured that Levi had vanished and could not be found, he loosed his strength at once upon the world of Men, seeking a swift end."
"Even the Free City-States were hard-pressed for a while beneath his hosts. How then should Gondor and Rohan escape the same weight?"
"Lady Galadriel has shown me the state of Gondor. Great armies assail her from many quarters, far beyond the measure of her defenders."
"The attack from the North has been broken, yet in the South the noose draws tighter."
"For that reason, we must make haste."
At Gandalf's urging, they set out at once, taking neither rest nor sleep, and driving hard for the king's city.
In four days, they came to Edoras and stood before the Golden Hall, gleaming in the light.
"Where did this ragged vagrant come from?" a shifty figure sneered at the gate, blocking their way. "That robe of yours is downright ugly. You will stain the king's eyes with it."
The insult soured the mood at once.
"And who are you?" Gandalf asked, keeping his voice level out of courtesy.
"You ask me?" The man lifted his chin. "Listen well. I am Gríma Wormtongue, adviser recognised by the great King Théoden. If you have no urgent business, then leave at once. Do not disturb the king's peace."
Boromir frowned first, studying him.
He glanced at the guards and found their faces full of helplessness. The captain of the guard recognised Boromir, the famed elder son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, and edged closer, lowering his voice as he pointed at Gríma.
"He won the king's favour with honeyed words and a show of loyalty. He has influence."
"Not only visitors, even the scouts who arrived just before you were gagged and locked away because they offended him."
"If you truly have urgent business, you may need to be firmer, instead of wasting time here."
Ahead of them, Gandalf shook his head again and again.
"Théoden has truly lost his wits to keep such a flatterer at his side."
"How dare you!" Gríma snapped, losing his composure. "You slander me to my face. Guards, seize this ragged beggar and lock him away!"
Without warning, Gandalf lifted his staff.
Thud.
A dull blow fell. Gríma's eyes rolled up, and he collapsed like a felled tree.
Steel hissed from scabbards as the guards sprang forward and levelled their weapons at the five. Whatever they thought of the man, he was of the King's household, and to see him struck down at the gates could not pass unanswered.
"What is this uproar?"
A voice came from within the hall. Théoden stepped out, and his gaze fell first upon Gríma lying senseless on the stones, then upon the strangers standing before him. His brow darkened.
"Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, son of Denethor, and with you an Elf and a Dwarf. What is the meaning of this? Why does my counsellor lie here?"
"Counsellor?" Boromir could hold his tongue no longer. "You name that worm a counsellor?"
"I had heard that King Théoden was both valiant and wise," Boromir went on, his voice hard. "Yet you keep such a flatterer at your side. In Gondor, a creature like this would be clapped in irons the moment he showed his face, and would never again set foot in a council chamber."
Behind him, Aragorn nodded grimly.
In Gondor, beneath the unceasing weight of Mordor, a man such as Gríma would never have endured; however, he clawed his way upward. Sooner or later, his weakness would have been laid bare, whether through folly or cowardice.
Denethor was not a man to spare either words or hands. Had such a counsellor crept into his household, he would have cast him out without delay.
Boromir's bluntness left Théoden visibly stung.
"You speak as though Gríma were wholly without worth," he retorted. "I grant that he is arrogant at times, yet he has skill in governance. He has spared me much labour."
"Spared you labour?" Gandalf seized on the words at once. "Do you call it service to clap your scouts in chains the moment they come, and to keep their tidings from your ear?"
"Is this true?" Théoden's face darkened.
"But—" he began.
"Will you hear me now, Théoden King, or will you be ruled by Wormtongue still?" Gandalf's patience broke. He cut Théoden off, his voice sharp. "So long as you suffer such a man to hinder your rule, you will be blinded in your own hall. If Levi stood before you, he would rouse you with a hard kick, and well deserved. Do not say that your father never spoke to you of what was done in this very place."
Théoden looked at him, stung, and for a moment his weariness showed through the pride of a king.
"If you can indeed set Levi before me," he said at last, "then I will turn my back and let him do it."
"I have heard the tale, Gandalf," Théoden went on, his voice roughening. "Levi was caught in an enemy's snare and vanished in the Northern Waste. The Free City-States rage at it."
"That is not your burden," Gandalf said. "I have tidings of him. I have seen him. He will return, and sooner than you deem."
"Is that so?" Théoden's gaze shifted, and his tone turned awkward, almost reluctant. "Then may I take back what I said just now?"
Gandalf gave him a sidelong look, unreadable, and did not answer. There were graver matters close at hand.
With the end of his staff, he nudged Gríma aside, rolling him out of the way, and went with Théoden to the scouts who had been shut away.
One question was enough to bring forth tidings that seemed to chill the air.
"The Fords of Isen are fallen," the scout said. "A great host of Dunlendings and Uruk-hai marches upon Helm's Deep. Prince Théodred holds it still, yet the case is grim. We have fewer than two thousand men."
"And their number?" Théoden demanded.
"Near ten times our own."
Théoden's heart lurched. At last he saw how near to ruin they had come. Had Gandalf not arrived, that warning might have been stifled, and he would not have known until it was too late.
He gave his orders at once.
"Take Gríma. Cast him into the dungeon, and set a gag upon that foul tongue. I will not hear him speak again."
"A wise choice," Gandalf said, with grim approval.
"And what will you do now?" he asked.
Théoden drew a breath. "Théodred and fewer than two thousand soldiers cannot possibly withstand such a host. I must gather the army at once and march to Helm's Deep."
"Then do it quickly," Aragorn urged from the side. "If the scout speaks truly, the Uruk-hai host is already crossing the Fords of Isen. Even if we set out now and march hard, we may only arrive a little before them."
"There is no time for slow preparations."
…
While Théoden made haste to muster his host, Levi stood upon the walls of the Water City. He looked down on the legions newly assembled and nodded once.
He lifted his head; yet before he could speak or give any sign, the army raised a great roar, a shout that seemed to shake the very sky. Even those who were not marching to war took up the cry, cheering until the air itself trembled.
The tidings of the wonder at Roadside Keep had already run through the Water City, to every quarter, east and south and west and north. That gentle radiance had become a token in the minds of the people, a sign that the lord of the city-states walked beneath favour.
Their fervour ran high, and it would not soon be quenched.
Levi let the clamour roll for a while, and then raised his hand. At once the ground below fell silent.
By noon, when such hasty preparations as could be made were done, four legions stood upon the open field, eight thousand men in all. Yet that was not the full measure of his strength. Part of the Water City's forces were still far away along the south-western coasts, out upon patrol, sweeping the sea-lanes to and fro.
In number the Free City-States did not outmatch Gondor; yet from fewer folk they could draw more soldiers, and therein lay their advantage.
"Set out," Levi said. "The road is long, and we must make all speed."