Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The War Of The Rohirrim

Dunhama would fall into a dream and come to open his eyes and behold Runhild beside him. When he did finally awake and have awareness, the room filled with wounded was quiet now. H felt warmth beside him and as he turned his head, he found Runhild laying asleep beside him. He combed his fingers through her hair and gently patted her. They must have won the night, for had they not, would they be resting here now? He moved to turn toward Runhild as she stirred and rolled to her side facing away from him. Dunhama turned toward Runhild and lay himself against her back as he slid his arm over her. He was blessed to have met such a friend! He knew he was wounded, but he knew he would live. Runhild had reached inside him and held him and carried him through this darkness.

Maybe he was dreaming of this, and the reality of the morning light would reveal much, but for now, he was contented in this moment. he whispered as he fell back into a deep sleep,

"Thank you Runhild my dearest friend."

Runhild shifted slightly in her sleep, and Dunhama patted her lightly before he was lost into his vivid dreams.

Runhild felt Dunhama's arm slide over her. Warmth flooded her chest, and she snuggled into him, reaching up to clasp his hand.

His presence was such a comfort. They'd been through so much in so little time. Dunhama was like a rock to her. She could only hope that she could be the same to him.

She lay there, eyes still closed, her breathing even. She could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Safe.

They were safe.

The sheer exhaustion of the day and night had overtaken them, and even as the light of day brought good news that the trees had joined the battle and the armies of Isengard had fled, Dunhama and Runhild slept. When he awoke, he found Runhild beside him. He ran his fingers gently by her cheek and her eye opened,

"Good morning Runhild."

he said in a rasp. He still had a headache, but he had fresh bandaging on his head. Sometime as they slept Athilda had come and tended his wound. He sat up and felt dizzy, but it passed soon into the throbbing headache he remembered from earlier. He took Runhild's hand and she sat up beside him. He said,

"You are such a pleasing sight to see Runhild. Are you wounded?"

He started looking over her bloodies stained torn dress, and saw she still had chain mail on.

"I am fine," Runhild replied in a voice so hoarse she could barely speak. Later in the night, she had been taken care of. Her shoulder had been forced back into place. A bloodstained bandage lay beside her, a result of cleaning and dressing the cut over her eye. It glistened now with ointment to keep it from getting infected. A black cut still split her lip, but no longer tasted metallic. She took care not to move her lips too much as she spoke, not wanting to reopen the small wound.

She reached out to Dunhama, her fingers delicately tracing the edge of his jaw. "How are you feeling?" She studied his face, trying to put each line to memory.

The corners of her mouth twitched in a smile. It was such a relief to see Dunhama awake. To know that he would live, and that she would not be alone. Runhild drew him into her embrace, burying her nose in his shoulder. She breathed in his scent, warmth once again spreading through her. After a long moment, she pulled away, her face slightly flushed, but with no other sign of embarrassment.

Runhild drawing close had Dunhama close his eyes, and he gently caressed her head as she rested against him. When she again sat up, Dunhama squeezed her hand. He admired this woman who he had met, and thought it had been ony a day, the battle seeemd to have made it seem so much longer.

He closed his eyes for a moment when Athilda came over and asked,

"How are you two feeling this morning? I have to say you are looking much better Dunhama. And you Runhild I think you will heal well."

Athilda looked back and then said in a low voice,

"If you would like to clean up and get a change of attire, I know a place. It is in the Glittering Caves. I could take you there if you wish."

Dunhama looked to Runhild and their eyes seemed to read each other's. Dunhama said,

"I could likely use a good wash. I also think I need to get to my feet and walk some."

He was feeling stiff, and he found aches he didn't know about as he turned to get up. He asked Runhild,

"Should we take up this kind offer?"

Runhild nodded vigorously. She too was in need of a good wash. She could still smell the stench of blood and sweat on her clothes, and her hair was a tangled mess.

"Yes, please. Thank you, Athilda," Runhild gushed.

She stepped up to Dunhama's side, supporting him as they walked. She moved slowly, often pausing to make sure her friend was comfortable before moving on. The last thing she wanted was for Dunhama to be uncomfortable.

Athilda led them a ways into the Glittering Caves. Runhild couldn't help gasping when they set foot in it. The stories did not do the place justice. While it certainly wasn't one of the Dwarven mines, they were still full of beauty. Unharvested ores ran up the walls, beautiful and strong. Light glinted off them, sending sparks of silver and gold dancing through the air. The river winding through the caves pulsed with color coming from the torches and shine from the ores.

"It's beautiful!" Runhild cried, pausing to take it all in.

"Yes, wonderful! It is breathtaking!"

Dunhama said as he leaned on Runhild, his arm around her as she held him steady. He had forgotten about his leg wound, but now that his head was clearing of the fog, he could feel all his aches. Athilda smiled as she said,

"I'm not supposed to bring people back here, but... I am told I have a healing hand, and I know of the healing qualities of this place. Come..."

She led them down a feint track off the main walk, and after they squeezed through a narrow gap in the rocks, one could hear the trickle of water in the deep silence of the caves. The scent of salts could be noticed as the air seemed to warm as the chamber widened. Athilda said,

"This warm spring seems to have a healing nature, be it in spirit or physical. Take a soak if you like. I would love to join you, but I have to get back to work before I am missed."

Athilda blushed slightly in the dim surreal light that filled the rock chamber. The light came from high above where there must have been a fissure where some sun could get through. It was quite diffused from the distance and seemed to dance with the color of the rocks. She turned and left Dunhama and Runhild there, wisps of steam curling around their feet. Dunhama looked to Runhild and smiled as he worked at shedding his tunic.

Runhild went pink, but said nothing more to Dunhama. Watching out of the corner of her eye, she peeled off her apron dress, followed by the chain mail, which let out a satisfying hiss and clink as it hit the ground. Her dress, however, was another matter. She struggled to reach the stays, her fingers only able to pluck at the strings.

With a sigh, she turned to Dunhama. "Help me, will you?" She turned around so that her back was facing him, drawing her hair over her shoulder. As he tugged at the stays, she began to undo her various braids.

Dunhama dropped his breeches and stepped toward Runhild where he started to work at freeing her from her dress. He was embarrased that he had never helped a woman undress before. As his fingers worked the stays, he could feel himself grow tense inside. He fumbled with the past stay, and as Runhild freed her hair from her braids, Dunhama took a deeper breath. It was then he freed her of her dress and it slid down her body to the stones they stood on. She quickly stepped in to the swirling warm water and sank to her neck, and Dunhama was frozen as he watched her. He started to step in, but he slipped on the wet stone and he went in with a big splash, coming up quickly in the salty mineral water right in front of Runhild. He pushed his hand back over his forehead to get his hair from his face and he laughed nervously.

"This ... it is ... well, this place is ... you are.... "

Dunhama had a hard time getting words out as he watched the water lap at Runhild's neck and collarbone, her hair spreading in the water. She was such a beautiful sight to behold! He reached out his hand and gently caressed her cheek.

Runhild laughed softly, leaning into Dunhama's touch. She smiled up at him, taking in the sight of his wet hair and chiseled body. She reached up and tucked a stray strand of his hair behind his ear.

"What's the matter, Dunhama? Cat got your tongue?" she teased, leaning back to soak her hair in the water. She let out a sigh. It felt so good to finally clean off. It felt as if she was rinsing away all the pain and suffering she'd dealt with for so long.

She smiled, standing back up to look at Dunhama. Seeing him like this...she blushed as her mind brought up a million different images. She waded closer to him before rising on her toes the best she could to kiss him lightly on the lips.

Dunhama felt giddy as Runhild leaned back. Whe she arose with her hair pressed against her, Dunhama had so many thoughts run through his mind he couldn't form words. She was beautiful. He knew that from the first moment he saw her on the road, but he burdens of death and loss weighed her down. Now, as she came to him, her face glowed with a beauty as if she had walked out of a song and was now before him.

As she stretched to kiss him, he met her lips with a gentlemess that wanted to care for her wound. He bent his legs down and settled in to the pool to his neck to face Runhild. He smiled as he beheld her eyes in the dim glittering light, and he slid his arms around her back and started to float himself back across to the far side of the pool, bringing Runhild with him. When he came to the other side, he found a rock under the water that allowed him to sit, and Runhild floated to stop before him, sitting on his knees. His fingers gently caressed her back, tracing her spine to the small of her back as he leaned forward and gently kissed her again. This time it lingered longer as his other hand slid up to her shoulder.

Runhild pressed herself against him as much as humanly possible, deepening the kiss. Her hands rested lightly on his chest, then slid over his shoulders and tangled gently in his hair. A small, soft note formed in her throat at the feeling of Dunhama's touch.

She pulled away for a moment, his face in her hands, her green eyes searching his. Then she was back at his lips, with a fire and a passion that even she was unaware of being capable of. She kissed down his neck, to his collarbone, and back up to his lips, loving every second of it. She held him tightly, unwilling to let go.

Dunhama slid forward to allow Runhild to wrap her legs behind him, and he felt them give him a hug as they pressed together. His dark eyes fell headlong into Runhild’s bright eyes, and when she drew close again, he wrapped his arms around her and held her hips as they fell deep into a passionate kiss.
~
The chamber echoed with the sounds of the water running into and out of the pool and that of Dunhama and Runhild singing out their combined bliss. Never had Dunhama felt like this, and he wanted this to last forever. They would pause and rest upon each other’s shoulder as they worked to regain their breath. With the world spinning around in deep waves of bliss, they settled against each other to rest entangled As one.
~

After a time, Runhild slid off Dunhama's lap, still breathing heavily. She kept a hand on his arm, steadying herself, a smile splitting her face. So that was what it was like. The feeling slowly ebbed away as she stood there, and she longed for it again.

Instead, she hauled herself out of the spring, her hair clinging to her skin. Her smile had suddenly turned shy.

"Thank you, Dunhama," she giggled, surprising herself. How long had it been since she'd been so happy she'd practically been giddy? Besides the numerous times when she'd gotten herself drunk. No, when was the last time she'd been truly happy? Dunhama had brought a lot out of her in such a short time.

She let herself dry off, then moved to dress. She was pleasantly surprised to find a new dress waiting for her; Athilda must've brought them when she was leading them to the springs. It was a rich green thing, much nicer than the drab stablehand outfit Runhild had gotten tattered in the battle. She held it up to herself, admiring it. She'd never worn something so beautiful. She slipped it on, tugging at the stays to no avail.

"Dunhama...I might be in need of your help again," she chuckled softly.

Dunhama was so relaxed he was drifting to a blissful dream when Runhild moved. He held her while she gained her foothold, and when she emerged from the water she appeareed to him to be a beautiful nymph of those songs he had heard sung. Dunhama smiled and he slid under the water feeling no pain.

When he again came to the surface, his head bobbed about as he watched Runhild find the clothes Had Athilda come while they were...? Dunhama blushed at the thought of being watched their first time. He then realised he was feeling like a prune. As Runhild dropped a fine silken shift over her, he climbed out of the pool. He stayed near the edge while Runhild fitted a beautiful green dress, and she looked to him to help.

"Um... I'm still a bit wet ..."

He stepepd over to her and, being distracted at how beautiful she looked, he fumbled with the stays. He finally managed to get it sorted for her, and he blushed as she turned to him. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms again, but thought it best he get dressed before Athilda returned. He smiled and turned beet red. They have just spent uncounted moments together in the warm spring, yet he felt like a little boy in her presence. He reached for the clean linen braie and tunic and quickly put them on. He looked over to Runhild admiring her dress. He too admired her in her dress...

"I have yet to thank you Runhild."

He said as he fumbled with the clean grey-green breeches and plain brown tabard that were left him. Finally having dressed, he smiled at Runhild.

"Maybe we should take a walk through the caves as we return to the fortress?"

Runhild smiled, turning about to face Dunhama. Her face seemed to glow in the dim light, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. She stepped forward and straightened the front of Dunhama's tunic. She rested her hands one last time against his chest and kissed him, just barely catching him on the corner of his lips. Then she stepped back.

"Aye. I am not quite ready to face what is above. Not yet," she replied. She looped her arm around his and began to walk. Soon the warm humidity of the spring sank away, cooled by the rest of the caves. Somewhere, water dripped, the sound echoing through the arches. All around them, the veins of ore stretched high above their heads, glittering in light that had somehow broken through the stone.

Runhild licked her lips as they walked, suddenly shy. Her free hand reached up into her still wet hair out of habit.

"Tell me about yourself, Dunhama," she said suddenly. Her voice bounced off the walls, fading down into the darker parts of the caverns. "I know that you work in the kitchens in Edoras, but what makes you...you?"

Dunhama paused his step when Runhild asked about him. He thought for a moment and as Runhild turned to face him, he took her hands in his and said,

"I am a boy of Edoras. All I know was what I learned at the tavern. I guess what made me as I am was my mother and her care and wisdom. And I took many of the traveling bards who played the tavern as a father as many showed interest in this wide-eyed kid who was there every night listening to them.

He looked to Runhild and with a gentle squeeze of her hands he said,

"I hope to compose song and play and sing for people. I want to tell of these times which we live in Runhild! They are times which stories will be told in Rohan for years to come. That is... when all this death and killing is over..."

He grew somber at the thought that they won a battle against Isengard, but knew a bigger evil bore down on them from the east. He sighed and shook his head. Looking again to Runhilds deep eyes, he went on,

"My dreams are to do all that, but the reality had me homeless at age 14, and doing what I could to survive another day. I only came to the royal kitchen because the Lady Eowyn had mercy on a thief. I was caught stealing from the Royal larder. It was easy to get in and out, and I fed many an orphan. The Lady has a big heart, and she ordered my punishment to work in the kitchen and live in the larder. And now I'm a soldier of Rohan."

He looked at a particular pinnacle of stone that seemed to glint in a certain brightness taht caught his eye. He then said,

"I guess that makes me me.... what I dream, and what life is. What of you my l... lady?"

He felt the heat burn inside him. He caught himself saying it. He managed to add,

"What does Runhild of Edoras dream of?"

Runhild ducked her head and laughed softly. What did she dream of? She had never really considered that. Not since she was very young, when she wanted to be princess of Gondor. It had been a foolish dream, a child's dream, and she fell for a more practical life instead.

With a sigh, she looked back up, shaking the hair out of her face.

"I had always dreamed of seeing the world. I planned that as soon as I got a horse, I would leave Edoras for a life of adventure, maybe fight, become a shieldmaiden that little girls wanted to be like when they grew older. Maybe even marry the next prince of Gondor, should there ever be one," she laughed.

"But I was young, and foolish. As I got older, it became clear to me that I would be in Edoras. I took a job as a stablehand when my mother near blind and was unable to continue her work. Older still, and I hoped to join the Mark. Eomer turned me down. I am a strong fighter, but a weak rider. I cannot afford a horse. So my dreams have dwindled into what every woman desires: find a man. Get married. Have children. Live a full life, and die. It seems to be the only obtainable one for me," she finished.

"But please. Don't let me drag you down with my sad story. Yours is filled with hope, and I draw strength from it."

She beamed, kissing the back of his hand and resuming the walk.

Dunhama listened to the feeling in Runhild's words and as they started to walk again, he held on to one of her hands. he kiss upon it had him fall into thought, and he said,

"Your story is not sad, not to me. It is unfortunate for Eomer that he did not accept you, for I saw, at least some anyway, of how well you fought on the wall."

Dunhama thought a bit as their boots crunched the stones of the path. She would have made a great wife of a high lord of Gondor, and for want of a horse and a chance at skill in riding, a great horse soldier. But there were none who he wished to have by him, in battle or adventure.

"We were fortunate to live Runhild. Many were not so fortunate. I fear there will be more battle and death in the coming days. I saw my death when that axe hit my head, and it was not in the mud and rocks of Rohan. It was somewhere far away from here. Yet I have been no further than this fortress, and only heard tales of Gondor and the north."

Again he fell silent for a moment before he asked Runhild,

"Sometimes our dreams and our desires are not one with each other. I know now whether I will ever go anywhere. I have only taken life one day at a time. Dreams are what I make in my head. Seldom do they merge with reality. It has only seemed to happen once for me.... I am sorry... I talk too much..."

He looked ahead and they could see the archway back into the fortress coming in to sight.

RUnhild gave Dunhama's hand a gentle squeeze. "It is fine, Dunhama. I don't think you talk too much." She let out a breathy laugh, pausing before the archway. Something inside her twisted. She and her friend had survived among the lucky few. But so many had died. She knew not what lay beyond the arch.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the rubble. Stones lay strewn about, some glistening with darkened blood. Bodies of orcs and men and Dunlandings lay clumped together. A stench filled the air. Tears stung Runhild's eyes; partially from remorse, partially because of the smell. She stood there a moment, her lips pressed tightly together. She pulled her hand from Dunhama's to kneel beside the body of an older man. With trembling fingers, she slid his eyes closed.

A soft song flooded past her lips, one that she had heard sung at her uncle's funeral. She did not know it well, and she tripped over the language a few times, but her voice was clear and strong. She just sat there in the ruins, singing. Singing for the souls lost and for those who forged on.