˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ A CALL FOR HELP ❫ ❞

⋆ 🌪. CHAPTER FIFTY✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ rohan: edoras ─── act four

❝ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝘵𝘰 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 ❞

*✧ ─── THE WHETHSTONE SLID SMOOTHLY ALONG THE EDGE OF HER SWORD, ITS RASPING WHISPER STEADY AND SURE. THE SOUND allowed her to focus, each stroke deliberate and grounding as the blade caught the pale light of dawn. Beyond the hill, morning mist still clung to the grasslands, silvering the earth in a hush of stillness. But peach was fleeting—if it existed at all. All around her, quiet murmurs had already begun; of war, of Sauron.

Gyda paused, fingers tightening on the hilt of her sword. War was approaching, Gondor would need their aid, and yet...

Gyda's thoughts were not with the south kingdom, they remained behind, in the healer's chamber and the Elleth that laid beneath linen sheets. Elgarain.

It had been days. Still her presence by Elgarain's side did nothing but deepen the ache—so much so that Legolas, unable to watch her unravel further, had pulled her away and all but commanded her to rest. To breathe.

But Gyda hadn't rested, she couldn't. Her mind only kept her awake, heavy with guilt and questions. Tossing and turning in her cot, escaping into the night to look at the stars and moon that glistened.

Gyda swallowed hard. How can I protect her? Her mind raced, when I am the one that's hurting her?

The weight of that question bore down on her more than any blade she'd ever carried. She had made a vow, sworn it as her father laid dying—to stand beside Elgarain, to guard her from all that would do her harm. She had never imagined she would be the harm.

She moved the whetstone again, a little too fast this time. The scrape was harsh, uneven. Her hand stilled.

A sharp breath left her lungs.

If they severed the bond, Elgarain might live. But what would happen to her? Would her fëa, so long tied to Elgarain's, survive? Or would it fade like a flame deprived of air?

She didn't fear death, no elf truly did.

But Gyda did fear failing her.

And in the deepest corners of her heart, Gyda had finally been able to dream of a life beyond her service, beyond the promise she made long ago. One of peace and warmth in the arms of the Ellon that stood quietly beside her through it all.

Lowering the whetstone, Gyda bowed her head, the sword across her knees like a weight she could no longer bear. For the first time in a long while, she felt like a warrior who no longer knew what battle she was fighting, or if she could win it.

A shadow moved passed her, steady, purposeful.

Gyda lifted her head, eyes following Éowyn as she strode across the dew-kissed earth, her own sword gripped with quiet certainty. She had the look of someone who already made her choice—to ride.

Gyda's lip twitched up in a hidden smile and their eyes met for a fleeting moment.

Éowyn, in a way, was her mirror. Strong and proud of the people she came from, a sense of duty beyond the common cause. Their hearts and spirits spoke the same language and Gyda felt as if fate had pulled them together in this moment in time.

"You're up early" Éowyn said softly, halting a few paces away. Her gaze flickered to the sword in Gyda's lap, then to the whetstone at her feet. "Or did you not sleep?"

It was a fair question, and the answer rattled in her chest like something heavy with no way out. "Not much." She answered faintly.

Silence settled between them, broken only by the distant clatter of people.

"How has she faired?" Éowyn asked after a beat, though she already knew the answer.

Everyone had known about Elgarain and how she had fallen ill. There were whispers, rumors and many questions. Elves rarely, if at all, got sick, and even less so as sickly as Elgarain had become.

Gyda clenched her jaw tight, every muscle pulled taut. "In and out of consciousness—she heals slow...if at all."

The lady of Rohan stepped closer, kneeling beside her, setting her sword down with care. Her tone was gently as she spoke next, "You care for her deeply."

Gyda blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the statement. She did not deny it. How could she? It lived in her every breath, every step, every aching heartbeat since Elgarain had collapsed.

"Our fëa are bound," she whispered the truth. "Her pain... it is mine. Her fading... I feel it like a fire guttering in my chest."

Éowyn said nothing at first, only rested a hand on Gyda's arm, grounding her. The sunlight caught the blonde of her hair, shining like spun gold for a moment.

"And if you break the bond?" Éowyn asked evenly.

Gyda stared at the horizon, where morning light stretched in cold gold over distant hills. "Then she may live. And I may not."

A pause that felt heavier than anything—then Éowyn said, "Then she must not know you are afraid." She said it so simply, as if she knew how easily Gyda would be swayed by her duty—perhaps because Éowyn would sacrifice everything for her people too if it was to be demanded.

"You may choose to fall for her sake," Éowyn continued, her voice steady. "But do not let her think you are afraid of that choice. Let your courage be the last thing she sees in you, if it must be the last."

The words hit hard—clean, like a sword slicing through fog.

Gyda looked down at her blade, at her reflection faint in the steel.

"Thank you," she said, quietly, honestly.

Éowyn rose, nodding once before retrieving her sword and walking on, her pale cloak trailing in the wind like a banner yet to fall.

Gyda sat for a long moment more. If she was to be unmade, it would not be in fear.

It would be in love.

And in choice.

And if she could fight—fight for Elgarain, for herself, she would face its battle without fear, without doubt.

"Gyda."

His voice was soft, but it reached her all the same. She looked up.

Across the courtyard, Legolas stepped from beneath the shadow of a stone alcove. In each hand, he carried a wooden bowl, steam curling up in lazy spirals from within. The scent reached her before he did; the herbs, broth something earthy and warm.

It hit her with sudden weight, as though her body had only just remembered it had needs.

He offered her one without a word. She took it, fingers brushing his. The bowl was warm in her cold hands, and it was only then, as she looked down into it, that she realized; she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten.

Legolas sat beside her without asking, setting his own bowl down on the stone steps before drawing his cloak tighter. The silence was familiar, comforting, but he watched her carefully from the corner of her eye. As if she would break, as if only he would notice when everything inside her could actually crumble. Like he was preparing to catch her when she would stumble.

"Elgarain has woken again." He spoke softly.

She looked down into the stew. She didn't reply at first. Afraid to ask how she was fairing. Instead she took a small, tentative bite. The warmth spread quickly through her chest.

"She wants to speak to you." He continued.

"I know..." Gyda's voice was barely above a whisper as she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know what to say to her. This isn't like any argument we have had before, not with stakes such as high as these." She admitted, voice cracking.

"Say only what is true." Legolas responded gently, "and remember to listen to her too."

She chuckled softly at his implication, the corner of her mouth twitching up.

A hand reached for her, soft, sure fingers cradling her jaw and tilting it to face him. "You'll figure it out together."

Gyda leaned slightly into his touch, her eyes closing just for a heartbeat, as if to tuck the moment away. "Thank you."

When she opened them again, the peace was still there, faint but present. She let go of his hand slowly, reluctantly, grounding herself with a breath.

"I should go to her," she said, voice steadier now.

Legolas nodded, stepping back. "She's stronger than you think, Gyda. And so are you."

She set the half-finished bowl down beside his, gathered her cloak, and turned toward the healing halls. Her heart pounded louder with every step, and yet she didn't falter.

The corridors were quieter than usual, as if the stone itself had hushed in reverence for what was unfolding. A few passing healers offered her soft nods or brief glances, but none stopped her. They knew where she was going.

The door to Elgarain's chamber loomed before her. Gyda paused there, fingers hovering just above the wood, her breath held tight in her chest.

Then, finally, she pushed it open.

Inside, the light was dim, a golden spill of sun casting gentle warmth over the linen sheets. Elgarain lay propped against pillows, her skin pale but her eyes alert, watching the door as if she had known Gyda would come.

"You're here," Elgarain said, voice soft but sure.

"I am." Gyda stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

The distance between them felt strange and unusual after so many years spend close together. Like it wasn't just a few paces that stood between them. The distance felt like a bridge she could not cross.

Gyda hovered by the door like an uninvited guest. "How are you?"

"Much better. My body feels less...heavy." Her eyes studied Gyda closely. "How are you feeling?"

A small weight fell from her shoulders. For a moment she wished to shy away from the truth, but as she looked upon Elgarain, she could not help but answer honestly. "Restless." The words hung in the air for a moment. "I do not know what to do."

The smile on her face did not reach her eyes, there was grief hidden in it, a pain she felt all too well herself. Elgarain shifted on her bed, as if wanting to disappear within the sheets. "Do you remember that glade we met in the dream we shared?"

"Yes, I do." She replied softly, curiously. "Why?"

She looked at her hands as she replied. "I went back there in my dreams. This time my father awaited me there." She looked at Gyda, gaze warm. "He said Gyldorn would be pleased to hear your wit has served a purpose, by helping me become who I am today."

Something fragile stirred inside Gyda at those words. A shuddering breath escaped her, eyes averting for a moment as if to hide the tears lining in her eyes. "I could not dare stake such a large claim." She paused. "but I agree with your father. You have grown to be someone worthy of the crown."

Elgarain nodded. "There was a time I would have disagreed, but now I am not to shy to admit that I believe I have done my job well. I wouldn't have dared to leave our kingdom to go on this quest otherwise." She took a shaky breath. "Our lands are as save as they can be, our people thriving and I have done all can for Frodo. If my legacy were to end here, I would be at peace with that. But you, you still have so much to do, to become."

Gyda took a small step closer, "Perhaps, that is true...but you too have more waiting for you after this war. We both do." Another step closer. "We know what will happen if we do nothing. But if we severe the bond—" Her eyes lifted to meet Elgarain's. "I will fight and I will overcome whatever awaits me to return."

"It is not what I wish for you to do." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve before returning her gaze to Gyda, a fondness lit up her eyes. "But out of the two of us, you have always been the better fighter."

Gyda chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "It is not because I wish to die in your stead Elgarain, it is because I wish to fight for you...for me—for us" Gyda spoke softly, "This is not just a choice of duty." She reached to grab Elgarain's cold hands in her own. "but of love."

Elgarain squeezed her hand in return. "It is your life, your choice and if this what you want to do, then I shall object no further."

She gave her a watery smile. "Thank you, for trusting me—I promise I will do whatever is necessary to return nesa."

"I will hold you to that, nesa." She took a deep breath. "But I do not know how to sever the bond, and I do not wish to make things any worse by trying it myself as I did when I healed you. We need Gandalf's assistance."

Gyda nodded.

The silence that surrounded them suddenly broke as the sound of clattering feet and shouts echoed beyond the door of the healing chambers. Gyda tensed, worried eyes darted away from Elgarain. She made to go, but before she could move toward the door, it burst open.

Gimli appeared, breathless and red-faced. His gaze swept over them before he spoke: "The beacons are lit."

Gyda tensed, heart stuttering in her chest. "What is the king's answer?"

"We ride for war."

AUTHOR'S NOTE
HOLY COW chapter fifty!!! thank you so much for reading. I just love Gyda and Elgarain so much, and I can't believe how close we are to the ending of the book. It's insane to think Nel and I started this book so long ago. So many wonderful ideas we created along the way, and so many characters we've come to love dearly. It will be strang to think one day their story will be done.

EVISH TRANSLATIONS:
Nesa ─── sister