Like a Blade Forged in Fire

Chapter 18

They arrived in Aldburg at dawn the next day. Éomer had sent a message ahead to Elfhelm, so they were expected. He had a quick talk with his Marshal over breakfast, but then retired to catch up on his sleep, for he did not think he would get any news soon.

Indeed it did not come until the next day, when one of his scouts rode in. It was as he had thought, the Haradrim had not attempted the difficult crossing of the mountains, but instead took little travelled paths in the foothills above the Great West Road.

The next day, he too took to the road, slow enough not to catch up with the Haradrim, but making it easier for his men to report. They reached the border with Gondor the next afternoon. Here the Mering Stream flowed down from the White Mountains to join the Entwash, and a small forest of oaks grew at the foot of Halifirien, the first of the beacon hills.

After watering the horses they camped in the shade of the trees, for it was another hot summer's day. They had passed a fair amount of traders on the road, carts of food and wine coming from Gondor and bales of wool and cloth going the other way. At another time he would have been pleased at this sign of prosperity, but now he was preoccupied.

Dusk was falling when the call of one of his men alerted Éomer to Aelred, who was fording the stream and riding up to the camp. He clasped arms with the scout.

"What news have you got?" he asked as they sat down by the fire.

With a word of thanks Aelred accepted a bowl of stew from Éothain. "I've been following the Haradrim. They crossed here yesterday."

Éomer nodded. He had expected as much. "Any problems tracking them?"

The scout shook his head. "They had the gall to take the Great West Road." He spat on the ground. "Bought a packhorse at a village in the hills and were posing as traders."

"That's a good sign. It means they want to attract as little attention as possible," Éothain pointed out.

"Yes, but it goes against the grain, letting them go when they attacked the qu–" Aelred paused. "Lady Lothíriel and her son."

Éomer stared into the fire, the anger he had long suppressed bubbling to the surface. "It goes against mine, too." He looked up and fixed Aelred with his eyes. "Believe me, I will not forget this. One day the Harad King will pay the price for his actions. This is a debt deferred, not voided."

Aelred straightened up. "Yes, lord."

"Did you get in contact with King Elessar's rangers?" Éothain asked.

Aragorn had set up a small camp of rangers half a day's ride from the border, to patrol the valleys of Anórien. Trained by Faramir, they were some of the best woodsmen in Gondor.

The scout nodded. "Yes, captain. I told them about the Haradrim, they will keep an eye on them."

"Well done," Éomer said.

On the first night of getting back to Edoras, he had sent a fast courier to Aragorn, outlining his plan. His friend would make sure that the Haradrim were closely observed, but could travel through Gondor unimpeded.

Relieved of that care, his mind turned to other matters as he watched the flames dance across the logs. They would set off for Edoras tomorrow.

And then...

***

Four days later Éomer rode up the ramp to the Hornburg. He had stopped over in Edoras for one night to catch up on reports and change his escort, so his riders could see their families again. However, Éothain had insisted on accompanying him to the Westfold. When Éomer had felt guilty for keeping his captain away from his pregnant wife, Eanswith had cheerfully insisted that her husband would only be underfoot anyway.