The Second Heir

The Fiery Maiden of Rohan

   

The company had been riding for several hours, and though Emryn had spent her fair share of time in a saddle, she couldn't deny that her rear was rather sore. A break would be nice, she thought wistfully.

Eomer had made no attempt at small talk while they rode. However, this empty time had given Emryn plenty of time to study the surroundings. She had been to Rohan before, earlier in her life before she was sent to Lothlorien. There was something different now though, like a hush had fallen across the land. The threat of the East. 

Eomer shifted in the saddle, interrupting her thoughts. That had also been a source of issue for her, because as despicable as he had been to her, he was a very handsome fellow. And very well built, her mind added. What perplexed her though was his presence in her visions in the Mirror. What was his purpose in her life? What significance does he have to have been there?

She was interrupted once more by the horselord.

"Here," he said, and reached behind his back with her knife in his hand.

Emryn snatched it quickly, and she felt him tense up. She chuckled. "I'm not going to kill you, tempting as it may be, my lord. I was given this knife with the direction to only use it to save a life, not take one in vain," Emryn stated, thinking sadly of her last time with the Lady. The last time in my home, she thought, remembering the Lady's words.

"Well, for that I am grateful," Eomer replied with a chuckle. "How did you manage to be captured by orcs?" he continued.

Emryn hesitated before answering. "My party was camping by the river when they stormed upon our site. We fought bravely, but they took three of us captive and killed another," she replied sadly. Boromir had been a noble friend in the end, even though he had a rough start in their friendship.

"Three? What happened to the other two?" Eomer asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Damn. I shouldn't have said that. "Shortly before your men arrived the orcs of Modor and the Uruks of Isengard began fighting, and so I sent them into the forest to escape."

"Fangorn is no escape my lady. It's a cursed wood," Eomer replied. "And why did you not follow them?"

"That is when you and your men arrived, and I then had to worry about staying out of the way of a spear," she replied cheekily. Her smile quickly faded. May the Valar guide them on true paths, she thought.

Eomer was silent for a moment. She has more than a temper to her, it would seem, he thought. "I am sorry you were separated from your friends. Perhaps you will be able to get means for returning to the forest to search for them, though I would not advise it. Those who go in do not return," he finally said.

He felt her grip tighten around him. That had been quite a distraction throughout the day for him, her front pressed against his back. She's shapely, that much is certain, he thought, his mind straying to others places far away, like his bed....

Stop this madness Eomer. She'll be gone soon anyways. He couldn't deny how her story had affected him though. She was obviously hiding something, though he didn't know what. Her pain was real though, that much he could tell. Bema, the pain! She needs to be rewrapped, and I dare say the men would like a rest. After all, Grima hadn't put a time limit on their removal...