'Where now the horse and the rider?'
Prequel to 'Rain on the Mountain'.
Before the storm clouds of war gathered.
Before the growing shadow in the East took form.
Before the Riddermark knew the choking hold of a wizard's malice.
Before the illegitim...
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Chapter 13
Winter came, as it did every year.
Four years had passed since Théadain had risen to the rank of the Third Marshal of Rohan. In that time Éomer had also accepted the rank of Second Marshal, whilst Théodred had taken his father's place as First Marshal. The young leaders of the Rohirrim were tireless in their defence of their lands, utterly dedicated to their assigned regions. It meant that they rarely found themselves together anymore – even rarer that they should all be gathered in the Golden Hall.
As the time Théadain spent in her home lessened, she was struck more forcefully by the aging of her father each time she returned. Perhaps she imagined it, but to her it seemed that his hair was greying almost too quickly, the lines upon his noble face deepening before their time. Though she reasoned with herself that the sight of an aging parent would always alarm their child.
What was more alarming was the increased regularity of attacks upon the Riddermark. When once they only were seriously concerned by orcs and Dunlendings making their way down from the mountains to the West and South, it seemed now that pressure was being applied from all sides. It was now not unusual for orcs to be seen crossing the Anduin from Emyn Muil or even a few making their way from the Gondorian borders. In response, the people of Rohan were becoming less widespread. Herds of horses and the citizens that bred them were moved closer to Edoras – some of the more far-flung settlements had been abandoned entirely. The security offered by being near the strongholds of Edoras and Helm's Deep was more reassuring than standing alone on the open plains.
The fortress of Helm's Deep was where Théadain often found herself and her company, sheltering from some of the most bitter nights this winter had to offer. They were not the only ones to make this plan though, for the First Marshal's company had also made for the Hornburg, gathering within the solid walls as a snowstorm raged beyond. She was glad of the companionship though, it had been several weeks since she had last seen her brother, and the few days spent sheltering behind the Deeping Wall gave them ample opportunity to share stories and news from their patrols.
"A messenger from Gondor is here, My Lady."
Théadain glanced up from where she was seated at a long table inside the keep, sharing a meal with her brother and their combined companies. She raised an eyebrow at the news of a messenger travelling through such inhospitable weather but nodded in greeting to the guard that had approached her side.
"Prepare a bed for him and see that his horse is well cared for." She smiled, taking the folded parchment he held to her in offering before dismissing him with a nod. Glancing at the familiar script that her name was written in on the outer side of the note, her smile widened – enough so that Théodred noticed.
"I believe you and that man have exchanged more letters in this past year than Denethor and our father have exchanged in their lifetime." Théodred smiled teasingly at his sister as she slipped her finger under the wax seal of the letter, breaking it carefully so as not to tear the paper.
