I walk beside Aragorn and Legolas, the crowd around us silent as we find places to stand. The funeral is outside, and although is is warm, the air is chilly. I am not cold- at least not from the wind.
I hate Orcs.
They killed Théodred, from what I heard. Orcs also killed my father. Orcs are the evil in this world, the reason for fear and panic, sadness and grief. The crowd parts, Théodred's body carried past. Théoden follows his son, then Gandalf, and the Fellowship last. I walk at the end of the line, next to Gimli. As I pass Éowyn, she begins to sing in Rohirric.
"Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended (An evil death has set forth the noble warrior)
Giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende on Meduselde (A song shall sing the sorrowing minstrels of mead-halls)
Thæt he ma no wære, his dryhtne dyrest (That he is no more, to his Lord dearest)
And maga deorost Bealo (And kinsman beloved, death took him...)"
The tomb is sealed, and people begin to leave. The Fellowship walks in silence to the Hall of Medseld, into the city once more. I sit at one of the long, wooden tables beside Aragorn, Legolas standing behind us. I beckon for him to sit next to me, but he shakes his head. I turn back to the table to see a bowl of soup placed in front of me, and pick up the spoon. I twirl the utensil in my hand, not really hungry, until Aragorn glances pointedly at me and I take a sip of the warm soup. When I'm about halfway done, the doors open loudly, Gandalf and Théoden walking in. They both carry a child each- a male and a female- and set them down at the table. The little girl looks frightened, and the boy is unconscious. I cast a questioning look at Gandalf.
"They appeared on a horse, the boy was unconscious." Gandalf sighs as Aragorn tries to awake the boy in Théoden's arms. After a few moments his eyes flutter open, but he looks like he is about to fall asleep again.
"They need food." Aragorn mutters as the boy settles onto the seat next to his sister, and almost immediatley, soup is placed in front of them. They eat quickly, and the men begin to talk. I finish my soup slowly, zoned out and staring at a knot in the wooden table.
"Where is momma?" The little girl cries suddenly, and I look at her in sympathy.
"Shh." Éowyn murmurs to the child, wrapping a blanket over her small shoulders. The girl looks up at her in thanks, but also confusion. I place my spoon inside of the empty bowl, and a servant comes and takes it. I thank him and he nods. I listen to the conversation that Gandalf, Aragorn and Théoden are having.
"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." Gandalf says darkly. "All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight!"
Théoden looks hesitant, unwilling to do what Gandalf advises.
"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Eómer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king." Aragorn says, glancing up.
"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now. Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war." Théoden mutters.
"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not." Aragorn points out.
"When I last looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." Théoden growls, and I glance around the room to see everybody's reaction. Gandalf steps in.
"Then what is the king's decision?"
* * *
"By order of the king, the city must empty. We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep. Do not burden yourself with treasures; take only what provisions you need." Hama, the guard, calls out to the townsfolk. The people begin to load carts full of their things, and I follow Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf down the steps to the stables, where Numen, Shadowfax, Arod and Hasufel are kept.
"Helm's Deep! They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?" Gimli waves his hands about, making his point quite clear. I sigh.
"He is only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past." Aragorn says as we turn into the stables. I turn into the first stable on the left, next to where Legolas and Gimli keep their horse, but Gandalf and Aragorn continue to the back, where Shadowfax is stalled. I push open the stall doors and grab the horse's halter.
"Numen, boy, come on." I murmur, slowly approaching the stallion. He turns and nickers softly at me. I smile and slide the halter over the horse's face, then saddle him. I pat his rump and exit, almost getting trampled by Shadowfax. Legolas grabs my cloak and pulls me back quickly, and my back slams into the stable wall behind me. I groan as a nail digs into my back and my head hits the hard wood.
"Ow..." I mutter, rubbing the back of my head as Legolas looks at me guiltily.
"Sorry."
"It's okay," I laugh, "I would rather not get trampled. Where is Gandalf going, anyways?" I add.
"To find Éomer and the Rohirrim." Aragorn suddenly appears next to me. I furrow my eyebrows together slightly and nod, turning away. Gandalf must be worried for the survival of Rohan; after all, we barely stand a chance against an army of orcs, no matter how large in number. Éomer left with most, if not all of the soldiers, leaving Rohan nearly defenseless and weak. I lean against the wall again, quickly braiding my hair messily over my shoulder, loose curls escaping from the plait. I think about that woman who is supposedly Thèoden's daughter. I never knew he had another child, much less a girl.
A loud neigh echoes through the stables and I turn to see a dark brown horse struggling against several men. I see Aragorn cautiously approach the wild creature, handing the saddle he holds to a stable hand. I watch him.
"That horse is half mad, my lord. There's nothing you can do; leave him." The man says to Aragorn, but he walks right up to the horse.
"Fæste! Stille nú, fæste... Stille nú... Hwæt namnað ðe? Hwæet nemnað ðe? (Oh fast! Be quiet now... What is your name?)" Aragorn says softly, reaching out for the horse. He takes the reins from one of the stable men and strokes his neck.
"His name is Brego." Éowyn says suddenly. I never noticed she was there! "He was my cousin's horse."
"Brego? Din nama is cynglic. (Brego? Your name is kingly.)" Aragorn murmurs, calming the horse down miraculously. I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"I have heard of the magic of elves, but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North. You speak as one of their own." Éowyn says in shock.
"I was raised in Rivendell for some time." Aragorn replies, and my eyebrows shoot up higher. I did not know.. I saw him every so often, but I didn't know he was raised there. I lived there for quite some time, and I'm in my late twenties. He must be older than I think, if he was raised in Rivendell when I wasn't alive, or when I was in Mirkwood...
"Turn this fellow free. He has seen enough of war." He pats the horse one more time before handing him over to a man and turning to Brego. I walk out of the stables and into the fresh air, breathing in deeply. I see multiple men turning Brego free, and I exhale softly. Aragorn exits the stables and passes me, looking over his shoulder at me. He gestures for me to follow him. Once I catch up to him, he glances at me.
"Gather your belongings, take what you need. We will be on the road for many days."
I nod as we enter the hall, and approach the table where I left my cloak, swords, and some other blades I had previously found. I fasten my cloak around my neck and sheath my two swords on my belt. I grab my dagger from Elrond, the one I used to use, and sheath it. I tuck another smaller hunting knife into my boot, and one last one in the inside of my tunic. Hey, I want to be prepared!
The sound of metal on metal rings out suddenly, and I turn to see Éowyn and Aragorn with their swords touching.
"You have some skill with a blade." Aragorn says softly.
"The women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain." Éowyn replies.
"What do you fear, my lady?" Aragorn asks, but I know the answer. I have the same fear.
"A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire."
"You are a daughter of kings, a shieldmaiden of Rohan." Aragorn says, and I walk past them, heading back to the stables, away from their conversation. I lead Numen out of his stall and out of the stables, swinging myself onto his back. Legolas and Gimli are atop Arod, and they ride up beside me.
"To Helm's Deep." Legolas grins, stopping beside me.
"Let's go." I reply, grinning back. Gimli chuckles and we set off north-west to Helm's Deep.