Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

“Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken! Now, fulfill them all! To Lord and Land!”

Éomer’s words had sparked the journey taking us one step closer to battle, to war. We had all of us been riding for hours, and my legs began to ache in the stirrups. Aragorn rode beside the King, Legolas and Gimli flanking me as we followed behind. It was difficult to keep track of Merry amongst the throng of men, but every now and again his little head would bob in the gap between the Rohirrim and I knew he was safe.

The sun was drooping low in the sky when the camps came into view. It was a shocking sight, reaching the peak of a hill and being greeted with an ocean of tan and dirtied tents, all of them flying the banner of Rohan. The tents stretched out for miles and still as we rode on more were coming. It baffled me how so many had come so quickly; the messengers could only have steeds descending from the Mearas.

“Grimbold, how many?” Théoden asked to his right as we headed towards the winding path up the rock face to the higher plateau.

“I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my Lord!” replied the man, Grimbold.

“We have three hundred more from Fenmarch.” Added another from the left.

“Where are the riders from Snowbourn?” Théoden said with disappointment in his voice.

“None have come, my Lord.” The man lowered his head with the words and Théoden nodded, riding on in silence but scrutinizing those who had ridden to his aid so far.

The further we went the lesser our numbers became, men veering off and settling into a free space. It was a relief to say the least when at last we reached the base of the winding path, beginning the ascent. The path was so narrow we were reduced to single file, and it reminded me of the ledges in Moria. I sighed at the thought, recalling how the events of that place felt like a different age entirely.

At long last we reached the top and I followed Legolas to a post where I could tie up Feredir. I dismounted, standing still for a moment as my legs adjusted to having weight on them once more. Stretching out the discomfort, I wrapped Feredir’s reins in a simple knot around the post and patted his nose. Legolas stood at my side, the both of us laughing at the sound of Gimli’s impending grumbling.

“Horsemen, hmph!” Gimli growled under his breath, and then with more volume and conviction, “I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy.”

“Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war.” Legolas said after a moment, the smile slipping from his face. “I fear war already marches on their own lands.”

Feredir began to pace nervously behind me and I turned anxiously to him, placing my palm on his forehead and trying to calm him. The other horses also began to shift, and one stationed further away reared on his back legs. I looked around, searching for the source of the panic as other men gathered closer. Aragorn and Théoden, who had been talking in private, were wandering nearer.

“The horses are restless, and the men are quiet.” Legolas’ keen eyes were surveying the animals and expressions on the soldiers.

“They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain.” Éomer said from behind us, drawing closer. He looked distraught, eyeing the horses as well with his arms crossed over his chest.

“That road there,” Gimli nodded behind me at a dark and foggy pathway. “Where does that lead?”

“It is the road to the Dimholt;” Legolas said in almost a dream-like voice. “The door under the mountain.”

“None who venture there ever return.” Éomer said darkly, and then, before turning, “That mountain is evil.”

“Aragorn!” Gimli called out, snapping him from what looked like a trance. Upon turning to the dwarf his features were contorted in confusion, as if he has just seen something very troubling. “Let's find some food.”

Shrugging off the shiver that ran up my spine, I turned back to Legolas and touched his arm as I passed him. Announcing I was going to find Merry, Legolas offered to accompany me and we set off. It would, in principle, be nigh impossible to locate a single hobbit amongst six-thousand men—if those men did not crowd around and mutter at the sight of said hobbit.

Wiggling my way through the crowd, I watched as Merry struggled to dismount the pony. Shooting a look at all of the men and watching as their laughs slowly dissipated I went to the hobbit’s aid. He brushed himself off, looking slightly embarrassed, but saying a quiet thanks as the crowd broke apart. Asking if he was alright, he assured me that he was as I pointed him after Gimli if he was feeling hungry (which, being a hobbit, I did not doubt he was.)

A man clad in the armor of Rohan came up to Legolas and me, bowing slightly before offering to lead us to where we would be sleeping. Following him a short distance, we came upon a small cluster of tents set apart from the others. He indicated which was for each of us and I thanked him before he left. Taking the elf’s hand I walked into the sleeping quarters that would be mine and sat on the cot that had been made up for me. Casting a weary look at the elf, I sighed.

“What is it?” He questioned, pushing back a stray hair.

“Look at the difficulties Merry faces in the presence of friends. At times I worry for Frodo and Sam…they are all alone in the most unforgiving lands in all Middle Earth…”

“Each has their path, and to stray from it would defeat its purpose.” He said gently as I stood, rummaging through my pack until I found a brush and began to pull it through the many knots. “Frodo’s fate is not in your charge, and you cannot burden yourself with things you cannot change.”

“It feels so unfair, at times. The hobbits were so removed from these dark events. And now, their innocence has been stained with battles and foes of which they should have no knowledge.” I sighed heavily, sitting beside him once more and rubbing my forehead. Without words he began to gather my hair into his hands and flip it over itself into one big braid. “What was the poem about the one ring? The one Thranduil read in the story when I wanted a story?”

“Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”

It took great effort not to imagine the different circumstances Frodo and Sam could be in on their way to Mordor. Perhaps they were already there, perhaps they had already perished. Legolas tied the end of the braid and let it fall against my back. Thanking him, he laughed while explaining I never knew how to do it properly myself. Nudging him lightly, I got to my feet and stretched.

“Do you ever miss your father, Legolas?” I asked quietly, lingering at the folded opening of the tent and watching all of the men rush around with purpose. He did not respond right away, and when he did it was in a tiny voice.

“Yes. He knows, though, the importance of our quest. If I should not return the stories will be told with honour and pride, not sorrow. And if I should return, I will tell the stories myself.” He smirked slightly and I laughed, going over to him and wrapping my arms around him before announcing I would be back.

Wandering out into the camp, I went off to look for Merry; however, with no knowledge of where anything or anyone was it proved a difficult task. After walking around enough I found myself in the company of Èowyn, a flustered look on her face as she busied herself with multiple tasks.

“May I help at all, my lady?” she turned around and offered a weak smile.

“Thank you, but I have finished for the most part.”

“I did not know you rode with the men.” I said as she offered me a seat beside her on a bench.

“Just to the encampment. It is tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men.”

“Your uncle and brother appreciate it, I imagine.”

“Yes, well I would appreciate it more if I could stand alongside them. Women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them.”

“My lady, this may not be my place to say, but I believe this may be the biggest war of the third age. Many, if not most will be injured or killed. You are a shield maiden of Rohan and your kingdom will need you after the war is done. These men, they fight because they wish to defend the freeness of Middle Earth.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling as she stood and drew a sword from amongst a pile of possessions. “Would you like to spar, Vanya?” I nodded, delighted to be asked by her. I got to my feet and helped her clear a space for us to move in. Taking from my belt the blade Arwen had given me so many moons ago, I bowed my head to make it clear I was ready.

Èowyn moved first, lunging at me with a high attack that I blocked easily and responded with an attack of my own. We stayed like this for a while, attacking and blocking in a passive way and neither of us making any definitive moves to warrant a win. However, I began to grown nervous as a few men gathered around us, watching casually from the sidelines. I had no fear of performing in front of anyone, but rather how my actions would be perceived given my current situation and those who were witnessing. Gradually, the amount of attacks I made diminished, stopping entirely when, amongst the now quite large crowd, I saw Théoden and Éomer.

Loosening the grip on my sword, Èowyn knocked it from my hand and held her sword out at me. The men all clapped loudly, but Èowyn looked very unhappy. Lowering her weapon she picked up mine and handed it back to me, taking advantage of the close proximity to speak a quiet command.

“I do not wish you to treat me with some gentility, Vanya.” She said calmly, ignoring the crowd completely. “I have not won. Again, please.”

With an anxious look around the crowd again, seeing the addition of Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli but also seeing the look of pride on Théoden’s face, I struggled with Èowyn’s wish. Drawing a deep breath and relaxing my mind completely, I gave myself over to the very familiar feeling. I felt as though I were hovering between a dream and reality, seeing everything and nothing all at once. Without warning, I launched myself at Èowyn, bringing my sword down hard against her own.

The combat from that point on was much more vigorous. My advances kept pushing Èowyn to the edges of the circle that had formed, and whatever attacks she attempted were blocked in their initial movements. At one point she almost tripped, but steadied herself in time to block the downward swoop of my blade. My feet were light on the ground, fluttering in all directions to keep my body agile and maneuverable.

When the mumblings of the crowd grew and I decided it was enough, my sword met Èowyn’s and I spun it out of her hand, pulling her foot out from under her with my own and pressing the edge of my sword to her neck. It took me a moment to come down from my trance, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Èowyn lay wide-eyed on the ground before me and the men had all fallen silent. When I sheathed my sword and offered her a hand, the crowd began a quiet and polite applause full of apprehension. I avoided all eyes as I pulled Èowyn up, bowing to her and searching for some sign that what had just happened did not merit some form of hatred from her.

She smiled, and I was at ease. And then, of all things, she bowed to me. I froze in shock, her words of congratulation lost on me as I fathomed what had just happened. Royalty did not bow peasants, city-folk, wanderers. She wiped the sweat from her brow and put away her weapon, risking a glance at her brother and uncle as they retreated, leading away the group of men.

With a quiet goodbye I slipped from Èowyn’s presence, taking the most deserted path possible back to my sleeping quarters. I began to worry, wondering if I made the wrong decision in continuing the sparring at Èowyn’s command. With difficulty I pushed the thoughts from my mind and busied myself with the task of unpacking, organizing, and repacking my possessions.