Don't yell at me, the idea came to my head and WOULD NOT LEAVE! Eowyn and Faramir are my favorite couple in all Tolkien lore. But I began reading a really good AU fan fiction of them…and the idea of writing one myself would not leave my head. I hate it when that happens. In any case, here is the first chapter.
Disclaimer: All is property to J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is being made. Accuse me of stealing it and I will curse you of images of Denethor in a thong that will forever plague your dreams till the end of eternity.
Notes: This is based purely on the books. Faramir is twelve years older than Eowyn. Do the math yourself. Their years of birth are 2995 and 2983. When this starts out, Eowyn is 19 and Faramir is 31. Also, the books do not delve too deep into Theodred's character, so I made my own interpretation of him from what little information is given in the books. Finally, Boromir is not, as the movies and most fans see him as, a self-centered S.O.B. that was only in the presence of the Ring that he acted like that. So he is not that way in my story.
Summary: In order to strengthen the bonds between Rohan and Gondor, an agreement is made for the first born woman in Rohan to wed one of the heirs of Gondor when she comes of age. With just one year until her coming of age ceremony, Eowyn is informed of the agreement and she is forced into courtship with the Sons of Gondor, a kingdom she has been taught to hate since her date of birth. AU, Eowyn/Faramir.
Chapter 1: An Arrangement of Old.
Enjoy
VIVXXVIV
Rain poured down in heavy sheets and bombarded the small fleet of riders across the vast fields of Rohan in the West Emnet. The ground was sodden and slick from all the water and the horsemen upon their mounts grew irritable for they could not possibly find their destination in such weather. The wind stung at their beaten faces as they removed their helmets. "We must be close for we just now crossed into the West Emnet. Edoras cannot be far away," said a deep male voice.
"Indeed we have crossed into their borders, but without proper lighting the Golden Hall could be two inches before our very eyes and not see it!" came another exhausted voice. A loud boom of thunder rolled overhead and the sky suddenly became bright with a strike of lightning. But the hardened soldiers did not flinch; their many years of training had drained all feelings of fright in a storm out of their system. "We must proceed, for remaining in this ghastly weather would mean suicide," the second voice said again. "If we continue in the same direction, we are bound to reach Edoras within the hour. If not, we wait for dawn's light to illuminate the lands and our bearings resume".
"He is right, we must ride forth," another voice, also male, agreed. At that, the half a dozen riders set off again, riding in the direction against the howling wind. Within a few minutes, the horses were panting with fatigue but heeded their rider's orders to press onward. The dark veil of night prevented any good light, and the heavy sheet of rain only increased, worsening their situation. But despite all the poor conditions and seemingly evil weather, the riders went forward.
Their pace soon fell short as one rider's horse collapsed from exhaustion. The magnificent animal dropped in its tracks, barricading his rider under him. "Beregond!" one his companions cried out. The remaining five riders dismounted and went forth to aid their companion. Several minutes later with a fair amount of 'heaves' and 'hoes' the rider of Gondor was pulled from his steed's mighty weight and had doubled up on another man's horse. "That was too close for comfort. The sooner we are out of this storm the better," Beregond announced. No help could be given to his mount, which was left in the storm. A frown of grief was littered across the tower guard's visage but was not visible in the rain that continued to pelt them. Minus a horse, the company speed continued to dwindle. Soon all of the mounts showed signs of severe fatigue and threatened to collapse.
Yet still, they pressed forward. For another half an hour they trudged their beaten beasts through the wed muddy ground and braved the ever-increasing rain and wind. "What is that?" Beregond pointed out, for he was no longer preoccupied with steering his horse. His barely visible arm extended into the rain. The rest of the group had to squint, but clear enough was the vague outline of a horseman. "Who are you?" Beregond called out. The stranger was clearly not from Gondor, for he carried himself in an alien fashion on his mount. All six assumed he was one of the wild Rohirim of Gondor's tales. The half-a-dozen men ceased movement and waved their arms as the unknown figure drew closer.
"Be at ease, I come from Meduseld," the stranger said. His muscular form became slightly more visible as he ceased his mount. "You have been expected and anticipated. Although I am sorry to say, the weather has been against you. Come. Riders were sent hours ago looking for your lost company. Let your hearts relax, you are in the presence of friends," he said. Signaling to follow him, the riders from Gondor followed Rider from the Mark. A wave of relief washed over the six Gondorians, although at the time they figured it was the fresh beating of rain.
In just a few short minutes, the darkened outline of Edoras upon a giant plateau was seen. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, allowing the six lost men to gaze upon the Rider on front of him. His form was tall and proud, with broad shoulders and dusky golden hair that fell to his shoulders. The faithful steed that carried him was a painted grey and white. As they came closer to the small city, more Riders of the Mark appeared and surrounded them from all corners, as if they were prisoners. The sharp incline of plateau was felt as they ventured up through the sodden mud and to the large pair of wooden gates that signaled the entry into Edoras. Another soldier came from up front and told the Gondor-natives to dismount and that their horses would be well cared for.
At that, they were led by a score of guards and soldiers, up into the Golden Hall. Upon entering, the soldiers bowed and left them. Gazing around at the grand looking throne Boromir said, "Father made it seem such as if those of the Mark were heathens and barbarians. How sorely he was mistaken, wouldn't you agree brother?"
"It is better to not let father hear your words of correction," Faramir responded at his brother darkly. Words of criticism were not taken lightly with the Steward of Gondor, most especially when they came from the mouth of the younger. Boromir could always get away with anything in their father's presence. A slight twang of envy pitted in Faramir's stomach but he quickly pushed it aside. Envy would get you nowhere, which was the cold and hardened lesson taught to Faramir by his father. Boromir let out a hardy laugh knowing the truth in his brother's words, but chose not to respond. The golden throne before them was empty and a loud silence crept into the large room. Faramir surveyed the beauty and grandeur of the room; it was trimmed with gold and green with great wooden pillars that outlined it, the head of a mighty stallion of Rohan topping each. The green and white banner of Rohan was strung from the ceiling, as was a silver-trimmed war horn. The Golden Hall of Meduseld contained a primal beauty that Minas Tirith hadn't the slightest trace of.
Several more minutes went by and no one appeared to greet the foreigners from Gondor. Impatient from all the waiting Boromir burst out, "Mayhap I spoke too soon. What impudence they possess to leave us in waiting, or they have simply forgotten our presence," he said with a deep scowl on his dark rugged features.
As if on queue, a small dark figure slinked into the room. He did not hold himself high or proud as the others of Rohan. Instead of long golden or red tendrils, the man possessed greasy unkempt jet black locks. His skin did not hold the healthy tan of the Riders, but a pale look, like that of a snake or worm that had been hiding in its underground home. "We humbly apologize for keeping our guests in waiting. Our mighty Théoden-King comes presently," the pale man said. Even his manor of walking was very much in sync with that of a worm. The SCREECH of doors was heard and the King of Rohan emerged. King Théoden was tall and proud, with broad shoulders and a strong build, 'much like that of Boromir', Faramir thought silently. But he was not the only one to emerge; following suite was sturdy golden haired Rider that had met up with them during the storm, dressed in Rohirim armor and mail. In the light one could see that his eyes were flint-colored in hue and sharp, not missing anything. Behind him was another young man, slightly smaller than the previous two and younger looking in years. His skin was dark and tanned in comparison to his pale yellow hair. He bore the royal insignia of Rohan on a long green mantle draped across his back. The last to emerge was a young woman, tall and fair, with long pale gold hair and a sad disposition in her face. Upon her head was a small golden headdress and she was clad in white. 'So this is the young woman we have been brought here to court,' Faramir mused to himself. Daring a glance at his brother, Faramir reckoned Boromir was thinking the same thing. The other four members of Gondor had stepped back behind the two brothers, signifying their lower position. 'I wish they would not do that,' Faramir thought again; it always made him feel out of place.
The former and latter, both strikingly similar in appearance, went to either far side of the throne while Théoden-King took a seat, with the smaller man at his right. "We bid you welcome to the Riddermark," Théoden spoke. "This is my son, Theodred," he continued, pointing to person directly at his right. "And that is my sister-son, Eomer," Théoden pointed towards the rough looking solider, "Third Marshal of the Riddermark, and lead commander of the Rohirim. The last is sister-daughter Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan," the king finished, signaling at the sad looking woman at the far side of the throne.
"We thank you, sir Théoden-King. I am Boromir, first born to Lord Denethor: Steward of Gondor".
"And I am Faramir, second born to Lord Denethor," Faramir said. His eyes didn't leave the Lady Eowyn. Her eyes were icy and piercing, but with a looming despair that tore at her face. She was indeed beautiful, but so sad. Her head was bowed, but her eyes glanced up in a sorrowful defiance.
"What business brings you so hastily to the Golden Hall, from such a far distance and in such horrid weather?" Théoden questioned. "Your letter, or rather, the Lord Denethor's letter was of an urgent and insistent nature that this meeting take place. The continence of the letter spoke of building a stronger kinship between our two lands," the king said.
"Yes Milord. Our father has proposed a treaty between Gondor and Rohan. It is an opportunity for both of our nations to strengthen their armies. And in these dark times, strength is needed," Boromir spoke slowly. Faramir said nothing, knowing that it was elder's duty to make the proposal of treaty. He felt somewhat sorry for the woman in front of him that, if indeed the treaty was accepted by King Théoden, her fate would be to be wedding either himself or his elder brother; the latter of which was most likely.
"Ah yes, I understand. Such circumstances have been touched upon before in the past, but no action has been taken, deeming it unnecessary needed. Only in dire need would this alliance would be put forth into use," Théoden sullenly. A slight shadow was formed in his proud brow. "What circumstances are so troublesome that this arrangement would be necessary?"
"Sir Théoden-King, our spies have reported that the flames of Mount Doom have indeed been rekindled. Strength and strong bonds will be needed on all fronts. It is my father's wish that this treaty be enacted immediately," Boromir said. His tone had changed from confident to slightly more reserve. He shared his brother's sentiments. Neither one wanted to be bound by the rules of marriage but be free, or as free as they could deem, to live out their lives.
"My Lord," said Eomer for the first time. His eyes were sullen and dark. "Exactly what treaty are they proposing?" He looked positively dangerous with the dark shadow that flickered in his grey steel eyes. They locked with the two grey orbs that Faramir possessed. Faramir suddenly knew that he did not want Eomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark as his foe.
Théoden paused, uncertain if he should answer Eomer's question. The King of the Golden Hall knew exactly what his reaction would be, and feared for the sake of the two young Gondorians in front of him. However, Eomer would find out sooner or later. Théoden rathered that it be sooner, so Eomer's anger would die sooner. Taking a deep breath, he said, "In the time or Erol an agreement was forged between our two great lands of Gondor and Rohan. It was agreed upon by both fronts only to be used in dire need, yet would strengthen the bonds and armies between both nations. It states that should a desperate situation occur, an alliance would be formed between Rohan and Gondor. An alliance that would include the marriage of the two current heirs of either side's throne," a loud silence took the room. Théoden continued, "should this happen both lands would be eternally bound in kinship, never to be broken. In the past this treaty was nearly enacted," by in the past, Théoden as well as everyone else in the room knew was the first War of the Ring, "but the enemies defeat came sooner than the set date of alliance, thus it was not put forth. Yet it is as valid a prospect then as it is now," he finished.
"It is not our wish, but the Steward's, that this matter be re-lit. We cannot refuse his order, "Faramir spoke up boldly. He noted the dark look and menacing glare on the faces of both Eomer and Theodred. The young man did not dare to allow his attentions be set upon Eowyn, whose eyes had gone wide with shock. The cold steel of Theodred's gaze softened a bit, but Eomer shot daggers into the six men before him.
"Such situations are not desperate enough to act upon this ancient agreement," Eomer spoke coldly. He looked upon his sister, knowing the shock she must have received. In her nineteen years of life Eowyn had taught herself to hide her emotions and only a blow of great magnitude could cause her eyes to become as round as the saucers the dogs drank from. He would not subject his beloved sister to the treatment of the hard handed Gondor Steward, nor his two sons. "And it cannot happen right now, no matter how dire the circumstance. She is not of age," Eomer said, defending his sister's honor. Hot anger boiled through his veins and Eomer ignored all attempts to quell its heat.
"Yes we understand that. It is that very reason why our father has sent us a year ahead of time just to propose this. It gives ample time for a wisely chosen decision to be reached," Boromir continued. He, unlike Faramir, braved Eomer's daggers and locked eyes with him. Turning once again to Théoden, Boromir continued, "It is the Lord Denethor's wish that you return to Minas Tirith with our company so that negotiations can be made," he finished.
"This is much to consider Boromir, son of Denethor. I will take three days council for my decision. You, and your company, are welcome to stay during those three days. Hama," Théoden said. A solider that neither Boromir nor Faramir had noticed, stepped out from behind them. His hair was red and he was clad in thick armor and mail. "Please show our guests to their quarters," the middle-aged soldier bowed and signaled for the six men to follow him down the wooden corridors.
The two brothers, and company, followed Hama to a set of three rooms. The grandest Boromir and Faramir claimed, while the others paired up two by two and settled themselves. A pair of beds was set on either side of the room, both same in size and with white linen sheets. Faramir thanked Hama and closed the door behind him. Seating himself on the bed, both brothers exchanged looks. "Leave it to father to come up with the most direct and indiscrete route," Faramir said.
"I must concur with you on that little brother. That soldier, Eomer, looked as if he could have sent aflame the Golden Hall," Boromir responded while removing his shined breastplate with the White Tree chiseled on it. Faramir did the same; there was no need to sport their armor during the night hours. Outside the rain could still be heard beating against the roof.
XIX
Meanwhile in the Golden Hall, Théoden sulked down at the floor. "Come let us take council," Théoden said. He rose from his throne and walked into the adjacent room. Following him was Theodred, Eomer, Hama, Gamling and several other soldiers. Before entering the darkened chamber, Eomer met his sister's sad gaze and told her with unspoken words that he would do everything in his power against the matter. Eowyn was not allowed in council for she was a woman, and held no official decisions. Once the throne room was completely empty, save for herself, Eowyn retired to her room. Once alone and the door securely locked Eowyn did something that she had not done since childhood; she cried deeply into the night and her pillow soon became to wet and sodden from her salty tears to sleep upon.
XIX
"It cannot be helped. You know father; he will not create bonds with any other nation unless in great need," Boromir said. "However I must admit, I am no fonder of this than you. And, apparently, neither is she," he added.
"I noticed. Her head was downcast the entire time nor was a single word spoken from her mouth," Faramir said.
"Her eyes were downcast? I didn't take notice. Or maybe you were smitten enough to notice," Boromir smirked, slapping his brother on the back.
"No, you just simply take no notice of your surroundings," Faramir retaliated.
"And I take it that is your Ranger instincts tell you that?" Boromir said with a laugh. "In any case, what think of this lady of Rohan? She is fair to look at,"
"Fair yes, but sad," Faramir replied. "Let us not dwell on this matter any longer," he said. With that he removed his heavy mail cover, revealing a simple black linen tunic. "It is best not to lose sleep over this matter. We will need our wits if indeed this dose take place, although I heavily doubt it. You said it yourself, Eomer will most likely object to the fullest extent of his power and even Théoden expressed slight disdain," Faramir said. With that, he blew out the candle that kept the room illuminated and fell asleep.
VXIXV
The following morning Eowyn awoke early. The sun had just begun to rise as the faint yellow glow on the horizon came up over the vast plains of the Mark (a/n: The Misty Mountains are to the West). She did not know what to make on the matter. Her whole entire life Eowyn had been risen to become independent and rule fair and just when Theodred was crowned King and her brother become Second Marshal. The issue of marriage had never been brought up, nor did she know much of the matter for her entire life she had been around men and not socialized with the few women of the court. Yet in an instant, it had all changed and it seemed almost imminent that she would wed, and to a foreigner from Gondor none-the-less. Even at Meduseld, rumors of the icy reign of Denethor ran amuck. She wanted no part of it at all. However a small flame of hope was kindle in her heart; she knew that her brother, who held great esteem with her uncle, would do everything in his power to prevent it. Even Theodred would not stand for forced courtship and marriage of his younger cousin.
She dressed in a silk evergreen gown with bell shaped sleeves trimmed in gold. Small thongs ran up the length from her elbow to shoulder which were also gold. It was summer in the Riddermark and the sun promised unyielding heat. Eowyn often woke early to enjoy the few precious minuets outside before the sun became to stressful. Because it had rained the previous eve, the weather promised to be even more treacherous with the added humidity. She slowly tip-toed through the halls and reached the gate to the outside. Expertly, Eowyn maneuvered the gates so as they made no noise as they opened. Unnoticed by all, Eowyn slipped outside into the cool morning breeze. Eowyn cherished her time outside on her own. It was one of the few moments that she could think openly with herself. Even in the small village that dwelt on the plateau before her, everyone was asleep. Quietly she walked down the stone steps and into the stables where the horses were kept. Walking towards the very back Eowyn found her favorite steed. It was a grey-blue stallion with milky white socks on all four legs. His name was Windrod and was a gift to Eowyn on her 15th birthday. She had raised him since he was a colt and became especially attached to him more so than any of the other horses in her uncle's house. Windrod was currently asleep, and Eowyn cooed him softly to awaken him. Gently she stroked his nose and spoke to him in the tongue of the Rohirim. Taking the saddle and blanket that was mounted to the wall, Eowyn prepared him for his usual morning ride. Windrod shook his mighty head in annoyance when Eowyn plunked the heavy saddle on his back, but soon made up for it as he nibbled on one of her long golden tendrils. Eowyn smiled at Windrod, he had been her best friend for four years, and only he could get away with eating at her long yellow hair. The supple leather bridle rang as it was drawn from the wall and maneuvered onto Windrod's head.
Before mounting her steed, Eowyn took a curious peep at the five horses that came from Gondor. All five had been stabled near the back and were munching on the sweet hey provided by the Rohirim. She marveled at their stature. All five were large bays with finely built and muscular bodies. Two were a deep brown in color, one chestnut, one was white speckled with small black hairs, and the last a blood red bay. She resisted the urge to pat them, knowing full well that the horses did not belong to her house and they were in a foul temperament from the previous night's journeys. Windrod snorted in jealousy as Eowyn awed at the other horses. Turing her attention back to him, Eowyn mounted him and rode out into the plains of the West Emnet.
She loved her morning rides. The weather was cool and content and the wind did not sting her pale face as she breezed past it. Eowyn did not ride in the fashion as most noble women did with both legs to the left of the horse. Instead she rode as any man did, with one leg on each side not caring for how it made her look in her current attire. There was no one around to criticize her actions. She started out at a slow trot, careful to avoid the houses on the downward decline out of Edoras. But once she had passed the gates, Eowyn kicked her heels into Windrod who neighed in excitement as he jolted off at a full gallop. The White Lady of Rohan had ridden horses her entirely and knew to keep her balance steady at full gallop despite the constant bouncing sensation. Her skills were said to rival that of her brother and cousin's. But Eowyn did not care for she was not competing against them in any contest, nor did her status as a woman allow.
After a few minutes of rapid galloping, Eowyn "woah'ed" Windrod to a steady pace. She rode until the sizable city of Edoras was nothing but a dark speck against the tall grasslands against the Misty Mountains. Knowing that she could not venture far without causing a stir, Eowyn began to make large circles around the plateau. The sense of freedom overwhelmed her and a grin from cheek to cheek had spread across her pale visage. Half an hour into her riding a strange sound caught Eowyn's ear and she halted Windrod, who snorted defiantly. She waited in place for several minutes before the sound came again. It was the sound of a distressed beast. Looking towards the sky Eowyn saw a small cloud of black vultures gathering a few paces away. Re-directing Windrod to the North, Eowyn followed the birds until she came upon dark discolored patch of grass. The vague outline of Edoras was still visible and Eowyn dared a few more paces forward. Again, the creature that was lying in the tall grass cried again. At a closer inspection Eowyn was shocked to find that the creature was a horse. Three of the large birds of prey had landed upon the poor beast that was crying in agony. Eowyn charged Windrod forth to frighten away the black creatures. Her plan worked as they scattered to the four winds, but still hovered above the horse just in case a free meal was at hand. She dismounted and went up to the pitiful creature. Too exhausted even to stand, the horse had a broken forefoot and was breathing heavily. A saddle and bridle was still attached. She made note of the crest of Gondor that was sewn upon good quality leather that wrought the saddle. Slowly and with much caution she approached the animal. Feral instincts of survival were coursing through the horses head, as Eowyn well knew, and would most likely perceive her as a threat. The animal snorted at her as a warning to keep back. In response, Windrod made a strange sound, almost like a low frequency growl, and the horse that was sprawled about the ground softened. Eowyn continued her steady approach. She judged that he had been there at least all night. Careful to avoid his back legs, Eowyn cooed the horse in her native language as she maneuvered around to his neck and stroked it softly. There was a strong chance that injured and fatigued animal would live on if he got the care needed. While still chanting to the horse in her tongue, Eowyn fingered with the buckle that strapped the saddle to its back. Slowly she managed to release the belt and the heavy thing fell limp allowing for the horse to breath easier. Just at a mere glance Eowyn knew that there was no chance of the poor broken animal to stand on its own much less make the ride back to Edoras where it could be nursed to health.
Taking note of the landscape around her, Eowyn remounted Windrod and galloped back to Edoras as fast as her steed could manage. If she hurried, she could help the poor beast before the vultures decided to come back. Again she slowed Windrod as he entered the small village and met the sharp incline of the plateau. Around an hour had passed since her leaving and Eowyn reckoned that at least her brother had awakened, as he normally did. Her suspicions were confirmed as she saw Eomer riding out, most likely in search for her. She slowed Windrod to a halt as her brother approached, "Come Eowyn. Our uncle grows impatient with your leave of absence," he said sternly. "Our guests wait".
"And wait they will. While riding I found an injured horse. He is alive, but only just. There is chance to save him," Eowyn said. "The saddle bears the insignia of Gondor, so I assume it belongs to one of them, "she added harshly. But she had said the magic words and her brother's face softened. Eowyn knew her brother cared no more for the visitors from Gondor than she, and would jump at the opportunity to keep them in waiting. "Look now;" she pointed to the growing black cloud, "the vultures are already after him".
Eomer grinned. "Yes, they can wait. And it would explain why there are six in their company yet only five mounts were stabled. Where are they?"
Eowyn led her brother out to the broken animal. His expert skill allowed him to make a temporary sling to aid the creature's broken limb. Together they managed to talk the injured beast to its feet. Eomer tied extended reigns of the horses' bridle to his light brown mount, and slowly they led it back to safety.
VXIXV
"I apologize for Eomer and Eowyn's absence," Theodred said to his guests, all of whom were sitting around a large wooden table enjoying their fresh breakfast of salted meat, bread, and water. "It is not in their nature to keep our guests waiting like this," Theodred said, but sounded as if he was trying more to convince himself than the six men from Gondor.
"For all our luck, they most likely rod off together in protest," Boromir mumbled to his brother who smiled at the remark. Faramir privately agreed. For all the ill-tempered glanced Eomer had given him the previous night, he did not put it past him.
"Have they returned yet?" came the vexed voice of Théoden. "Or should I send out additional riders?" he scowled.
"No My Lord, that will not be necessary," Eomer spoke boldly as he entered the room, with Eowyn in tread. Both took a silent seat at the table and Eowyn poured water for herself and brother. A smile was glazed on both their faces.
"What kept you? Surely you did not ride so far out that you became lost," Théoden said with hints of annoyance in his voice. The question was directed at Eowyn who raised her blue eyes to meet her uncle's angry gaze.
"I am sorry my Lord to have kept you in waiting," she apologized. Faramir was slightly surprised how gentle sounding her voice was; it was as soft as babbling brook that sweeps past the smooth rocks in spring. But he kept his thoughts to himself and exchanged glances with his brother.
"You have not answered my question. What kept you," Théoden persisted.
Eowyn paused. She knew that she would get into trouble with her uncle for riding out alone so early in the morning. However the consequences for not answering would be even more severe and she answered, "While riding-"
"On your own?" Théoden said.
"Yes," she replied. Faramir was slightly shocked that a woman would ride out by herself. In Gondor it was rare enough that a woman even knew how to ride a horse, much less ride out of the city walls alone with no protection. On the other hand he liked that in Eowyn; it showed her independence and pride to be by herself. Boromir chocked slightly on his bread but managed to turn it into a cough when Faramir jabbed him in the ribs. With no response from her uncle, Eowyn went on, "while riding I found a half-dead and injured horse lying in the fields. However it was alive and had a chance of living if the poor creature received some help. Also, on the saddle it bore the crest of Gondor, and I assumed it might belong to one of our guests since six arrived and only five mounts were accounted for," she said, using what her brother said to her advantage. "I was riding back for aid when I met with my brother, who aided me in bringing the half-dead animal back to the stables. I am sorry to have kept you waiting," Eowyn apologized again to her uncle as well as to the men from Gondor. She kept her head low and bowed it slightly.
Not wanting to make a mockery of himself and the kingdom of Rohan in front of Gondor, King Théoden said nothing and sat down at the head of the table and ate his meal in silence. 'Perhaps I made a mistake in deciding to attend to Minas Tirith and see these dire circumstances for myself,' he thought in silence.
ZXIXVXIXZ
END CHAPTER…
I rather like it. It turned out really well for a first chapter.
I hope you all like it.
Please R&R. Reviews make more chapters come out faster, hint hint -