A slight breeze whistled gently through the grass, the sun radiated across the sky. It was warm, an unusual occurrence in this part of Rohan. The ragged overhangs, tumbling mesas, and shallow, rocky valleys offered little shade and protection from this odd heat, and the scent of fear permeated through the air. It made it slicker, slightly sticky, as if the air was trying to cling to your body. A child's high pitched whine broke through the wary grumblings of the peasants. He was quickly silenced by a mother fumbling with a babe on her hip. Her life was easily imagined, married at a young age, pushed into a small house in Edoras and bore children almost as soon as possible. Her husband was probably either dead or in the line of riding soldiers. She was one of the lucky ones. Men from the east were pillaging villages, raping their women. This woman, and her children would be safe though. It was the sworn duty of a knight to make sure all the citizens of Rohan were safe.
Until recently, that oath had been dismissed. The riders had been ordered to not protect the villages or women. Grima Wormtongue had spread such poisonous and dangerous words far and wide. The riders under Captain Eomer were banished, but many were left behind, specifically one new rider, left and ordered to guard the guest halls of Medusueld. He was built well, broad shouldered, yet short. He stood shorter than all other riders, and thus, was left to a simple life of guarding empty rooms. His armour hung slightly low, across his chest, and along his arms, the sword hanging at his side was of custom make. Specially shortened, yet as deadly in his hands as a full sized blade. His helmet fitted snugly around his ears. Worn titled back, it showed his clear concise eyes as they flashed, as blue as the distant sea. Today, he was not guarding empty halls however, today he was guarding his people from the dangers of a perilous journey.
A slow, winding trail of peasants wound it's way through the hills, their feet shuffled from weariness. Many had never been forced to leave Edoras before, and their homeland seemed like a stranger to them. When the young guard had been a small boy, his father had taken him to the plains, and shown him the waving grasses of Rohan. The children born now had no such leisure. They worked with their mothers, and played little so that they did not disrupt the quiet tomb of empty streets. Many wore black now, many mourned for lost sons, fathers, and husbands. In times past, the lanes were busy, crowded and filled with the bright colours of a harvest festival. It was the reason that Dysis had chosen to become a rider, to see the streets filled with laughter again.
"Dysis! Why so long a face?" The question startled the guard, and he turned to face his blond haired companion.
"I am thinking of times past, Gleorin. I am also wondering why the King orders us to Helm's Deep. The fortress is strong, but supplies may run short, if the siege lasts." Dysis was confused by the order. Surely the King saw the possibility of a drawn out attack, meant to starve his people until they were ready to be crushed. He knew without nourishment a man could not fight. He knew this well, for Wormtongue had ordered the peoples rations cut in half, while he feasted lavishly upon the King's table. The people's gaunt faces were proof, a proof that had outraged King Theoden upon his return to power. However, despite his Sire's greatest wish, many crop fields had been burnt by wild men and orcs, and he could not afford to feed his people as well as he had in years past.
"Such depressing thoughts! The King must not expect the siege to last long, he would not be taking his people with so few supplies otherwise. The Grey Wanderer has also promised to return soon, with more riders, Eomer and his Rohirrim will come to help us." Gleorin's voice again broke through Dysis's pondering, with reason. He had no reason to distrust his King, he had never led them wrong before.
"I know, Gleorin. I shall trust in my Liege lord, just as my father before me trusted in him. Let us ride forward and to get a better view of the terrain to come. So that we may be better prepared to defend our people should orcs attack." With that, he spurred on his horse, Carhalm, and cantered towards the front of the shuffling column. Gleorin was fast on his heels, and the two friends raced as they were prone to do in their youth.
Suddenly, the King's voice was heard from ahead, and both horses were reined in. "We're under attack! All riders to the head of the column!" The call was loud, and accompanied by the royal trumpeters blast. Carhalm was spurred faster, and his short sword was drawn ready. An attack had been expected, but there had been no emergency plans made. There had been no time. Dysis and Gleorin mounted the crest of the next hill, just in time to see the wargs break the front lines. Gleorin stayed at the top of the hill, his skill lay in archery, and he had an arrow cocked, aiming into the eye of a rogue warg. Dysis continued on, trusting in his friends skill. A warg rider noticed him and rushed to meet him, but Carhalm was swift, and dashed to the side of the wargs teeth. Dysis gave a well placed stroke and the orcs head fell. The warg turned, and leaped, hoping to catch Dysis out of the saddle, but Carhalm bucked, and a crack was heard as the wargs head caved in to hoof.
Horse and rider turned, a lone orc was near. A short gallop was made towards a spear embedded into a bloody back. Dysis snatched it up, aiming quickly and caught the orc off guard, it too fell swiftly. Then, a snarl rent the air, and the whiz of an arrow whipped by. Carhalm reared, and turned, to find a warg dead, having been caught mid leap by a friends arrow. He forced the balking horse to leap over the warg, and raced towards another warg rider, only to find him gone when he reached the hill top. A cliff was looming nearby, and he glanced over it, a wargs body was smeared upon the rocks, probably driven over the cliff by a mad or blind rider. The rest of the wolf riders were being herded and killed. He meant to join them, but found an elf, one who had arrived with the Grey Wanderer. The elf was looking out, towards the cliff, something clutched in his fist. The King himself rode up, and spoke to the forest dweller, the elf looked stricken at whatever had been said, but let himself be led away to his horse. Then, Theoden rode towards the cliff edge, and Dysis sat straight and still, but gave a small bow, as much as was possible in his saddle.
"What is your name rider?" The King questioned gently.
"My name is Dysis, son of Dysomer, my Liege." Dysis was startled, why would the King be talking to him at a time like this, the riders must catch up with their people.
"I have need of your help, Dysis. A friend to Gandalf Stormcrow was lost over that cliff, upon a rogue warg. I wish to have the body retrieved from down the river, will you do this task, and then ride with all speed to Helm's Deep?" There was no room left for refusal.
"Of course sire. I will depart at once." Dysis bowed again stiffly, and Theodan nodded his thanks before turning his stallion, and trotting away. Orders were shouted to get the wounded onto horses, and to leave the dead. The riders were grouping up, preparing to leave, but Dysis turned away from them, urging Carhalm along the cliff, searching for a way into the ravine.
AN. So, what do you guys think so far? I've already got this story planned, and the second chapter is being typed. It's a cross over with Eragon, but don't murder me, I think I can make this work without turning it into a terrible piece of LOTR ready burn fire logs. So don't flame me, I won't burn. Review if you please with thoughts, and encouragement, not taking ideas cause its all already planned to the T.