I do not own the story, the world, the characters or the languages of Tolkien's books. No money has been made with this story, yada yada yada. No copyright infringement intended.
This is my first fanfiction ever and I am not a native speaker, please, keep that in mind before grilling me.
I follow Tolkien timeline most of the time, with some scenes explicitly taken from the Jackson movies but I also chose to alter some things for the purpose of this story, which most of you will undoubtedly discover.
Please note that following Tolkien's version of the story means for instance: Théodred is thirteen years older than Éomer, so he is 40 at the beginning of this story, while Éomer is 27. It also means that Éomer is not banished from Edoras and that there will be no elves coming to the rescue of Helm's Deep...
I have done my upmost to ensure my OC has character and is not a Mary Sue. If you find you don't like my OC, please say why, and not just shout out Mary-Sue!
This story is aimed at mature readers. There will be violence, dark themes, sex scenes and even the mention of sexual violence. I will post a warning at the top of the chapter if there is anything that maybe upsetting or offensive to readers.
Thank you so much to my wonderful beta, the lovely Polly. I would not have made it this far without you! Thank you so much JJ for being my sounding board in the final stages of writing and answering all my silly questions!
! WARNING: Mention of sexual violence in this chapter - nothing explicit!
Wide open spaces
„A young girl's dreams no longer hollow
It takes the shape of a place out west
But what it holds for her,
she hasn't yet guessed" (Dixie Chicks)
"Lisswyn, you must not do this…" the young princess of Rohan pleads, holding her best friend's left hand with both of her own in a desperate attempt to stop her from moving.
"Yes, Éowyn, I must," the addressed woman replies. Her hazel eyes focus on her friend's face with a determined glare.
"I am not safe here anymore, as you know, and I did not swear an oath eight years ago to protect my king, his heir and his lands with my shield, my sword and my life only to break it now," the first shieldmaiden of Rohan answers shaking her head lightly. "If my king, under Wormtongue's manipulation, does not wish shieldmaiden protection any longer, I will oblige. But I will stay true to my word to protect lord and land. That is why I must leave. I will protect Théodred-"
"But we can still protect Théoden from Gríma if we stay here," Éowyn pleads again.
"Éowyn," Lisswyn sighs as her patience starts to fade.
She has had this conversation with Éowyn before, twice at least. And nothing her friend will say now can change her mind.
"We were given a choice to either lay down our weapons and shields, and resign to be only mothers, wives, and servants or leave with the other riders who did not swear allegiance to Gríma and were therefore banished from Edoras."
Lately, there had been ten shieldmaidens altogether. Six of them including Éowyn decided to stay. All of them have officially resigned from their duties, but secretly Éowyn will still watch out for her uncle's wellbeing as best as will be possible given the circumstances. Two shieldmaidens, sisters, have decided to return to their family at Aldburg. The older is now serving as a mere kitchen-maid, whereas her younger sister, Dargífu, is protecting prince Éomer, the Third Marshal of the Riddermark and second in line to the throne of Rohan. The remaining two shieldmaidens, Wilrun and Merelis, have already travelled to Helm's Deep to stay there with the king's son, Théodred. They have been assigned to protect the crown prince, and Lisswyn will join them now. The banished are going to ride to the Hornburg, to guard the Riddermark against the growing threats from the north and the west.
"But…" Éowyn starts in a new attempt to persuade her friend but is interrupted quickly.
"No, Éowyn," Lisswyn regards the young princess with a warm smile.
She does understand. Éowyn has chosen to remain, but being the younger of the two and always having looked up to Lisswyn, she's looking for the approval and confidence from an elder sister.
Lisswyn holds her hands against her with great affection. "I am glad you will stay behind, Éowyn. Then at least one trustworthy person will remain at the Meduseld. But I will join Théodred and his men at the Hornburg." With these words and a firm squeeze to Éowyn's hands Lisswyn signals that the conversation is over.
Gently, she pulls her hand from Éowyn's weakened grip, checks the adjustments of her sword at her left side and her shield on her back, and takes up her saddlebags. Only a small part of her belongings fitted into them but it is all she really needs. Éowyn will keep her other belongings safe at Edoras until she returns. Her most important belongings Lisswyn is wearing now: her battle garments containing dark brown soft leather breeches with a matching dark brown linen tunic underneath the leather armour made of hard, thick dark brown and red leather with golden inlays and chain mail sleeves and thick dark brown leather riding boots that reach up to her knees.
Looking back up, Lisswyn's eyes meet those of her best friend and she smiles although feeling torn up having to leave the young princess. "We will be around and guard you from a distance," she says with a gentle voice before she turns around and steps outside of the room she has been living in for the past five years in the guards' barracks behind the king's hall.
Leaving the princess and Théoden behind is hard ut she is leaving with Aldor, second captain of Edoras, and his éored to join Théodred and Erkenbrand and their men at the Hornburg. This is the only way she will stay true to her oath.
When Lisswyn steps outside of the barracks with Éowyn at her heels, the warm summer breeze brushes through her long strawberry blond hair. She has put it back in a long three-strand braid that ends in the middle of her back way past her shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath she takes in the land around her. The plains of Rohan shine in dark green and bright golden colours of late summer. Harvest time has started and most women and men who do not serve as riders are out on the fields.
A couple of hundred feet away in front of the great stables a group of 120 men on horseback has gathered – Aldor's whole éored; the banished.
With long strides Lisswyn descends the stairs leading from the Meduseld down the hill. Her horse Daeroch has been readied for her already. Quickly, she straps her packed bags to his saddle and with an acknowledging nod to the stable boy who holds Daeroch's reins, she takes her stallion and mounts him swiftly. She rides up to Aldor's side.
The captain speaks to his first lieutenant, "We are heading west quickly. It is a full day's ride to Helm's Deep. We will make a break at one of the creeks, but I wish to arrive before sunset." The lieutenant acknowledges the order with a sharp nod of his head before he rides back into the last line of the men.
From the corner of her eyes, Lisswyn sees Éowyn linger a few feet away. Aldor seems to have noticed her as well and turns towards the princess with a reassuring smile. Éowyn does not smile back. Tears have welled up in her eyes and her mouth is shut tightly to a thin line. Seeing her friend like this makes Lisswyn's heart ache. Fighting off the urge to dismount and embrace her, she forces a smile on her face, trying to ease her friend's misery.
There are no words left to say to make their parting any easier.
"On Éorlingas," Aldor's voice sounds in the late summer's air and he urges his stallion forward to a swift canter. Lisswyn and the other 119 men follow closely.
Once the éored passes the great gates of Edoras, Aldor drives his stallion to a light gallop and his men follow his lead. Sad and relieved at the same time, Lisswyn turns her head to look at Edoras, the city on the hill and the golden hall on top of it, for the last time in only the Valar know exactly how long. For the first time in weeks Lisswyn feels free again. She inhales the warm summer air deeply, the scents of ripened grain, freshly cut hay, and the road's dust; the scents of her childhood and youth.
Free at last, she thinks with a sigh. Free from the heavy tension that dominates Rohan's capital these days ever since Gríma became the king's closest advisor; the only advisor he listens to.
The last weeks at the king's halls have been sickening. Every step, every word guarded because Gríma's eyes and ears have seemed to be everywhere. He also watched them. She had seen his eyes trailing after Éowyn, unblinking, full of lust. But when the princess was not around, which was more often than not since Éowyn began avoiding Gríma, his attention turned to Lisswyn. Wormtounge's looks have never been gentle or approving only appetent. The thought of his hands, touching, grabbing, disgusted her.
Thank Béma, Wormtounge is such a coward he never tried to approach her or even touch her. Not like…
A cold shiver runs down her spine as an old sickening memory threatens to surface again. A memory of fear, pain and humiliation. It had taken all her strength and the help of a gentle soul to leave behind what had happened to her in her second year of shieldmaiden training. A soul she soon learned she could confide in anytime she needed it.
Lisswyn blinks hard twice to keep the tears that well up in her eyes from streaming down her cheeks. She does not know whether they have come due to the old painful memories or from the warm summer breeze hitting her face in full gallop. But she surely does not wish to know exactly why either.
Men sending her approving and interested looks is nothing to be worried about, she tells herself again as she has done many times in the past. It is normal. Men and women are meant to be attracted to each other, to mate, to find love. And one day she will find someone to love her, to cherish her body with gentleness and passion…
'One day, but not now,' Lisswyn tells herself. Now she is a shieldmaiden, a trained warrior, and it is all she ever wanted to be ever since she saw the king and his shieldmaidens for the very first time at the horse fair in Edoras when she was nine.
Feeling the horse's movements underneath her, she concentrates on her riding in jumping seat along with the rolling motion from Daeroch's back.
~ S ~
After twenty minutes in a low gallop to the west, Edoras disappears behind the outmost foothills of the White Mountains. This is when Aldor slows his men and their horses down to a slow canter and eventually to walking pace. Lisswyn can hear the men behind her murmur in low conversations, but Aldor to her right remains silent. There is nothing to discuss between them and the shieldmaiden enjoys the opportunity to stay quiet.
After a while the captain at her side chuckles fondly. Surprised, she turns her head to look at him.
He has the average size of a good six feet and the lean but muscular stature of an Éorlinga but still sticks out among his men due to his hair. It is a dark brown with some strands of grey in it and not the usual blond or light brown. His long sharp face is softened with a stubble and his leathery olive skin tells of years out on the training grounds or plains as a rider in any kind of weather.
"After all those years, the open plains are still the place you are most comfortable," Aldor says with a smile on his face. He had been her fighting master, her teacher, a trusted father figure during her training at Edoras and ever since.
"Does this surprise you?"
"No, not really. You are a horse breeder's daughter, after all. I still recall you crying a lot in your first year at Edoras."
"I was homesick. I missed my family and felt caged living in a wooden house instead of a yurt. I need wide open spaces to breath."
"A lot of times you were crying out of anger, too," Aldor reminds her. "You were such a fierce, easily angered, and stubborn tomboy when you started your training. Just like the horses your father breeds out there on the plains of the Wold. If you were not able to manage a new routine at first attempt you got furious, yelling and crying, hitting and tossing things," he recalls, lifting his left arm and pulling his chain mail sleeve and tunic back to reveal a scar on his lower arm. "Marked me for life with that blade you threw at me, when you couldn't hit the targets with enough force for the blade to stick in," he states dryly.
"You will never let me forget, will you?" Lisswyn asks half smiling and half distressed if this incident really would stand between them forever.
"I forgave you long ago, Lisswyn. But to remind you every once in a while does not hurt," he smirks and then continues, "Back then I was convinced you would never make it, to be allowed to speak the oath. Although you had everything needed to become a shieldmaiden: the physical capability, the determination, wit. You were just unable to remain calm in situations where it was absolutely necessary." Aldor shakes his head and sighs in reminiscence.
"Well, you made me realize that the hard way."
"I had to rip you out of training for you to understand; you were your greatest enemy."
"And I am still thankful for that."
"No need for that, little tomboy," Aldor says with mirth, shaking his head. "You made me the proudest master ever when you were made shieldmaiden. When was it, six years ago?"
"Eight."
"Only to be appointed first shieldmaiden three years later. The youngest who ever had the honour to hold this title."
"I guess I owe that to you?" Lisswyn asks with gratitude.
"No. There were others speaking for you when this decision had to be made. To me you are still too trustful, gentle and dependent on other's judgement, Lisswyn. You may be the best shieldmaiden in decades when it comes to protecting someone, but you are not the best of leaders."
"I am sorry to still disappoint you, Aldor."
"You are looking for my goodwill again."
"But is that not what a relationship between a teacher and his trainee should be like?"
"You are no longer my trainee, Lisswyn. Respect is what you should be aiming for."
"So, I do not have your respect?"
"You doubt too much."
He looks at her gently and they fall back into silence – but this time it is not a comfortable one.
~ S ~
Aldor raises his voice again after three hours of trotting along the northern foothills of the White Mountains in the Westfold calling his men to stop for their break. Up front runs a little stream down the mountain slope giving the Éorlingas and their horses the chance to quench their thirst.
Lisswyn has taken off her riding boots to sit at the riverside with her bare feet hanging in the crisp fresh mountain water to cool down. It is extremely hot out on the plains today, not even the soft breeze so typical for late summer helps. Closing her eyes, the shieldmaiden lies back down to listen to the soft humming of bees, beetles and flies that cherish the late blossoms of the meadow around her.
The warning shouts of the guards on watch pull her out of her peaceful snoozing. Quickly, Lisswyn gets up and watches a group of riders in the distance approaching the éored.
"It's the Aldburg banner, my lord," one of the guards shouts back to an alarmed looking Aldor.
Wondering what Éomer's men are doing west of Edoras, Lisswyn puts on her boots again and walks over to stand next to Aldor. It is a full éored Lisswyn realizes with surprise and wonders whom Éomer might have sent. The riders coming towards them slow down to a canter and finally the shieldmaiden recognizes the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. "It's Éomer," she tells Aldor who recognizes the young prince the same moment she does.
The prince dismounts his horse and hurriedly comes up to meet Aldor. "Greetings captain. You are heading to Helm's Deep?" he questions sharply.
Aldor acknowledges the Marshal with a sharp incline of his head.
"Yes, my lord. We are banished from Edoras by order of the king because we did not pledge allegiance to Gríma," Aldor states with pride and his chin raised at the Marshal who is more than half a head taller than the captain. "We will join Théodred prince at the Hornburg. Our loyalty lies with the Riddermark and the crown prince now."
"Very well," Éomer murmurs as if calculating something in his head. "Who stayed with the king?"
"Háma and Gamling, my lord. But they will follow Gríma's orders only if they are for the good of the Riddermark. They are Théodred's men in disguise."
"Good," Éomer answers with a nod and with a slight smile on his lips adds, "So, Wormtounge's scheme finally hits you, too. We will join you on your ride to Helm's Deep. I have some alarming reports for Théodred."
"We just stopped for a rest about a quarter of an hour ago. By your leave, Marshal, we will stay here for another thirty minutes before we continue," Aldor suggest the prince. "You and your men must be tired as well. It is at least a whole day's ride from Aldburg to Edoras."
"It is our second day today," Éomer replies.
"Then your men will need the rest, too," Aldor says and receives a consenting nod.
"Aldor, it is good, to have you at Théodred's side."
It is only after their short exchange that Éomer turns towards Lisswyn, signalling for her to follow him to the side. "So you decided to follow Théodred as well?"
"Greetings to you, too, Éomer," she answers politely after a short incline of her head. "And yes, I am going to the Hornburg to join Théodred."
"And Éowyn?" he refrains from acknowledging her greeting. His voice sounds strained.
"She decided to stay behind to be at the king's side."
"Will she cope with the situation?"
"She is fine, but frightened. She is the last of the shieldmaidens at the Meduseld, in disguise, of course, and Gríma lingers around the king all the time."
"Is she in danger?" his concern is now unmistakable.
When Lisswyn hesitates with her answer, the prince's gaze on her hardens and his voice grows demanding. "What is it?"
"Gríma. His gaze lingers too long upon her."
Éomer's eyes widen in shocked realization. "Will he…?"
"No, he is a coward," Lisswyn answers, shaking her head slightly, before he can ask.
The mere thought of what he suggests makes her feel sick. But then, when Gríma's attention fully turns to Éowyn now that she has left Edoras, he might grow bolder. For the princess does not radiate as much self-assurance as she herself does. Lisswyn shivers slightly at the thought of him approaching her friend.
"Éowyn is a shieldmaiden after all. She will know how to protect herself even without any weapons at her side," she states with more conviction to calm her friend's brother than she actually feels.
"I would be more reassured if you were still at her side," Éomer replies, his eyes showing that he is not convinced by her statement either. "Why did you leave the Meduseld? You will be held in dishonour."
"I swore an oath, Éomer, just as you did when you became a rider. I am not willing to break it," Lisswyn argues back. "And as hard as this may sound, it is not my duty to protect the princess. My duty lies with the heir of the Riddermark."
"Your duty is to protect the king," he growls back.
Lisswyn inhales deeply and opens her mouth to reply when Aldor steps in.
"Éomer," he calls the Marshal with a warning tone to his voice. "Lisswyn does not have to explain herself to you. She is only answerable to Théodred now. And he surely will not hold her in dishonour for joining him."
Éomer's face snaps around to look at the captain with a hard gaze. "I believe that you forgot your station, captain," the last word Éomer spits out like an insult. His quick rising temper has always been his weakest spot. It still is.
Aldors face hardens, his jawbone showing through his stubble as he grinds his teeth. "And I believe you forget exactly whom you are insulting here," the captain replies with that eerily calm voice he used to have while he was still the prince's teacher.
As Aldor's words sink into Éomer's mind, his eyes soften. "I apologise," he mumbles as he turns to look at Lisswyn again. His lips twitch slightly in a forced half smile. His eyes take in the small woman before him, a whole head shorter than him, and he realizes that he has been unjust – not to the first shieldmaiden of Rohan, but to a friend.
"I am sorry," he says, louder this time. Tentatively his hands reach out to take Lisswyn's. "It was uncalled for. I did not mean to scold you."
"It is alright, Éomer. I understand Éowyn means the world to you, but she is a shieldmaiden," she offers with a hint of reproach.
He nods and they share a moment in silence as Éomer's thoughts wander.
Almost two years ago he had been appointed Third Marshal of the Riddermark with Aldburg as his permanent residence and the duty to watch over Eastemnet. Ever since then the time they are able to spend together is scarce. A day or two every month when he delivers his reports to the king.
Of course he is having good company in the men of his two éoreds at Aldburg and there are a couple of nice maidens living at the king's city of old as well. But none of them are as pleasant and fun a company to him as his sister and the first shieldmaiden had been at Edoras.
"I missed you," he finally confesses without thinking and almost whispering. When realisation of what he just said hits him, his eyes dart up again in shock.
But Lisswyn only smiles at him gently. "I missed you, too. We haven't seen each other in over a month," she answers with her soft voice he so loves to hear, especially when she is singing. And now her voice clearly shows that she still regards him as her friend as well.
He sends her a wide smile, but Lisswyn frowns back now.
"Where is your shieldmaiden?"
"Dargífu? She was on patrol five days ago and they had a rather unsettling encounter as I understand it. I decided to give her some leave. She needs it."
"What happened?" Lisswyn is alarmed now.
"I received multiple reports about some strange riders roaming around in Eastemnet and the vale of the Anduin ever since the beginning of Cermië. The horse breeders and farmers unfortunate enough to cross their paths are very frightened. That is why I send out more patrols. The one Dargífu was on met three of those riders. I have never seen my men and the shieldmaiden so frightened before."
"Where they attacked?"
"No. The mere encounter must have been horrible. But I cannot say more before I have spoken to Théodred about it."
"Of course."
Éomer quickly changes the topic: "So, what's the newest tattle in Edoras?"
They continue their amicable talking until the end of the break. Once back on their way to Helm's Deep silence settles between Aldor, Lisswyn and Éomer who are riding together in the first line now. The two men still feel uneasy about the inglorious conversation earlier.
Lisswyn who rides between them can feel the tension, but she does not wish to be the mediator here and chooses to turn her attention towards the horizon over the plains instead. Every once in a while she can feel the looks the two men are sending her and past her at the other.
Why did her closest confidants among the éohere, her friends, always end up in some sort of unnecessary fight?
~ S ~
The ride to the Hornburg takes the whole day just as Aldor said. When the old fortress nestled on the lower slopes of the White Mountains finally comes into sight, the sun is already setting over the Gap of Rohan.
During the day they have been riding in their usual travel formation in rows of four, mostly in a fast walk or canter. Yet the last two miles with their destination in plain sight before them the two éoreds switch into battle formation with eighty horses in a row and a fast gallop. Only a furlong before they arrive at the causeway, the éoreds slow down to a trot again.
They are greeted with loud cheers and a blowing horn as they cross the causeway to the outer court of the fortress in their old order in rows of four again.
After seeing to Daeroch's wellbeing in the stables, Lisswyn hurries to her new accommodations at the Hornburg: a small room with a bed, an old wardrobe, a table and a chair. Simple, but sufficient. Placing her saddlebags in the corner of the room, she moves to look out of the small window overlooking the dusty plains of the Westfold. Somewhere out there to the northeast her family is making their way back to their winter camp by now…
A small bowl with water and a soft cloth has been placed on the table in Lisswyn's room. For a moment the shieldmaiden wonders over the unusual treatment. Only the king, the princes and the Marshals get to wash in their rooms. For the riders there is a large bathing room in the cellar of the old fortress at Helm's Deep. The shieldmaidens are expected to wash in the kitchen, just like the other few women who work at the Hornburg.
Delighted over the pleasant surprise, Lisswyn takes off her armour, her dusty boots and breeches and her sweaty tunic. Swiftly, she washes off the dust and grime of the travelling and changes into a new tunic and the brown linen shieldmaiden dress that comes as part of their accoutrement provided for by the king. A great supper has been prepared for the men in Éomer's and Aldor's éoreds and as soon as Lisswyn feels presentable again she hurries down to the great hall.
It is almost bursting with the riders of six éoreds. The two seats at the top of the high table on the dais on the other end of the hall are empty, just as the chairs next to them along the table's side. Théodred, Erkenbrand, Éomer and Aldor have not joined the riders yet. The five other captains who dine with their Marshals at the high table stand to the side and converse with each other. Standing in the doorway to the great hall, Lisswyn looks around searching for her two shieldmaidens.
Wilrun and Merelis are seated in the middle of the table directly in front of the dais facing each other. When Merelis sees her commanding shieldmaiden approach she waves at her to sit to her right. Although Wilrun and Merelis are officially under Lisswyn's command ever since they joined the corps five years ago the women feel more like friends and companions. And ultimately it is the king or now Théodred who commands them altogether.
On her way to the table Lisswyn passes by the riders of Aldburg and Edoras. Many of them she knows for years and greets them with a bright smile and a small incline of her head or a wave of her hand. As the men of the different posts have mixed in the great hall, among the riders she exchanges greetings with are some of Erkenbrand's men. They are mostly unfamiliar to her.
Erkenbrand has been Marshal at Helm's Deep for thirty years now and his men seldom come to Edoras. As she walks past the tables she notices a couple of Éorlingas staring at her surprised by yet another female warrior amongst their lines. Lisswyn can't help it and smirks. Three months hence Merelis and Wilrun's post to the Hornburg yet Erkenbrand's men are still unaccustomed to the presence of female warriors.
"Lisswyn!" Merelis beams at her the moment she arrives at the long table. "I saw you ride in with the éoreds earlier, but you did not see me. It was such a sight when the riders came in battle formation in the setting sun. Did you have a good ride?"
Merelis had always been the cheerful, chattering type of girl. When on duty she is just as composed and quiet as all shieldmaidens are, but in her spare time she cannot hold her tongue still for a second, Lisswyn remembers while Merelis continues her rambling not even waiting for Lisswyn's answer.
Wilrun simply looks up at Lisswyn as a greeting. She is a woman of few words, far fewer than Lisswyn and the two exchange a knowing grin. They will not be able to join the lone chatter of their friend any time soon.
"… I am starving if Théodred and Erkenbrand are not going to show up soon," Merelis exaggerates with a sigh.
"Well where are they now?" Lisswyn jumps in.
"They are in a meeting with Éomer and Aldor. I fear a long while before their discussion ceases," Wilrun answers with her quiet, respectful voice and receives a slight nod of Lisswyn's chin.
"Yes. Éomer said he had some vital information for the prince when we met him on our way here. In the meantime, give me your report, Wilrun."
"We had two orc ambushes from the north over the last ten days and a band of Dunlendings continuously raids the villages west of the fords of Isen," Wilrun answers with a grave expression on her face. "It seems that whenever we take out the raiders a new group replaces them sooner than we can send a new patrol there."
"And the orcs?"
"They are small groups really, but they seem to grow bolder and they are bigger, stronger, more skilful than usual. The last fought in daylight."
At the new information Lisswyn's eyes widen in alarm. "That sounds like witchcraft. Do we know where they come from?"
"The Misty Mountains, I suspect. We never captured any prisoners to question them. Where else could they come from?"
"I do not know but it sounds really disturbing. We should double the guard for Théodred."
"We already did. Merelis and I ride together with the prince but leave his security to his own men and their captain while he is in the safety of Helm's Deep."
"Good. I am glad I have you two here," Lisswyn says.
"What about Éowyn, why did she not come with you?" Merelis enters their conversation.
"She stays with the king. His condition has worsened a lot lately," Lisswyn informs them and her friend's faces turn sober for a moment. "Anything else I need to know?"
"Oh, Wilrun has grown a shadow," Merelis blurts out cheerily and grins like a Cheshire cat.
"Oh hush you, that's not true," the other one replies with blushed cheeks.
Lisswyn raises an eyebrow and with a smirk on her lips she looks questioningly at her friends. "What's his name?"
"Elfstan," Merelis answers rolling her eyes and Wilrun blushes even more.
"I guess I wish to hear both sides to this story..."
~ S ~
"How is my father?" Théodred asks the second captain of Edoras. The four commanders have gathered in the Marshal's study at the Hornburg which Théodred uses as his now. He knows he can trust the other three. None of them would ever disclose what is spoken in their private council to Gríma or one of his confidants.
"His sickness is getting worse, his body weaker with every day," Aldor answers with trepidation.
The crown prince's face hardens even more. "How much longer can he bear?"
"I am not the right person to answer this question, I am afraid. Even the healers have difficulties tending to him these days. Gríma controls everything."
"Is there anyone with my father whom we can trust?"
"Yes, my lord. Háma and Gamling stayed at the Meduseld. We agreed they would swear allegiance to Gríma, to be able to stay and keep an eye on him. We can trust them."
"Gamling is a loyal man. I have served many years and fought many battles at his side," Erkenbrand throws in to the conversation. "It's a good decision to have him stay at the king's hall."
"Háma is even more trustworthy. He has been the Meduseld's doorkeeper for almost two decades now. He would never betray lord nor land. And then there is the princess, of course," Aldor adds. "But she is not armed anymore."
While Théodred nods in approval, Éomer stiffens. What Lisswyn told him earlier and what Aldor says now makes him worry for his sister's safety. She is not as fierce and confident as the first shieldmaiden to stand up against a man, even if he was a repulsive creep such as Gríma. She is a gentle soul, not really a fighter.
"Éomer?" the crown prince's voice interrupts his thoughts about Éowyn.
"I am sorry cousin, I was thinking about something. What did you ask?"
Théodred gives him a comforting smile. He knows exactly what Éomer was pondering. He had the same disturbing thoughts about Gríma. He saw the looks Gríma cast upon Lisswyn before he departed for the Hornburg three months ago. Sometimes for split moments he feared for the first shieldmaiden's wellbeing. 'His first shieldmaiden,' he thinks smiling inwardly, his face showing nothing of his thoughts now.
Instead he says, "I asked you if you are still considered trustworthy by my father and his so called right hand?"
"Oh, er… as for now, I am still trusted, yes," Éomer sighs.
"Then why have you come all the way from Aldburg to Helm's Deep?"
"I received some unsettling reports since the beginning of Cermië about black riders crossing our territory. Reportedly they searched for a folk called Halflings and caused great fear among the horse breeders to the far east of our lands and in the vale of the Anduin."
"Black riders? As in raiders?" the heir of Rohan looks at his cousin, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Raiders we would have taken care of ourselves. No, the horse breeders were neither robbed nor tortured or hurt-"
"Then what is so alarming about some riders on the plains of Rohan?" Erkenbrand growls with impatience at the king's nephew.
"Let him finish, Erkenbrand," Théodred calls his second into place noticing that something about the reports is worrying his cousin immensely. "How many riders are we talking about exactly? And why do they pose a threat?"
"The reports differ when it comes to their number. Some say they were four, others count five to eight, one even claims that they were nine. What they all agree about is to the nature of those riders. The commoners described them as ghostlike, inhumane, faceless, with an evil foreboding and emitting coldness. Some said even that they had the feeling those creatures were able to look right into their heads and hearts. I believed those reports to be over-exaggerated. Therefore I send extra patrols out to find them, but we were unsuccessful until last week."
"You caught them?"
"No, but some of my men had an encounter with three of them-"
"Three riders against a patrol of how many? And they failed to capture them?" Erkenbrand's voice displays his disbelief and disrespect for the young prince and his men.
Deeply offended, Éomer audibly draws in a long breath to calm his temper and remain composed.
"They did not try," he presses through clenched teeth his voice on the brink of snarling. "It was a patrol of ten and they did not dare to stand against them because, as my men described them, the riders were dark, evil. An ancient evil beyond anything we here know; a force creating fear with its mere presence. I was not with that patrol. Therefore I have to trust their judgment, which I do."
"What could possibly be more evil than the Dunlendings and those orcs we are fighting off our lands in the west every day?" Erkenbrand's disregard shows again bringing out Éomer's temper.
"I know my men, Marshal. They do not fear orcs or wargs or trolls. But those riders had them frightened like little children at a ghostly bedtime story," he bellows.
"Then perhaps your boys should spend some more time at the Hornburg with real men…"
"Erkenbrand…" Théodred calls his second again firmly.
"If the Marshal of Aldburg thinks those riders pose a threat to Rohan then we better listen to him," Aldor chides the old warrior as well.
"Are they a threat, Éomer?" Théodred asks his cousin.
The young prince lowers his eyes feeling the scrutiny of the three older and more experienced warriors upon himself. "Perhaps not the riders themselves, but where they came from and what they foreshadow."
"And where and what is that exactly?" Erkenbrand challenges the young Marshal again.
"They came from the southeast…"
"Mordor?" Aldor asks incredulously.
"I believe so…" Éomer trails off lacking for words or an explanation of what happens in the east of his home.
Théodred senses his cousin's discomfit and jumps in to help him. "What is it, cousin?"
"We had a visitor about fifteen days ago, a captain of Gondor on his way to Rivendell. He asked for a fresh horse which we gave him."
"What does a captain of Gondor has to do in Rivendell and with black riders from Mordor?" Erkenbrand frowns.
"He said his name was Boromir and that he had to see Lord Elrond for advice."
"Boromir? The Steward's oldest son," Théodred clarifies. "What would he need to seek advice in?"
"He told me about a dream he and his brother had in which the dark in the east was rising, with light remaining only in the west and a voice that told him he should seek for the sword that was broken in Imladris, something about a council and that Isildur's bane shall be waken."
"Isildur's bane?" Aldor whispers horrified.
At the same time Erkenbrand grunts "Nonsense."
"I know what I heard! I know what he told me!" Éomer snaps.
"Éomer," Théodred tries to calm the situation by gently calling the young prince. "You did good to tell me about him and his dream and the riders of course."
"I am sorry I could not come earlier, but I deemed those riders to be more important. Even though our relations with Gondor aren't the best anymore."
"And you were right in your judgement," Théodred confirms. "If Gondor is sending his heir to seek counsel with the Lord of Rivendell I dare say something is amiss. Perhaps there is a threat lurking in Mordor again and we should take these signs seriously."
"What are you suggesting then, my lord?" Erkenbrand asks, this time his voice lacks the vilification it held when he addressed the younger prince.
"I wish to hear about those riders first hand. We will ride to meet some of the farmers that encountered them," Théodred tells his younger cousin before turning towards his old Marshal and the captain. "Erkenbrand, you and Aldor will hold the fort here against the threats from the north and the west."
"Aye," the experienced Marshal replies.
"When are we leaving?" Éomer inquires.
"You deserve a day's rest. We will depart the day after tomorrow with thirty of my best men and the three shieldmaidens. Your men will stay here and help Erkenbrand's riders on their patrols," Théodred commands his cousin then turns to Erkenbrand again: "Expect us to return in three weeks' time."
Théodred waits for his subordinates to acknowledge his orders with an incline of their heads.
"Let us join the riders then," he finishes their meeting leading them out of his study at the Hornburg.
~ S ~
"…we did some swordplay and he has readied my horse twice or maybe three times…" Wilrun recounts.
"… Five times, I have counted," Merelis interrupts with a mischievous grin just as the three shieldmaidens realise that the men in the hall have turned quiet and risen from their seats.
Promptly the three women rise as well and Lisswyn looks around to see Théodred and the other three entering the great hall through a small door behind the high table.
A soft smile graces her face as she inclines her head to the crown prince. He answers her greeting with sparkling eyes and a quick incline of the head. From the corner of her eyes, Lisswyn watches him and his taller cousin walk up to their seats at the top of the table.
"Bring in the food," Théodred shouts with a big grin on his face. He knows his men and what they crave most: Food and ale.
As the crown prince takes his seat, the rest follows. The meal is accompanied by soft conversations drowning the hall in a low murmur.
Théodred is only partly listening to an insignificant conversation between Erkenbrand and one of his captains and allows himself to shoot glances over at Lisswyn. Every now and then she looks back with a tentative smile on her lips and his mind turns to a memory from eight years ago.
It was in the great hall of Edoras. His father was standing before his throne, he, the crown prince, to his left side. The hall was decorated for the ceremony with shields, swords and the king's regalia. All the commanding Éorlingas were gathered in the great hall as well as the shieldmaidens to welcome their newest member. When the two winged door to the hall opened, Lisswyn entered with determined steps, her head held high, but her eyes showed her nervousness. She had finished her training successfully a month before, after four years of the hardest training a female warrior could receive.
To Théodred she was just a teenager of eighteen years back then. Of course he had met her several times and seen her practice during the past four years. But when she first arrived at the guard's barracks and the training grounds she was fourteen, very slender, almost a child still. A stubborn brat at that, where as he, the crown prince, was a full grown warrior in his late twenties who pursued one of the noble born ladies at court.
During the course of her training he heard her masters talk about her skills and abilities with praise. With all the talk, his curiosity was peeked and so he started to look at her as a potential companion in battle. When she took the final test he held his fingers crossed, wishing for her to pass it and to be sworn in as shieldmaiden. He valued her as a skilful and capable fighter. On that great day he felt proud for her as he watched her swear the oath to his father.
Arriving before the king, Lisswyn bowed her head, her chin almost touching her chest before dropping down on her left knee. She had practiced the procedures of the ceremony, the prince could tell by the way she slowly but deliberately pulled her sword from its sheath with steady hands. Slowly, she placed the blade onto her upturned palms and presented it to the king with its sharp blade turned towards her body.
And then she spoke the oath.
Taken by the old memories, he realises he is staring at her. She must have sensed his attention from her position a couple of feet away for her eyes lift swiftly to meet his with a tentative smile. The moment their eyes lock brings him back from his reminiscence.
'She is so much more to me now,' he feels a flutter of his heart.
Quickly, he brings his attention back to the conversation between Erkenbrand and the captain just missing the suppressed chuckle and wide grin the shieldmaiden gives his younger cousin to his left as Éomer looks at her with crossed eyes and puffed up cheeks. Throwing each other faces has been one of their favourite dinner table games ever since Lisswyn had earned the honour to dine at the royal family table on normal days.
~ S ~
After three hours of eating, talking, watching the riders of Rohan engage in silly drinking games Lisswyn notices with amusement that Wilrun and one of Erkenbrand's men actually do cast each other telltale glances. Yawning, Lisswyn feels the urge for fresh air. With a wish for a good night's rest she leaves her two shieldmaidens at the long table and leaves.
Taking a walk outside has become a habit for her, a ritual before she goes to bed. It is her way of coping with spending the night indoors and not out under the open sky like she used to do on dry nights as a child.
The parapet walk around the old fortress is empty. It is already dark. The moon casts a silvery light on the landscape before the Hornburg. A soft warm summer breeze brushes a strand of Lisswyn's hair that has managed to come free from her braid during the course of the day against her left cheek. She places her lower arms on the balustrade and leans into it watching the moonlit plains allowing her thoughts to wander to her family in their summer yurts somewhere far to the northeast. The feeling of loneliness creeps up from her stomach to her throat forming a lump there.
She has not seen her father since last year's horse fair at Edoras and it has already been three years since the young woman last saw her mother. At times Lisswyn misses them deeply. But then she reminds herself that at the age of twenty-six she would not be living with them anymore even if she had not chosen to become a shieldmaiden. She would have been married to some other horse breeder's son by now and most probably would be a mother, too. Lisswyn cannot imagine what her life would be like if she had chosen that path. The shieldmaiden knows she is happier now than she ever would be in the other situation. Her thoughts linger with her family for a while, her two brothers, one older than herself, one younger. Her older brother's wedding was the last time Lisswyn visited her family three years ago. His first child was born last year, but she had not seen her nephew yet.
The sound of slow steps approaching on the parapet walk tears her from her thoughts. She turns her head to see Théodred strolling towards her.
He is an impressive figure. Average in height, but broader than most of the Éorlingas with very strong shoulders and biceps that show through his white tunic. His gentle face foils the brutal power of his body. A long stubble softens his strong jaw line and square face.
When he reaches her, his right hand touches her left shoulder gently. "Lisswyn," he calls her softly. "It is good to see you here."
There is something elusive in his eyes, Lisswyn cannot really discern. "Have you come to question my allegiance, my lord?" she asks partly jesting and partly in real confusion.
"Of course not," he replies with a smirk clearing her confusion. "But tell me, since when are we back to formality again? I thought we agreed you would call me by my name when we are alone."
"I am sorry, three months of upmost formal behaviour is a hard habit to break," she apologizes with a smile on her lips.
"Was it that bad at Edoras?" his voice softens and he takes down his hand again.
"I was followed every moment of the day. It was not pleasant."
"I am sorry. Did you have a good ride today?" he asks and Lisswyn cannot shake away the feeling that he really is asking something different.
"Yes, it was a wonderful day. Just as any horse breeder's daughter likes it," she jests trying to lift the mood again.
A comfortable silence spreads between them for a while as they watch the plains of the Westfold at night. After a few minutes the prince turns his head to look at her profile. Again memories of their time together come back.
Her first three years as a shieldmaiden, Lisswyn served as second to the king's or Théodred's personal guards, accompanying them on their patrol rides. When the woman who had been first shieldmaiden back then got pregnant with her first child, Lisswyn was made first shieldmaiden and shortly after the crown prince's personal guard.
His father had been reluctant at first, of course, because Lisswyn was still very young; only twenty one. But Théodred, Háma, and the other shieldmaidens spoke up for her and praised her skills. Théoden king had noticed them as well and in the end he had heeded their advice over his concern.
From that day on they had spent most of their time together, riding out on patrols, sparring, getting to know the other's fighting style; growing together as a unit in case they needed to have each other's backs in an ambush. She had been like a younger sister to him, fourteen years his minor.
'A younger sister,' the prince muses as he watches her profile and how that strand of her hair swirls in the night breeze around her defined cheekbones. A low chuckle escapes his lips. How could she ever have been only a younger sister to him? Slowly his right hand reaches out to touch her cheek.
The sudden feeling of his fingers against her skin lets Lisswyn's heart jump to her throat. Slowly as if sensing a dangerous wild animal she turns to him. With wide eyes she meets his longing gaze. Forcing her breath to remain calm she fights the feeling of her heart racing like a young stallion.
'What is happening?' her mind screams.
Yet, there is no threat there, only Théodred and his gentle grey-blue eyes, a soft expression on his face.
For the second time on this evening Lisswyn cannot discern Théodred's look as he tentatively brushes the loose strand of her hair behind her ear. There his fingers remain just a little too long. Lisswyn blushes and starts to feel uneasy, as she feels every heartbeat drumming against her ribcage, thinking about a way to react properly when Théodred finally takes down his hand and whispers with a throaty voice.
"I am glad you are here."
Lisswyn only blinks at him and the confusion in her face brings him to pull himself together.
"We have to ride to Eastemnet. Éomer reported about some unsettling sightings there," he says his voice back to neutral as is expected of a commander and not betraying any of the feelings he had a moment ago while watching her in silence. "I wish to get first hand reports of the people living along the vale of Anduin."
"Our eastern borders?" she asks noticing the sudden change in his mood and recalling what Éomer had told her earlier that day. "That is a long ride. Who is 'we'?"
"Me and Éomer, and thirty of my best men. You and the other shieldmaidens will come along, too."
"Shouldn't you take your whole éored?" Lisswyn frowns.
"I do not expect any ambush. Too many men will only slow us down. As you have said, it is a long ride. We will be away for at least two weeks."
Lisswyn takes in the information with a slow nod of her head.
"When are we leaving?"
"The day after tomorrow, an hour past dawn."
"The shieldmaidens will be prepared."
The prince smirks at her reply, "I should never expect anything different."
Lisswyn smiles back and they both share a laugh before they switch back to silence again enjoying the peaceful sight of a summer night.
After a few minutes the crown prince turns his head looking at the young woman at his side again. "When did you last practice with the sword and knifes?"
"Just yesterday and the day before that," Lisswyn answers.
"And close body combat?"
She turns her head to overlook the moonlit plains again as she tries to recount the days. "That was before we accompanied the harvesters to the fields in the south. So it must be twelve days now." She glances back at him and finds him grinning at her.
"How about a go-through tomorrow two hours after lunch?"
A beam spreads on her face now, too. "I can agree to that."
"Bring the other shieldmaidens with you. We'll make it group training," he orders. They smile at each other for a moment before turning to face the plains again and fall back into comfortable silence, something they have shared so many times in the past five years.
"You should go to rest. It has been a long day." His smile turns into a wry smirk. "And I should go back inside to join the men or else they'll think their prince to be a tired old weakling or worse…."
His right hand comes up again to touch her left upper arm as a parting gesture, sliding off as his broad, muscular chest brushes her shoulder as he steps past her to enter the old fortress again. The sensation of his hand on her arm and his chest against her shoulder sends a shiver through her body. Not the unpleasant kind of shiver she felt every time Gríma looked at her, but a pleasant warm notion that warily stirs something inside her.
The warmth buzzes, tingles in her stomach and her chest and looking after Théodred walking away, Lisswyn can only wonder at its meaning.