Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my happy village and the people in it. Everything else is property of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N: This story follows canon (book-verse only) with one major AU change: specifically, the summer before the War of the Ring, Théodred and Éomer decide to bring their Éoreds to a certain small village on Rohan's western frontier... By my lights, the Rohirrim speak Old English, and their culture (or at least my impression of it) is a mixture of Anglo-Saxon and Nordic/Scandinavian. As such, the names are either Old English, Scandinavian, or sounding close enough to either to satisfy me. For example, the (revised) name of the village is from putting together Alric and loft (homestead).

Our story begins in late August, in the year 3018 of the Third Age. Frodo is on the last leg of his preparations to sneak away with the Ring, Gandalf is still trapped at Orthanc, and Boromir left Minas Tirith for Rivendell about a month ago.

PART I

"be on the watch. the gods will offer you chances. know them. take them." (Bukowski)

I sighed and set the empty feed buckets on the stable floor. After spending the whole pre-dawn morn tending the horses in the dark and sweaty stables, I was ready to take a break. Not that I don't like horses. This is the Riddermark, after all, not just any realm of Men. I went outside and leaned against the stable wall, letting the wind whip around me and cool me off; because the Riddermark (Rohan in Westron, the common tongue) is so flat, there's always some sort of wind blowing.

I live in a small village called Alricsloft, named after its founder. You guessed it: a guy named Alric decided he wanted to build a house here and from there things kind of snowballed. Alric is actually my twenty-five times great-grandfather. Anyway, there's only about thirty families here—a hundred and twenty-odd people—, so everybody knows everybody else and everyone is related somehow. It can get annoying (gossip runs rampant and it's hard to keep any secrets), but I also like knowing that the entire village has my back, so to speak; if someone gets sick, then nearly everybody sends things to help them get better. We're a tight-knit community, and since we live on the western edge of the Mark, we don't get many outsiders.

My father, Soren Eriksson, owns the largest stable here, or rather, the only stable proper (most house their horses in the barn). Although most families own at least one horse, my father has a large herd. He breeds and sells horses and rents out his extensive lands to tenants to farm. A lot of people from the village work for my father. He's a strict taskmaster, but he knows his horses, which is why people from all over the Mark and even beyond come here for business.

"Hey, Saffi, are you all right?" A kind voice interrupted my reverie—Sodred. He's tall, with light brown hair interlaced with blonde streaks cut at his shoulders (which is where every boy and man in the Mark seems to have his hair cut). Sodred is my older brother, but I don't think we look much alike. I'm short for an Eorling, and my hair is a dark brownish-gold. Sodred looks more like our father only nicer.

I turned to Sodred. "I just finished mucking out the stables ALL BY MYSELF even though SOMEONE was supposed to be helping me. Where have you been?"

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I was at the tavern with some of the guys…"

"Was Anwyn there?" I teased.

"Yes… Oh, Saffi, she's so beautiful! Strong, yet delicate; fierce, yet gentle; and she's graceful and pretty and—"

I boxed him lightly round the ears before his eyes had completely glazed over. "Hey, save it for someone who cares!" I couldn't help laughing, though. My brother had it bad for Anwyn, the prettiest girl in the village. Her parents owned the village tavern. "Father's been looking for you," I warned, "so go be a good boy."

Sodred rolled his eyes at me and then sauntered off to the house. I watched him go for a minute. I rather envied him: handsome, easy-going, and Father's favorite. But he's one of my best friends, and it's impossible to not like him—he thinks the best of everyone.

I went round the stables, passing the training yards as I did so. Several hostlers shouted out greetings, and I waved back. I kept going, weaving my way past houses and farms until I was out on the flat grasslands, away from everyone else. I had gone about a mile or so when I got to my favorite spot. Here grew perhaps the only tree on the plains of Westfold. It was giant, several hundred feet high and at least that many feet in width. I climbed it until I was far off the ground.

I could see for miles, tucked as I was among the leafy branches. I could see my house and the village, the surrounding farms. It was late summer, and it was hot, unbearably so if not for that delicious wind. Even though it wouldn't be harvest time for another few weeks, there was less greenery than usual. It hadn't been a good year for crops. There had been few rains, much widespread blight, and even a few raids, mostly Dunlendings from homesteads in the north and west that had been destroyed by orcs or other foul beings.

I shivered at the thought, and unbidden a haunting note strove into my musings: The Shadow from the East is spreading. I had heard the phrase from a lone trader passing through (he had been telling my father why he would not come again), but though I had no idea what he meant, the words had wedged themselves into my mind. I could feel something in the wind; the air from that direction seemed to bring blight and sickness. Father thought it was an old wives' tale. But looking to the east from my perch, I thought I could almost see the air darken slightly.

But what was that? I leaned forward to see better. A column of dust rose from the plain; riders were headed to Alricsloft.

Was it the tradesmen from Gondor come at last? Because of increased dangers, less and less people had been coming to my father's stables for horses over the last few years. (Except for the strange men who hid their faces; they took every black horse there was and disappeared, and somehow even my father had been unable to turn them away. He had looked worried then, even scared. But the look had been so fleeting, and his face had returned to its usual set so quickly, that I wondered sometimes if I had just imagined it.)

I scanned the dust column; things glinted. Metal—they had weapons… Did this bode well or not? I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding when I saw the flags they bore; the white horse on a green backdrop, the sign of the house of Eorl, stood large and clear on them. So in name at least they were friends. There looked to be about forty men, a third of the size of the village. Our tavern was not nearly big enough to house them all. Where would they stay? The leaders could probably stay at my father's house, seeing as he was the local landlord. But what about the rest? I clambered down quickly; I had to warn others so that we would not look grossly unprepared.

I ran back to the house, hot and slightly dizzy from sprinting while planning out the housing of some forty-odd soldiers who were probably used to being treated as lords of some kind. When I got inside, I went straight to the housekeeper.

"Ama? Ama? Where's Ama?" I called out. Tobíen directed me to the kitchens. "Ama," I panted, "there's a troop of Rohan's finest headed this way."

She laughed. "How many?"

"I'm not sure. About forty, from the looks of it."

She blinked. "Forty? Where are they going to sta—oh, I see. What arrangements did you have in mind, exactly?"

"Well, there's probably the two captains plus six officers; that's the usual arrangement for a group of that size. So that eight could stay here, since father is the local landlord and it's better conditions than the tavern. All could berth their horses in our stables; they're big enough. The other men might be able to be housed in the tavern… and the empty tenant homes nearby—you know the ones? That we built, and then they went north? Then the tavern could still service them all without being overcrowded. Should probably go for a third or less of the usual prices, though, if they are soldiers of the Mark; perhaps a blanket fee at the end? I'm not sure about that part. But I'll go get the homes ready for them… So if you could ready, say, eight chambers? Thanks, Ama!"

I turned to go when she caught my arm and said kindly, "Well done, Saffi. Your mother would be proud of your quick thinking, dear."

I blushed. "Thanks, Ama." If only Father felt that way.

Two hours' worth of hectic cleaning and primping later, the column of soldiers swept in. Sodred had told Father, so he promptly went out to greet them after waiting the necessary seven seconds to make it look like he hadn't been expecting anyone. We had barely finished readying all the necessary beds when Father had swept in and demanded for me to be clothed properly—i.e. put on a dress instead of the long tunics and boyish clothes I prefer. Sodred and I followed in Father's wake, with me trying to look the part of the dutiful daughter.

I have to play hostess, I realized with a start. Mother had died giving birth to me, but since the only official visitors we got were tradesmen who didn't care about strict social niceties, I had never really had to act as hostess. I tried not to let my apprehension show.

The two captains dismounted directly in front of our open gate, followed by five officers. Well, I hadn't been too far off in my estimations. I didn't listen very hard while they exchanged form greetings with my father. Father turned and introduced Sodred and then welcomed them to the village. The captain on the left glanced at me curiously, which was understandable seeing as I had just been ignored by my parent. I thought I would die from embarrassment there and then, but fate was not so kind. Instead, the captain asked my father who the 'lovely lady' was; he smirked widely when my father turned back and actually noticed me. I bit my lip to keep myself from blushing too hard and forced myself to look ahead instead of at the ground, which suddenly seemed very interesting. Father glanced over at me with surprise and then said, "This is my daughter Saffi. I was not expecting to see her here; usually she runs off and hides with the servants when I get visitors."

I hadn't done that since I was ten. My cheeks turned red, but I got in a proper curtsy all the same and tried to pretend that I didn't see the soldiers laughing and whispering about me.

"It is a pleasure to welcome you to our home, sirs." I took a deep, steadying breath, then motioned for Tobíen (and the gaggle of stable-boys always following) and for Anders. They stepped forward. "Tobíen here" (he bowed) "will look after your mounts, and Anders will help your men move their packs to rooms of their choosing. We would be delighted to have you and your men sup in our hall tonight." Had I covered everything? I couldn't say outright that we had their sleeping arrangements under control, but I had to let them know somehow.

The captain on the left smirked again while the one on the right (the one with manners!) said, "We thank you most humbly, gracious lady." There was a long pause. Finally he nodded at my father and said, "May my friend and I come inside to discuss some business with you?" I could have sunk onto the ground from shame. My father couldn't even remember to ask these Captains of the Mark inside!

Father agreed (the word business makes him very agreeable) and led the captains to the house. Sodred stepped forth and became immediate friends with the officers before asking them inside with him. They went in, leaving me alone with the other thirty-three men. I blinked. Was this always done? No, I was supposed to accompany Father inside, but he had not asked me, which meant I was stuck here. I looked up. Thirty-three pairs of eyes were fixed on me. I sighed.

"I do apologize for our occasional lapses in propriety," I said. "We are an isolated village and unused to such visits as these. If you could just follow Tobíen and Anders, they will take care of your horses and lead you to your … uh, the dwellings prepared for you."

To my relief, they did just that, and within the half hour, I was alone at the gate. I leaned on it with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness that's over.

"If you are really so isolated, how did you get word of our coming?"

I turned around. It was the captain who had asked my father for my name, and he was smirking. Again. I didn't remember his name; I hadn't really been listening when they had introduced themselves.

"Oh, that's what the village hedge-witches are for, milord," I said. I had no patience for this man and his smug smirks of derision. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go do… I don't know, come up with a meal plan or something else womanly." Whoops. I hadn't meant to say THAT out loud. Just what I needed, another excuse for this captain to mock me and my family.

But the man wouldn't let me get past, holding my arm firmly. "What if I don't excuse you?" he murmured. He had a smooth baritone voice, just a trifle deeper than normal, and his eyes were the clearest blue. He was tall and muscular, unlike the other captain, who was tall but lean. I'd guess that the captain now manhandling my arm was about forty, a young forty, though. He looked as though he could handle a rough life but usually didn't have to. He might have been considered handsome if he wasn't so rude; many village girls would probably be mooning over him tonight. Yuck.

I scowled and freed myself with a quick blow to his arm; no one touched me and got away with it, as several traders had learnt all too well. "Sir, please excuse me," I repeated, making it clear that I wasn't asking a question. Who did this guy think he was, the prince of Rohan? "I need to make sure that your rooms are ready so you don't have to sleep outside in the dirt. Unless, of course, that is what you wish…" He was silent for a moment, then moved and let me pass without saying a word. Jerk.

As night drew on I grew increasingly nervous. I was going to have to eat with my father. And that arrogant captain. I couldn't decide which prospect was more unappetizing, being ignored or being mocked. I did pay some attention to my appearance, though. Manners or not, company was still company and thus could not be ignored.

I stepped out of my room carefully. The dress was a trifle too long—it had been my mother's, and I had never felt the urge to alter many of her old dresses—so I had to watch not to trip over it. I set off down the hallway, but stopped short when I turned the corner. It was captain jerk-face. He was looking at a portrait on the wall. I tried to retreat, but no such luck. My foot caught and I tripped. I managed to catch myself on the doorframe before I fell, but the noise alerted him to my presence.

"Are you all right?" he asked, hastening over to my side. Great. What I wanted to reply was 'leave me alone'.

"I'm fine. I just…" need to get away from YOU? What could I have said? There was no way I was going to confess that I had nearly tripped over my own skirt. "Well, got to be going! So if you will excuse me…" I said brightly. Before he could reply, I fled the scene.

The hall was full of hustle and bustle as our servants put the finishing touches on the settings. I went up to the dais. I hated sitting there; it felt like holding up a big sign that said I'M BETTER THAN YOU ARE. Rynis handed me the place cards, adding, "Ama said this was the hostess' job."

Oh, dear. I leafed through them and realized to my horror that our guests, the two captains, were none other than PRINCE THÉODRED and LORD ÉOMER.

Unfortunately, my first thought was, 'Which one's the jerk?' I turned around to leave; no matter what Ama thought, I truly needed help on this one.

Only to find captain jerk right behind me. "Sorry," he smirked. "I didn't know how to get down here, so I followed you."

I managed to school the panic out of my features. "It's … fine, my lord." I couldn't be more specific since I had no idea what his name was. This was definitely a problem. Please don't let him be the prince, I thought.

"Are those the place cards?" he asked. This wasn't my day, was it?

I could think of nothing else to say but "Yes, my lord." I cringed inwardly at my words. They sounded like something a brainless twit would say, not someone whose name meant wisdom. I tried to say something pleasant. "Would you like to be placed next to your friend or on my father's other side as is custom?"

"I will follow the custom, I suppose." I set down the three place cards. Remaining were mine and my brother's. My mind raced; I had no idea who he was, so there was only a fifty-fifty chance I would not be near him. If I accidentally put myself near him, I would be stuck. If I accidentally put myself next to the prince, it would look like matchmaking. "If you would excuse me, I need to find the housekeeper."

This time, he let me pass. I had already gotten to the kitchens when I realized that I had left the place cards behind. I went back.

Jerk-face was gone, but someone had set up the cards. I was placed next to the prince. Oh, no. I moved to change the seating, to what I don't know, but it didn't matter. There was a flourish and people began entering. Father motioned me to his side. There was no way I could change the seating arrangements now. I could already tell that this evening was not going to end well.