Thank you to all of you who are still with me and this story, especially my loyal followers: AskalHoney, CarawynO, Froggz, HeartoftheArtsari, KobrasKicks, Luryel, Marianne 16, MaryElisabeth, Paperlanterns86, Pepper101, Scribe of the Fanciful, Tibblets, VoxynQueen, Yayyou, dubucray, jayjay0815, lem00066, sillystring-roxs-the-earth.
As you have probably noticed I described the lands along the Anduin in the south and in Westemnet as mostly farmland and Eastemnet and the Wold as grassland. This is quite obviously in contrast to how Peter Jackson made west-Rohan look like in his movies. But I have good reasons for this. You can find them on youtube com/ watch?v=GYaoKHGP0dc
Also, please, leave a review. It helps so much when writing!
A special thank you to my wonderful beta Scribe of the fanciful, my amazing writing buddy and inspiration Polly, and my feedback-partner jayjay0815. Your time and work are highly appreciated. Without you this story would not be here!
As per usual: 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.
The greatest honour
"Now enter your watchwoman
I'll be your keeper for life as your guardian
I'll be your warrior of care your first warden
I'll be your angel on call, I'll be on demand
The greatest honor of all, as your guardian" (Alanis Morissette)
A firm, gentle grip to her upper arm jolts Lisswyn awake the next morning. Fear rushes through her veins. Are they being attacked? Blinking frantically against the early morning light, she looks up to meet grey-blue eyes.
"What is it?" she asks under her breath, still fighting to wake up.
A warm mug with her herbal tea is gently pressed into her hand.
"Nothing. I just came to wake you early in case you wish to take a bath in the river before we leave."
Looking from the mug to Théodred's face, Lisswyn tries to get a grip of what is going on and calm her nerves.
"Did you brew my tea for me?"
"Yes. Of course. Who else?"
"I… I don't know. I wondered who it was the last two days…," she trails off, realizing it had not been Éomer, but Théodred who was her secret provider. Of course it was him. She had taken a liking in this special tea only little more than a year ago. Éomer wouldn't know about it. Before then chamomile or rosehip were her morning drinks of choice.
"Thank you," she says quietly before a question comes to her mind. "Do you have a blend of it with you?"
Théodred smiles at her, nodding once. "Aye."
"Why? I mean how?"
"Do you remember our patrol to the fords of Isen shortly before I resettled to the Hornburg?"
Lisswyn silently nods as her mind returns to those days shortly before her birthday in Lótessë.
"I asked you about the blend of your tea back then," the prince continues, still smiling. "I bade the kitchen mistress at Aldburg to make a pouch for me before we left three days ago."
Surprised by Théodred's confession, Lisswyn looks at the prince, her mind spinning around his last words, searching his eyes and hoping for clarification.
He simply smiles at her softly. "Do you wish me to stand guard while you take a dip?"
"I can take Merelis and Wilrun with me, they didn't get to bathe yesterday either because of my foolish behaviour."
"Hurry up, then. I will order Folcred to stand guard for all three of you on the other side of the grove."
Ten minutes later the three shieldmaidens are on the river's bank underneath the copse undressing. As Lisswyn pulls down her underclothes a small brownish red stain greets her.
"S'blood," she mumbles. Wilrun hears her nonetheless.
"What is it?"
"My rose days are coming," the first shieldmaiden grumbles.
"Do you have strips of rabbit fur with you?"
"Yes, but only four."
"You can wash them in the evening and dry them over night." Wilrun's words are muffled by her pulling off her tunic.
"They will not dry in these cold nightly temperatures unless I put them around the fire…"
"Not really an option with all the men around," her friend comments dryly. "I have four with me as well, you can use them. I already had my days before we left the Hornburg."
"Thank you."
"Let's go take the dip," Wilrun quickly changes the subject and the two women plunge into the water with Merelis joining them after a short moment.
When they return to camp a quarter of an hour later, the riders are already breaking up camp. The shieldmaidens' tent lies wrapped up next to Wilrun's saddlebags and their bedrolls are rolled up as well.
"We took too long," Lisswyn murmurs to her friends. "Hurry up." Quickly the first shieldmaiden rushes to where she had been sleeping the last hours of the night next to the dying flames of the fire, only to find her things already packed and placed next to her saddlebags. Feeling the guilt of delaying everybody, she swiftly stuffs her remaining things into her bags. To her surprise she finds Daeroch bridled and saddled up, his reins in one of Théodred's hands. With the other the prince holds his own stallion's reins.
"I am sorry for delaying you, my lord," she tells him as she straps her bags to her saddle.
"It's alright, Lisswyn. You had a short night," he replies smiling softly. "We are following the orc tracks Merelis found yesterday. We have to make sure they did not harm the people living in this area and bring them down."
With a sharp incline of her head, Lisswyn acknowledges his order. It was only a couple of years ago that bands of orcs from Mordor started to raid Eastemnet stealing every black horse they could find. Her own family lost a stallion and two mares to the beasts during one summer out in the Wold. Recalling how her father told her about the raid she swiftly mounts Daeroch. Three minutes later the company is on its way.
For the whole day a vanguard of riders tracks the orcs, while the rest of the company stops at each dwelling. Théodred listens to the people and the stories they tell of the black riders. Lisswyn is always two steps behind him guarding the heir. To her is seems as if the reports about the riders are all basically the same. Whether by coincidence or not, the orc tracks lead to the Eastwall of Rohan in the north and along the shores of the Anduin and Nen Hithoel, just the way Théodred intends to ride. None of the families have been raided by the orcs yet nor did any of them notice the beasts travelling past. Their tracks always seem to lead around the farms and settlements as if to avoid contact with the dwellers.
In the afternoon the company reaches a small settlement just south of the falls of Rauros. The four families of fishermen were not as lucky as the others. Already from a furlong away the riders see smoke rising from the houses' windows and roofs. Five men come running, armed with forks and bows, shouting as if to attack the company.
"Guard the heir," Lisswyn commands her shieldmaidens, unsheathing her sword and urging her stallion forward to block the running men from reaching Théodred head on. Merelis and Wilrun quickly pull up to stand with their horses to his right and left, swords drawn, while the riders quickly circle around the fishermen and close in on them. Spears and a few arrows pointed at the attackers ends the commotion as quickly as it started.
"Put your weapons down, it's Théodred, the king's son!" Éomer shouts at the fishermen. Fear of punishment is clear on their faces as realization hits them. They were about to attack their own people and even worse their future king.
"Forgive us, my lords. We did not recognize you!" the leader of the five hastily speaks up, his voice shaking, as the men lower their weapons.
Théodred however does not seem concerned by this. "Who are you and what happened here?" Théodred calls at the fishermen as the riders slowly open the circle around the men again.
From behind a boulder at the lake's shore, another man and a group of women, children and elders appear and hesitantly walk towards the company. After a quick round of introductions the eldest of the men tells the king's son of the orc's raid only hours before, "They were about thirty, my lord. They came around noon. We escaped them with our boats, but when we returned our kettle and food supplies were stolen and our houses burning."
"They were very tall and obviously unbothered by the sun," a younger man adds.
Théodred and his captain exchange a telling look and from the corner of his eye the prince notices how Lisswyn's head snaps up and turns in his direction as well. This does not sound like the usual band of orcs, but quite similar to those who started attacking Rohan's west a couple of weeks ago.
At Théodred's order the company dismounts and most riders quickly help to put out the fires while Merelis, Wilrun and Éomer keep a watch on the surroundings for possible new threats. Théodred continues his questioning about the black riders with Lisswyn and a few of his closest men at his side for protection.
"The riders came past here a good five weeks ago. It was around sunset. You'd have to ask old Fréa here, he was outside when they came," the leader of the small group of fishermen explains.
The addressed man, stricken with old age and relying on a walking stick for support steps hesitantly forward. His face is lined. His once proud beard has vanished into a wispy white stubble, and his mouth is sunken from lacking a good number of teeth.
"They were four, my lord," he recounts with a slight lisp and a cracking voice. "Shortly before they came I felt a cold rushing in as if a heavy mist was coming, but the sky was clear. A wind blew through the underbrush around our houses and rippled the lake's surface. I thought summer had turned into winter within a second. The cold grew as they came over the boulder where your company came from earlier." With an arthritic finger, the old man points to the south and Théodred follows his motion before telling him to continue with a short nod of his head.
"It became darker when they came and I heard whispers in the wind. An ancient language I did not understand. They were all clad in black breeches and black cloaks with wide hoods hiding their faces and heavy metal boots. Even their horses were black and bore black metal armour. Beasts of Gorgoroth they were. I have seen much in my life, my lord, but I never felt so frightened as I did in the moment the riders came towards me. I bade my heart stop beating, but it did not yield my plea." The old man shivers at his own words and takes a pause looking at the king's son with watery eyes. Another soft nod of Théodred's head lets him continue.
"One of the riders asked me for a Halfling by the name of Baggins and a place called Shire. His voice was like metal scratching on ice. It pained my ears, and you have to believe me my lord, nothing pains ears as old and deaf as mine easily. After I told him we do not know any Halflings and the closest we know of live at the Gladden Fields they hastily took off to the north." This time the arthritic finger points in the opposite direction.
"Thank you, master Fréa," Théodred acknowledges the old man's recount with a polite incline of his head and after a short moment motions for the first shieldmaiden to follow him a couple of yards to the side with his guards remaining behind a few of steps.
"What do you think?" he asks her.
Perplexed by his question Lisswyn looks at him. "My lord?"
"You heard all the reports that were made today. What do you think?" He is asking for her thoughts like he has done multiple times in the past two years.
"We have to hunt down the orcs who raided these families."
"We will. What about the riders?"
"What is the Shire?" she asks back.
"It is a place far to the West."
Lisswyn takes a moment to consider the new information before she replies, "From what we heard I would say they pose no immediate threat to Rohan or its people as long as they are not Halflings. Yet it is against our law to let strangers roam around at will in our land until the king gives them leave to do so. I would advise to find them and let them explain their purpose and whom they serve and not let them ride through your realm freely any longer."
"They are servants of the Black Lands," Théodred states flatly.
"Mordor?" horror lies in the shieldmaiden's voice.
"Dark times are coming upon us, Lisswyn. I may be forced to …"
"To?"
Shaking his head Théodred draws in breath. "We talk about this later."
The prince forces a smile on his face that soon turns into a real one as he looks at the first shieldmaiden. Gently he takes her right hand and lifts it to his lips. "Thank you for your thoughts, my lady."
Turning to his men, who have finished putting out the fires and are waiting by their horses, he calls, "We make for Amon Hen for the night." Thanking the fishermen for their reports and wishing them good fortune for rebuilding their dwellings, he walks over to Brego and mounts his stallion.
Lisswyn stares at his back. His behaviour is irritating. First he treats her like an advisor, a seasoned warrior, then he treats her like a noble lady of the court, something he has never done before but now five times within a week. Why?
It cannot mean he wishes to court her, can it? It is customary to declare the wish for courtship first, and of course it is as Wilrun said: the prince would never court a commoner. When she told him about her fear of being mistaken for his mistress he outright denied this as well. Since that evening he has never again charmed her with compliments or misleading offers, but the lines of friendship have been crossed many times during the past few days. Nothing Théodred does makes sense to Lisswyn anymore. Shaking her head in confusion, the shieldmaiden walks back to her stallion and mounts Daeroch.
The company leaves the settlement in haste and in a fast gallop cover the undulating lands that mark the beginning of the Eastwall of Rohan and shield Nen Hithoel from the great green plains of the Riddermark. A little more than an hour later the company rides up the hill of the old watch tower of Amon Hen.
They make camp at the ruins of the old watch tower a good hour before dusk. While most riders are occupied setting up their tents, Lisswyn walks over to Théodred.
"My lord, may I go to the lake and… clean myself?"
Surprise shows on the prince's face. "Again? You already bathed this morning."
"Yes." She lowers her eyes, highly embarrassed that she will have to reveal the reason behind her wish. "I… I am having my rose days," she mumbles, only just loud enough for him to hear.
When understanding hits him Théodred briefly closes his eyes and softly shakes his head.
"I am sorry. Of course you may," he tenderly tells her. Her face still slightly turned to the side and avoiding his eyes, she thanks him before walking off.
Théodred watches her back, dreading the promise he asked her to give last night had forced her to share such private information. "Bloody fool!" he mumbles to himself.
"My lord?" Edgar asks him curiously.
"Nothing, I was just cursing myself." The heir turns to face the captain whose gaze is on Lisswyn's back.
"Do you wish me to follow and guard her, my lord?"
Nodding the prince replies. "Yes, but make sure she does not notice you."
"Aye, my lord."
As the captain walks past him, Théodred's recalls why he made Edgar his first captain: he is loyal beyond measure and his perception of almost unnoticeable things is exceptional. He does seem to be rather protective of Lisswyn, too. Perhaps he would be a good choice for the future princess' personal guard?
When Lisswyn returns to camp a quarter of an hour later, the twelve travelling tents are set up underneath the ruins with a warm bonfire burning in the middle. She scans the area for Éomer. For three days now her old friend avoided her, ignored her. Riding in the first line of the company next to Théodred with Lisswyn diagonally behind him, the Marshal of Aldburg did not once look in her direction, only straight on or to his left. Every time they made camp he quickly walked the other way and chose a place to sit at the opposite end of the campsite. Multiple times she tried to make eye contact, but he deliberately looked the other way. Why, the first shieldmaiden cannot wrap her head around.
Undeniably their encounter at the mouth of the Entwash had been highly embarrassing for both of them and she did not have the courage to face him the night before. Yet now she not only wishes to talk to him again as a friend and find out why he has turned his back on her. Above all she wishes to apologize for this particular moment – to tell him she did not mean to peep and that she was sorry for it. It is about time they talked, she concludes. This time she will not rely on good chance, but seek him out.
To her relief she finds the younger prince sitting on one of the old watch tower's ruined walls by himself. Best to do it now. Swiftly she approaches him.
"May I give you company?" she asks him innocently. He looks past her down the hill and towards the camp, ignoring her request.
Lisswyn does not let it deter her. "I wish to apologize for... for watching you after your bath in the river-"
"No need to," Éomer quickly interrupts her, his voice flat and cold. His behaviour stings, but Lisswyn decides to leave it without a comment.
"What ails you?" she inquires gently instead, leaning against the wall next to where he is sitting.
A deep forceful sigh is her only answer. Still he avoids looking at her.
"Éomer? What is it? Tell me…," Lisswyn pleads and finally his eyes come to rest on her face. They look sad, plagued.
"It's nothing, Lisswyn," he murmurs, but the shieldmaiden can tell he is lying again.
"Of course there is, Éomer. I know you. Don't lie to me. What have I done?"
The prince inhales heavily and swallows. "Nothing. You are your wonderful self you always have been," he admits bitterly.
"Then why do you evade me?" she pleads again.
"I cannot talk about it, Lisswyn."
"Why not? We always talked about everything, even fighting if necessary…," her voice is almost cracking.
Éomer grinds his teeth a moment before he answers with a coarse voice, "I'm sorry. I really can't. Not this time." Abruptly he jumps off the wall and walks past her back to camp, leaving her alone at the ruins with a heavy heart.
A soft scratching sound above Lisswyn's head calls for her attention. On top of the watch tower the slender tall silhouette of Wilrun appears and with her right hand waves Lisswyn to join her on her watch post. Lisswyn climbs the old ruined stairs and comes to stand next to her friend.
"Are the two of you at odds?" the tall woman asks her.
"I… I don't know. We did not argue or anything. He is just evading me and I do not know why."
"You seemed rather close only days ago when he came for you at Aldburg."
"He came for me?"
"On our first evening after we bathed. He brought us spare blankets… to me you looked almost like lovebirds who haven't confessed their feelings for each other yet." A cheeky smile appears on Wilrun's face.
"Lovebirds?" Lisswyn sounds baffled and her mind turns to the late afternoon the day before on the river banks… Éomer's stripped body in the low sunlight and the feelings and thoughts it had caused in her. Lovebirds… Is this what she feels? Love? Confused by her own thoughts and feelings and what they might imply, she blinks.
"You like him, don't you?" Wilrun asks, smiling at her.
"Yes, I do," she admits softly. "But I am sure … I don't know. He is so different ever since Aldburg. He… evades me like I am a pest."
Wilrun gently squeezes her right shoulder. "Maybe he is confused by all the attention Théodred is giving you."
"Why should it confuse him? There is nothing to it."
Tilting her head to the side Wilrun draws breath through her teeth. "If he… does see more in you than just a friend then Théodred's flirting… would at least put him off."
"But you said yourself a prince of Rohan would never marry a commoner like you or me," Lisswyn objects confused by Wilrun's sudden change of opinion.
"I know I said this, but then I saw the look he gave you at Aldburg… maybe those rules do not apply to him?"
"You think, he…?"
"Perhaps." Wilrun shrugs her shoulders once.
"Then how do I fix this? I mean… if he avoids me because of Théodred?"
"Do you wish for Éomer to court you?" Wilrun asks her curiously.
"I don't know," Lisswyn admits.
"I am afraid I don't know what to do either." Wilrun shakes her head apologizing. "Maybe Éowyn could help?"
At her best friend's name Lisswyn's eyes dart up to meet Wilrun's.
"If Théodred gives us leave to go to the horse fair, you should ask her," the older woman offers.
Silently, Lisswyn nods and takes in a deep breath. "I worry for her."
"Éowyn?"
Lisswyn nods once more before she explains, "She is the last one of us at Meduseld. I wonder how she copes."
"Seeing her uncle sick is certainly hard for her."
"Yes, it is, but that's not what I meant."
Wilrun frowns, but before she can ask, Lisswyn elaborates, "She is alone at Meduseld with Gríma and his guards. There is the king, of course, but he cannot save her." Lisswyn shudders at the memory, "Wormtongue… he is a salacious fiend. His eyes are full of lust when he looks at her. It's repellent."
"The gobermouch?" Wilrun asks, astounded.
"He is much more cunning than we thought at first," Lisswyn says. "I hope he does not convince the king to promise a marriage between them."
Wilrun's eyes widen. "You think he would do that?"
"I don't know, but I swear, if he ever touches Éowyn without her consent, I will kill him!"
The two women look at each other, fierce determination in Lisswyn's eyes, shock and worry in Wilrun's, before they fall into a brooding silence, unaware of being watched from afar.
At the camp fire Théodred's eyes trail the smaller figure of the woman who has captured his heart. He had realized this only few weeks before he resettled to the Hornburg. But when had it started? His thoughts wander back to when he asked Lisswyn for advice the first time. It was almost two years ago, shortly before yule. Éomer had been appointed Marshal of Aldburg and moved to the king's city of old a couple of weeks before.
Théodred knew his cousin and Lisswyn were close friends. On many nights the two sat together in the great hall with some of the younger princes' male friends and the other shieldmaidens, jesting, playing dice or simply talking. On numerous occasions Théodred joined them at a late hour, after his father had retired for the day. On more than one of those nights he had found Lisswyn had a sharp mind and passed well founded judgement on many subjects.
Back then Théodred often confided in his younger cousin, asking for his thoughts on military matters or discussing with him how to organize patrols and others things. Together the two watched with concern how Gríma slowly but steadily rose to become the chief advisor at his father's court.
After Éomer left Théodred missed the conversations with him and after a time, he grew tired of brooding over difficult matters all by himself and started asking the first shieldmaiden for her opinion.
He had a heated argument with his father about an urgent request from Erkenbrand. The Marshal of Helm's Deep had sent a message asking for new swords and shields for his men to keep up Rohan's safety against the ever-growing number of orcs and Dunlendings coming from the west and north. Of course his father's advisor Gríma Wormtongue spoke against it and his father heeded Gríma's advice over Erkenbrand's and Théodred's plea.
Storming out of the great hall, the first shieldmaiden at his heels as usual, the crown prince suddenly burst out swearing. "What a stubborn foll of an ill-advised dotard-king." It was loud enough for Lisswyn to hear him. When he realized, he quickly turned around. "I am sorry, that was inappropriate."
She had not expected him to address her and looked at him with big round eyes. "My lord?"
"I said, I am sorry, my words were inappropriate." He repeated calmly, but the shieldmaiden still looked puzzled.
"I did not listen, my lord."
"How could you not listen, I was almost yelling?" he asked her bewildered and frowned.
"I heard you yell, my lord, but I chose to not pay any attention to your words since I assumed they were not meant for me to hear."
"Just like that?" Théodred doubted.
"Aye, my lord. It is not that hard after a while. I am used to not listening."
For a long moment they looked each other in the eye. There was no falsehood in hers, he realized, and a thought struck him. She had chosen a life as his protecting shadow – someone who would always be present and at his side, or rather two steps behind him, but never really recognized by the people around him. The question coming up with the thought he asked aloud.
"Why have you decided to become a shieldmaiden, Lisswyn?"
"Because it is an honour, my lord."
"An honour?" he asked incredulously.
"Aye, my lord."
"What is honourable about having to always follow me around, but never being allowed to take part? In watching and hearing me talk to other people, but not being allowed to listen, much less to comment? Isn't it tiresome?"
"No. I… I am protecting Rohan's heir. I… I serve my home, lord and land. That's what I have sworn… only few are allowed to do this…. and I do get to see and know a lot about this realm and Arda, that I normally would not if I still was only a horse breeder's daughter."
"So you are listening?" A smirk spread on the prince's face and Lisswyn's look turned rattled.
Her answer was spoken in hastened, hushed words. "I… I am sorry, my lord. You have to believe me, I would never dare to talk about things I hear, much less to comment on them or place judgement upon anything if not asked."
Théodred's face softened into an open smile. "Well, how about you share your thoughts for once?" he offered kindly.
"My lord?"
"Your thoughts – what do you think about the discussion I just had with my father?"
The shieldmaiden hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting about before looking at him again.
"I must speak openly, my lord?" her voice was firm.
"That is what I asked you."
She straightened her back and raised her chin slightly before speaking again. "Gríma is a manipulative, manky bespawler who has way too much influence over your father… the king."
He chuckled at her answer. "It is alright. You may call him my father. That's what he is, right?"
"He is my king," she emphasized, keeping a straight face, which caused another chuckle on his part.
"Aye, well…," the heir regained his composure and stepped a little closer to keep his next words as private and secret as possible. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "Honestly. What am I to do? I am afraid we won't get rid of Gríma so easily. How can I make my father see reason in Erkenbrand's plea for new weapons? Every time I argue with him over something like this, Gríma intervenes and convinces him it is not necessary despite all the reports we receive. Tell me, am I overreacting or is there something foul to Gríma's advice?"
The first shieldmaiden obviously understood his intention. Quickly looking around to ensure nobody was listening, she answered as discretely.
"I dare say he does not have Rohan's best interests in mind, but given your father's trust in him, you should find a way of circumventing his orders without making it obvious."
"And do what?" he curiously looked at her.
"You could go to Helm's Deep arguing you wish to see for yourself if Erkenbrand exaggerates in his reports. Make the king and Gríma believe you doubt the Marshal's judgement. Before you set off, have your men take new equipment from the armoury and leave their personal weapons at Edoras for once. When you are at the Hornburg have them exchange their equipment with Erkenbrand's men and bring the old gear with you back to Edoras to get it refreshed."
"That would be close to treason…"
"Is it your fault if your men confuse their equipment at the Hornburg armoury, my lord?"
Her mockingly innocent question together with her raised eyebrows sent him smirking.
"What a cunning woman I have at my side. Do I need to be more careful when you are around?" he teasingly asked her back, but Lisswyn did not get his jest.
"Are you questioning my allegiance, my lord?"
Shaking his head lightly to ease her worry he explained, "I am just wondering what is going on in your head when you do not speak up…"
The shieldmaiden however was still on defence. "I shared thoughts because you asked for my advice, my lord. Normally I would never dare to think something like this."
"What a pity…," he half teased her again.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked confused.
"I just came to realize I find your thoughts very… inspiring and helpful."
"Thank you, my lord," she replied, baffled.
"Can we agree on something?" Upon her questioning look, the prince continued. "Whenever you feel you have an opinion to share either privately or openly in a given conversation, could you clear your throat to let me know?"
Surprise showed on her face and he raised his eyebrows to emphasize his request.
"As you wish, my lord," she consented, confusion still showing in her voice.
"Good." With a small nod of his head he approved. "We will ride to Helm's Deep tomorrow morning. Be prepared, shieldmaiden."
"I will, my lord."
Their ride to the Hornburg had been unspectacular. On a patrol to the Westmarch beyond the northern rims of the White Mountains they fought back two bands of Dunlendings invading Rohan's territory, and on their way back they found fresh orc tracks near the fords of Isen. It was not overly alarming, but before they started their journey back to Edoras the prince and the Marshal met at the fortress' study to talk about patrol intervals and a possible set up of a post in the Westmarch. Théodred made sure the first shieldmaiden was present for the meeting as well.
"To keep up our defences like this I need more men and new armour and weapons," Erkenbrands stressed once more, towards the end of their discussion.
"I know," Théodred conceded. "I just do not know if we can get away with this scheme a second time. If I keep travelling to Helm's Deep every week, especially during winter, it will raise suspicion."
"I understand, my lord. I just doubt we will be able to keep the Dunlendings at bay for long if we do not get proper attire from Edoras."
"I can only try to talk to my father again."
A harrumph from behind his back caught Théodred's attention. Turning around he noticed the Marshal's gaze had shifted to the woman who stood close to the study's door as well.
"May I speak, my lord?" Lisswyn asked self-consciously.
"You may," he told her encouragingly.
"You could send out an éored with extra men, let's say one hundred and forty, to meet a patrol from the Hornburg somewhere in Westemnet. Have them exchange weapons and spoiled armour there, but only the éored returns to Edoras. The extra men will join Erkenbrand's men instead and take post at the Westmarch."
"It will be noticed if men are missing," the prince pointed out.
"Do we have men from the Westmarch at Edoras?"
"A couple, yes."
"They could officially seek permission to go home for yule."
"So if the king grants it they simply ride home? Sounds like something we might get through with."
"And nobody will argue against it if they organize a defence of the Westmarch on their own."
"But they cannot all ride together."
"Split the plan then, have the éored meet with the Marshal's men at Westemnet and let the men of the Westmarch ride home individually or in smaller groups."
"Yes, this could work, at least until the end of winter when the extra men are expected back at Edoras. We will try it. Thank you"
Lisswyn inclined her head shortly and fell back into silence.
Erkenbrand listened to their conversation quietly and waited until the prince made his decision before he very lowly and calmly addressed Théodred again, "May I have a word with you in private, my lord?"
The heir looked at him for a moment before he turned towards the shieldmaiden again, "Lisswyn, wait outside."
When she had closed the door behind her he asked, "What is it?"
"I find it rather unusual that you let your shieldmaiden take part in your… councils," Erkenbrand phrased his astonishment and disapprobation cautiously.
"Hers was a brilliant idea, don't you think?" Théodred chose to ignore the undertone.
"Yes, but she is a shieldmaiden…"
"And a smart one," the prince emphasized, but Erkenbrand was still not ready to consent.
"How do you know we can trust her?"
Théodred huffed disbelieving but also a little amused before he answered his Marshal's question, "I have trusted her to guard me for more than five years now. I never had any reasons to mistrust her. Neither do you, I believe?"
"No, but it is unusual."
Erkenbrand's perception of women's roles in society started to grate on the prince's nerves. "Get used to it then. I find her thoughts and judgements helpful. I believe I come to see more in her than just my guard."
Bewilderment was written all over Erkenbrand's face at the prince's answer. "Like what, my lord?"
"More of a confident…. A friend," Théodred replied patiently.
"A friend?" the Marshal murmured for himself before he nodded, obviously thinking about his prince's last words. With a sharp intake of breath he suddenly straightened and replied, "Alright, then I will."
Théodred smirks at the memory. Looking back, it had probably been on that afternoon that he had begun to fall for the first shieldmaiden. He just had not been aware of it at the time, unlike Erkenbrand.
Despite his disapproval of her being Théodred's advisor, the Marshal of Helm's Deep had obviously noticed Lisswyn was to become more over time. His attitude towards the first shieldmaiden changed gradually, until he even complemented her sharp mind and talked about her with praise when she would not hear it. When the prince resettled to the Hornburg without her three months ago, Erkenbrand reacted not only surprised, but disappointed, too. When the prince revealed his plan to marry Lisswyn a good week ago, he knew Erkenbrand would approve.
~ S ~
The next day the company travels north through the deep vale in between the two tumbled ridges of the western Emyn Muil. In this undulating karst landscape with its gullies and ravines, there are no settlements and they make good ground without stopping once during the day. A short hour before sunset, the vale leads them back to the Anduin at Sarn Gebir. At a larger clearing on the banks above the rapids they make camp for the night. By the time all the tents are set up, all horses tended to and a bonfire is burning in the camp's centre, it is already pitch dark around them.
After Lisswyn and her shieldmaiden friends have shared their food rations for supper, the first shieldmaiden walks over to where the horses are racked up to see to her stallion again.
A couple of minutes later, Théodred joins her. Standing next to Daeroch's head he ruffles the horse's forelock and takes a long glance at the first shieldmaiden.
Having noticed his presence, she starts to smile before turning towards him. "Can I be of service, my lord?" she asks him, purposefully using his title with a mocking tone while some of the riders are close enough to hear them.
Giving her a loving smile, the prince replies, "I just thought sometimes I envy him for all the attention he gets from you."
"Daeroch?" she laughs. "He was my first foal…"
"I know, you already told me this story."
With the back of her left hand holding a currycomb, she brushes a strand of hair away from her face leaving a dirt smear on her cheek.
"I really feel a connection with him," she elaborates.
"Yes, I can tell."
Théodred's eyes shift slightly from her eyes to her cheek and back. His right hand comes up and stops just inches from her face. "Permit me?"
"What is it?" she asks surprised.
"You have a little dust on your…," he points with his fingers to the smear.
Quickly, Lisswyn brushes her face again and is rewarded with a warm chuckle on Théodred's side. "It's even worse now. Let me help you."
His hand comes up and with his calloused thumb he strokes her cheek four times before his eyes come back to hers. His thumb still against her cheek, his movement ceases for a moment before the stroking turns into a soft caressing with his other fingers touching her jawline and neck now.
The urge to lean down and kiss her feels overwhelming, but he resists it, swallowing hard. 'Not now,' he tells himself. 'It would be too soon, too bold.' Slowly he pulls his hand away, still holding her gaze.
Lisswyn's heart drums feverishly in her throat and a sensation close to an electric thunderstorm rummages her stomach. Her breath is slightly shaky. Has he been close to kissing her just seconds ago? It felt as if he was…
Suddenly Lisswyn's right arm and part of her upper body is shoved forward by a strong love tap from behind. The shieldmaiden ignores it, but her stallion does not accept it and pushes her again with the back of his nose.
"I believe he is jealous," Théodred teases her with a soft laugh.
Lisswyn laughs as well, but it is a tense one.
"Give him all your attention again, shieldmaiden. I don't wish to compete with a horse."
Stepping backwards two steps before turning around Théodred makes his way back to the fire.
As the shieldmaiden watches him walk away her mind starts to reel again. They'd been close to kissing and she'd been captured by the situation, thrilled even. She wanted him to kiss her, too, she realises.
She had only been kissed once before. It was a good year after she was sworn in as shieldmaiden. It happened on a night of celebrations and she was drunk. Watching Éomer kissing and fumbling with one of Edoras' girls she suddenly felt the wish to know what kissing a man felt be like.
She sat among Éomer's friends and knew Hefric had been showing some interest in her for a while now. Turning towards him she started to flirt, and it didn't take long until Éomer's best friend leaned forward and kissed her for the first time. It felt good at first, but after a couple of minutes Hefric became too eager for her liking. When his hands came to rest on her thighs trying to move the skirt of her dress up a short while later, she quickly drew back, excused herself and rushed out of the tavern and back to the barracks. If kissing was regarded as an invitation to touch her in such a way she would never kiss a man she was not in love with again, she swore to herself, storming back up the hill.
Hefric followed her, calling her name and apologizing multiple times on their way, but Lisswyn did not listen. Shaking her head more than once she tried to signal him to leave her alone. When they reached the rider's barracks behind Meduseld and Hefric tried to grab her wrist to stop her, wishing to talk to her, she jolted her hand away turned around and hissed at him, "Just leave me alone, Hefric. It was a mistake."
She saw the pain her words caused him on his face and part of her had said them to actually hurt him. Another part in her really felt that kissing him out of curiosity and boredom was a mistake.
This time however, it isn't curiosity or boredom she feels. It is more like nervousness, a flutter in her chest, her heart beating faster, her stomach churning and turning, but in a pleasant way and a warmth buzzing in her whole body. "The worst thing happening would be when you fall for him and he breaks your heart." Wilrun's words echo in her mind. Shaking her head and breathing forcefully slow, she tries to calm her nerves, but her mind still spins around everything that happened during the past week. Everything is so… confusing.
Lisswyn pushes the thoughts away and slowly turns to tend to her stallion again.
~ S ~
The first watch at Sarn Gebir is almost over. Although Éomer is not assigned to take watch this night, he is still awake, sitting on a large karst stone at the bonfire staring into the flames. With a long thin stick in his hand, he pokes the glowing and burning logs in the fire.
His mind revolves around a scene he witnessed earlier this night. Lisswyn was tending her stallion when Théodred joined her. At first they were only talking, but then his cousin touched her face, stroked her cheeks and suddenly halted in his action.
'Béma help me, he will kiss her,' The thought caused Éomer to feel dizzy for a moment. Paralysed he had stared at the two who were completely unaware of their surrounding and the thirty other possible witnesses. As he lives through this situation again in his head, the poking becomes fiercer, harder, turning into an angry stabbing. Suddenly the stick snaps with a loud crack. Cursing Éomer tosses the remaining inches violently into the fire.
"What is it, Éomer?" a voice next to him asks.
Turning his head, he sees his old friend from his years of training. Wigbald had become one of Théodred's closest riders.
"Nothing, Wigbald. I am just doing the right thing, is all."
Standing from the rock he starts to walk away when his friend's voice stops him, "The right thing seems to be rather infuriating."
"Don't ask," is all the young prince answers before leaving the fire to seek solace in the dark. The knowing eyes of his friend follow him for a moment.
~ S ~
The ambush comes in the early hours of the next morning three hours before sunrise. The only light on the large clearing comes from the bonfire burning in the middle of camp, from the stars above, and a crescent moon that stands low above the treetops to the south.
"Orcs!" the four guards who have just taken over the third night watch shout with alarm, and the whole camp hurriedly comes into action, thrown into a dither.
The shouts jolt Lisswyn awake with a start. Adrenaline flushes her veins as anxiety starts to take hold of her.
Not having the time to put on her armour, Lisswyn grabs her sword and shield that lay by her side and runs to find Théodred. The crown prince is already on his feet, directing his men to fight off the beasts of Mordor.
"I'm at your side, my lord," she quickly tells him, but there is no reaction. She knows he has heard her though. Merelis and Wilrun join her at Théodred's side shortly after.
When the first orcs come running into the camp past the outer ring of riders fighting them off, Lisswyn starts to tremble with fright. She can feel her heart race and beat against her ribcage. She hasn't been into an earnest fight for quite a while and needs to turn her fear into wrath.
With a loud roar, the orc comes running towards her at Théodred's right side, his heavy axe raised above his head ready to crush it down on the crown prince. Its ugly mouth is contorted with bloodthirst showing two rows of pointed, sharp yellow teeth. Rage bubbles in Lisswyn's chest as she steps forward, holding up her shield and sword to block the attack.
The axe crushes down on her, almost throwing her to the ground. Splinters of her shield splutter to the side. A sharp pain rushes through her left arm while with her right she stabs with her sword upwards and into the beast's intestines. A vile stench hits her face, nearly causing her to gag.
But the beast is not dead yet, and in a new attempt throws itself at her with another animalistic roar. She can feel the fear in her body giving her new strength. Pain runs through her left arm and shoulder as she raises her shield to block the orc's armoured fist that aims to mash her in the face. Shake it off, her mind tells her. Shake it off. It is a mantra she learned during her training years to overcome physical distress in moments such as this. As the orc's heavy arm crushes on her shield again, her left arm breaks to the side and a wild outcry of pain escapes Lisswyn's lips. The first shieldmaiden goes down on her right knee. In a desperate attempt to prevent the beast from killing her, she swings her sword up, when suddenly a knife whirrs over her head and hits the orc in the neck. Silenced by a sudden death, the creature drops to the ground in front of her, but Lisswyn has no time to catch her breath yet, as another of the monstrosities is already raising his sword-like blade against Théodred.
The prince is holding his position fighting fiercely against another of the creatures, not noticing the threat from behind his right shoulder. Panic rises within Lisswyn at the sight and with a hasty stumble forward she reaches Théodred just in time to throw herself in the orc's way, holding up her sword pointing to the sky. The orc turns to the obstacle in front of his feet with a gorily snarl, swinging his weapon to cut off her head.
Convinced it will be her last moment in Arda, Lisswyn musters all her strength and with a cry of rage and revulsion slams the remains of her shield into his knees. The beast trips, crushing itself on her sword and squashing the slender woman underneath its heavy, filthy and stinky body, smashing his armoured fist into her face. A throbbing pain darts through her head and the sudden pressure of its weight empties Lisswyn's lungs. Gasping for air, Lisswyn can feel blood running from a crack in her skin at her right eyebrow down her temple and from a cut in her upper lip into her mouth.
Pushing hard against the heavy cadaver on top of her, she suddenly hears a female cry only a few yards away from her. Merelis or Wilrun, she cannot tell. Horror gives her strength again. She manages to free herself from underneath the dead orc and falters to her feet, quickly looking around.
Despite her still slightly blurred vision, she can see Wilrun at Théodred's side and together they batter down an orc. Another comes running towards them and Lisswyn starts to dash towards it, trying to intercept it, when a spear from behind takes it down on its knees just before she reaches it. Feeling hatred bubbling in her guts, she raises her sword and chops off the injured orc's head with an angry roar.
Pounding from the fight, she straightens up again. Sweat and blood drip into her right eye and she blinks to clear her vision. Have the sounds of battle truly subsided or is her hearing afflicted?
With another look around, she satisfies herself that the ambush has indeed come to an end, but she is still searching for Merelis. The moment Lisswyn catches sight of her on the ground, her body twisted to the side, everything around the first shieldmaiden fades out.
"No!" Lisswyn cries in desperation, bolting to her friend's side.
Blood is seeping through Merelis' tunic from a deep gash in her shoulder. "Merelis?" she cries. Her friend's eyes flicker open and she groans with pain before clenching her jaw.
"Oh Merelis. You're alive." Relief rushes through the first shieldmaiden. Pressing her hands against the cut to stop the bleeding, Lisswyn tries to soothe her friend. "Stay with me, Merelis. Help is coming." Turning her head she shouts, "Help! I need help!"
Lisswyn's outcry sends a sharp sting to Théodred's heart. Whipping his head around he looks for the one he loves. She sits on the ground fifteen feet away by another body, blood on her hands, her tunic, her face and in her hair at the right temple. In the darkness he cannot tell if it is hers or orc blood, but her expression is distorted with anguish. She is wounded, his mind screams and the prince darts over to her his heart beating like a drum.
"Where are you wounded?" he demands under his breath, dropping to his knees at her side and grabbing her left shoulder, causing Lisswyn to wince in pain again.
"I am not. Merelis is," she presses out through clenched teeth, her voice on the brink of cracking.
Disbelieving, Théodred looks at her before he casts a quick look at the other shieldmaiden and calmly calls out, "We need help here. One of the shieldmaidens is down." Slowly he takes down his hand from Lisswyn's shoulder again and shouts out his order, "Edgar, I want a report. How many wounded? How many killed? How great was the number of our attackers? Are there any survivors to question?"
"Aye, my lord," his first captains calls from two yards away.
"Are you alright, Lisswyn?" Théodred almost whispers, his eyes searching her for injuries and lacerations.
Still pressing hard on Merelis shoulder, the first shieldmaiden silently nods, a lone tear dripping from the tip of her nose. A brief moment later one of the riders drops down next to them with a medicine bag in his hands.
"Let me look at her, my lady," he softly tells Lisswyn and Théodred gently pulls her hands away from her friend's deep cut. Blood comes flowing from the wound again and Merelis moans in pain.
A sharp intake of breath has Lisswyn look up at the corpsman in alarm.
"What is it, Aldwine?" the prince asks in her stead.
"She definitely needs stitches, but if the wound gets infected we might lose her."
"I don't want to die," Merelis whimpers, her good arm reaching for Lisswyn's hands.
Nausea rolls over the first shieldmaiden like a breaking wave as she takes her friend's hand and closes her eyes with trepidation, another tear rolling down her blood smeared cheek.
"Make sure it does not," Théodred commands the corpsman and grabs one of the linen cloths from the medicinal bag. Tenderly he starts to wipe away the blood, sweat, and tears on Lisswyn's face. "Look at the first shieldmaiden's cuts when you are done with Merelis."
"Aye, my lord," Aldwine replies.
Heavy boots come to stop next to the small group on the ground.
"One rider killed, four severely wounded, including the shieldmaiden who is the worst, a couple more with minor cuts and bruises, fifty seven attackers, all down and dead," Edgar briefly informs Rohan's heir. Handing Lisswyn the cloth for her face, the prince rises and starts to walk over to the camp's fire to hold council with his captain, his lieutenants and his cousin.
Éomer quickly casts a look past Théodred's shoulder to assure himself that Lisswyn is alright. He fights down the urge to go to her and pull her into his arms. Hearing her shout for help clenched his heart. For a short moment he feared the worst. When he saw his cousin by her side, talking to her calmly he knew she was not severely harmed. Not being able to go to her pained him and jealously he watched from a few yards away how Théodred tried to soothe her and tended to her face.
Their short conversation from the night before comes to his mind. He had been so curt towards her – only seeing the pain he feels over losing her to his cousin and never once considering that his behavior would pain her as well. It's the last thing he wishes to do. It hits him hard in this moment: he misses her, misses how he felt at home with her, but right now there is no other way for him. Inhaling deeply to calm his nerves he turns around and walks over to the small council his cousin has gathered.
"Fifty seven orcs…," Théodred's voice is strained. "The fishermen spoke of around thirty and the tracks we found did not indicate more than fifteen. I don't understand it."
"They came from the river's banks near the rapids," Edgar tells the princes. "Maybe two or more bands have met there and waited with their attack until they saw a chance to outnumber us?"
"Why did our scouts not see them?" Théodred demands angrily.
"Perhaps they hid on the other side of the river?" Folcred suggests. "I didn't see any tracks at the river's banks when I guarded the first shieldmaiden earlier."
"Look for fresh tracks near the rapids as soon as we have enough light," Théodred orders.
"Aye," his men acknowledge.
"How could they know we are here?" Éomer wonders.
"I don't know," Théodred sighs deep in thought. "But it seems Erkenbrand was right."
At Éomer's questioning look he elaborates: "He warned me to ride out with less than a whole éored. Something is closing in on Rohan. The attacks from the north and the west grow in number and now the east is ambushed… as soon as the wounded are moveable a company of five including Aldwine rides straight back to Helm's Deep with them. The rest continues to the north along the Anduin to hear some more of the dwellers. We meet again at Éorl's Hallow tomorrow two hours before sunset."
~ S ~
It is late morning before the company finally starts again. During the fight a fair number of horses broke free with fright and took off. Half of the riders left to track them and chase them back to their camp while the other half broke up camp, and helped the injured. After everybody still able to walk had the chance to get cleaned at the river, the riders finally set off.
They ride in a hard gallop along the river most of the day and Lisswyn feels every leap of her stallion in her shoulder and throbbing pain in her head. Biting down hard, she endures the pain and silently thanks for every stop they make at a farm or settlement. The dwellers of this region all have basically the same story to tell: The riders passed through about four weeks ago and asked for directions to the Gladden Fields, not paying any interest in the people of Rohan.
The company makes camp shortly after sunset long past where the East Wall levels off into the rolling, treeless hills and slopes of the Down a little upcountry from the Anduin. A tense silence spreads as the riders gather around the small fire of the camp. There is barely any dry wood to find in this barren area. Quietly the riders share the remains of their food rations.
Lisswyn's thoughts keep wandering to her shieldmaiden friends. Wilrun decided to accompany the injured, who are led by Éomer. Where are they now and more importantly how does Merelis do?
Her own shoulder throbs with a dull pain and she absentmindedly turns her arm again and again. It takes only a short while for Théodred to notice something is causing the first shieldmaiden distress. Sitting down next to her he asks, "What's wrong with your arm?"
"Nothing, just a little sore from the fight," she brushes his concern off, but Théodred takes her left wrist and pulls her arm up to the side in a straight angle to her body. Lisswyn involuntarily cries out in pain and Théodred's face turns hard.
"Nothing, is it? Did you have Aldwine look at it?"
"No, it'll go away by itself," she tries to brush the subject off, but Théodred will not have it.
Emphasizing each word he tells her: "Get him to have a look at it when we meet them again tomorrow evening."
"It' s really not necessary," she objects.
Still holding her wrist Théodred weighs his options. He is still her commander. He could simply order her to go and see the corpseman. But since he wishes her to become his wife using his superior rank to order her around would certainly not be to the benefit of their relationship. Searching her eyes for the right way to deal with the situation, he instinctively chooses the other option.
"Do it for me… please?" he bids her, holding her look with a pleading in his eyes.
For a split second Lisswyn averts her eyes, but then looks at him again. "Aye," she nods. "I will."
Théodred smiles at her softly. It is the answer he hoped for. It showed him how he would have to treat her as his wife. No, not just as his wife, from now on. He lets go of her wrist and strokes her injured shoulder gently. "It was brave how you faced that first orc who came at us."
"Thank you, my lord," she takes his praise.
"He was a lot taller and stronger than you," the prince continues and Lisswyn slowly nods before her head suddenly snaps up and she looks at him with wide eyes, understanding dawning on her…
"The knife…?" she whispers barely audible.
"Aye."
She turns her head and stares into the flames. "I could have killed it by myself."
Her pride is injured, he can tell by the way she clenches her jaw.
"I know this, Lisswyn," he tells her softly. "I did it without thinking, only giving back for once what you always do for me, keep harm at bay. I certainly did not think you were in need of help."
She continues to stare into the flames and remains quiet.
"Look at me, please," the prince bids her. She clenches her jaw again before slowly turning her head to face him again.
"I wish you could come to see me as a partner rather than a commander," the prince tells her. His eyes have a pleading look.
Lisswyn blinks at him, trying to understand. Is this what his change in behaviour towards her is about? That he wants her to feel like a commander of equal rank. He is a Marshal and she is the first shieldmaiden… but he is her commander, too, and he is Rohan's heir. They can never be equals…
"My lord?" a male voice interrupts their murmured conversation.
Impatient by the disturbance the prince looks up at Éofor. "What is it, lieutenant?"
"By your leave we will double tonight's guards, in case there are more orcs around."
From the corner of his eyes Théodred notices how Wigbald crouches down next to Lisswyn. "Yes, do that," the prince answers his lieutenant sharply. He doesn't know what bothers him more, Éofor coming to interrupt their conversation or Wigbald seizing the moment to get Lisswyn's attention.
It is an innocent attempt to stop her from brooding, he realizes as he listens to the young rider.
"Want some?" Wigbald offers the first shieldmaiden a small leather flask.
"What is it?" she asks.
"Remember when we met the old farmer out on Westemnet while on patrol shortly before your exam? The one that brews his own corn schnapps?"
The first shieldmaiden chuckles softly. "Yes, the lot of you was sick with a hangover for two days afterwards."
"I have become a regular visitor to his farm," Wigbald smirks at her handing her the flask.
She takes a gulp and screws up her face before she coughs. "Bah, it tastes terrible," she hands the flask back.
Leaning back Wigbald looks at the prince sitting on her other side. "May I offer you some strong spirit, my lord?"
Smirking at the young rider the prince takes the flask and takes two large gulps. The alcohol burns in his mouth and throat but he does not show any of it, keeping his face straight. Perhaps it was not so bad the young rider showed up at Lisswyn's side, the prince muses. He was too close to revealing his intentions for Lisswyn and a camp fire on patrol after an orc ambush is certainly not the right place to ask a woman for her hand.
~ S ~
The next morning the pain in Lisswyn's shoulder has lessened, but certain movements still cause her distress. When the company breaks up camp in haste and readies the horses, a sharp pain shoots through the first shieldmaiden's shoulder as she tries to lift her saddle high enough to place it on her stallion's back. Wincing and quietly cursing to herself she lets the saddle rest on her upper legs for a moment to recover.
Edgar's lieutenant Éofor notices her struggling and gives her an emphatic smile before he steps to her side. "Let me help you," he murmurs and without any further ado puts the saddle on Daeroch's back. Ashamed of the display of weakness she thanks him in a hushed voice.
"It's nothing, my lady," the lieutenant replies.
Baffled, she looks at him. My lady? Before she can protest the lieutenant returns back to his horse again.
During the day the company rides hard again, stopping only briefly around noon. By late afternoon they see the landmark of Éorl's Hallow three furlongs ahead. The memorial is known to every rider of Rohan. It stands on the site where Éorl the Young, the first King of the Riddermark, fell in battle in the middle of the Downs in 2545 of the third age. Too their left in the distance the small group with the wounded is approaching the memorial site as well.
After the two groups have met again they continue westward across the low humpbacked downs in a slow walk for another hour.
Quietly Lisswyn questions Wilrun about Merelis' wellbeing. The injured shieldmaiden is riding towards the end of the track. To her relief, Lisswyn learns that her friend does not show any signs of infection to her wound. Silently she prays to Béma it may stay this way.
After a while, Lisswyn and Wilrun fall back in to silence again as the sun in front of them starts to set.
"We should look for a place to make camp," Éomer speaks up after a while.
Nodding to his cousin, the heir of Rohan raises his voice. "Éofor, take some of the men and look for a camp."
Without thinking, Lisswyn quickly cuts in, "Pardon me, my lord, my family's winter camp is within one hour's reach. We could stay there. My mother has a good stock of herbs to treat the wounded as well."
At her first words, Théodred and Éomer turn around. It takes a moment for Théodred to realize her offer would provide him with the perfect opportunity to ask her father for her hand sooner than expected. "That is a brilliant idea," he smiles at her, then signals with his hand for her to ride to the front. "Lead the way, shieldmaiden."
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