A/N: First of all, sorry this chapter has taken so long to get up. Secondly, thanks if you've read this and left me a review in the past. Thirdly, please leave me a review after reading! And so, without further ado, I give you...

Chapter 8: A Call to Battle

Galadriel and Eleniel heard Mithra's giggling before they saw her. Making their way slowly down one of the many winding stairs, the elven queen and her maiden watched her from above. Theodred was with her, and they stood as closely together and seemed as comfortable in each other's presence as only lovers do. As if to prove the point, the Rohirric prince leaned towards the Elfand kissed her gently, reaching up a hand and laying it on her cheek softly.

Galadriel and her companion exchanged glances and smiled, before nodding simultaneously. It was time to put their plan into action.

Eleniel cleared her throat loudly and dramatically. The lovers glanced up in shock at the stairs, before hurrying away through the trees. "May I hear more of this news from Rohan, my lady?" Eleniel asked clearly.

Galadriel paused before answering. Sure enough, the sounds of Theodred and Mithra's hurried exit from the area had stopped.

"Have not you heard?" she asked. "The beacons of Minas Tirith have been lit. The people of Gondor call for the aid of their neighbours."

"But will Theoden answer the call?"

"Indeed. He knows that this is the battle on which everything rests, and is mustering his men as we speak. They will assemble at Dunharrow in two days."

"How many men can Gondor expect?"

"Theoden hopes for more than twelve thousand, this much I know, though I doubt that many will come." She paused and sighed deeply, before adding, "It seems that now Theoden will miss the presence of his son more than ever."

Eleniel came to the end of her memorised questions and shot Galadriel a knowing glance. Saying nothing more, she followed her mistress away.


Theodred gazed at the receding backs of Galadriel and Eleniel, his eyes glazed and shock written across his handsome features. Mithra tugged at his sleeve nervously. Slowly, he turned to look at her.

"My father…" he began, his voice hoarse and quiet. "My people…"

"Theodred!" Mithra put her hands on his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Theodred, please don't…" She knew what he was about to say.

"I have to go."

Mithra looked at him in dismay for a few seconds, before she groaned and shook her head furiously.

"No you don't," she said firmly. "No one's making you."

"I must," he replied simply.

"No!" She shook him as hard as she could, this not being very hard, her slender body capable of only a fraction of the strength of his tall, muscled one. "Don't you dare go!" She pointed a finger at him, as if she was a mother scolding a mischievous child, her face a mixture of fear, anger and frustration that was difficult to read. "Don't you dare go, else I'll…" she paused, unable to find the words, and simply let out a cry of frustration.

"You'll what?" Theodred asked.

Mithra glared at him. "You don't want to know," she hissed dangerously.

"Mithra," Theodred began, "Please don't be like this. I'm going to go, whether you like it or not. Ever since I left home, the weight of my own guilt that I've born has become almost unbearable. As a soldier, to live in the knowledge that you are a coward is unimaginably difficult. Now, I have a chance to redeem myself. It's likely that I won't get another chance like this, please don't make me miss it."

"I know that you're a good man, Theodred," Mithra told him firmly. "You don't need to prove to me that you're not a coward. I know that even the best of men can break under difficult circumstances like yours."

"Éomer didn't."

"Then forget about Éomer! Stay here with me, with someone who loves you despite what you have done!"

Theodred looked at his feet sadly.

"I have to go," he said yet again, his voice soft and gloomy. He looked up and tried to look into Mithra's eyes, but she turned away, her arms folded now her face like thunder.

"It's not fair." At this remark, Theodred was briefly reminded of Éowyn as she had been during her teenage years. He'd heard this surly remark before, when her uncle had not allowed that new sword she'd set her heart on. He pushed these thoughts out of his head, however, and continued to seek out Mithra's attention.

"What's not fair?" he asked.

"Life." Her voice was cold and dangerously low. "As soon as something good comes along, it's snatched out of my hands almost before I can grasp it. I've only truly loved two people. The first, Mathas marched away to war at Helm's Deep and never returned. Now, you want to ride away and fight alongside people who think you are dead. What if you don't return? What will I do then?"

Theodred bit his lip. He'd heard briefly of Mathas, and knew he had been dearer to Mithra than life itself. Who exactly he had been, he had no idea. He did not need to ask, Mithra looked back at him at last, and it was clear that she was going to tell him herself.

"Mathas," she began, "Was the Elf who took care of me after my parents were killed, my father in battle, my mother soon after. They were taken from me so early in my life I can't even remember them; Mathas was the only family I knew. He raised me, educated me… I'm sure you get the picture."

She paused and glared at him.

"I didn't know how life could go on without him. Only you were able to pierce the thick, heavy cloud that his death placed around me, and now you too wish to leave for battle. And you haven't even offered to take me with you."

Theodred glanced at her in surprise. "Can you fight?" he asked her.

She scowled. "Unfortunately not. Combat was never an art in which I was particularly skilled or interested."

"Then taking you with me is out of the question."

Mithra didn't say anything more. She turned away from him and pretended to be gazing up at the sky.

"I'll be leaving in the morning, then," Theodred said with an awkward cough, still feeling guilty about reminding her of Mathas. She did not acknowledge that he had spoken.

"I hope we can part on good terms," he continued, voicing it like a suggestion, unsure whether speech was welcome.

Then, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a sob, Mithra hurried past him and away up the stairs, hitching her skirt above her ankles to allow swifter movement. Theodred swore aloud and sighed in frustration, before following her, wishing she could have made departure easier for him.

"Mithra!" he called. She was just out of his sight, but, speeding up slightly to a jog and taking two steps at a time, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the skirt of a deep blue dress that Mithra was wearing. "Stop!" he begged, his annoyance and desperation showing in his voice.

He received no answer. Mithra kept running.

It wasn't long before they reached the top of the stairs, and Theodred paused for a moment, listening to determine whether Mithra had gone left or right. To one side, he heard the speedy pattering of light footsteps.

"Right," he muttered aloud, and sighed deeply before starting to jog again.

It was going to be a long afternoon.


A/N: Thanks for reading! Any reviews will be very much appreciated!

the green lama x