Author's Note:

This chapter took a while, due to a mixture of reasons. I had work, various other projects I've been working on, but also because I wasn't sure how to do this chapter. How do you move on past introductions... this is a transition point that can hurt a story if it's not done properly. This chapter is another long one, which I'm sure you guys are happy about.

* Please review, peeps! It lets me know how I'm doing, and may even give me incentive to write fasterrrrr...

Two new characters here, one is an OC chambermaid that I made up to suit my writing needs, but the other is a canon character from the books. yay!

- In Amber Clad


Chapter 9: Two to One

"Réodwyn," Éowyn said, smiling at the newly made ward. "Yes, a name most fitting." The maiden seemed pleased with it too, saying that it 'had a ring to it.' The white lady of Rohan guided Réodwyn though torch lit passageways in Meduseld. The King had dismissed them all so they may ready for the evening meal. Éomer had been caked in mud, up past the knee, and once the business had been concluded he had introduced his sister to Réodwyn and asked her to be led to the lady's bath.

"We'll have to find you fresh clothes…" Éowyn mused. "Though you're so small, a corset will have to make do… Haswig!" Éowyn caught a woman that strolled though a door, carrying a basket of sheets. The woman wore a brown dress with a red-sleeved bodice.

"Yes, my Lady?" asked Haswig.

"We are in need a fresh dress, one that would fit my companion. She has travelled far and has no change of clothes. Also, a bath needs to be readied, but I'll have another tend to it. Can you see to it?" Éowyn requested.

"A bath has already been heated, my Lady, for I was told we had a maiden guest arrive. … Travelling far in a dress like that?" She remarked. The chambermaid made quick note of Réodwyn's stature. "Yes, I can see to it, my Lady. Bless the Valar, has your hair caught fire or is it a trick of the torchlight?" She squinted. "Red hair? Fancy that…" she muttered and walked away. Éowyn shook her head and motioned Réodwyn to follow.

Réodwyn smirked, "I like her."

"Haswig?" Éowyn asked, taking a turn through an archway and down another hall with many doors.

"Mhm."

"We caught her in a fair temper. Her ill mood is easy to tell. Her eyes dart and she only grunts to reply," recounted Éowyn. "Ever since I can recall, she's been either quick mouthed or shut mouthed. She can turn discourse to gossip faster than a head could twist on its neck, but temperament aside, I would choose no other serving maid."

They stopped at the end of the hall, the last door, which was also the largest door, lead to the bathing room. They stepped down onto the wooden floor. The room was already warm from coals set beneath a large stone basin in the center of the room. The basin was almost square, and large enough to fit four people if they were to sit crossed legged, or if two were to lie down side by side. A pump lever spigot hung over one side, where the water would spill from a horses' mouth into the alcove tub. There was a partition in the corner of the room. It, like all other furniture and wall décor, was embellished with carvings of vines, horses, and a blazing sun. Tapestries clung to the wall, depicting scenes of heroism, dragons and white stallions. Éowyn showed Réodwyn the soaps and where the towels were kept. She set them down on the wide brim near the candles. She turned to leave the maiden to her privacy, but Réodwyn stopped her, politely asking for help to undo her dress and hair.

They tackled the hair first. It was so tight; Éowyn wondered how it had been done. She pulled a rose barrette of metal and crystals and many small "pins" from the bun, and unwound the hair. It fell long and waved down her back, reaching below her waist. Réodwyn pulled her hair aside and unspun the small braids while Éowyn undid the lacing of her dress. When they were unwound, Réodwyn thanked her, and Éowyn turned to leave, but stopped at the door.

"Réodwyn?" she called. The maiden took a moment to recognize her new name.

"Oh! Right." She jogged her memory and answered, "Hm?"

Éowyn had meant to say words of kindness to her, to console her for the story that had been told. However, the face she met was one of sweetness and tired eyes. The look of loss did not plague it, and Éowyn feared to mention anything at all. Instead, she smiled and left instruction, "Haswig will retrieve you in a quarter of an hour, and have you change, providing she found a suitable dress. See you at dinner, Réodwyn." Merely saying the maiden's name brought a smile to Réodwyn's face.


"What's he playing at? This is not of his normal games," Éothain growled. He leaned against the wall in Éomer's chambers. Both men were cleaned and dry, now dressing themselves for dinner. Éothain buckled his vambraces with twitching fingers.

Éomer shook his head. "I never thought he would extend favor beyond his own." He tied fresh boots on his feet. They were warm from having been kept inside. "You don't have to wear those, Éothain."

"I like wearing them," he brushed off the comment. "I never thought he would pay any favor to a woman but your sister." Éomer froze with a grimace. He tied the bow fiercely and set his elbows on his knees. He glared at the door. Éothain regretted his words, but followed them besides. "Though all turned out well enough for our little friend. All is well for us, too. I think I should sleep well tonight."

Éomer rose to his feet and fixed his sword to his side, the red leather strapped across his shoulder. "Somewhere there is a river near a house with a newly thatched roof. What I would give to dangle that worm in it for a fish to swallow." He and Éothain finished and left for the main hall.

The night had come, and only the fire and torches lighted the mead hall, and the candles placed on the table. The King sat at the head of the table, drinking and conversing with other noble men. Éomer's scanned the shadows of the room. Gríma Wormtongue, the royal advisor, was nowhere to be seen. It was unlike Gríma to be anywhere but the King's side. Éomer took a place near the other end of the table. Loaves of bread and bowls of dried fruit were already set. He smirked and took a few prunes to hide in his pouch.

"Are those for Firefoot?"

Réodwyn was behind him, her arms folded. The sleeves of her new dress cascaded from beneath a warm, woolen cloak. He lifted his finger to his lips, answering her question with the silent gesture of 'don't tell anyone.' "Are you still cold, my Lady?" he asked.

She made a face, a mixture of amusement and confusion. She motioned that he would look at her attire, "What do you think?"

"I think your hair is still wet."

Réodwyn responded, "Yours is too."

Éomer usually kept his hair in a half-ponytail, which made wearing a helmet less of a bother. When he was at home, he let his golden waves hang over his strong face. "Yes, it is," he replied.

Réodwyn ended it there, and took a seat across and to the side. She stared at the food at first, but then turned her ears to the many conversations over on the other side of the table. Éowyn joined them shortly, sitting next to her brother. She had missed him and wished to hear news of the surrounding settlements, and if he thought Spring would come early. The servants brought the main course, and poured fresh water or ale into their tankards. The King raised his drink and said words of thanks for the safe return of the Éored, and the meal began.

There was an older man at the table. There was a touch of grey in his trimmed goatee. This man was Erkenbrand, a rider of the Westfold now retired from his service as a soldier. He sat opposite from Éomer and they spoke at great length about the Orc with the necklace of teeth.

"Joined by a band of thirty Orcs, was he," said Erkenbrand. "They dug the ground to make hiding holes. Smart devils. Though not smart enough to hide their own stench. Our horses smelled them before we saw them, upwind of us they were. But we outnumbered them two to one, and on our steeds besides. They ran like roaches. But the toothen Orc, did he give us a fight!" Erkenbrand motioned with his hands, crossing blades with an imaginary foe. "One to three, he matched us. When all his own were dead, he still he would not join them. It took an arrow to his legs to down him. The leader he was, or so he boasted. And then he cursed your name, Éomer."

"What good that did him. He is dead and I yet live," Éomer said, chewing on a chicken leg.

"Aye," Erkenbrand said. "So why was it that he cursed you with his dying breath?"

Éomer recounted the events of Entwash. "Two days prior to your encounter with him, my Éored had destroyed his entire horde. The toothen Orc had chased the refugees, and slew a pregnant woman. I desired to give chase when he fled, but her husband begged me to stay to try and save her life. We could not, and nor could we save the child."

Erkenbrand was saddened by the new details. "I was glad to slay him when he hated you, my friend. Now I am gladdened all the more his filth was rid from Middle-earth!"

Éomer nodded, "As am I. Whenever I return to the village, I shall give the poor man the news that his wife was avenged."

"May it bring him peace," Erkenbrand prayed.

Éowyn joined the conversation, "What business brings you to Edoras, my Lord?" She had finished her meal and had listened eagerly to Erkenbrand's tale.

"Trade, my dear Lady," Erkenbrand replied. He took a bite of meat, chewed and swallowed and then said, "We bring fine furs and leathers from the Westfold. The coming spring has given us much wild game. Many herds of deer have returned to the lower plains."

"That doesn't make sense…"

"Hello. And who might this be? I've never seen you at this table before," Erkenbrand said, referring to the red haired maiden that had suddenly spoken out of turn. She appeared to have been pondering something.

"Réodwyn," she said her name proudly.

"Ha! A fitting name. Whoever gave it to you is gifted"

The maiden smiled and all laughed at the table. Erkenbrand looked about. "I feel as though I've missed something, but never mind. What does not make sense?" She had just taken a bite, and couldn't answer. "Take your time," he chuckled. She swallowed.

"It doesn't make sense," Réodwyn repeated.

"So you said, my Lady."

She held up her finger, "'Two to one'." She took a drink of water. "There were thirty of them… meaning you had sixty. I know there's 'safety in numbers,'" her words came out as if she were still pondering them "but isn't that a little overboard for transporting goods?"

Erkenbrand and Éomer exchanged a glance. Erkenbrand said, "These are dark days, my Lady. And though winter comes to a close, I feel the sun only growing colder. Our numbers protect us."

Réodwyn nodded. "Better safe than sorry?"

Erkenbrand smiled, "That is one way of putting it, I suppose. Are you feeling well, my Lady?" The question was justified. The maiden's eyes were half-lidded, and she clung to the blanket, as before.

"Hm? Oh… yeah, I'm just… tired," she said.

Éowyn rose from her seat and went around to Réodwyn side. "Come, I'll show you to your room. You have come far, and now that you have eaten, sleep will do you some good." Réodwyn gave a tired smile and rose from her seat to follow. The two young women exited the hall and went to their chambers.

Réodwyn went straight to the small bed that was centered to the wall. She plopped onto it with a sigh. Éowyn shut the door with both hands. She stood there, listening for anyone who might have followed… When she was sure, she turned and spoke with an almost urgency. "How did you know?"

"Mmn?" Réodwyn moaned, her face buried in the comforter.

Éowyn approached her and repeated her question, "You asked why they needed more men. How did you know that trade was not their purpose here?"

Réodwyn lifted her head, eyes seeming more tired than before. She attempted a shrug, but it looked like a wiggle since she was lying down. "He said they came to trade, though."

"That was a ruse. I see that now," Éowyn paced. "They're here for another reason. Orc attacks have been increasing. So many men at arms in Edoras… did my uncle call for this?"

"Éowyn?" Réodwyn called.

Éowyn ceased her pacing, "Yes?"

"I didn't want to ask earlier, because I didn't want to sound stupid, but…" she asked in an apprehensive tone, "What are Orcs?"

The white Lady was shocked. "Orcs… they…" she tried to answer, but she couldn't believe… "Have you no Orcs in your world?" The maiden shook her head timidly. Éowyn took a breath. "Orcs are… dark creatures. They are from the land of Mordor, and they wish nothing more than to destroy. They kill all life they come across. They despise beauty, abhor all that is good and green in the world."

Réodwyn considered her words. "Wakaindov werld didaiyend upin?" she spoke in Westron. "Goodnight, Lady Éowyn. I'm going to sleep now."

Éowyn nodded and turned for the door. "Goodnight, Lady Réodwyn." She shut the door behind her. She had many questions of her own, but they could wait for morning light.