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Chapter 10

"So then the marshal is ordered to find the king's son and his riders, which he did, All massacred in the West Fold, save a few. The king's son was mortally wounded and the marshal brought him home to the hall where he died a few days later…"

"But you said that the king's heir came 'swooping in and everything'. How could he swoop if he's dead?" Néela interrupted, confused.

"Ah, the prince died, but the next in line for the throne now has that title. The third marshal, Éomer, the king's nephew will be king when the the old bugger dies. If he survives that long, that is. Soldiers do tend to have a nasty habit of dying in battle." Uldred told her in a simple and factual way.

Néela paled. Éomer was the heir. No matter what, he could never be with her, to that he had given his word. If she thought his banishment had been bad news, this was infinitely worse. Banishment meant that she could have found him and had a chance with him. Now his honour stood in the way of their union, not to mention his duties to Rohan. He would never shirk his responsibilities to the country and it's people for her, this she knew for certain.

But she still loved him.

"Tell me everything," she pleaded with Uldred.

"Right, well as I said, the king's son died from his wounds, and for some reason or other, the king's adviser had the marshal banished under pain of death, which seems pretty stupid to me, cause who would then be there to take the throne after Théoden? Anyway, these travellers arrived, a man, an elf, a dwarf and a wizard! I'm not making this up, I swear!" Uldred exclaimed when he saw the dubious expression on Néela's face.

"They threw out the king's adviser, you know the one who had Éomer banished? And the wizard did some sort of hocus pocus to the king and made him all better! Next thing we know, we're being ordered to empty Édoras and make for Helm's Deep because the wizard in Orthanc has supposedly turned against Rohan." He was waving his hands dramatically and captured attention from several of the Bull's guests.

"So, we travelled to Helm's Deep, and the trip was no picnic, I tell you. We were attacked by wargs and lost a lot of people, including one of the travellers, He fell off a really high cliff. He was supposed to be the heir to the throne of Gondor. I'm STILL not making it up!" He threw his head back and laughed at the ludicrous nature of the story.

"Then, after we made it to the Hornburg, the raggedy ranger shows up again, much worse for wear, but alive, and tells us that there is an army of 10.000 uruk hai on their way to destroy us all." At this Néela gasped and her eyes widened at the horror they had had to face.

"As night fell and we were preparing for the fight, and you won't believe this, a whole regiment of elven archers showed up, armed to the teeth and scary as half gods. They were awesome! But when the orcs breached the wall in a gigantic explosion, most of them were sadly killed. May their forefathers welcome them, wherever the elves go. All night we fought the horde. We were loosing the battle and the orcs were banging on the gates to our last defences when dawn broke."

"I tell you I have never been so afraid in my entire life. I knew for certain that my death had come, as did every man, woman and child barricaded inside those caves. Théoden decided that we would be better off deciding our own fate and encouraged us to ride out with him and take as many of the beasts with us as we could, for blood and honour." Uldred had lowered his voice and now had glistening eyes.

"We rode out to see the vale overrun and red with blood and bodies, but as the sun rose over the hill, the White wizard, Mithrandir and Éomer with his three hundred men stood and saw us battle for our lives. They swooped down, yes swooped," he said with a glint in his eye, "and the orcs were pinned between the hammer and the anvil."

"Those of the enemy who ran away were swallowed up by trees, that had appeared over night, and were somehow alive and mad as hell, because not a single beast survived. I have no idea how that works, or how to pis off a tree, but there it is." He leaned back with a satisfied grin at the awed face before him.

"I suppose to piss off a tre, all you'd have to do is climb it with a full bladder…" Néela contemplated, her mind reeling from the fantastic story she'd just heard.

Uldred's face fell completely before he roared with laughter. When his eyes teared up and he ran out of breath, he finally managed; "P… P… Piss off a tree… Oh, that was precious! I haven't laughed that hard in ages. Drinks are on me, Néela. What can I get you? Wine?"

"Oh. No, thank you. I'll have a berry juice, please." She smiled and her hand went to her stomach unknowingly.

Uldred looked a little puzzled and then; "Oh… Oh! Wow, you'll have to tell me your story after I get it the drinks. I'll be right back." He hurried to the bartender.

Néela blanched. This was not what she had had in mind when she went to hear Uldred's story. If she could, she would prefer not to tell anyone the details of her life as of recently. It would be much preferred to her if she didn't have to evade questions, weave misunderstandings, or even outright lie. She couldn't lie to save her life.

As Uldred returned with their mugs, he sat down and looked expectantly at her. "Well?" He enquired when she didn't volunteer to start the conversation. "Where are you from? That's a good place to start."

Néela looked at him, unsure as to how much she should divulge to the skinny man. He seemed straight forward, but so was her own mother, and she had still turned her out.

"I'm from Gulfar, born and raised. I fell in love with a man who asked my father to court me and got consent at that. The man was in the king's army, and when he was called to duty this summer, he disappeared and I haven't heard from him since. I recently found out that I was pregnant and left Gulfar to avoid the suspicion and stigmata that goes with being a single mother." She breathed out heavily.

"Well, I'm sorry for your troubles, Néela. And let me be the first to welcome you to Sinddal then, I hope your man turns up again." Uldred had an infectious and comforting smile on his face. "If you need anything, let me know, alright? Now, I'll just bet that that voice of yours is great for singing. Do you know any songs from your town?"

And that was that. Uldred had assumed that she was widowed in stead of unwed, and had offered her friendship as easily as a flower in his hand. She was both grateful and ashamed to abuse his trust as such, but it was in the interest of her child, so she would bear the burden of guilt as best she could.

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In Edoras, Theoden had convened his new brothers-in-arms to discuss what should be done about the threat of Mordor and the fact that Gondor was fighting it as alone as Rohan had fought the forces of Orthanc. The hobbit, Peregrin Took, had touched the seeing stone of Saruman's and had seen the Enemy's plans to attack Minas Tirith. Or so Gandalf said, at least.

But the forces of Rohan were decimated themselves after years of struggling with orcs, that they now knew stemmed from the wizards betrayal, and the battle at Helm's deep. Théoden felt bitterness at the loss of so many of his men and the fact that he hadn't been able to withstand Saruman's witchery. He had even lost his own son and had not even been aware of it.

He awoke to a nightmare of his proud country at it's knees, it's king a weakling and a shadow of his former self, a broken line of kings, his military all but gone and his people frightened and hunted. And Gondor was nowhere to be seen during their devastation. Were they now to throw themselves at the pyres for a friend that had been absent in such a time of need? No, not unless they begged it of him themselves, he decided.

Gandalf and Pippin left for Minas Tirith shortly hereafter.

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Éomer was in distress. Ha had been stabbed, sliced, shot, beaten, fallen off horses, broken bones and nearly drowned a couple of times, but this, this was worse. He had become idle and therefore there was no relief from his own mind. His heart had been ripped from his chest, and he felt as if his breaths didn't fill his lungs with air, but in stead with liquid fire.

After he had hurried to his room, he slammed the door and barred it, before he leaned his forehead and hands against the wall and gasped out loud for air. He had been named heir this morning. Heir. Néela was lost to him. He had promised her father to leave her be if he was to become in line for the throne.

He knew that it was lightly that he should be named when Théodred died, but his mind had been thoroughly occupied since then and he had somehow retained hope that another solution would present itself before it was too late.

How was he ever going to tell her? The thought of breaking the news to her nearly killed him. To see the tender smile she always had for him, die with his words, and to know that he would never hold her in his arms again, smell her hair or hear her laughter. Kiss her.

The thought made his arms feel weak and empty and his throat dry up like a dammed river. As his world dried out and died inside him, tears spilled from between his clenched eyelids, the sorrow of his loss costing him the control that he had spent almost his entire adult life keeping in place.

His breaths now came in rapid succession, shallow with pain and trying to control his body's responses to the desolate state his mind was in. His heart was beating fast and a cold layer of sweat had gathered on his face and back. He felt nauseous.

She's all I've ever wanted. The only thing I've ever wished for myself, and I had her. I HAD her, and now she's gone. I can't… I… I can't… I can't… Breathe!

A sound resembling that of a wounded animal escaped him and he hit the wooden wall hard with a fist in order to redirect the pain in his chest to his hand. It worked, at least to distract him for a second, and then he hit the wall again. And then again, and again, and again.

He let rage take him, it was a relief from the despair, until he at last roared out his anguish and pounded his bloody hands against the unforgiving wood. "NéelAAAAAAHH!!!" He screamed again and again.

When he finally was spent, he sank to sit on his bed and stared deeply into nothing, defeated.

Little did he know that Éowyn had been on the other side of his door the whole time, hearing her beloved brother break down completely, crying silently for him, but not knowing what had caused his violent sorrow.

She knew that if she made herself known to him, he would shut down and resume the role of her protector in the blink of an eye. She would never get him to tell her his troubles that way. But oh, how she hurt for him.

Quiet enough that he wouldn't hear her through the thick door, she whispered, "now is my time to help you, brother. I will see your smile restored, so help me, I will."

With renewed resolve, she straightened, dried her face and went to find Éothain. She had to find out what was going on with her brother, and the captain would know the comings and goings in his life if anyone knew them.

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"A woman? Are you sure Éothain?" Éowyn asked. She had trouble imagining her stout and serious brother trying to charm a woman, let alone open himself up enough to fall in love.

"No, my lady. Not A woman. THE woman. There's a difference, you know. He asked me how to woo her when we were going there on spring patrol. I think he actually had trepidations about seeing her and how to make a good impression on her. But you should have seen their reunion when we arrived!" He grinned at the memory. "There is no doubt that she is special to him."

"And now he has been charged with the future of Rohan, should our uncle perish, so he is no longer free to marry as he sees fit. He's heartbroken! I see, that would make sense. Thank you for clearing this up for me, Éothain. I would appreciate it if you would keep this between us? He doesn't need gossip to make it worse for him." Éowyn was asking politely, but her tone left no room for doubt that she would strike down hard if rumors returned to hurt Éomer.

Éothain lowered his voice to a menacing growl, "Éowyn, you have known me since we were children, and I love Éomer like a brother. What's more, he is my marshal and my general and I owe him my life many times over. I would never hurt him like that, and if you don't know that, you have become just as much a snake as the worm who poisoned your uncle against him!"

Taken slightly aback at the young captain's fierce loyalty and harsh words, she reconsidered his words. "You are right, I apologize. I should never have implied that your devotion was anything less than absolute."

"No, you shouldn't," he said. Then he eased up his stance a bit, "but you have fought many demons these last years, and a life at court is much different than that of a soldier, I imagine. I understand your need to protect him. Just know that I am forever on his side, my lady." Éothain offered her a small smile.

"I will remember that in the future, my friend. Thank you. Really. It's not often I see such loyalty and honesty."

"Any time, my lady." Éothain's trademark grin returned and he bowed deeply before her. She gave a small nod and a smile and left to return to the golden hall.

Just then, Aragorn came bolting past her up the stairs and through the doors of Méduseld. "The beacon! The beacon is lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

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She had been working hard constantly for the last two weeks and was finally getting to the bottom of all the washing that needed done. She had discovered the washing shed behind Gertrud's house, and was delighted to find a well by it. No more would she have to do her washing by the frozen river in winter. And she could work inside. Lovely.

Gertrud was slowly recovering from her illness at Néela's care, but had sworn that she would retire from her work so that Néela could keep the job until life pulled her in another direction. The old lady had gotten Néela's story the same way that Uldred had; short and unspecific, but even though she had looked somewhat suspicious at the information given to her, she had not pursued the issue. Néela was very grateful for this.

So she put her efforts into the labour with vigor and had now reached a place where the work seemed manageable. It had been exhausting with long hours and a lot of very heavy lifting, but it kept her from thinking too much about Éomer, where he was, if he was thinking of her or if he had moved on, if she would ever see him again, if he would ever see his child and so on and so forth.

The nights were not quite as merciful, though. Often, she lay sleepless and when she finally slept, she dreamed of passionate kisses from another time and place, turning to death, fear and loneliness and usually ending in her waking bathed in her own sweat, gasping for air.

Apart from her heavy work load, she also wasn't getting the nourishment she needed, because every time she ate something, the delightful morning sickness made sure she lost it again almost immediately. As a result, she was starting to lose weight in an unflattering way. Her eyes sunk into her skull and her cheeks became pale and gaunt. Her arms turned wiry, even though her belly and breasts still remained plump due to the pregnancy.

One day, when she was yet again washing a load of clothes for the 'finer' people of the town and dreading her coming lunch break, she felt a sharp twinge in her lower abdomen. She stopped and bent over, breathing deeply with her hands on her knees, willing the pain to go away. It did, for a moment, only to be replaced with a violent cramping pain that spanned from her spine to her navel.

Oh, ouch! What's wrong with me? She thought as she doubled over once more.

Then she felt the warm blood running down her legs and she panicked. She pulled up her dress frantically and stared as the red stain spread through her undergarments as a harbinger of doom. Not knowing whether to run inside or lay down to protect the baby, she decided that she needed help and hurried to find Gertrud. As she came inside, blood was dripping on the floor behind her, and she was feeling very dizzy.

"Gertrud! I think I'm having a miscarriage!" She managed before her world went black.

The last thing she heard was the frantic calling of the old lady for help at she rushed to the street.

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