Disclaimer: The fictional world of LotR belongs to Tolkien and I make no money from this. I own Andromeda and any subsequent original characters. The Greek world presented in this story is a fictionalised version and myths and gods mentioned are real. Please leave reviews if you like, that's what keeps us writers motivated to continue ^^

The sun blinded the half-asleep woman, her eyes were partially open but she wished to close them once more so that she could escape the cruelty of the light. Like a child she rubbed the sleep off her eyes and eventually sat up. It took her a moment to realise the commotion going around her, the Rohirrim was packing their things and loading them back. For a moment she thought they meant to leave her behind but when she saw Éomer's smiling face her worries were laid to waste.

He approached her holding a cup of warm porridge, he had noticed how little she ate and how scarce food had been for her. It was for everyone but for now they could afford warm breakfast and he would not exclude her from it "Decided to let you sleep a while longer, you seemed to need it more than the rest of us." He offered her the cup which she accepted with a confused look "Porridge or something that resembles it."

Andromeda gave it a sniff as if it was poisoned, causing Éomer to laugh in amusement. He watched her taste it sceptically and she seemed satisfied for she started to eat it in a hurry. For a moment he thought she would choke.

"I'll pack my things," she looked around and remembered she no longer had 'things' "well I'll pack my sleeping cot…" she seemed disappointed at the lack of her things. Last of her things.

Éomer watched her face go through phases of emotion, both curious and confused. "We ride to Westfold today and should be there before nightfall. One of our own is in need of assistance, we risk being hunted for we are still exiles but we cannot turn a blind eye when Isengard attacks our people."

Her face softened as she let out a sigh of content, not only she was pleased that he would not abandon his honour and country despite his country's lack of love for him, but she was also happy that there would be war. Relaxed, and energised by the idea she gave him a broad smile "I am happy to ride with you and I have hope that Aragorn is doing his best to bring your king back."

Handing him the empty cup, she stood up and stretched before his eyes then she started to roll up her cot. Simultaneously she listened to him explain the danger associated with the land and what they were expecting to find. He was drawing a grim picture indeed.

"I never asked you about your king but now that I may cross paths with him I feel obligated to do so, he is your kin and that garners some respect from me."

Éomer's eyebrow raised in curiosity considering most people respected kings for being kings, but then he remembered her trouble with her own king so perhaps the position was not looked upon warmly by her. "You would not respect him for being a king alone?" Unable to resist he asked, the way her mind worked was peculiar to him as was her culture. Éomer never knew what sort of answer he was going to get and their first night around the fire had proven that effectively.

Strapping her shield on her back and grabbing her coat she motioned to him that they talk as they walked towards Firefoot. "King is a king for no other merit than being born to the right man. If I was a man I could have made myself a king as my uncle had done." She paused for a moment and gave a bit more context "Sparta has two kings from two bloodlines, my mother's brother become king by insinuating that the previous king was not a legitimate child and thus claimed the position." That had been a complicated family event with many awkward dinners that followed "All I know of your king is that his mind is captured by the white wizard. However, I hold respect for you which means I will not be quick to dismiss him as I often do with kings. I have met many kings and killed a few of my own, at the end they are just men."

Éomer did not fully agree with her for he owed much to the king both as a ruler and as a father figure. He saw his accomplishments and tried to be a man Théoden would be proud to call a son. To think of his uncle as weak minded would never cross his mind, if anything he had been strong all their lives but even the strongest of men fell given the right push. Yet he also understood why she would think so, he did not think she had resentments about being born a woman she seemed far too comfortable for that to be the case but perhaps she resented the place men held above women in many societies, her own included.

"The king took me and my sister in after our parents passed away, he raised us as his own and for that I will always be thankful." Deep sadness settled into his eyes and he felt the need to look away "While ago we realised changes in him, first in his personality and then he aged rapidly. Completely under the rule of Saruman, he did not even react when the news of his son reached him, if Théodred is not dead yet he soon will be."

Her hand reached for his and took a hold. Only for a moment before others could see. "If the loss of a child could not bring him back I doubt anything will. I am sorry for your loss but be prepared Éomer if the king survives this he will wish he did not." Out of all the wounds in the world, loss of a child was one that would never heal.

The grief that crossed her face was too deep to be directed just at him and his kin, Éomer suspected there was more but did not pry. Instead he took her cot from her hands and strapped it to Firefoot. "Wait here, I will return in a moment."

Andromeda watched as he left then turned her attention the magnificent horse in front of her. Her thoughts were muddled by an unexpected conversation. Never once she had told anyone and she never would but the memory pricked at her eyes, reminding her that it was there and she could not escape it. No amount of war, wine, or lovers would make her forget that once she was a mother but no longer.

Only Firefoot would know her troubles, she spoke to him in a soft tone and he seemed to enjoy the foreign language of her people. Greek could be a soothing language, at least to her it was. The horse seemed equally taken by her and nuzzled her enthusiastically. They had made fast friends, and if she had a treat up her sleeve she would have willingly give it to him.

Éomer was organising his men and revising their route for a final consideration when his eyes caught their guest. From afar he did not know what the two talked but he could see her lips move, and Firefoot himself seemed to be taken by her words as he himself had been. He smiled to himself and watched for a moment longer before he felt like an intruder. Returning to his men, he told them to get ready. The first hour of the morning had passed and they needed to leave.

Andromeda rode behind Éomer once more, this time more relaxed for she trusted him and Firefoot. Their journey would be more peaceful this time. Yesterday they were strangers but last night they had the chance to get to know each other. He had promised to show her all the stars and true to his word he showed as much as he could before he fell asleep. Andromeda followed soon after. It was the first peaceful sleep of the week though she was still haunted by the ghosts she refused to face. He had been kind to her which she appreciated, his people had been more welcoming than she thought they would be.

They regarded her as a strange little thing and she doubted they counted her as a warrior just yet. Just someone with good tales and good times. If the situation in Westfold was as bad as Éomer believed they would soon have the chance to see her in a different light. That would change the dynamics a little bit and cement her place.

The éored had been training and fighting together for years under Éomer's command. Some of them knew each other since boyhood as Léofred had told her. Andromeda did not expect a place in matter of days, but she was hoping to earn their respect enough that in a fight she would not be fighting alone. At first her goal was to make sure they would come with her when called upon but she now knew Éomer would have never abandon his king and his lands in the first place. That was honourable, and not necessarily what she would have done.

Sparta had taken too much from her and while she knew Sparta owed her nothing, like a child she still held a grudge. Even if it was not real anymore, and the anger had long passed.

Éomer was deep in his own thoughts too as he rode ahead of his people. He knew this would be dangerous and Erkenbrand was fiercely loyal to his people, so Éomer was not sure if he would appreciate the help of an exiled marshal and his éored and of course there was also the matter of the woman riding behind. His people held certain believes about outsiders and the idea of a warrior woman was foreign to them. He worried that it could cause a friction. Remembering her temper he hoped that it would not. They could not afford to fight amongst themselves. Not now at least, and not for a very long time.

He knew he needed to do something to make things right again. Bring his men home to their wives and children. Help his uncle rebuilt Rohan from the ashes of Saruman's destruction. Lots of work would needed to be done but he was willing to take that on and knew his men would follow him to wherever he needed to go.

The sun shifted in the sky indicating the arrival of the noon, soon they would need to stop and rest for a while. Both the horses and the men needed rest and food if they were to ride directly into the battle. They could not afford not being their best.

Andromeda watched in fascination as the horses moved together with such ease and familiarity, it made her feel like an intruder in a way but she enjoyed the experience regardless. It reminded her of all the times she watched men ride off to battle out of Sparta. How she longed to ride with them as a child and as she grew up she wished to be alone. Wherever she went she searched for war but equally she searched for the solitude that was not afforded to soldiers. War had isolated her, he wanted her all to himself. Lately, after meeting the Fellowship, her desire for solitude had lessened. In here she felt like part of something infinitely larger than her and yet she was still an integral part of it. Middle-Earth was quickly becoming a place of healing for her. If she survived the upcoming war, she would make a home here and this time she would do it right. She would regain her honour and make up for all the things she had done to others and to herself.

They eventually stopped by a clearing but did not bother unloading anything. They would not stay long for they still had a road ahead. Few of them were sitting down and Éomer watched as she showed Wildred how to braid his hair like her people. The design was far more intricate than theirs, and Éomer followed the process mentally but did not touch his hair. He liked it the way it was for now.

"Do your men keep their hair long too?" Léofred offered her a piece of dried meat as he joined the group and settled down.

Andromeda took a bite and smiled at the familiar taste, "Both men and women do but after marriage women aren't allowed to keep theirs long like I do."

Wildered watched her curiously, he thought that she did not act like a woman with a husband. "Why do you then? You said you have a husband."

Éomer had been the only one to know her husband had passed away. He had asked her because when she talked about her horse and said she wondered if he missed her she had not applied that morbid curiosity to others she might have left behind. Then of course there was her remark about leaving only graves behind. All of that made him venture a guess that no one was alive to miss her. Hesitantly she had told him that her husband had been killed in a battle because someone had to for others to live, it was a mixture of fate and bad luck. He too was familiar with such bad luck, he had lost his own father that way.

"In case you haven't notice I am not particularly good at doing what I am told" Andromeda joked, hiding the truth as she had done so before.

Éomer who wanted to take her out of the conversation pulled her out of her seat and offered her a shit-eating grin that could only mean trouble "Let's see what you're good at then, you say you can fight I want to see it before I ride you into a battlefield."

He had no intentions to actually hurt her but he equally had no intentions to take it easy on her. If she wished to be treated as a warrior he would grant her that. Selfishly he was also curious about her and he believed the easiest way to know a person was to fight them. A fight was a revealing experience, the way someone attacked or protected themselves could tell a lot. Often that knowledge would be used against them but he simply wanted to know her.

Andromeda on the other hand had every intention to give him a bloody fight and a fun one at that. Of course she wasn't going to hurt him but she was going to make him believe in gods again. Before she ever picked up her first sword at the age of seven, her mother had told her that to truly know a person she would either have to fight them or bed them. It was an advice that saved her life many times before and allowed her to meet wonderful, beautiful, and dangerous people.

His grin was contagious "Been a while since I had to fight something I couldn't kill but I am looking forward to the challenge."

Éomer grabbed his spear and handed her Léofred's "You did say your people had an affinity for it."

Taking it from his hands, she gave the spear an affectionate look that made the others laugh "I did say that didn't I, well me and this beauty are fully prepared to give you a full demonstration."

"If you two need a moment I am sure we can give you some privacy" Éomer was walking with her towards a clearing and his men followed for they wished to see her fight as well.

Andromeda threw him a wicked grin "Oh no need, I am not shy in front of an audience."

Éomer actually blushed at the implication behind her words and thought that she was shameless, he decided he found that to be endearing and slightly intimidating. He invited her in the middle of the circle formed by his men, his mind mentally focused and spear ready.

Neither made the first move for a while and they simply circled each other trying to find a weakness in their opponent. Andromeda was an aggressive fighter and did not hide that fact. Her attack came first, going for his feet to throw him off balance and once his focus was trying to counter that she made a move to strike his face. Éomer had successfully countered both attacks, moving himself forward to close the distance between them. From this intimate angle he could do more damage, but Andromeda knew he could take equally more damage. Her body moved fluidly with his, both with the ease of people who had done this before. For a while it was just the sound of the spears hitting each other, wood on wood, neither giving each other an opportunity.

Both warriors refused to make mistakes.

Andromeda deliberately left an opening for him and Éomer kicked her in the leg, causing her to fall to her knee yet this was exactly what she wanted. As he prepared to strike her from above, she used her position below to swipe her spear to cut off his balance. Stumbling he allowed her to get up and push him back as she did so. They both looked at each other with a smile, enjoying themselves rather than angry. This was fun for the both of them, a worthy opponent.

Éomer was starting to figure her out now and noticed that there was a cunning edge on her attacks. She was allowing herself to be seen as an aggressor, and he had to admit that she was one but she moved with more subtlety than he had initially realised. Once he was more attuned to her movements he had no trouble countering or parrying them.

She was equally becoming familiar with him and noticed that he did not hesitate to hurt her or be hurt to get the upper hand. What limited them both in this fight was their unwillingness to cause each other permanent damage.

Killing was easier than slightly maiming.

For a moment they played with each other, dealing only minor damages which some could even constitute as foreplay. He had a plan though and once she became familiar with this pattern, he quickly changed his hand and throw off the rhythm. He used that opportunity to entangle their spears and leave her without a weapon. Just for a moment he was sure that he had won, his spear turned to her chest.

He had underestimated Andromeda's willingness to possibly injure herself to win however, she threw herself to the spear but grabbed the shaft in time to move it to the side, she than closed the space between them and head-butted him as she yanked the spear off his hands. His nose was bleeding but she did not allow that to distract her as she used the butt of her spear to make him fall backwards. Her spear now rested on his throat, a victorious smirk on her lips.

He lifted his eyes to look at her, his lips tasting his blood. He felt proud on her behalf. All fights were series of same movements. Only so much one could do with a spear, or a sword, or a knife. The difference between a victory and death was the cunning of the fighter. He had underestimated her, and she had not hesitated to use that. He gave her a smile as bright as the sun above them yet it froze in his face.

Andromeda swung the spear with a brutal force behind it to the man who crept behind her. Cowardly as he tried to attack her unseen and punished with the blow to his side. He had not expected that much force from a woman. Éothain looked at her with hate in his heart.

"Look at her, she is an outsider and a woman playing pretend warrior!" He spat out his words in anger and frustration, then he turned to look at Éomer whom he loved like a brother "If you won't stop her I will."

Laughter bubbled from deep inside her belly, and although there was a cruel tinge there she was wholeheartedly amused. This, she would do for fun.

Unlike her fight with Éomer this was over before it started, with no restrictions placed upon herself she felt free to hurt him as much as her heart desired.

Turns out her heart did desire a lot.

In the end, he was a bloody mess with a spear pointed at his chest. Right on top of his heart, between his ribs and all she needed to do was plunge.

Éomer's hand touched her shoulder as gently as possible so not to spook her. Turning to look at him her eyes softened for a brief moment and she knew he was not going to allow her to kill his man, and she knew she would listen to him.

Using the tip of her spear to lift his head, she focused her eyes on Éothain alone. There was calmness in her eyes and her voice was serene, no hate or pity. Only the knowledge that she was stronger and always had been stronger than life itself. "I am both war and woman, and you cannot stop me."

Andromeda allowed Éomer to pull her away from the circle of Rohirrim still watching her with curious eyes. They were all confused by Éothain, he was known to be stubborn and he often took his time trusting people but this kind of hate was new to them. Still they were glad to see him alive, he was their brother after all. Even Éomer did not wish death upon him, but he would need to sort the mess that would create.

He was well liked and some would see his reasoning, he also had to make sure there was no retaliations or blow back on her. First he was going to take care of her though.

Or she was going to take care of him.

"Sit down, I need to see if I broke anything" There was a concerned smile on her lips as she guided him towards a rock. She lifted his face between her palms and carefully inspected the damage she had done.

Éomer allowed her to tend to her injuries but he had not expected such gentleness. Her hands were calloused but her touch was not. He did not speak as she ran her thumb over his upper lip to clean the blood that was mostly dried, and he watched when she wet the digit between her own lips, tasting the very blood she had spilled. Then she repeated the motion to get the last of the dried blood. He watched her transfixed, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Once finished she took a step back and looked at her handiwork in pride "You are as beautiful as I have found you, no lasting damages."

He tentatively touched his nose to double check "Less damage than I expected, how about you?"

Andromeda shrugged as if she cared not for the damage she had taken, her body would bruise and her leg would hurt a while but nothing ever lasted. The pain was familiar to her, a friend even. Ignoring her he took a hold of her leg, looking at the bruising that was starting to form. "How did you know he was behind you?"

Looking at the man below she couldn't resist the urge the run her fingers through his hair. They were golden and brown. Soft to the touch. "You looked nervous and that was enough. Thank you for not letting me kill him" Her voice barely above a whisper.

He raised his head so to catch her eyes, there was something in there he could not name, curiously he raised his eyebrow. Often people got mad at him when he interfered in their fights.

Placing her hand upon his cheek, she smiled in sadness "Trying to give up the habit." The way she said it was strange but Éomer did not search for more. He knew when to ask and when to let things go but she told him regardless "I always had a strange relationship with war and violence. I found peace, solace and love within him. Every time I enter a battlefield it is like returning to the arms of a lover, safe and familiar. I have loved war long before I was born, it is a hunger deep within and war loves me. It always has but after I lost my family, I went to a place deep inside of me where no light lives."

Éomer was going to say something but she left before he could. He watched her go join the others, not looking back. He stayed sitting on top of the rock and thinking her admission. He had seen wars and lost people to it, a part of him even found thrill in it at times but he did not love war. He did not consider it was something to be loved or could love back. It was destruction, blood, loss of life (some even before it begun). Yet he understood what she was trying to say, she had bloodlust or a connection that tied her to war like an umbilical cord. He had never seen a person, men or women that calm just before (almost) killing someone. Fighting in total calmness yet he could see that she did not underestimated battles. She understood the cost perhaps better than some of his own men. War demanded lives, and Éomer thought back to how quickly she had jumped towards his spear and a wrong step she could have impaled herself. He had no doubt that she would have died for war but equally that gave her life. He could never fully understand that but he knew what it felt like to be half. He was half war himself, fighting since boyhood. Perhaps she too was made of halves. Half war and something entirely else.

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