Hi everyone, sorry for the extremely late update and long wait but I have had several tournaments on the go which has impacted my schedule. I will continue to try to update regularly (that is, assuming you still like the story) and I have the next few chapters planned out. Hmm I think that's it so hope you enjoy this chapter!

Legolas swiftly dodged the knife and grabbed Eredhel by the wrist, his eyes wide. Her grey orbs filled with confusion and then terror as she scrambled back from him, looking down at her weapon in horror. If he had been anyone with slower reflexes they could have been hurt or even killed. "I am sorry, please forgive me," she begged. Legolas moved towards her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, even after months of travel he still smelled like leaves and fresh water.

"There is nothing to forgive, what has upset you?"

"It was only a nightmare. These plains are open and I feel bare, I am simply on my guard as we are rather defenseless."

"Well, defenseless is not the word that crossed my mind when you were swinging for my throat," said Legolas with a gentle smile as he held her at an arm's length. "Now please tell me what ails you, no one could escape from torture at the Orthanc unscathed."

"I am not unscathed, you have seen my wounds."

"Yet I speak of those which cannot be seen, that lurk beneath the skin."

"I appreciate your concern but it is needless. Did I wake you?"

"No I was keeping a cautious watch when I heard you muttering." Legolas eased himself onto the ground next to her, plucking several long strands of grass from beside him. As she watched, he knotted them together then began braiding them much like those of his hair. "Say what you want, I am not leaving you alone so you might as well get comfortable for the rest of the night." He frowned as he pulled on the grass. A soft chuckle escaped Eredhel's lips as she shifted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. His presence calmed her, the curve of his hip against hers enough to hold the terrors of her mind at bay. He let the grass fall and began to twist a strand of her hair between his fingers. "Are you going to tell me the truth or are we going to argue about this until the sun awakens?" he asked impatiently. Eredhel sighed, relenting.

"Saruman was quite well acquainted with my father. He knew I was troubled when I returned from the Fornost and that the effects of that battle never really left me. When throwing me against rock walls and uttering threats did not work he resorted to more... creative methods." She felt the other elf's arm tighten around her and continued, her voice steady. "He put things into my head, showed me my deepest fears. I had to relive the deaths of everyone I care about over and over. Arwen, she faded and Aragorn fell. I believed I would never see my brothers again, a sea of red stained the ground they all lay upon. But the worst was, was-" she halted, briefly closing her eyes. "It was you. No matter how loudly I screamed you never turned in time to evade the attack. There was so much pain." She stabbed her knife into the ground and clenched her hands into fists. "I do not want to speak of this anymore, go back to sleep." Her change in tone confused the other elf and he frowned.

"The wizard only wished to torment you, he did not show you the future. Eredhel you have lived many lives of men and seen more despair and sorrow than most. You would charge alone into battle without batting an eye yet you are filled with fear at the thought of loss. Some things are meant to endure. I promise you, when I set my sights on Saruman he will regret his actions. Though I may have to get in line, the dwarf is quite cross with him as well," he added, arching an eyebrow playfully. Eredhel decided at that moment that she could not allow him to be troubled by her pain, it was her burden to bear, not his. She forced a smile and leaned her head against her shoulder. Her act worked and Legolas was satisfied that he had dismissed her doubts. They sat there for the rest of the night, staring up at the brilliant constellations in the sky.

Morning dawned and they continued riding for Edoras. They came across no other orcs or riders as they galloped across the golden plains. Long grasses swayed in the wind and rock outcroppings created giant landmarks, sculptures created by the earth itself. There were scattered rivers and streams but they were not deep and the horses crossed them with ease. On and on they rode until finally in the early afternoon they could see Meduseld, the hall of the king. The city was surrounded by a wooden wall and sat atop a great hill. The riders crossed over the Snowbourn River and approached the main gate. As they came closer to the guarded wall Gandalf indicated for them to slow their pace, raising a hand in caution. "The people here are frightened, look for no grand welcome," he warned. The others nodded and followed him through the archway, into the silent city.

Éowyn stood outside the feasting hall, her wavy golden hair flowing in the wind. Confusion and despair were weighing on her heart. Her cousin Théodred was now dead, his body lifeless and cold. Even in his death, her uncle had not gone to him. He had not mourned. If only she could get him alone and away from that wretched Gríma. The King was allowing his lands to be pillaged and burned, and his people to fall at the hands of orcs. Even so, his men did little. Those that did were exiled, sent away to roam across the plains. This fate had befallen her brother, Éomer. He had taken his warriors and rode out from Edoras, saying he would go to protect their people.

As Éowyn dwelled on this she caught sight of riders at the entrance to the city. There were four horses but as they continued up towards the top of the hill she saw one of them carried two men. Eowyn squinted against sun's glare as she tried to identify the riders. The first was robed in grey, a carved staff in his grip. It could only be Gandalf, he had visited her uncle's halls before to offer council. He rode a pure white horse without a saddle and the steed was graceful. To his left was a chestnut whose rider was tall and travel worn. The man's handsome face was rugged but he held himself in a way that betrayed a noble lineage. Next was what she could only guess was an elf. He was proud on his grey mount and surveyed his surroundings curiously. He had shining blond hair and a fair face. A powerful bow was on his back. Behind him sat a dwarf. He had copper hair and a long braided beard. He sat stiffly and was clearly not used to riding. A shirt of mail gleamed on his chest and a mighty axe at his hip. The last rider was a woman, also an elf considering her angular features. She was the night to her companion's day, there was a darkness to her appearance. Brown hair rippled past her shoulders and she was dressed in black and grey. Her eyes were fixed on the main hall. She also carried a bow and was at ease on her bay horse. As they got closer Éowyn retreated back inside the Golden Hall, not wanting to get caught in the middle of their interactions with the guards.

Eredhel pushed her hair behind her ears as she trotted up the hill towards Meduseld. She noticed that the people would glance at the visitors then return their eyes to the ground, afraid to look at them. One would not need the sensitivity of an elf to feel the fear and oppression in the air. Many of the people were indoors and only a few walked about between the buildings. Her thoughts were interrupted by Gandalf's voice in her mind. "Gríma is a servant of Saruman, I am certain his master will have alerted him to your escape."

"Aye, then it would be best if my identity remained hidden until we assess the hold he has on Rohan," she answered. The wizard met her gaze from beside her and she pulled up her green hood, casting a shadow over her eyes. Once they reached the steps they dismounted and Eredhel moved to the back of their group. At the top of the stairs they were stopped by the guard, their captain was a burly man with a rugged face and proud nose.

"I am Hama, guardsman of the King. By the order of Gríma Wormtongue, no guest to our city may enter Meduseld armed. Even you, Gandalf Greyhame," he said, indicating to the traveler's bows and blades.

"Very well," Gandalf agreed, nodding to the others. Aragorn unsheathed his sword and knife will Gimli grudgingly handed over his axe. Then the bows were transferred as well as the quivers of arrows. Several small knives were removed from belts and other hiding places, including the one from Eredhel's boot. The removal of their weapons worried her little, there were still many ways to kill a man with one's bare hands. One of the men gave her hood an uneasy look but then moved to Gandalf, extending his hand expectantly. "My withered legs are not what they once were, several ages of men I have walked over this earth. Surely you would not deprive an old wanderer of his walking stick?" He smiled kindly and after a moment the man nodded, stepping to the side. The five companions were then led into the Golden Hall and the doors shut firmly behind them.

The chamber inside was dark, only a small chandelier overhead cast a dim light into the room. A small group was gathered between the grand pillars on each side and behind them guards prowled menacingly. At the far end, in front of proud banners and tapestries, sat a very battered and very old man. This was King Théoden, though he looked far older than the great king who usually sat upon the proud throne. His mind and body were in the hold of Saruman and the pull of dark magic was greatly wearing to the spirit. The King's beard was scraggly and knotted, his clothes rumpled and worn. Beside him sat a hunched man clothed in black. He had blurry eyes and purple lips and often turned to mutter in the King's ear. As their guests grew closer, Gríma half rose, his eyes narrowing. "What business do you have in Rohan, Stormcrow? For it ever seems that you bring with you grave news and ill fate," he declared.

"I have not come to speak with you, snake. I will hold counsel only with the King of Rohan, though his halls lack the courtesy and warmth I once found here," answered Gandalf sharply.

"What courtesy do I owe you Gandalf?" drawled the King. "You try to enter my halls armed and cloaked." He pointed a gnarled finger towards Eredhel and suddenly her hood was ripped back from her face.

"YOU!" seethed Gríma, his dark eyes bulging. Eredhel hissed and twisted against the guard who was gripping her arm, the awkward angle causing her muscles to burn. "She is wanted for treason by Saruman, ally of Rohan. Bind that wretched elf!"

"Do not touch her," growled Legolas menacingly. The guard paid him little heed and forced Eredhel to the floor. But she was too quick for him, swinging out a leg, she brought him crashing to the floor and landed a quick blow to his head in the process. Jumping to her feet, she and Legolas turned to face the other men that were now attempting to fence them in. Meanwhile Gandalf had advanced toward the throne, drawing his pale staff.

"Fools! The wizard was not to be allowed to enter with his staff!" exclaimed Gríma, retreating from Gandalf. The guard took this as their order to charge and they advanced on the visitors. Legolas, Eredhel, Aragorn and Gimli formed a protective wall between Gandalf and the men. Two guards wrestled Aragorn to the ground while Gimli swung for another's ribs. The two elves easily protected the wizard with their quick reflexes and sharper senses. From behind a pillar, Gríma sprung towards Eredhel, wrapping his arms around her throat. The elf swore and elbowed him in the torso before Legolas hauled him off of her and flung him to the floor with a loud crunch. He made to get up but a heavy studded boot pressed his chest back to the ground.

"Yer not going anywhere, you cowardly snake!" growled Gimli. Meanwhile, Gandalf had stopped in front of the throne, his eyes on the aged King. As he spoke, the air seemed to shake and his voice rumbled through the hall.

"Théoden, son of Thengol, for too long have you been in the shadow of Saruman's wrath. Hear my voice, I release you from your captor's spell!" The wizard raised his palm and closed his eyes in concentration. However, they reopened seconds later when to his surprise the King began to cackle madly.

"You have neither the strength nor power to release my hold, O Gandalf the Grey." A frown deepened the creases of Gandalf's weathered face and he cast off his grey cloak, the brilliant white underneath blinding the King.

"You will release him Saruman, whether by your will or by my force," he threatened. As he spoke Éowyn ran into the room and upon seeing her uncle, made to rush to his side. She was caught by Aragorn, and when he met her questioning eyes he whispered for her to wait.

"Rohan is mine to command, if I depart I will take Théoden's life as recompense!" snarled Saruman.

"You will not kill him, this I know. Now be gone!" ordered Gandalf. The King rose from his chair and leapt towards him but with a flick of his staff Gandalf sent him hurtling back into his chair. His head thumped against the throne and then sank to his chest and the tension in the air finally broke. Aragorn released Éowyn and she ran to her uncle's side, supporting him as started to slump towards the floor. Already a change was coming over the King, his wispy hair was thickening and the color was returning to his skin. He raised a cold hand and touched his niece's face.

"My eyes have met you before. Éowyn, what has happened?" She laughed in joy and hugged him tightly. Théoden's eyes then found Gandalf and he stood, confusion settling on his brow.

"Gandalf, my friend. What are you doing here?"

"You may breathe freely now, the poison of Isengard has left the air," said Gandalf kindly as the leader of the guard brought forward the King's sword. He grasped it tightly but was still not as ease.

"Isengard? But what-" the King then saw Gríma and realization dawned on him. The guards grabbed the worm and dragged him outside with Théoden following close behind.

"Please my Lord, sent me not away. I have served Rohan for many years, my loyalty rests with you!" insisted Gríma.

"Your so called loyalty would have me playing a puppet of Saruman!" Théoden raised his sword above Gríma's head and was about to bring it swinging down when his arm was caught by Aragorn.

"No, my Lord. Enough death and blood has been dealt on his part, let him go," he advised. The King growled but turned away and headed back up the steps towards the hall. Gríma rose to his feet and scampered away, hopping onto a tied horse and riding out of the city. Théoden turned as he passed through the gates and paused, a deep frown darkening his face.

"Where is Théodred? I have a faint memory of both his and Éomer's departure but not of their return." Gandalf grimaced as Eredhel stepped forward.

"My lord, your son was mortally wounded, at the fords of Isen by an orc. Éomer returned him to the city but has since been banished by Gríma, he and his warriors now ride across Rohan, fighting the filth of Saruman. I am sorry." The King looked at her in confusion as his mind tried to process the news.

"Varyor? How do you know this?"

"Among the elves there is a gift of foresight, I had a vision of your son while we were in the Golden Wood, several days before he died. There was nothing we could do, we were attacked ourselves only a day or two after. Saruman's reach has lengthened." Théoden covered his eyes in grief as Éowyn laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, gently leading him back into the Golden Hall. The others followed, knowing the King would not like the further news they had for him.

Eredhel sat in a corner of the warm hall, listening to the mournful voices rising from outside the city. They were singing for Théodred, his funeral had been started only shortly after the King learned of his death. She alone sat in Meduseld, not a single other soul had lingered in the village. At first she had followed the others to the burial grounds but just before the procession had begun she slipped away, returning alone. To her funerals held no meaning, they were simply a way of amplifying the pain of loss. Their mourning would not bring their Prince back nor would it prevent further death from befalling them. Aragorn had often tried to explain the need of closure and certain rituals to her but the meaning had always been lost.

A while later she could hear the heavy falls of feet returning through the gates, she wondered if they had noticed her absence. Legolas would of course but she doubted the others had. Death did odd things to people, it clouded their mind and made them oblivious to their surroundings. Suddenly the door was pushed open and in strode Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn conversing quietly, unaware of her presence in the dark corner. "Where is the lass?" asked Gimli. "She was behind us as we left the city."

"I'm sure she is here somewhere, Eredhel is not one for funerals," answered Aragorn. Beside him, Legolas remained silent, deep in thought. Gimli and Aragorn took a seat at one of the wooden benches and Aragorn brought out his pipe. Eredhel smiled to herself, they still had not noticed her presence in the room. Even before she had left Rivendell she had been good at hiding but through her travels she had mastered the art of concealment. Now, even Legolas' keen eyes couldn't discern her from the shadows. She listened to their soft speech until twenty minutes later, the doors burst open. In strode Théoden, Gandalf and Éowyn along with two guards each carrying a child.

"Here, bring them to the table, quick have some food brought out for everyone," ordered the King. The boy and girl sat on the low bench and minutes later a large pot of hot stew was placed over one of the hearths.

"They just arrived from one of the outlying villages," explained Éowyn to the others. "Their town was attacked and burned by the Wild Men under Saruman's command." She spooned stew into two bowls and placed it in front of the children. Aragorn's eyes widened as Théoden sank into his chair with grief in his eyes.

"Saruman will be swift in taking his revenge on Rohan, this is only a small taste of the terror he will unleash on your people," said Gandalf grimly. "You must stand strong and ride out to meet his forces, draw the danger away from the women and children."

"We have not the strength to ride out in open battle," said Théoden.

"Éomer and his men ride across the plains. Your nephew will return to help his king," insisted Aragorn.

"They will arrive too late, I know what you would have me do but I have seen too much death in my time to risk the lives of my people in open war," argued the King.

"Whether you would risk it or not, Saruman's army will come," said Aragorn. The King turned sharply towards him, his lips in a thin line.

"I believe it is Théoden, not Aragorn who is King of Rohan," he snapped. At his words, Eredhel rose from her stool in the shadows, causing Éowyn and Gimli to jump in surprise. She joined Legolas by a pillar and she saw a small smile on his lips.

"Up to your usual tricks then?" his voiced echoed in her mind.

"Well one must find something to occupy the time between travel and war," she answered and then turned towards the King. "Yes, and a King would be expected to take into account the counsel of others before he makes his decision," she said smoothly but there was a slight edge to her voice.

"I do not think it wise to take advice from one who dwells so often in shadow, who disappears for years on end." He frowned, "The days are waning and you the lack the light of your people elf."

"It is often that one must work in the dark to serve those of the light," she answered. Théoden shook his head, exhaling through his nose.

"Never lost for words, in that you are the same. I have listened to your counsel but a King cannot send his people out blindly against an unknown force."

"Then what is your decision?" asked Aragorn quietly.

"We will lead the people to Helm's Deep, there we will outlast the fire of Saruman," decreed the King. Immediately he called to his captains and started giving orders for the city to empty. Legolas felt a hand grip his arm tightly and he turned to look at Eredhel. Her eyes flicked to the door at the end of the room and he understood her meaning. She turned and he followed her into a dark chamber off the main hall.

"He's a fool if he believes they will be safe in that fortress," said Eredhel once she was sure they wouldn't be overheard. She pushed her knuckles against her forehead as she stared out a long window to the plains below.

"I know, they will be fenced in, if the walls are breached there will be no escape," agreed Legolas.

"There is very little hope, I just do-" she was interrupted by Aragorn entering the room. They both looked at him questioningly.

"Gandalf is leaving," he said breathlessly. Legolas raised his eyebrows but they followed him to the stables. The Wizard was standing beside Shadowfax, in deep discussion with Gimli. He looked up as they approached and led the proud horse out of the stall.

"Where are you going?" asked Eredhel.

"I ride to find Éomer and the Rohirrim, they will be needed at Helm's Deep." He turned to Aragorn, "Théoden is strong but I fear for his courage, the defenses of the Hornburg must hold. He will need you before the end, he will need all of you. For centuries I have wandered as I please across these lands, paying little heed to the passing of the sun in the sky. Now it seems I cannot afford to waste a single moment!" He swung up onto Shadowfax and was about to surge forward when his leg was gripped by Eredhel on the side away from the others.

"Mithrandir, take caution. From the Orthanc Saruman can see far across the land, his gaze has lengthened and he is stronger with his new forces behind him. His spies will have informed him that the nephew of the King rides across the plains with his warriors. I have seen the army he has gathered, without the help of Éomer and his men there will be no hope for Rohan."

"I know. You must not tell Théoden of this, whether the army numbers ten hundred or ten thousand, he will still have to send his men to fight it. It would do nothing to have them afraid and hopeless before the battle has even begun." Eredhel nodded then backed away as Shadowfax galloped out the door. They watched as Gandalf rode through the city then through the gates and was lost from view to the high wall. The fate of Rohan now relied on his success. Aragorn sighed and looked at his friends, but it was Gimli who spoke.

"To war then?" he asked in excitement, gripping his axe tightly. Legolas let out a soft chuckle as a grin broke over the Ranger's face.

"Yes master dwarf, we go to war."