Chapter 14 - Yuletide


"Forst sceal freosan, fyr wudu meltan,
eorþe growan, is brycgian."

"Frost must freeze, fire melt wood, earth grow, ice form bridges."

Maxims I


The days following Theodred's departure were taken up with preparations for the Yuletide season, which was to celebrate midwinter and the return of the sun as the days started to get longer once more. Everyone was busy making small, handmade gifts to be exchanged following the longest night as a sign of good will.

Nearly all of Aldburg had ventured out into the cold, making fresh tracks in the snow as they headed towards the woods beyond the walls of the town to gather great armfuls of greenery. Sprigs of holly, ivy or yew tied with ribbons adorned every door in the town and nearly every beam in the hall was decked with greenery, with candles spread liberally.

The Yuletide season also bought the distribution of the quarterly wages for the riders, a process that was made much quicker and more efficient by the small set of scales that Charlotte had bought to weigh out rather than count the correct amount of coins.

The wages were a source of much jubilation between Annwyn and Aldhelm in particular. They were now able to afford a small cottage on the very edge of town, meaning that they were finally able to marry.

A flurry of activity preceded their wedding, which was to be in the days before Yule, supposedly an auspicious time for weddings since the nights were long and spring was around the corner. Between her own duties managing the books and Raefen, not to mention the decorating and distribution of wages and subsequent updates needed in the ledgers, Charlotte found the time to help Annwyn with cleaning the cottage and making final alterations to the dress she had made from the material they had bought at the trader's market some weeks previously.

Charlotte relished the work and the distraction that it provided. She threw herself in with zeal to avoid melancholic thoughts of Theodred and the future threatening to intrude in every quiet moment.

Eomer had said the couple could use the hall for their celebrations, so Maudig and Hollis were busy cooking up a storm in the kitchens of the hall in preparation.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear a few days before the Yule festivities. Shimmering frost lined the trees and ground, turning the world to sparking white glass.

Annwyn was stunning as she left her mother's house, a vision of dark blue and silver in her newly made dress, with furs around her shoulders and her combed hair partially braided to flow like a river of gold down her back. In her hands she held a small posy of greenery and white heather picked on the slopes of the mountains, one of the few flowers still blooming in winter. Her cornflower eyes shone with pure joy as the procession of ladies made their way through the cobbled streets of Aldburg and approached the hall.

Charlotte was among the procession, wearing the red dress she still had Hollantide and Eomer's mother's cloak. It was tradition that the ladies of the brides' family escorted her to her wedding and Charlotte was gratified that Annwyn had asked her to be among them.

Aldhelm was waiting on the terrace at the top of the stairs with several other riders, all of them dressed in their armour. Eomer stood beside them in the same formal clothing he'd worn for Hollantide, ready to perform the ceremony since he was the lord. Below them, many citizens of Aldbug congregated in the courtyard to watch the handfasting.

The crowd parted as the procession of ladies approached and Charlotte happened to be looking at Aldhelm as he caught his first glimpse of Annwyn. The young rider straightened up with a wide smile that lit his whole face, as if the sun had just come out. His smile remained as Annwyn climbed the steps and the couple stood together before Eomer.

The ceremony was conducted in Rohirric and so Charlotte had little idea of what was being said, nevertheless she relished the opportunity to listen to Eomer speak in the language that was somehow flowing and guttural at the same time.

Facing each other, Annwyn and Aldhelm clasped hands and stared into each other's eyes as Eomer tied a white ribbon around their hands and wrists. They spoke in Rohirric as he did so and Charlotte got the impression that the two of them were making their vows to one another.

The couple leaned in and kissed. A huge cheer went up among the assembled audience, growing louder as the kiss went on and on. The newly married couple eventually broke apart with a laugh and, their whole faces shining with joy and their hands still tied with the ribbon, led the way into the hall for the celebrations to begin.

The celebration was not nearly so large as Hollantide had been, but had the same festive atmosphere. Annwyn and Aldhelm sat at the high table, Eomer having insisted with a laugh that they take the Lord's position for the evening. Every surface was laden with food, courtesy of Hollis and Maudig.

During the feast Annwyn and Aldhelm purposefully fed each other morsels of bread and took sips of mead from the same cup. Everyone cheered and clapped; noting her confusion, Dernhild quietly informed her that despite the ceremony, the marriage was not considered official until the couple shared bread, mead, roof and bed.

The dancing began and Eomer instantly claimed Charlotte's hand for the first of many lively reels. Before long they parted, both of them dancing with others for several sets, including taking a turn with the bride and groom.

Charlotte was taking the opportunity to sit down and catch her breath between dances when Eomer approached her with a tankard of ale in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other, a fond smile on his face. He handed her the goblet and leaned against the pillar beside her.

"They look happy," Charlotte said with a grin, looking up at Annwyn and Aldhelm who sat at the high table once more, seemingly unaware of the party around them since they were so wrapped up in each other.

"Aye, that they do." Eomer turned to her, his gaze roving over her face. "You look happy also. I fear you have not been yourself of late."

Charlotte gave him a small, sad smile. Since Theodred's visit, she had been purposefully distant with him, avoiding his company and throwing herself into her work as a distraction out of the guilt she felt for her choice in allowing his cousin to die. "It is hard not to be happy on such a joyful day," she answered simply. Such joy would be rare in the coming weeks as events unfold.

He nodded, then tilted his head curiously to one side. "Will you tell me of weddings in your world?"

"Well, it depends on your religion or culture, of course." Charlotte drank enough wine that she could ignore the little voice in her head warning her that the conversation was moving into dangerous waters. "Where I come from, traditionally the bride wears white and her father gives her away, though that's more symbolic nowadays. The couple makes vows, signs documents and exchanges rings -"

"Rings?" Eomer interrupted. He appeared to be listening to her quite intently.

Charlotte nodded and took a sip of her wine. "Then there is a celebration. Food, music, dancing, cake … The bride throws her bouquet to the ladies." She nodded towards Annwyn's small posy of flowers, sitting forgotten on the high table beside her, taking care to keep her voice low so that no one would hear their conversation, even though everyone was too busy making merry to pay them much heed.

"Her flowers? Why?" he asked with no small amount of bemusement.

"The tradition is whoever gets the bride's flowers is the next to be married."

He slowly nodded his understanding, looking thoughtful as he too glanced towards Annwyn's bouquet. "After that the couple often go on a honeymoon, time to just … be together."

"A married couple will drink honey mead every evening for an entire turn of the moon, it brings luck in the marriage," Eomer told her in turn, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Not so very different then," Charlotte noticed with a smile of her own.

"No," Eomer said softly, his gaze fixed on her. "No, not so very different indeed."

Their conversation was interrupted as Charlotte's hand was eagerly grabbed by another rider and she was pulled to the dancefloor in a fit of laughter once more.

As the evening wore on Charlotte thought that the celebrations would wind down, but when the hour grew late an undeniable buzz of excitement started to run around the hall.

Hollis, Annwyn's mother, appeared at the doorway of the hall with a ribboned garland of greenery held high on a stick and a wide grin on her face.

Clearly this was a signal of some kind since everyone in the hall rose to their feet with raucous applause and hollering. Charlotte joined them, looking around curiously.

The riders, Eomer included, all raucously came forward and took a deeply blushing and smiling Annwyn upon their shoulders, whereas Aldhelm was surrounded by the women of Aldburg to pull him into position.

They made a makeshift procession, Hollis leading the way with the garland held high. People were loudly singing in Rohirric or playing instruments as they made their way out of the hall and through the town, all the way to the small cottage the married couple were soon to share.

Charlotte hung back briefly as they all started to enter the cottage, gaping in shock - clearly this was some kind of bedding ceremony.

Noticing her lingering at the edge of the procession, Maudig pulled her into the house as well. The one-roomed cottage was filled nearly to capacity with the amount of people in it, but Charlotte could see that Annwyn had been deposited fully clothed atop of the bed by the riders, Aldhelm guided by the ladies to sit down on the other side with space between them.

Silence fell, and with great solemnity Hollis placed the festooned staff on the bed between the blushing, smiling couple.

A great cheer went up and, with much clapping, laughter, ribald jokes and shouting of good natured advice, everyone left the cottage and couple to their privacy.

Charlotte shook her head in quiet bemusement as they started to walk back to the hall. She couldn't help but be grateful that the bedding ceremony had been fairly tame compared to ones she read about in her history studies.

"You do not have such a tradition?" Eomer fell into step behind her, no doubt reading her thoughts on her face.

"No." She thought of how similar traditions had been common within different cultures in her world and how glad she was they had fallen out of style. "I would absolutely hate that."

With the wedded couple left alone, many people now made their way back to their homes or the rider's barracks, the celebrations over. Many cheerful goodnights and farewells were called out on the journey back to the hall until Eomer and Charlotte walked alone in companionable silence.

Charlotte paused at the steps within the hall, realising Eomer was not following her upstairs. "Are you not coming to bed?"

"I'll be there in a moment." With nary a backwards glance, he vanished into the hall, which still bore the evidence of their celebrations - tidying was a job for the morning.

"Goodnight then," she called after him, but got no reply. Shrugging her shoulders and taking a candle, Charlotte headed upstairs.

Scant minutes later, when she was in her nightgown and brushing her hair, a light knock sounded on her door.

Frowning in confusion, she opened it to find Eomer stood in the corridor with a small smile on his face. His one hand held a candle, illuminating the darkness, while the other hid behind his back.

"Yes?" She only said goodnight to him moments before.

Eomer pulled Annwyn's simple bouquet of heather and greenery from behind his back with a small, though formal bow. "For you, min tannen."

Charlotte's lips parted as she slowly accepted the flowers from him, her hands trembling. She remembered what she told him earlier that evening; about the one to receive the bride's flowers being the next to be married; as such, his gift seemed like a very pointed gesture.

"What does …" Charlotte started to ask out of habit, but her voice failed her as she looked up at him.

Eomer smiled slowly at her, the flames of the candle he held flickering over his face and catching in his long golden hair. "What does that mean?" he finished, since she had been asking him the meaning of the endearment for weeks now, only to be playfully refused an explanation each time.

She held the flowers between them, unable to speak.

"It's a Rohirric word," he told her, his voice low in the darkness; he was finally willing to reveal it's meaning it seemed. "I'm not entirely sure of a direct Westeron translation, but I suppose the closest word for tannen is ... lure."

Charlotte blinked up at him and frowned, taken aback by the unexpected translation. "As in … bait?" She remembered how the old smith had talked of fish when she asked what the words meant. "Like fishing bait?"

"Aye." His smile lingered at her confusion, his amber eyes very warm in the candlelight.

She was completely bewildered. "Why on earth are you calling me bait?"

Eomer stepped forward and gently cupped her cheek in one large hand, their bodies nearly flush against each other with the flowers between them.

"Because you tempt me fiercely, Charlotte," he admitted softly, his thumb brushing over her lips and sending her heart pounding in her chest.

"Eomer …" she whispered, unable to find any other words.

"There is something very particular I wish to speak to you about, but it can wait until Yuletide. In the meantime …"

She gazed up at him, thinking he was about to kiss her and not finding it within herself to protest despite all the reasons she should. She closed her eyes, her face tilted up to him, but instead he gently pressed his lips to the centre of her forehead.

"Goodnight, dear heart." He vanished down the corridor to his own rooms, leaving her swaying in her doorway, a bridal bouquet clutched in her hands.


Accompanied by a group of riders, Eomer rode to Edoras the day before the longest night for the Yuletide celebrations at Medusead.

By long standing tradition, all fires across the Riddermark would be extinguished as the sun went down. At midnight, Theoden King would kindle the hearthfire in the Golden Hall with his own hand, then each of his marshals would carry a torch lit by that fire to their own seats, which the people of the Riddermark would use to relight their own fires.

While Edoras would celebrate at midnight, once the fire was lit, Eomer would ride through the night and Aldburg would celebrate once he arrived with the flame in the morning following the longest night.

Upon arriving in Edoras, Eomer was surprised to find very little greenery decorating the town, even less in the hall. The small, discreet garlands hidden away in corners were beautifully done, no doubt by Eowyn, but the scant number of them somehow diminished the cheer of the occasion rather than adding to it.

Since King Theoden was nowhere to be seen in the hall, Eomer went in search of Eowyn.

He found her in the ladies' solar, busy with closing the books for the last quarter - she had long since moved many of the books to her own private quarters, rather than the study Grima Wormtongue had access to.

He greeted his sister with a kiss on the cheek, then stepped back to look at her closely. "You look tired," he commented, marking the deep shadows under her eyes.

Eowyn nodded. "The last few weeks have been difficult. Theoden King grows weaker by the day. Sometimes he does not even emerge from his chambers, simply laying there in the dark. When he does take his seat in the hall, Grima speaks for him. Sometimes ..."

"What is it?" he prompted her.

She looked up at him. "Sometimes I think that … Uncle does not even recognise who I am."

Eomer pulled his sister into his arms and held her tightly. There was little he could do or say to make Eowyn's situation better. He wanted to bring her home to Aldburg, if only to shelter her, but knew that she would once again refuse to leave their Uncle.

After a long moment, she drew back and surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eyes. "Come now, we are here to celebrate the end of the darkness and the coming of the light once more. We must hope that such symbolism makes an appearance in our own lives as well." She guided him to a chair and poured him a drink. "Tell me the news from Aldburg, brother. How goes the courting of the young woman you told me of when last you visited?"

"Charlotte," Eomer reminded her. He rubbed a hand on the back of his head. "I bought a horse for her, one of the black mares that we drew back from the herds for safety from Mordor. She has been riding her for months and her seat has much improved, but she does not yet know that the horse is hers." He hesitated. "I intend to tell her tomorrow and make my proposal. I'd hoped that you would be returning to Aldburg with me for the Yuletide celebrations so that you could meet her."

Eowyn frowned. "I dare not. Our Uncle is too ill, I cannot leave him at this time." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I shall have to meet her at your wedding."

Eomer nodded, but said nothing.

In all honesty, he did not know how Charlotte would respond to his proposal. He loved her, that much was certain, and he believed she was not indifferent to him in turn. Their relationship had grown easily and naturally, to the point that she was the lady of Aldburg in all but name.

More than that, being married to him would make her a woman of Rohan and thus grant her protection in this difficult time. Yet there were still complications.

He feared she would not want to cleave to him with her knowledge of whatever his fate may be, still fearful of his own death in the wars to come, or that she would still wish to return to her home despite the undeniable bond between them.

Yet his feelings for her had grown to the extent that he felt he could not in good conscience remain silent - he would offer himself to her, regardless of what her response would be, and hope for the best.


Night had fallen and the Golden Hall of Meduseld was almost completely dark, lit only by a few dim, murky lanterns in the corners.

Crowds of people from Edoras gathered between the pillars, yet not a word was spoken. A cough in the darkness sounded unnaturally loud. Everyone was silent, waiting and watchful.

At long last, as midnight of the longest night approached, Theoden King appeared on the dais beside the throne, leaning heavily on Theodred's arm. Grima was behind them, a scowl upon his face - no doubt the advisor had fought Theodred's right to be at his father's side, the place that Wormtongue usually occupied. Wormtongue stayed beside the throne, his eyes narrowed, as he watched father and son descend the dais.

With slow, doddering steps Theoden made his way down the dark hall towards the cold, unlit hearth in the centre. As he watched, Eomer was struck anew by how old and frail Theoden looked. While he was past his prime, he was not an old man by any means and yet his bearing was that of a man two decades older. Hair that had once been long and golden was white and wiry; a once proud back was hunched; eyes that had seen keenly now had a milky sheen to them; fingers that once grasped and swung a sword were now stiff and unbending.

With great difficulty and much support from Theodred, Theoden knelt before the hearth on the cushion provided. His hands were clumsy with the flint and steel; it was clear after a few weak attempts that he did not have the strength to strike the flint hard enough to produce any sparks.

Grima Wormtongue smirked from where he stood by the throne.

A low murmur ran around the hall - for the king not to light the hearth fire was no doubt terribly bad luck for the country.

Gently, Theodred took the flint and steel from his father. It took but a single strike for sparks to fall on the dry tinder, igniting a small flame. Taking the burning kindling and handing it to Theoden, Theodred quietly urged his father to place it in the hearth, which was built with seasoned wood, dried leaves, and wool to light easily and quickly.

The flame caught. Together, at Theodred's encouragement, the king and prince blew upon the flame to make it spread.

Within minutes cheerful flames in the hearth, casting eerie lights upon the roof and walls of the hall. Murmurs continued among the people of Edoras - behind him. Eomer could hear an old couple quietly wondering what it would mean for Rohan that the young and strong prince, not the old king, had been the one to light the hearth flame, if this was a good or a bad omen for them.

But now was not the time for such thoughts.

Stepping forward with the other Marshals, Eomer prepared to light his torch with the hearth flame. Their horses were all saddled outside, ready for them to ride to their seats around the Riddermark. Eomer had conflicting feelings about this duty; loathe as he was to leave Eowyn and Theoden in the dark of Meduseld, he was glad to avoid the no doubt meagre celebrations in Edoras that would follow the lighting of the hearth.

That, and Charlotte was waiting for him back in Aldburg.


Charlotte stood on the terrace outside of the hall, wrapped in Eomer's mother's cloak for warmth. It was the early hours of the morning after the longest night. The sun hadn't yet crested the horizon, but the red tinge in the sky spoke of its arrival.

She was not alone out here. Almost the entirety of Aldburg gathered in the courtyard, lining the streets down to the gates. Everyone was quiet, waiting for the arrival of the light.

Due to her high vantage point looking out over the valley, Charlotte was among the first to see the light moving over the plains. Excitement rippled among the citizens of Aldburg, turning to cheering as Eomer and his rider's entered the town.

Before long, Eomer appeared in the courtyard below astride Firefoot, his eored following him. He held a flaming torch in his hand. He dismounted to the applause of those gathered, with Bryde dashing forward to tend to Firefoot, and climbed the steps with the flaming torch.

He entered the hall and thrust the burning torch into the hearth that had been built up.

The applause turned raucous and the people of Aldburg embraced each other. Many hurried forwards with torches and tapers of their own to light them from the hearth fire and before long fires spread all over Aldburg, lighting homes, heating vats of mulled wine and roasting chestnuts. Despite few having slept all night and the sun only just rising, a party atmosphere broke out in the town.

Handmade gifts were exchanged with little ceremony - Charlotte received a woven saddle-mat from Dernhild, embroidered handkerchiefs from Annwyn and Hollis, biscuits from Maudig, and a bridle that had been painstakingly tooled with knotwork by Bryde.

She noticed Eomer stood by himself against one of the pillars, watching the celebrations. There were deep shadows under his eyes, speaking of the long night he'd spent riding from Edoras, and a frown pulled at his mouth beneath his beard.

"You look deep in thought," she said as he approached.

"I am." He sighed, glancing at her before adding, "Theoden did not light the hearth fire."

Charlotte tilted her head. "I thought the king did it."

"He couldn't." She stared at him and he elaborated. "Theodred did it for him."

"Is that a problem?"

"It is nearly unheard of, such a thing has not happened in many lifetimes." He was clearly ill at ease with this himself. "The people of Edoras were saying it was an omen, though for good or ill is yet unclear."

Charlotte frowned at the weary tone in his voice. Hesitantly, she offered up a scroll of parchment tied with a green ribbon, her handmade present to him for the Yuletide season. "Well, perhaps this will cheer you up."

Taking the scroll, he pulled the ribbon free and unrolled the parchment.

Inside was a simple stylized black ink drawing of a horse running, except each line of the horse's body was created from lines taken from the edda of Eorl the Young to form a shape poem.

It had taken her numerous tries and far too many pieces of parchment to get it right, but she was quite proud with the finished result.

"Maudig tried to teach me some embroidery, but it didn't come out well at all," she explained as he stared down at the drawing. "I hope you like it."

"You gave me a horse," Eomer said with a queer, pleased note in his voice. He looked up at her and grinned, his expression very warm. "Come, I must give you your gift also."

He held out his hand and she took it easily, naturally, following him through the celebrations.

"Close your eyes," Eomer said as they reached the courtyard, lit by fires heating the pans of wine or cider or cooking up breakfast foods to be shared by all.

She gave him a playfully suspicious look, but nevertheless closed her eyes and allowed him to tug her forwards.

Even with her eyes closed, she knew the moment they entered the stables - the smell of horse and hay in the cool building was unmistakable - and a laugh escaped her.

Eomer arranged her into position and then stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders and his front nearly flush against her back. "Open," he rasped in her ear, his breath warm on her skin.

Opening her eyes, she saw Raefen looking at them curiously over the door of her stall, apparently wondering what the humans were doing.

"I know the tradition is handmade gifts, but …" Eomer's hands lingered on her shoulders.

"You're ... giving her to me?"

"Aye, I bought her from the herdsmen when we were collecting the autumn rents." There was a distinct note of satisfaction in his voice.

"Thank you." She stepped forward to stroke Raefen's neck, the movement easy and familiar. She looked over her shoulder and grinned at Eomer. "I can't believe we both gave each other horses."

He blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"What?" Charlotte asked, noting his expression.

He shook his head and gave her a wry, self-deprecating smile. "Of course, I should have realised that you wouldn't know the significance of such things."

Eomer stepped forwards and took both of her hands gently in his much larger ones. "Charlotte, a gift of horses is a traditional way to seal a betrothal here in the Riddermark."

It was her turn to blink at him, a peculiar feeling inside her as her heart rose even while her stomach sunk like a stone.

"I believe I have wanted you since I saw you in the training yard with a look of sheer determination and the worst seat I've ever seen." Releasing one hand, he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, making her tremble. "I do not know how these things are done in your world, but -"

"Eomer, I can't." Panic bubbled up inside her. She shook her head violently, dislodging his hand. "I won't lie and say I feel nothing, but -"

"So you do feel something?" he interrupted, staring at her intently.

"Of course I do, how could I not?" she cried, detangling herself from his hand and taking a step back, trapped against Raefen's stall door. "You are the best man I know and I -"

- love you. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep the words from leaving her head.

Carefully, like he was unsure how she would respond, Eomer stepped closer and took her hand once more.

"Then marry me." His voice was very soft, his touch gentle.

Charlotte shook her head, looking at the ground, making no move to pull her hand back.

There was a long silence between them.

Eomer sighed deeply. "Charlotte, I fear for our situation," he said wearily. "Theodred has spoken of Grima Wormtongue inspecting each Marshal's seat and your presence may well become known." He squeezed her hand, covering it with his other one. "Being my wife would grant you protection, you'd be a woman of Rohan."

"We can't," she whispered with a lump in her throat. She felt wretched as she thought of Lotheriel and Elfwine, the wife and son he would have when the war was won. "I - I know things about the future, your future, and I - we - just can't."

Gently, carefully, Eomer released her hands and cupped her cheeks instead. "Regardless of what my future is, should we not seize this chance of happiness while we can?"

Tears pricked at her eyes. "It's not that simple."

Another long silence, then he nodded slowly.

"I see." He lowered his hands and stepped back from her - the finality of the movement caused the damn in her chest to break.

"I'm sorry," she burst out, her breaths turning to gasps as her tears overwhelmed her. "I'm so, so sorry. I never expected -"

Within moments she was enfolded in Eomer's strong arms, cradled against his chest with his hand running soothingly over her hair. "Hush, hush now."

"I should have realised j-just how much you felt. I should have been clearer, put a stop to it all, but … but I was really enjoying getting to know you, it's just so comfortable, so easy, so right and it's not fair, none of it, not on you or on me." Charlotte sniffed, trying to gain control of herself. Really, it made sense that he wanted to marry her - he was an honorable and honest man who hadn't exactly been subtle in his intentions, his attentions towards her would not have been for just a dalliance and she really should have dissuaded him, but hadn't out of her own weakness. "And, with what you were going to ask me … I wish I could, you know, Eomer. I really wish we could."

Eomer's hands stilled for a moment at her words, then resumed stroking her hair once more.

For a long moment, she stood in the circle of his arms, allowing herself to be comforted by the strength of his presence and the sound of his heartbeat. Eventually, she drew back with a sniffle. "I suppose you'll want the horse back." She swiped a hand inelegantly beneath her nose, which had dripped as she'd cried.

"Don't be ridiculous," he chided softly, the backs of his fingers wiping away her tears once more. "She's yours." He gave her a small, sad smile. "As am I, always."

Feeling like her tears were about to start all over again, Charlotte launched herself into his arms once more and hugged him tightly as she could around his neck - this wasn't him giving her comfort this time, this was her clinging to him, trying to pour all of her feelings into that single, tight embrace.

He hugged her back, lifting her off her feet in the dark of the stable.

"My lord Eomer!"

An unfamiliar voice calling from the door of the stable caused them to break apart, looking to the courtyard.

A young armoured rider covered in mud appeared in the doorway, looking around hastily - he was about to leave to look elsewhere when he noticed them at the far end of the stable.

"My lord Eomer," he repeated as he approached, heedless of what he was interrupting. "I am Cenric, my lord, from Eothain's eored. Mordor has sent a large raiding party of orcs. Several villages near the Entwash have been destroyed and they are ransacking the east herds. Eothain calls for reinforcements."

Eomer snapped to attention, his whole demeanor tense and serious.

"Spread the word among the men, muster the eored," he ordered.

The rider bowed and vanished from the stables, leaving them alone once more.

"Mordor …" Charlotte whispered, staring after the rider.

Eomer turned to look down at her. She met his eyes unhappily, her emotions turbulent. "It will all be starting soon."

"Charlotte …"

"Go." They did not have time to talk further despite all that was said and unsaid between them. "I know you have to."

He nodded and, despite his obvious reluctance, made to leave her.

"Eomer!" she called after him on an impulse. Stepping forwards, she hugged him tightly once more, holding him far longer than she should. Eventually, she drew back and kissed him on the cheek. "Be safe, please."

With those last words, she watched him as he nodded and left the stables to gather his men, feeling sick to the stomach. Like a walking horse being urged into motion, the war and story she knew were now approaching with galloping speed and she could not - would not - do anything to stop it unfolding.


The stench of smoke and gore hung heavy in the cold air.

Eomer's eored had ridden past the bodies of scattered horses. The herds had been gutted by the wargs and orcs of Mordor. The beasts had eaten only the heart and liver of the horses they'd slain, wasting the rest, leaving the bloodied corpses spread out across the frosty ground.

Yet the slain horses were only a herald of the death and destruction still to come as they approached the first of the decimated villages, greeted by the wailing of women. Smoke still rose from the smouldering ruins, but the main plume was from a funeral pyre that Eothain and his eored built for the dead of the village, separate to the small, but stinking pile of orc carcasses that they had managed to kill before driving off the rest.

Eomer dismounted from Firefoot, staring in horror at the burning funeral pyre before him. Mordor had attacked before, but always just small raids against the herds and herdsmen. Never in living memory had they destroyed an entire village like this - such a thing had not been heard of since the time of Elendil and Isildur, when the men of Middle Earth had fought against the power of Sauron.

Charlotte had said weeks ago that things would get better, but that first it would get much, much worse.

And then, her soft words in the stable scant hours ago, after the sudden news of Mordor's attack.

It will all be starting soon.

The thought that this decimation before him was only the beginning of things still to come filled Eomer with cold, undeniable fear.


Apologies for the delayed update - real life has been getting in the way! But I, along with much of the rest of England, am currently on lockdown at home due to Covid-19, so hopefully will have some time to dedicate to writing! I hope that you are all staying safe and healthy with the current climate!

As always, big thank you to BlackAquoKat for betaing!

Reviews are much appreciated :)