Chapter 21 - The horns of the North

"Mod sceal þe mare, þe ure mægen lytlað."

"Mind must be the greater, as our strength diminishes."

The Battle of Maldon

Dawn broke, grey and cold, to find the inhabitants of Edoras all awake and gathered in the main hall. Dust motes danced in the beams of light that slowly inched their way in through the high windows as the sun crested the horizon in the east, lighting the hall with more than just the hearth fire. Yawns were stifled, with little sleep to be had in the disturbed night which followed the revelry, but eyes were keen and awake.

Pippin sat on a small stool to one side with his shoulders hunched, looking miserable and guilty. His experience with the Palantir had left him pale and drawn, with a frightened glimmer in his eyes, trembling hands knotted in his lap, and a lower lip that quivered with shame. Despite knowing full well that he was older than her, Charlotte wanted nothing more than to go over and pull him into a hug, like she would with an upset child of Aldburg, but such an action would not be appropriate in the war council she now found herself in.

In the wake of Gandalf's words about Sauron's challenges to Gondor, Theoden King spoke, his voice low and controlled, "Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who would not come to ours?" Silence held briefly as people turned to look at the King of Rohan. "What do we owe Gondor?"

A conversation about warning Minas Tirith sprang up between Aragorn and Gandalf. Meanwhile Eomer turned to Theoden with a deep frown upon his face, clearly surprised by his King's words.

"You know as well as I that there are more battles to come - either on the plains before Minas Tirith, or when Gondor falls and the Eastern war reaches us," Eomer pointed out, pitching his voice so he would not be overheard by the others. "Gondor has not the strength to repel Mordor alone. The more time we have to rally the men to help them, the better chance we will have."

Theoden was silent, his expression grave, then he gave Eomer the smallest of nods, a sigh escaping his parted lips.

"Understand this," Gandalf's voice carried to every corner of the hall, power echoing in his words. "Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith ..." The Wizard turned to Pippin, who had raised his gaze in surprise at being singled out. "And I will not be going alone."

"No, you will not be alone." All turned to look at Theoden once more. His face set into lines of grim determination. "We shall be behind you, Gandalf. When the beacons are lit, we will be ready." Theoden King turned to Eomer. "Muster the Rohirrim."

Eomer nodded, bowing sharply, and turned to leave; Charlotte trotted after him, following him to the stables. Both Firefoot and Raefen wickered their greetings at them, tossing their heads. Charlotte paused to give Raefen an apple she had stolen from the hall and rubbed her neck, before joining Eomer in Firefoot's stall to help him prepare.

"It's good that Theoden has you gathering the men already. I don't believe he mustered the Rohirrim until after the beacons were lit before, so you'll have more time," Charlotte told him as he started to saddle up Firefoot.

"Let us hope it makes a difference," Eomer responded, occupied with his riding tack. "I will be gone for several days, gathering the men to arms. We will be travelling light and riding hard." He spared her a glance, a hint of warning entering his tone. "You will stay here and try to stay out of trouble - no riding off to enemy fortresses while I am gone."

Charlotte grinned at him. "Don't worry, I followed you out to say goodbye, not to argue with you on that. I will stay here."

Eomer ducked under Firefoot's head to tighten straps on the other side. "That said, it is traditional for the woman of the court to farewell the men." His eyes met hers over the back of the horse, their amber tones filled with tension and worry. "You will come to Dunharrow with Eowyn and the others?"

"I wouldn't miss it." Silence fell between them as Eomer hastily finished saddling the horse and packing supplies into the saddlebags. "Will you go to Aldburg at all?" Charlotte asked

"Briefly."

"It seems an age since I left, but it's only been several days. Will you tell Maudig and the others that I'm alright?"

Eomer glanced at her, his hands busy attaching the packed saddlebags. "I will."

"And my papers in the study - the maps and records of the East Mark that I made when we were collecting the rents, will you bring them, if you can?"

He nodded, still caught up with preparations.

Charlotte's attention was caught by Gandalf striding into the stable, trailed by the two Hobbits. He went straight for the largest stall at the far end, which housed Shadowfax. The Wizard did not bother with tack or saddle, mounting bareback with Pippin placed before him. Within moments, Gandalf spurred the horse to motion, leaving the stable at a canter. People pressed against the stalls to avoid being trampled.

Charlotte could hear Gandalf calling for people to make way before his voice faded with distance.

Finally packed and ready to go, Eomer came to stand before her, drawing her attention to him once more.

"It seems that I am forever I am farewelling you, wife," he said softly. The backs of his fingers rose to brush her cheek, where bruises from Isengard still lingered.

"Soon," she said, equally quiet and intense, hating the necessity for goodbyes. "We will be together soon."

"Aye, and I shall continue what I started last night." Before she could open her mouth to reply, Eomer grasped her arms and pressed a firm, swift kiss to her lips, briefly bending her body backwards. He released her and she swayed on her feet. "Until then, min heort."

He pulled himself up into the saddle with practiced ease and, with a click of his tongue, urged Firefoot out of the stable. Charlotte followed behind. Riders from Eomer's eored and others she did not recognise saddled their horses and led them out of stables, making their way down to the wooden gates of Edoras.

"We ride to muster the Rohirrim!" Eomer's voice rang loud and clear as his riders gathered in the misty dawn air before the gates. "Erkenbrand, to the Westfold; Dunhere, to Harrowdale and Snowbourn; Elfhelm, to the Wold and Eastemnet; I will ride for the Eastfold.

Every man capable of riding a horse and holding a spear is hereby called to arms!" Firefoot trumpeted a challenge, pawing at the ground, but Eomer checked him with ease. "Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan! Oaths you have taken, now fulfil them all - to lord and lands!"

And just like that, with the thundering of many hundreds of hooves, the riders were gone, vanishing into the mist clinging to the plains in the morning light. Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself and sighed deeply. Slowly, with dragging feet, she turned and went back through the gates. She headed towards the stable without much thought beyond spending some more time with Raefen when a small noise caught her attention.

It was a sniffle, the sound made by someone trying very hard to muffle their crying. It came from the narrow space between two of the low, wooden houses. At first glance, all she could see were some wooden crates and barrels - but then she spotted the distinctive large, hairy toes peeking out from behind one of them.

"Hello?" She stepped into the narrow space, hoping the Hobbit wouldn't mind being disturbed.

"Oh, hello."

She found Meriadoc Brandybuck hidden behind one of the barrels with his back braced against the house behind him. His eyes were bright with tears and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Charlotte picked her way through the crates in the alley and lowered herself to sit beside Merry.

"I saw Gandalf leaving not long ago," she said softly after a long silence, hoping to prompt the Hobbit into talking.

Merry sniffed again and nodded. "He took Pippin with him." He took a great, shuddering breath and leaned his head back against the house behind him, a fresh flow of tears tracking down his cheeks. "We haven't been apart since all of this started, since we left the Shire. Not even when we were with the Uruk-Hai. The two of us would get into the worse trouble, but I was always there with him." Merry looked at her, his face wet with tear tracks. "I'm worried about him on his own."

"He's not on his own, he has Gandalf," she reminded him gently, her hand resting on his shoulder. "And besides, you will see him again - Frodo and Sam too, I promise."

"People have been saying you're a witch." Merry rubbed at his red, dripping nose once more. "You know the future?"

"I do." Charlotte reasoned that giving Merry this hope might help him to find his courage in the fight ahead. "And you, Meriadoc Brandybuck, will dance at Sam's wedding to Rosie Cotton along with Frodo and Pippin."

Merry gave a startled laugh. "I'm not sure I believe that." His face fell into a thoughtful frown. "In fact, I can't believe it at all. Sam is always so tongue tied and red-faced around Rosie, there is no way he could ask her to marry him."

"If Sam can follow Frodo to Mordor, he can ask Rosie Cotton for a dance when you get back to the Shire."

Merry gave her a small, watery smile. "That's true, I suppose."

The hand resting on his shoulder moved to grasp his hand instead. The two of them interlocked their fingers and gripped tightly, a wordless reassurance in the face of what was to come.

"All will be well, I promise … Though there are battles to fight first."

Merry looked at her incredulously. "I'm just a Hobbit, I can't fight in a battle."

"Now, who told you that?"

His expression turned hopeful, like the dawn breaking over the horizon. "Do you think that I should go? That I can help Pippin and the others?"

"Do you want to?"

"No, not really." A brief look of fear clouded Merry's features - only to be chased away when he set his jaw with a look of sheer determination. "But all of my friends have gone off to battle, I would be ashamed to be left behind."

"Then what are we still doing here?" Charlotte got to her feet, dusted off her trousers, and extended her hand to pull the Hobbit up too. "Come on. We should be preparing to ride to Dunharrow."

Theoden King stood high on the clifftop at Dunharrow, looking out at the tents of his troops below him. The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that would all too soon turn to the purples and blues of dusk, followed by the unveiled stars. It was strange, but he had never before paid such attention to the beauty of the world around him. A greater awareness of death and mortality had sharpened his attention to such ephemeral things.

His thoughts turned to his son, Theodred, who still lay sleeping at Edoras. Theodred had yet to wake from his ordeal at Isengard. The healers claimed this was a good thing, that his body was taking the time it needed to recover from injuries that could well have killed him, but Theoden couldn't help but wish his son had woken at least once, so they could have spoken before the beacons of Gondor had been lit.

He wished he could have had the chance to apologise for failing in his duty of care to both Rohan and its peoples, for failing as a father as Saruman's magic turned his mind inwards and away from the love of his family. He wished he could tell him how proud he was, as both his father and as his King, and how much he loved him.

All of this had been said quietly to a sleeping Theodred as Theoden held his son's hand and kept vigil by his bedside in the nights before they had ridden to Dunharrow, but it was not the same as having a conversation.

It pained him greatly, but in the wake of Saruman's magic, the memories and time that had been stolen from him, Theoden could not even remember the last time he had actually spoken to his son.

"Theoden King?"

The soft voice of Eomer's new wife - the woman whom they owed Theodred's life to - interrupted his thoughts. He turned to look at her; dressed in a green Rohirric dress, with her hair loose around her shoulders, none would have guessed at her other-worldly heritage. She had ridden with them to Dunharrow, ready to farewell the men as was the role of women of the Court. She was clearly hesitant at disturbing him, wringing her hands until her knuckles were white.

"Child, please. We are family." Theoden gestured for her to come and join him. "You must call me Uncle."

"Oh, um … alright then." Charlotte stepped up to join him following his gaze to the troops camped below. There was silence between them for a long time. Eventually she broke it. "There is something I want to talk to you about."

Theoden nodded, his gaze still fixed to the lands beyond. "You wish to speak to me of my death."

He felt her turn to stare at him with wide eyes and could not help a small, sad smile pulling at his mouth. "Do not look so surprised, child. I can feel my end approaching and I am at peace with it. Indeed, I believe I died in truth some weeks ago, whilst in Saruman's thrall. This is simply borrowed time with which to correct my mistakes."

"But … if there was something I could do to save you -"

She cut herself off and looked at the ground.

"Is there?" Theoden asked, doubting very much that there was.

Charlotte hesitated, her lower lip caught in her teeth. "I don't know," she admitted wretchedly, her voice a whisper.

Theoden suspected as much. "Eomer has spoken to me of your gift in recent days, when you were at Isengard," he informed her gently. "Tell me, child. Do my kin, the House of Eorl, survive this war?"

Charlotte met his gaze. "Yes."

"And Eomer tells me that Rohan will have a golden age of prosperity once this war is won."

She nodded, her keen grey eyes filled with tears. "Yes."

"I am weary and weakened from my trials. The darkness still lies heavy upon me. I know that I will not be the one to rule over this golden age that you speak of." Theoden turned to the horizon once more noting that the sky was already a deeper red than it had been, touched with lavender in the clouds. How quickly time passes by, he could not help but think. "No, I will ride to battle, knowing that in doing so I ride to meet my ancestors, in whose mighty company I shall not now feel ashamed."

There was another long silence.

"It doesn't seem fair," Charlotte said eventually, sounding utterly helpless.

"I have lived my life," Theoden replied firmly. "But you, child, you have your life before you. You are a lady of the House of Eorl and will be the mother of future generations. You and Eoywn must hold the reins of this country until Theodred wakes." He took her hand, encasing it between his palms and pressing lightly. "I place my faith in you, on this day and every day that follows."

She was still troubled. "But … there has to be something I can do."

"There is one thing," Theoden admitted softly, her hand still grasped in his own. Charlotte looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Anything, Uncle." "Come and sit." He nodded to a nearby stone that would make an ideal bench. "Keep

an old man company for a while. We shall watch the sun set, for I have found there is little in the world that can surpass the beauty of the sun at its rising or its setting, yet we do not take the time to notice it."

She gave him a fragile smile and allowed herself to be led over to sit beside him on the stone.

Silence reigned between them as they sat and watched the sky gradually change colour. Theoden was aware of the tears spilling silently down her cheeks, her hand clutched almost desperately in his, and her head tilting to rest on his shoulder.

As it always does, the light faded far too quickly and darkness fell across the land. A nasty little voice in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Wormtongue told him that it was an omen, that darkness would always overcome the light, that they were doomed, that all was helpless and they were all riding to their deaths.

Theoden's eyes turned from the dark landscape to look instead at one of the numerous banners of Rohan that blew in the breeze, ready to be carried to war. And yet, he thought to himself with his jaw clenched in determination, his gaze fixed on the embroidered sun casting its golden rays on the white horse that ran on a green field. The sun will always rise.

Night had long since fallen across the camp at Dunharrow. Eowyn spotted her new sister-in-law gnawing at her lip and looking out over the hundreds of campfires from the assembled tents in the valley below them. Riders had arrived from the West-march and Snowbourn, but as of yet Eomer had not returned with the riders from the Eastemnet, even though they were expected any hour now. Charlotte clearly needed some distraction from her vigil and so Eowyn took her arm, making her jump since she had not heard Eowyn's approach.

"Come, join me in my tent for a moment. There is something I wish to show you."

Charlotte cast another look over her shoulder into the darkness, yet followed Eowyn without complaint. Eowyn's tent was set alongside those others from the House of Eorl, the Marshals and the captains who had claimed the clifftop as their camping ground. It was small, for she slept alone. There was barely standing room for the two women between the bed, a chest containing clothing and the tent walls.

Eowyn bent down to open the chest, showing the dresses folded neatly on the top. Wordlessly, she lifted the dresses out to reveal the armour, helm, and sword hidden beneath. She stood aside soCharlotte could see them clearly in the chest. She marked that there was no hint of surprise on her sister-in-laws features. "I believe you know what I am planning."

Charlotte raised her troubled gaze to hers and nodded once. "I do."

"And you will not hinder me."

Charlotte looked astonished at this. "Certainly not." A startled laugh escaped her. "I don't think I could even if I tried."

Eowyn nodded, glad to know that her trust had not been misplaced - Charlotte claimed she could not stop her, but they both knew full well that a single word to Theoden or Eomer would see her dragged back to Edoras for her own safety. "Will you ride also?" Eowyn inquired.

"What?"

"To Gondor." She took Charlotte's hand, pressing it with her own. "We can claim valor and renown before it is lost to us."

"I'm not going to ride to war with you." Charlotte's voice was completely startled, as if she had never considered such a thing. "Eowyn, I am not a warrior! I have never picked up a sword in my entire life! I can ride fairly well now, and a part of me - a very, very small part - almost wishes I had taken the time to train with a sword so that I could come with you but …" She shook her head firmly, the corners of her mouth drawn down. "No. That's not me, Eowyn. I'm not coming."

There was a long silence between them.

Finally, Eowyn squeezed her hand and released it. "In truth, I am glad that you remain behind. Technically speaking, I am abandoning my post in going myself. I know I leave Edoras in good hands with you and Theodred, when he finally wakes." She smiled sadly, believing with all her heart that they all rode to their deaths, no matter what this seer might say. "Long may you defend Edoras and the Golden Hall, should the battle come to you."

Charlotte nodded and looked away; Eowyn could well see the apprehension in her demeanor. "What is it?"

"I know what will happen, but this - the coming days - is the moment it could all unravel," Charlotte admitted with fear in her voice. "I could have accidentally changed too much and it will all be too late to do anything." Her voice caught, bordering on hysterical. "What - what if something happens to Eomer?"

Eowyn slowly shook her head. "I will not give you false hope. Aragorn has left us on the very eve of battle and I believe we ride to the ending of the world, despite your hope for a better future." She reached out and touched Charlotte's face gently. "You have said before that all was not as it seemed between my brother and yourself. If tonight is to be your last night with him, then you must clear the air and say all that is needed to be said."

Charlotte nodded, dazed by her words. "You're right … You're right, I need to talk to him."

Eowyn gave her a brittle smile and nudged her when she didn't move. "Now go, my brother will be returning soon."

It was well into the night when Eomer arrived at Dunharrow with nearly a thousand men in tow, even later by the time he made sure the captains of each eored saw to the horses and pitching of tents for the men. He was exhausted, but well satisfied with his efforts. A quick word with one of the other Marshals confirmed they had nearly ten-thousand men ready to ride to Gondor at first light - he doubted they would have had that many if they had waited until the beacons were lit before mustering the Rohirrim.

Weary and hungry, Eomer walked up the zig-zagged path in the cliff-face to where his own tent was pitched. Aside from the sentries, there was nearly no one in sight. Eomer wandered slowly through the camp until he saw his own standard fluttering in the night air beside one of the larger tents. He approached and paused, before scratching at the tent flap to announce his presence.

"Come in," Charlotte's voice called from within.

A smile lit his face at the sound of her voice and he ducked inside, letting the flap fall closed behind him. The tent was warm and bright, lit by a brazier in the middle. A dinner of cold meats, bread and cheese was laid out waiting for him and Charlotte was perched on the edge of the bed. She immediately rose to her feet at the sight of him.

"Hello, my love," he greeted her, removing the heavy bag he held from his shoulder and putting it down beside the entrance to the tent. "I have the ledgers and books you asked for. Dernhild and Maudig both send their greetings. Bryde wanted to ride with us, but I -"

His words were cut off as Charlotte crossed the tent, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Eomer automatically returned her kiss, his hands rising to grasp her waist and pull her against him. Charlotte kissed him deeply, fervently, her hands moving to his hair to hold him to her. He could feel her swaying on her tip-toes, desperate to reach him.

"Not that I am complaining," he murmured against her lips as he snatched a breath. "But what brought this on?"

She drew back a scant inch or so to look up at him, her hands still entwined in his hair. "I love you," she said simply, her eyes very bright. "I've not said it nearly enough, but I love you, so, so much."

She kissed him again before he could respond in kind.

Eomer kissed her in turn for many long moments, his own hands roving, drawing her even closer, then realised she showed no sign of stopping - indeed, she was trying to draw him over to the bed. "Charlotte …" he said reluctantly, practically against her mouth as she tried to distract with more kisses. "I ride to war in the morning."

"I know," she whispered with urgency, her breath hot on his skin, and tried to move in closer.

He stopped her by raising his fingers and placing them against her lips. Her gaze was bright, filled with worry and fear, and rimmed with red. She had been crying recently, he realised.

Rather than kissing her again, Eomer drew her to him and wrapped her tightly in his arms, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other smoothing down her back. She fidgeted in his grip for a moment, probably wanting to break free and attempt to seduce him once more, but then relaxed into his arms like butter melting in a pan.

They stayed that way for a long moment, then Eomer drew back, tilted up her chin so that she looked up at him, and placed a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I know you have said all will be well, but I fear what may happen. You do as well, I can see it." Another kiss, this one on her temple. "Do not doubt my love for you, min heort, nor my desire," he whispered as he kissed her cheek, then the very corner of her mouth, feeling her tremble in his arms. "But I would not wish to leave you alone, possibly with a babe to care for." He cupped her cheeks in both hands, so that her gaze met his, their faces close together. "I will fight all the more fiercely with the anticipation of what awaits me when I return to you."

He placed a slow, lingering kiss on her lips, with none of the desperate passion they had displayed moments before but every ounce of love and affection.

"I know you're probably right," she whispered, holding him tightly. "But I just want to be close to you, I want to hold you while I still can."

"The feeling is mutual, my love," he replied with a somewhat wry smile, unable to believe he was turning down what she so freely offered, what he had desired for so long. He kissed her gently once more, his hand threaded through her hair. This is enough, he thought, even while his body hummed with desire.

Charlotte drew back ever so slightly to look up at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth in a way that was absurdly alluring. "I know that we shouldn't -" she cut herself off and took a quick breath, her eyes darting away briefly before finding his once more. "But - but you said the other night about kissing, and about finishing what you started …"

"Oh aye, that I can do." Eomer immediately bent down to scoop her up and carry her the few steps to the low bed; Charlotte squeaked in surprise and then gave a startled laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lowered her to the mattress, following her down and absently hoping the wooden frame would support them both.

He rested his own weight atop of her, relishing the feeling of her beneath him, and made to kiss her once again - this time it was her that stopped him, with her hand on his cheek.

"We will have to talk in the morning," she said softly, intently.

"Aye," Eomer agreed, lowering his mouth to kiss first her lips, then her neck. He lingered at the hollow of her throat, kissing the skin beside the amber necklace he had given her as a morning gift all those weeks ago after their wedding. "In the morning."

It was the cold that woke her, the gradual awareness that the warmth she had been curled up against was no longer there.

Charlotte made a soft, sleepy noise as she rolled over in the blankets that had been tucked tight around her. She blinked in the muted grey light of the tent, the brazier having long since gone out in the night. Eomer was still there, standing beside the stand containing his armour and yawning hugely as he pulled his undershirt over his head. Charlotte felt a flash of guilt. His lack of rest was largely her own fault, but she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the previous night.

Eomer had been torturously slow as he'd touched her, murmuring that he wanted to memorise every inch, mapping her skin with his mouth and fingers until finally - finally - driving her to the peak of pleasure until she was writhing, gasping and stifling her cries, aware of the thin fabric walls of the tent, leaving her spent and exhausted. Then he had done it again, and again.

Charlotte had given as good as she got though. She felt a wave of smug satisfaction as she recalled the way he had reverted to Rohirric while near out of his mind with pleasure, his hands in her hair and on her skin, murmuring in a guttural voice for her not to stop.

Last night seemed like a dream - now, with the first hint of light touching the eastern sky, the cold reality of the morning was upon them and the camp was stirring, ready to ride to war.

Charlotte rose from the bed, shivering as the chilled air touched her skin, and hastily donned her woolen dress once more. Barefoot, she padded over to Eomer to help him with his armour. He accepted her help with the buckles and straps wordlessly, his expression grim and resigned.

Her fingers fumbled on the final buckle, knowing that she should tell him about Eowyn and Theoden.

"Eomer …" she said, the words coming slowly as she thought about what she wanted to say. "The battle that is coming -"

He laid his fingers over her mouth, stopping her words.

"I do not wish to know," he said softly, his fingertips lingering on her lips. He lowered his hand and gave her a small smile, though sadness and worry was evident in his eyes. "I am trusting you to look after Eowyn and Theodred in my absence."

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded - truly, it was easier not to tell him. He would not allow Eowyn to go if he knew of her plans, something that would change everything given Eowyn's role in slaying the Witch-King. "Eowyn can look after herself," she pointed out, in lieu of making a promise she won't be able to keep.

"Aye, that she can." He shook his head with a wry smile, adjusting the strap of his gauntlets. "She would probably ride with us, given half the chance." He raised his gaze to her once more, his expression serious. "Theodred then, he will need you when he wakes."

She nodded slowly, watching as he strapped his sword around his waist. There was a long silence between them; he was almost ready to go and the call to leave would come at any moment.

"You're certain you don't wish to know what's coming?"

"Will it help?"

"No." Charlotte wrapped her arms around her torso, hunching into herself. "In fact it will probably do unaccountable damage because you'd no doubt do things differently if you knew, but … I just don't want you to hate me for not telling you. Everything I've done - everything I have said and not said, everything I have kept hidden … all of it has been to bring about the end of this war, for Sauron to be destroyed." She stared at him with wide eyes, entreating him to listen. "Remember that, please ... Remember that and don't hate me."

Eomer stepped towards her and took both of her hands in his, holding them to his chest. "You take too much responsibility on your own shoulders," he said seriously. "The outcome of this war is not your responsibility to control. Many men, perhaps all of us, ride to our deaths, but that is not your doing. You must remember that in turn, no matter what happens, and take no blame upon yourself." He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead. "And have faith in my love for you, it will not turn to hatred."

Outside, the sound of riders and horses was growing louder as people prepared to leave.

"The time for farewells is upon us," Eomer said quietly, gazing at her.

"I love you," Charlotte said simply, the words catching in her throat.

"And I you." He cupped her face with both hands. "When I return, we can begin our lives together in earnest, without the dark shadow that covers all. We can return to Aldburg and fill it with children."

Charlotte gave a startled laugh. "How many children are you expecting?"

"Dozens, at least."

Her wide smile faltered as she thought of Elfwine, the son he was supposed to have with Lothiriel.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing the cloud that passed over her face.

"It's stupid, but … I think that you're probably going to meet your future wife, the one you were supposed to have, fairly soon, in Gondor and …" she hesitated and lowered her gaze, feeling very vulnerable and worried, fearing even now that he would meet Lothiriel and everything would fall apart, that she would be sent home back to her world with a broken heart. "Just … just know that I will be here, waiting for you."

"I do not have a future wife. I have a wife, right before my eyes," Eomer said firmly tilting her face so she would meet his eyes. "That will not change, no matter who I may meet."

She gave him a hesitant smile. "I love you, so much," she repeated, the words feeling insufficient somehow to convey just how much she felt for him no matter how many times she said them.

Eomer simply kissed her in response - only for a horn to blow in the distance, calling the riders to assemble.

"I must go." He pressed his forehead to hers, reluctant to part despite the growing urgency of movement outside. "Until we meet again, dear heart."

"Until we meet again," she breathed, clutching him tightly to her before releasing him. Eomer picked up his saddle bags and, with one last, lingering look at her, left the tent.

Charlotte grabbed one of the furs from the bed to wrap around her shoulders and followed him out. She watched as he swiftly attached the saddlebags to Firefoot, who had been saddled up ready for him by one of the grooms, and expertly swung himself up into the saddle.

"Oh, one thing," she called, trying her best to smile at him through the lump she felt in her throat. "Be nice to Faramir, he is a good person and his intentions are honourable."

A small frown of confusion crossed Eomer's face, but nevertheless he nodded and, with a click of his tongue, urged Firefoot into motion and joined the others heading towards the zig-zagged road down the cliff-face.

Charlotte wandered towards the edge, where she had stood to watch the sunset with Theoden King the night before. Rather than the neat rows of tents, below her was thousands upon thousands of men on horses, gathering into a loose formation. She could not help but wonder which among the many riders was Eowyn and Merry.

All at once, the horns of the north, many hundreds of them, echoed around the valley beneath her, the sound stirring her blood. The riders swept into motion, the rising sun glinting on many thousands of shields and spears as they moved.

Rohan was riding to war.

Two days later, Charlotte returned to Edoras, accompanied by a small group of less than a dozen men for her escort - squires who were far too young to fight, or men that were old and crippled. Tensions had been high in the group: Eowyn's absence had quickly been noted upon leaving Dunharrow and her location speculated upon. It took a direct order from Charlotte to stop the men from sending word after the army that Eowyn may be among them, something Charlotte's escort was not happy with.

Edoras seemed bleak and desolate, the thatched roofs dripping with moisture from the ever-present grey clouds above. The city was near empty, containing only women, children, and the elderly. Everyone had worried expressions and talk was scarce.

Charlotte was greeted at the doors of the Golden Hall by a middle aged woman who introduced herself as Oslafe, the housekeeper of Meduseld.

"How is Prince Theodred?" Charlotte asked straight away, removing her sodden cloak.

"The healers say his fever has broken and he is out of danger, but he has not yet woken, my lady" Oslafe informed her, her hands clutched together in front of her. "We believe it will be soon, for he stirs and talks in his sleep."

"That is good news." Charlotte hoped he would wake soon; her experience running the hall in Aldburg had prepared her a little, but it was still not the same as being in charge of the kingdom. "King Theoden, Eomer, and Eoywn have left me in charge until Theodred wakes," she told the housekeeper. "If you could show me to the King's study, I would be grateful."

"Of course, my lady, but … Where is Eowyn?" Oslafe asked in confusion, glancing behind Charlotte as if Eowyn might suddenly arrive. "We were expecting her to arrive with you from Dunharrow."

"She is not here," Charlotte said with a sigh. There was no keeping it a secret, especially if she wanted these people to trust her. "Eowyn is a shieldmaiden of Rohan. She has ridden with the men to Gondor in defence of this land."

Oslafe's face crumpled, shock and worry marring her features. "Oh, that brave and reckless child …"

Charlotte took her hand and pressed it, trying to comfort her. "I believe that she will be alright," she said honestly, not wanting to say more of Eowyn's role in the battle until everything was finished. "She always wanted a chance at valour and renown."

Oslafe nodded and sniffed, quickly dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her apron. "The study is this way, my lady."

She was led to a room that looked like it had seen better days. Heavy drapes covered the windows, shutting out all natural light, and there was a fine film of dust on all of the shelves. The desk was reasonably tidy, but littered with stubs of half burned out candles and a tray containing an empty wine decanter, goblet and plate. The room was cold, with no fire in the grate, and a musty smell filled the air.

"I've not been in here in weeks," Oslafe admitted as she cleared the tray from the desk. "Grima Wormtongue would not allow anyone in, not even to clean and lay the fires." Charlotte pulled back the curtains, wrinkling her nose as dust fell from the fabric. She cracked the window open a little, hoping to tempt in fresh air. She rubbed her hands together as she looked around, still chilled from the long ride.

"I'll send a lad to come and lay the fire for you," Oslafe said, lingering by the door. "Will you be wanting dinner up here, my lady?"

"Yes, thank you," Charlotte replied absently, still looking at the heavily laden shelves. "I imagine I will be in here for some time."

The rest of the day was spent in the study, looking over the books. Wormtongue may have been a villain, but he had been a stickler for accurately recording the ledgers, documenting in detail the decline of Rohan's fortunes under his influence. It was all laid out in black and white - heightened rents and taxes, perishable food allowed to spoil while food that would have lasted for some time consumed first, uneven distribution of labour leading to failure to sow fields for spring crops.

The supplies that Eomer, Theodred, and Erkenbrank had laid aside would help, certainly, but Rohan was still in dire straits and there would be tough times ahead once the war was finished.

Charlotte had a scrap of parchment at her elbow and jotted down her initial ideas of what needed to be done over the coming weeks. Thus far, her list included: even distribution of food and supplies, spring planting for the autumn harvest, rebuilding of damaged villages ready for the colder months and establishing trade to generate more income.

That said, she had yet to come up with a plan for how she was actually going to achieve these goals.

Night had long since fallen and she was perusing a book on soil types with a large map open on the desk in front of her, trying to work out what crops would grow best in certain areas, when a knock sounded at the door. Oslafe poked her head in, a flickering candle held in her hand.

"Sorry to disturb you, my lady," she said. "Theodred is awake, he is asking for you."

"For me?" Charlotte repeated with no small amount of surprise.

"Well, he wished to speak to his family," Oslafe clarified. "With Theoden King, Lord Eomer and - and Lady Eowyn riding to Gondor, I told the Prince that you were the only member of the household still here beside himself." Seeing Charlotte's stunned expression, the housekeeper quickly added, "If I have erred, my lady …"

"No, no, I will speak to him."

Charlotte hastily tidied the desk and followed the housekeeper out of the room. Her mind was whirring, wondering what on earth she would say to Theodred, if he even knew about recent events. At the very least, she knew she had to apologise to him for the role she had played in his situation.

She was guided to what she recognised as the family wing, where a door was left open. Oslafe allowed her to go in alone, giving her privacy for the conversation. "Theodred?" Charlotte greeted softly, knocking on the open door and peering inside.

Theodred lay in the bed, his face tilted towards her and his mangled arm hidden beneath the covers that were pushed almost down to his waist. He looked sick and wan, the crusted scabs from the numerous, symmetrical cuts covering his face, chest and arms standing out luridly on skin mottled with bruises.

His head turned towards her, his eyes blank. "Forgive me for not rising to greet you, my lady," he said, his voice hoarse and rusty from disuse.

Charlotte crept into the room and perched on the very edge of a chair that had been placed beside the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked. The question felt foolish in the wake of the injuries he had suffered.

He ignored her query. "They have all left already," he said plainly, still staring at her with empty eyes.

"Yes."

There was a long silence between them; Charlotte did not know how to break it, so she looked down at her hands instead, finding it hard to look at his injuries knowing they had been caused because of her.

"Are you hurt?" Theodred asked eventually.

She shook her head, still not looking at him.

Theodred tilted his head slightly, the movement making her glance up; his gaze was fixed on the fading bruises that still coloured the side of her face where she had been struck by the orc on the way to Isengard. He frowned deeply, the resemblance to Eomer suddenly even more obvious, and raised a disbelieving brow at her dismissal.

"It's nothing, I'm fine." Her own meagre injuries were nothing compared to his, after all.

"I remember you being at the Fords …" he said slowly, still staring at her. "You were standing in the water, you went with them ... Until Oslafe told me you were here, I thought you were dead." He shifted slightly in his bed, the movement clearly paining him. "... Why?" "To save you," she said softly, the words catching in her throat.

"I would never want anyone to trade themself for me, least of all a woman." Charlotte took a deep, shuddering breath and forced herself to meet Theodred's eyes. "Theodred, I owe you an apology."

That seemed to confuse him. "I am not aware that you have wronged me, my lady." Slowly, falteringly, Charlotte told him about her world and the fore-knowledge she possessed due to the stories she knew. She told him how she had intended to let him die so that the story would not change. She explained that her knowledge was why Saruman had wanted her, and how he had been kept alive to make the exchange.

There was a long silence once she had finished speaking.

"I died honourably?" Theodred asked eventually.

"Defending the Fords of Isen, yes."

He took a deep breath, a rattle of ill-health evident in his lungs. "I wish that is how it did happen."

Charlotte jerked at his words. "Don't say that."

"My father and cousins - even little Eowyn - ride to war along with the rest of my people, yet their crippled Prince stays behind. My father has gone, I was not even awake to say goodbye to him … I don't think I will ever see him again." Theodred turned his gaze to the ceiling rather than her, the movement clearly paining him if the groan he let out was any indication.

"Lay still, please," Charlotte entreated, her hands fluttering to try and help him. "My body is ruined," he said with a pained gasp, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. "Death would be preferable to the half life I will now live."

"Don't say that - Theodred, don't say that!" Charlotte's voice rose, wanting to get through to him. "I know this is hard but you have been given a gift. Death is so final, but now you get to live," she entreated. "Yes, you have terrible injuries, but your mind is fine, you can hold a sword in your left hand, you can still walk and ride ... You can still be king, Theodred."

"A scarred and crippled king."

"A king who has fought for his people and his country," she corrected sternly. "Every injury you have is a mark of strength. Where you see scars, I see badges of honour." Theodred sighed and looked at her once more; his expression was bleak, a complete lack of hope in his eyes. "I know in my heart that you are right, it is just …"

"What?"

"She will not want me now, not when I am like this," he said desolately. "Who won't?"

"My betrothed, Lothiriel …" Theodred sighed deeply and closed his eyes in defeat. "She will not want to marry me anymore."

Authors note …

I realise I have not updated this story in many months now - sadly, my beloved father passed away very suddenly and unexpectedly in back in September.

I was driving back from the Isle of Skye when I got the phonecall saying that he was in hospital. He was diagnosed with late stage, terminal cancer of the bile duct. This is a virulent and aggressive cancer that doesn't start to show symptoms until it is already far too late. We were able to get my Dad home from the hospital and he passed away peacefully and painlessly at home, with his family, on his 66th birthday.

As I am sure you can imagine, this has been an absolutely devastating time for me and my family. Mourning during a global pandemic, when by law you can't have more than a few people at the funeral, has been an awful experience and my heart goes out to all of those who have lost loved ones in this time.

My creativity and inspiration to write also went completely numb for months - I have had the tab containing the outline of this chapter open on my computer since August, but it wasn't until January that I actually felt even the vaguest inspiration to continue writing.

I want to say thank you to all of you amazing people who sent lovely and supportive reviews during my radio silence the last few months, even though none of you knew what was going on - your support makes me want to carry on with writing, and to finish this story in particular since we are getting close to the end now. Most of you sent messages that were really kind and patient, and your desire to read more of the story is certainly encouraging, but I would like to add a note reminding a small few that for most of us writing is a hobby that we fit around full time work, as well as the trials and tribulations of life itself - if an artist or writer that you follow has not posted in a while, please pause for a moment and think about why they might be taking a break from their work before you simply leave something like 'Update' as a review.

Additionally, a big thank you to the lovely BlackAquoKat who beta-ed this for me :)

Please stay safe everyone, we are not through this pandemic yet.