We have made it to Eomer's eighteenth year! Time will be slowing down now, so don't worry- there is plenty of story to go. Well, I won't say too much here...

Enjoy, and please review!

Chapter VII: First Battle

'Good hit!' Eomer shouted to his companion.

The man waved back in appreciation and sped off to find his kill.

'Nearly ready to return?' Eomer asked the horse beneath him. He received no answer, except the flicking of ears. He clicked his tongue and the stallion clopped off in search of the other horse and rider. Finally, after years of service with other men, Eomer had made a friend: the man who hunted with him this day. Yar was a ruddy-faced, cheerful youth with bright sky-blue eyes and a thick golden beard. He was ten-and-eight, same as Eomer, but many people mistook him for already being a man. Yar hailed from the Westfold originally, but planned to move to Edoras with his mother after the death of his father. Having lost his mother along the way, Yar and Eomer felt an uncommon bond. The two of them discovered that they both rather enjoyed hunting far outside of the city and went as often as they could.

'Greetings, tall one!' Yar shouted as Eomer came into sight. While Eomer was nearly twenty hands tall, his companion barely cleared seventeen.

'Have you found your catch, my friend?' Eomer returned. The other man held up a bloody fox by the tail and grinned.

Yar had competed in the same year as Eomer to join the Muster, but they did not find each other until several months ago, when they had been stationed together in Aldburg. The king had ordered the troops who were not assigned to the eored of Edoras to guard the old town that winter. Rumors of orc mischief had floated through the town and many of its inhabitants were worrisome. The newest advisor to the king did not help matters, for always he muttered in the king's ear. Eomer did not care for the man, but he trusted his uncle to know what was best. Politics were not for him anyways. Now that the unrest had died down and summer was drawing nearer, the young troops had been recalled.

'Do you think we should eat him here or return to Edoras first?' Eomer asked.

'Let's get back, my arse is sore,' Yar complained. Eomer chuckled and turned his steed north when they both heard the storming of hoofs. Each soldier nocked an arrow until they recognized the man galloping toward them.

'Broca, how fare you?' Yar called, lowering his bow. Eomer lowered his as well, though not so far as his friend. Broca, son of Brec, had not quite earned back Eomer's trust.

'I have been sent to fetch you. Both of you,' he added, glancing quickly at Eomer. Seeing that he looked to be frightened, Eomer answered without delay.

'What has happened?'

'Sentries reported orcs near the Gap. Theodred Prince did not explain further, but he commanded me to find you,' Broca rushed heatedly. Eomer exchanged a look with Yar before pressing his heels into the horse-yet-to-be-named and speeding off to Meduseld.

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When they reached the Hall, another messenger told them where to go. He explained that Theodred was already leading an eored of men to Helm's Deep and that they were to meet him there.

'Even I?' Broca asked nervously.

'He did not specify that you should be left behind,' the man confirmed. Broca nodded swiftly and did not reply.

'Did he say anything else?' Eomer inquired heatedly. His blood was already burning to prove his skill in battle.

'Yes, "round up as many soldiers as you will. It is time for Eomer son of Eomund to test himself." He wishes for you to captain a small force of men from your troop,' the man answered. Eomer's heart soared but his head was level, already forming a plan. The sun was beginning to set, but Eomer was prepared to ride all through the night if needs must- and they just might.

'Thank you. We will be there by morning.'

Yar and Broca looked surprised but did not contend. Eomer was now their commanding officer, not an equal.

'Yar, who would you recommend from the men that served with us in Aldburg?'

The thick eighteen-year-old answered several names, with all of whom Eomer agreed. Broca offered a few more and Eomer bid him to retrieve them. After all of the volunteers were gathered, outfitted, and fed, the new captain addressed his charges.

'I know that many of you will be disconcerted by my appointment over you, but I swear-.'

'Disconcerted? Not in the least! Has anyone here got a problem?' a voice shouted over the gathered soldiers, drowning out Eomer's words.

No one answered. Eomer frowned in confusion. Surely they cannot trust me already?

'Right then. Begging your pardon, Captain, but I think we ought to shake our legs,' the same voice called out again. This time, Eomer saw that it came from a man near the back. He did not recognize him by name, but thought that he might have served in Aldburg.

'My pardon you have. Tell me your name, soldier,' Eomer bid him.

'Lorwine, sire, son of Scurwine. I do not question my king, my prince, nor any rank above me. If you have been chosen, then you are the man for the job, Captain,' he responded proudly.

Eomer nodded in appreciation and addressed the rest of the riders.

'I will prove myself to you and you will bring honor to your forebears. Tonight, we ride to battle and to glory!' He unsheathed his sword and allowed the moonlight to glisten off of the edges. The men before him cheered and spurred their steeds westward.

Finally, it was time.

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'How much longer will we mill about?' he asked Theodred when they finally reunited. Eomer had brought sixteen riders with him, and an eored was made up of one hundred and twenty, so three separate groups were made to scour the large terrain. The eored split into two troops of seventy and one of fifty. Eomer's men joined the last. He had been disappointed to not be with Theodred, but he quickly put the feeling behind him. As long as he could spill some orc blood, he would fight alongside anyone. The commanding officer with whom he worked did not seem to appreciate having seventeen unofficial soldiers accompanying him, and he let Eomer know it every chance he got. After three days of roaming the Gap and finding nothing, the young captain was out of patience.

'Another day perhaps, but we have likely scared the filth off. I think we are not to see battle this time, cousin,' he said, almost apologetically.

Eomer sighed in frustration.

'Thank you for the chance. I know my men and I appreciate even a small amount of action.'

'How goes your troop, Captain?' the man asked, emphasizing the last word playfully.

'They're good men. Do you know that they didn't even question why you put me in charge? One of them, Lorwine, said that if you made me Captain, I must be the right man for it,' Eomer told him, still not quite believing it himself.

'Of course you are,' he answered without missing a step. 'You just need some experience, which is what I- well, I meant- to give you.'

'Even this has taught me much. One may learn the motions and what to expect, but doing it is so different.'

'Better, I hope?' Theodred winked.

'Beyond better,' Eomer chuckled.

'That is well. Make sure you keep up the morale of your riders until we head home. Don't tell them that they might not see battle. Officers may be frank with each other, but your soldiers should hear what they need to hear.'

'Aye, sire.'

'However, one can never be certain- we may slay some bastards yet,' the prince smirked, wheeling his stallion around. 'After the midday meal tomorrow, we will make our way back to the Hornburg. Keep your wits about you and fair fortune, cousin!' he called back, galloping away.

'Fair fortune,' Eomer mumbled in response, hearing hoofs from behind.

'What news?' Yar asked, coming up beside him.

'Little,' Eomer replied. 'I think he means to return soon.'

'Lath,' the soldier answered, conveying his disappointment. 'At least we have seen the wide open, aye?'

'Aye,' Eomer echoed. 'Another day, though. We may yet see battle, friend.'

'We may. Would you like me to tell the others?'

'Not yet, unless they ask. Theodred told me to keep their spirits high.'

'Aye, he's right. A smart one, methinks,' Yar commented. 'Reminds me of you.'

'Me?' Eomer started. Yar nodded gravely.

'I hope to be the leader he is someday.' I hope to lead an eored of my own, he thought to himself.

'I have no doubt in you, sire,' Yar stated firmly. Eomer was beginning to believe his fellow. He was also aware that his friend was acting in a new role- his subordinate. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling, but one to which he knew he must become accustomed.

The two men locked eyes and Eomer nodded deeply. They understood each other.

A horn sounded in the distance; a scout was blowing from behind them. Without needing to think, Eomer unsheathed his sword and called for his men to rally. Within seconds, fifteen sets of hoofs fell into place behind him. Yar kept his stallion by Eomer's.

The horn had stopped blowing. Soon, the other fifty soldiers joined the smaller force. Their captain, Fola, brought his horse nose to nose with Eomer's.

'Orcs, from the west. I will line my riders up in fore, take yours aft in case of deception. I do not expect much of a fight, but keep your eyes peeled. Now go!'

Eomer directed his troop eastward. He did not like the idea of waiting in the rear, but he dared not contend with an experienced captain. However, instead of facing the backs of the eored, he instructed his troop to stay slightly apart and face east. Then, he rode out in front of them, ensuring that they could see and hear him.

'Riders of Rohan! Today will your mettle be tested. In this hour will you prove your worth. Today we are men, no matter how many years lie beneath our belts. I would not cast a single one of you aside for all the glory in the Mark. Ride now and fear no evil!' His horse reared in the excitement and his men beat their breasts. The eored might have thought them naive, but Eomer had never felt this way before. His heart raced, his mind cleared, and his limbs surged with power. His very being seemed to pulse with a mighty passion hitherto unknown. No fear clouded his thoughts, only zeal for his country and his kinsfolk. He noticed that the beast beneath him appeared to throb with the same spirit and he felt the fire in his veins burn ever brighter. Through the pounding in his ears, he made out the shrieking of orcs behind him.

They had come.

As quickly as a hummingbird's wing, he faced about. Fola was right. He sheathed his sword and ordered his men with bows to ready them. The arrows whizzed past him, many finding marks. Before a second volley could be loosed, the fifty eored soldiers had joined them in full. Rather than crowding in front of him as he expected, they formed ranks beside and to the rear of his seventeen. He supposed that meant he did something right in Fola's eyes, but in the moment he did not care. The foul beasts were closing and he needed to switch weapons.

Finally.

'Charge!' Fola commanded. Eomer dug his heels in, and his stallion bolted forward. Though he had not started in front of any of his seventeen, Eomer soon found himself neck and neck with Fola, the others trailing behind him. His steed needed no coaxing.

'Death and glory!' the captain yelled to his young comrade, pulling slightly ahead. Eomer responded in kind, raising his sword in solidarity. The orcs were fouler than he could have imagined. Though they had clearly lost some fighters to the arrows, there were still enough of them to form ranks. He did not bid his horse to reduce speed. He would attack with fervor.

At last, they reached the first line. Fola was immediately impaled. Eomer's heart stopped.

He tore his eyes away from the revolting sight and saw a dozen orcs beneath him. He slashed at the first one, splitting the ugly head open. Black blood spurted onto his boot. He stabbed the next one in the shoulder. His sword was drenched in the thick liquid already. With each kill, his hatred of the monsters mounted. Another two slashes and another two dead bodies. Eomer's vision was slightly fuzzy, his rage becoming unstoppable. Blood seemed to be pouring out of his sword, covering the saddle beneath him as he slashed and stabbed at everything he could reach. His own body was unaccounted for, his limbs working of their own accord. He was in a frenzy now, hacking, hacking, hacking.

Suddenly, the battle ceased. He recognized no more enemies. He dismounted and toppled over, ripping off his helm. The young man gagged at the sight and smell of the corpses surrounding him. Tears flowed freely down his face. He heard screaming. He shut his eyes, clasping his hands over his ears. Make it stop!

'Eomer,' a deep voice sounded over him, ripping him out of his nightmare.

'Theodred,' he moaned, lifting his eyes to the sky. Instead of sunshine, a familiar face swam into view and tranquility spread through the young captain. Eomer lowered his hands and tried to push himself up.

'Easy,' the prince murmured, steadying his cousin. Eomer could tell that his legs were shaking, but he could not stop them. He caught another glimpse of the hewn bodies. His stomach lurched, but he did not heave. The smell had worsened. His feet finally found solid ground.

'Eomer, look at me.'

He followed the voice.

'You fought well. You did rightly. You are good,' Theodred stated calmly.

Eomer felt his head nodding to the words. He was beginning to feel like himself again.

'I'm sorry,' he heard himself say.

'Do not apologize. I would have been worried if you reacted any differently,' the man insisted.

He nodded, this time taking in the words. His thoughts raced.

'Fola,' he started, but Theodred raised a hand.

'I know. It is not your fault.'

'Who else?' Eomer pleaded weakly.

'Only one, Estred, one of Fola's men. His horse survived him.'

None of mine, then. He realized now that he had not expected anyone to die. He supposed that was foolish.

'What?'

'Can you ride?' the prince repeated.

'Aye.' Eomer mounted the calmed stallion. Theodred followed suit and made his way to the rest of the men. As they rode on, Eomer whispered a word of gratitude to the animal that had seen him through his first battle. The horse snorted in return. He suddenly remembered the feeling of fire in his veins, and the speed with which his steed had moved. Firefoot. The word popped into Eomer's mind and stuck as the perfect name. He patted Firefoot's mane.

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Eomer did not eat his supper. Many of his company didn't. They hardly spoke, even Lorwine. Yar had not said a word since the battle. He looked much like Eomer felt. There was no song in their camp that night. Eomer took the first watch. Yar accompanied him.

'Not quite what we expected, was it?' the soldier uttered quietly.

Eomer cleared his throat in response. He had been berating himself all day for his actions- his cowardice.

'I had seen death. I have dealt a final blow on many animals. I cannot fathom why this felt so different. They are beasts, are they not?' Yar questioned rhetorically.

'I do not regret the victims of my sword,' Eomer stated. He had given the matter great thought and found the sentiment to be true. He did not see their evil faces behind his eyelids. He did not hear their shrieks ringing in his ears.

'You are a braver man than I,' Yar sighed.

'Nay. I was a fool.'

'To take them head on?'

Eomer shook his head. His insides were numb.

'To have never considered the death of a comrade,' he said, his voice breaking near the end.

'It could have been any of us. Fola-.'

'Do you think I don't know that!' Eomer spat, rising to his feet. Yar stood to face him.

'You cannot blame yourself,' the soldier growled. 'We all knew the risk, Fola more than anyone. He was a great captain and a fearsome warrior. You are our captain now, you cannot-.'

Eomer turned on his heel and began to pace. He knew everything Yar said was true but that did not make it easier to hear.

'I did not ask to be captain,' he finally grumbled. 'Why are we here? Surely the eored could have handled this without us.'

'Perhaps they would have lost more souls,' Yar countered.

Eomer snorted in derision. 'Because of a few inexperienced riders? Even you cannot believe that.'

'Eomer. You do not know how many devils you slayed, do you?'

He stuttered, stopped in his tracks, not knowing if he could be truthful. Yar placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

'I barely remember anything. It felt as if my limbs moved of their own accord. When I awoke, there were no more,' Eomer revealed, feeling a bit lighter.

'You left hardly any for the rest of us to strike down. I myself only slayed four. You- you must have taken at least forty,' Yar said slowly, as though speaking with a wounded bear.

The young captain's eyes widened in shock.

'How can I have done so, yet fallen apart afterward,' he whispered, more to himself than his companion.

Yar relaxed his muscles and shook his head.

'War is not so clear as we once thought, my friend,' the soldier replied in wisdom. Eomer nodded at first, but a new fear took hold of him.

'I am a monster,' he whispered shakily. 'I could have killed anyone, anything. I didn't know what I was doing!' His voice raised with each word, his heartbeat quickening. His breathing became labored and he could not seem to draw air into his chest. He leaned against Yar who lowered him to the ground.

'Breathe, Eomer. You must breathe. Sit here awhile and rest. Do not listen to your thoughts just now, for they will betray you. Deep breaths, my friend. You are safe here.'

The fit subsided and his body returned to normal.

'My father suffered from similar fits all his life. I learned how to calm him from my mother. It seems to have helped you, too,' Yar explained to Eomer's befuddled eyes.

'That has never occurred before. Thank you, my brother.' Eomer's thoughts raced again. Would he suffer this ailment forever?

'I do not think you are a monster. Broca might have had to change his trousers, though,' Yar grinned, reclining by his captain.

'He would have more reason than most,' Eomer replied soberly.

His eyes met those of Yar, and the two soldiers burst into laughter. It seemed as though an age had passed since last he felt jovial.

They passed the time with conversation until Broca himself came to relieve them, along with his partner, Heren. The first did seem apprehensive but certain of himself. Eomer stretched out his arm and thanked the man for his service. Broca returned the gesture and requested, 'May I speak with you alone, Eomer Captain?'

'Certainly,' Eomer responded, glancing sideways at Yar, who nodded in acceptance.

They moved slightly away, nearly out of the firelight. Broca slowly knelt on both knees before him. Eomer was taken aback, literally taking a step backward. Firelight flickered across the kneeling man's face as he raised his head.

'I want to apologize formally,' Broca began, 'for my behavior towards you and your family.'

'From years ago, you mean?' Eomer asked, surprised.

'Yes, sire. I should have done sooner, but I was a coward. I have been nothing but a coward from the moment we met. I no longer have any quarrel with you and thereby offer you my allegiance for so long as you will have it,' the man offered, bowing his head. At first, Eomer was so shocked that he nearly rejected the man. After a few seconds of thought, however, he recognized that he would have done the same thing.

'Arise, Broca son of Brec. I accept your apology but not your allegiance.'

The sandy-haired head snapped up. Broca's face was crestfallen.

Eomer continued, 'You have already offered your allegiance to the king and his heirs; do not pledge yourself too lightly. I understand where your loyalty lies, and that is well enough for me. Arise, soldier. Carry yourself with honor, for I will hold no grudge against you.'

Broca stood. Eomer had never seen him so relaxed in his presence.

'Thank you, Captain. You will not regret this,' the man answered proudly. 'Now you may rest. Heren and I will keep watch, though I doubt any orcs will look for a fight with us tonight.'

'Let us hope,' Eomer smiled.

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The moon was crescent-shaped above him and the stars shined brilliantly. His limbs had begun to ache and his mind finally felt at rest. He closed his eyes.

Fola's impaled body flashed into view.

He opened them again, only to find the night sky looking back at him. The young man rolled onto his side and tried again.

Another vision of blood spurting from the man's back flitted across his mind.

He would find no sleep this night.

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Lath - "Bad" which I used as a mild curse.

So how are we feeling about Broca son of Brec?

I must say I am so glad to have given Eomer a few friends because friendship was so important to Tolkien. See you next chapter!