Author's Note: This chapter moves from one person's point of view to another's quite a bit. I hope that you will be able to follow it with little difficulty. As a side note, I did not mean for Halanna to be such a major character when I began writing her, but I found that I enjoy her greatly and so I have expanded her role. Look for more from her to come.

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Many hours later the company from Dunharrow reached Edoras. The city was filled to overflowing with men and horses, who had come in answer to the call to muster. Nimoë found it an easy thing to blend in with the restless men, and she found a wall to lean against, waiting for word to ride forth. There would not be long to wait, for the need was dire. In fact, rumor spread that a messenger had come from Gondor, bearing the Red Arrow, the ancient sign that was sent in times of greatest need.

Settling down to the ground, Nimoë managed to shut out the babble of humanity around her and she rested. Her eyes she left open, as Elves are able to do, just in case some curious soul looked too closely under her hood. Hopefully the sight of her grey eyes staring back at them would send them away before they looked close enough to discover she was an Elf and a woman.

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Halanna had managed to catch up with the company by riding hard and recklessly down the hill trails from Dunharrow. Goliant was fleet of foot and strong of limb and she had no fear that he would make a misstep, sending them plunging over one of the numerous cliffs to their deaths. The men in the rear of the party had greeted her upon her arrival and welcomed her to their fold, clearly accepting her as a comrade in arms, never questioning her gender. Thus, in good company, she also rode into Edoras. Leaving Goliant in the hands of a stable boy, she began to mill about through the assembled men, looking intently at all that she passed, hoping against hope to run across Nimoë.

Unfortunately for Halanna, there were many men present who kept their faces hidden. They would be riding into the greatest battle of the age, and those who did not wish to be cheery with their brethren sought solitude within their hooded cloaks. No matter how closely the young woman looked at each figure, she could not discern the features hidden there.

Time passed by quickly as she searched, and it became clear that she would not find Nimoë before the massed army of Rohan rode forth. Impatiently, she plowed her way back through the throngs of men, bruising herself as she pushed past armored bodies, and remounted onto Goliant.

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Eowyn had contrived to remain near to her brother and the King. Nearby, yet far enough as not to attract attention to herself. The two men had gone into Meduseld to take council with the other marshals of the realm, the great Elfhelm and the valiant Grimbold. Fists clenched tight with frustration at not being able to follow them without drawing undue notice, Eowyn sat down upon the hard ground.

Immediately she became aware of a small figure seated next to her, wringing his hands in consternation. "What ails you?" she asked, her voice low.

The figure looked up at her and shrugged in frustration. "King Theoden has forbidden me to ride with him to battle. I gave him my sword, but he will not chose to use it! All that I wish is to go forth to this war, to do my sworn duty to the King."

Eowyn felt pity well up within her. Well did she understand the feelings of this small creature. "If you wish to ride, I will take you before me upon my horse. What is your name?"

A smile lit up his face as he replied, "Meriadoc Brandybuck, sir. My friends call me Merry. I would be grateful to ride with you. To whom do I owe my gratitude?"

Eowyn paused only a moment before she answered, "My name is Dernhelm."

Minutes thereafter, the King and his marshals stepped out of Meduseld and all discussions round about ceased. Theoden raise his fisted hand and called out, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all, "Gondor is sorely beset! The enemy is at their gates. The Red Arrow has been sent forth, and we will answer its call. We ride to Minas Tirith. Forth Eorlingas!"

Eowyn stood then, and Merry followed behind her. They walked down the hill to the stable where they found her horse, and they mounted up on its back. Merry was uncomfortably aware that he was breaking the King's direct order, but because he loved Theoden, he could not but go with him, to do what he could to keep the King safe.

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Goliant pranced underneath Halanna and she chastened him sternly, urging him to curb his hunger for speed until the great Gate of Edoras opened. Although she had not found Nimoë, she found that the energy and expectation of the gathered men was beginning to work its way under her skin. She felt very alive, as if some part of her, which had been kept hidden, had suddenly leapt into flame. Here was adventure of the sort that her father told in tales around the fire at night. Here was the heady sense of impending action which her brother had often related to her, when he returned home from his months of service to the King.

Her hand clenched the grip of Henodred's sword, and her palm seemed to itch with the desire to pull it forth, to feel its unfamiliar weight, to swing it about her, refining her cursory knowledge of swordplay. In their youth, Henodred had forced her to play at fighting with him, as they had no brothers. Shaped sticks had been their weapons, and it had been but a game, but Halanna remembered some of the techniques which Henodred had so valiantly tried to drum into her mind.

Yes, she thought. This was where she belonged. In this time, in this place. Here where the fate of nations would be decided.

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Nimoë rose gracefully up from her seat along the wall, like a cat stretching its claws in the morning. With only a small effort, she found Bluebell and placed her foot into his stirrup, using the strength of her leg to rise. The saddle felt unfamiliar to her, as it had on the long ride from Dunharrow. It had its advantages, the primary of those being that she could mount on her own. As to disadvantage, the loss of direct contact lessened her Elven ability to communicate with the beast. That was not so great a loss, when one's mount was Bluebell, who seemed to be able to read her mind, without any effort on her part.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something that made her look twice, peering through the milling horses and riders. Yes, there it was again. Merry was sitting in front of a rider, the set of whose shoulders was very familiar. It seemed that Eowyn had taken the Hobbit under her wing. Nimoë smiled. He would be safe enough with the valiant Lady of Rohan.

Finally, the great Gate of Edoras was pulled open wide, and Theoden, with his marshals behind him, thundered out from the city. All those others who had gathered began to stream forth, like water bursting from a dam. Nimoë edged Bluebell forward and joined the current of men and horses, allowing it to draw her forward, on to Gondor and the battle that would shape the destiny of Middle-Earth for all time.

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Author's Note: We are now beginning to build toward the climactic battle. I am finding it hard to keep myself away from my keyboard, I am so excited to get where I am going. Hold onto your seat, ladies and gentlemen, it's going to be a bumpy ride!