Chapter Three

Edoras was silent in the dimming evening, and her guards were lazily watching the skies grow dark while the plains waved like a sea and disguised movment to be a breeze from the far away oceans. Gúlwor had given strict orders to hug the ground and stay beneath the safe haven of the long grass, and they did, only moving to peer at the great gates of the Rohirrim.

Lúpeg moved quietly up several feet every time the sun sank lower in the sky, and his troops moved with him. When he had moved close enough to Gúlwor he stopped stopped and the captain growled in displeasure at his presence. There were no words exchanged from Orc to Orc,  but the same mind festered in their skulls and anticipation grew dangerously. An hour passed, perhaps, and Gúlwor finally waved his hand.

He gave the signal to attack.

From the eyes of the Rohirrim guards it seemed as if a great swarm of black cloud arose from the horizon, and then a cry of hoarse voices and a clammer of weapons split the peace. They charged, and in less than the time it took for the guards to blow the long horns in warning they had slammed against the walls.

'Break it down!' Gúlwor shouted. 'Break it down, lads, or starve!'

The horns echoed about the skies and the stone walls and the plains of Rohan, emitting a cry that may as well have been the rays of the sun plowing it's wrath down onto the enemy that tried to breach the gates. When the Men of Rohan were called into battle the Earth trembled.

However, it was not until minutes later that the call reached the King's dining hall. The discussion and laughter immediately ended, and all heads shot up. It was one of the King's personal hands that made it into the hall first, out of breath and frantic. He fell to the ground slovenly in a quick bow, keeping his head down as he reported in a breathless, loud voice,
'My King, the gates are in danger of being breached, and Orcs climb our walls!'

'What are they, where have they come from?' Theoden demanded as he shoved his chair back and shot to his feet, glancing to Grima as if the advisor had the answers. He stared back blankly.

'Surviving rabble of the past day's raid, perhaps.' Grima said softly, and bowed gently from his position in the shadows, clinging like a snake to the darkness. Theoden moved from the long table and took his son roughly by the arm, escorting him away and speaking quickly to him in a hushed tone. Eomer and his sister with both sons of Denethor and a few Riders remained at the table, and Eomer shouted to them to move. He prepared to make a mad dash for his armor and weaponry that awaited him in his chambers, but his sister's cold, thin hands seized his tunic and halted his steps.

'No! Eomer, let me go with you!'

'You are mad, sister, now stay back.' Eomer said breathlessly, looking to one of the wardens in silent order and then nodded at his sister. 'Take her!'

'Eomer, let me defend my people!' her voice quivered, face flushed with emotion. Her eyes, blue like unpolished stones, were wet with tears of frusteration. The warden gently took her by the elbows and guided her from her brother, but she tore away defiantly and raised her voice, 'Brother, do not keep me in this cage! I wish to protect – '

'You are a woman, you would slow me in battle!' Eomer replied, his own face was frantic -- too frantic to even focus on her with a direct stare. He reached out with long arms, corded in muscle, and pulled her close to him. 'I would worry over you, and if you were lost I would never forgive myself. ' He kissed her brow. 'Sister, stay where you belong. Boromir, Faramir, come! Let us draw our swords!'

'What a pretty web we have embroiled ourselves in this time,' Boromir said bitterly as he swept past Eowyn boldly, his presence brooding as a large fiesty stallion ready to gallope into battle. They had left their swords just outside the dining hall, thinking it improper to have it at dinner, and received them from a few shaking guards on the way out. The three men were handed chain mail and quickly snapped into their armor with little help from the servants.

The bellowing horns suddenly turned into mere bleats of desperation, and a great sound like cracking thunder shook the hall. Shouting over took the hall, and Riders on evening leave were filtering out to leave the safe haven and catch the battle. The outside gates were being breached, and noble women and older man cried out in fear. Eomer nodded to the sons of Denethor and waved for them to follow, and they vigorously complied.

'You and I will lead the Riders to the gates, where breach must be.' he spoke quickly as he strided over to the large staircase that headed down into the first floor and through the hall, out into the stable field. As he walked his fitted his gloves over his hard mailed forarms. 'I would imagine Theoden has his archers lined at the walls, but the walls are made of stone. It is our gate that is vulnerable.'

'Aye.' Faramir said, taking a moment to glance to his brother before striding after Eomer to the stable that held his mouth, once they had made it to the field. He did not wait for the door to be opened or the horse to be saddled. He threw the gear on himself, quickly, and then heaved into the saddle. He crossed an arm over his chest and nodded at his two comrades firmly. 'Fight with caution.' he said, knowing the that, though years apart, his brother and the young marshal of the Riddermark were of the same mind. Quite often.

'And you as well.' Boromir said dispassionately, knowing his brother did not need his words. Faramir was near unbeatable in battle, and could easily master a few Orc being the only survivors of a starving disbanded army. The Captain-general of Gondor's forces looked to his young friend with a feral smile. 'Shall we ride?'

Eomer returned the smile and drew his sword, taking the charge and calling about him in a deep voice fit for a soldier, 'Riders! To me!'

--- --- ---

Eowyn managed to push away from the wardens and shoot across the marble floors of the dining halls to where King Theoden stood, watching his son ride off into battle with streams of warriors following his stead. The White Lady came to his side, checking her pace and wrapping her gentle hands about the crook of his elbow.

'Are you ill, My lord?'

'Nay, dear Eowyn.' Theoden's voice was thin and frail, and his white hair picked up softly in the breeze as he remained where his son had left him. 'I am not ill, and should be riding into battle with my men. I am a King, not a frail thing to be kept away.' Eowyn tucked her chin at his words, resenting them and also resenting herself for not having been born a man. She was not expected to protect her home, yet others were expected to fall in her place. She did not understand.

'You are not.' she replied softly, and his grey eyes softened as he saw her face fall.

'Forgive my words, dearest, I spoke before thinking.' he turned and lead her away as the halls doors closed, back to the long table. 'I have known of your feelings since you were a child, but you must not hold it against your brother and the other men. They only care for you, and wish to protect you.'

Eowyn's throat ached in a hollow pain, bringing tears that stung hotly in her eyes. 'I do not wish to be protected.'

'And children will swim in flames, if not taught better,' Theoden turned to her and clasped her hands in his, voice kind. His heart heard her heart, and she knew this. 'You will not always love what is good for you, sister-daughter, but you must remember that it is for you. Your brother loves you very much.'

'And I love him!' she said desperately, squeezing his soft knarled hands affectionatley. 'I worry for him as well, uncle, more than he will ever know! Yet I cannot protect him as he does me.'

'Do not worry for the marshal of the Riddermark,' Grima's voice stung the White Lady as it wrapped about her from the shadows, and she shivered a bit, coming to stand closer to Theoden. She felt safer around her brother when Grima was around, for he had the ear of the King – and kept his position well. ''Tis a mere raid. It will be over before the hour has finished, m'Lady.' he bowed upon adressing King Theoden, humbly and delicately as silk from a spider's web. 'Sire.'

'My advisor speaks truth.' Theoden kissed Eowyn's temple with dry lips. 'Eomer is a good soldier, and the sons of Denethor are once again by his side. They will return to us before the hour is up.'

'May I suggest the sweet Lady get some rest?' Grima's gaze raked down Eowyn's body, clad in a simple white gown with grey shawls, and he spoke once more, 'She has had a weary day and deserves much of it.'

'Rest? How can I rest when flesh-eating Orcs threaten our people?! Have you no thoughts for the dying soldiers outside?!' she demanded coarsely, stepping forward to remind the man that she was still a noble and that her thoughts of his suggestions and opinions weighed much less than Theoden's. He shrank back at her tone. 'I will not sleep! I will wait at my balcony and hope for my brother and cousin's victory and safe return. Goodnight, King.' she spun on her heel and was immediately followed by several maidens, who were panicking to keep up.

'Do not follow me.' she snapped. 'I desire privacy.' Eowyn  wasted no time making it up to her room, alone. She knew the servants and maids believed her to have every intention of sitting in a corner of the wide suite and having a good cry so she did not worry for interuption.

Eowyn was unsure of what she had planned, wanting desperately to go and fight with her cousin's men but also knew what it would do to her brother and her uncle if she were to be lost. She paced with anxiety before the wide exit to her balcony, her fingers in her pale hair and her arms shaking like the cold.

Finally, still unsure what to do, she moved out to her balcony and squinted in the darkness to the far off gates of Edoras; watching little flares of light go up every now and then. The distant cries of men and the clammering of steel on steel forced her to close her eyes and bow her head. Whenever battle came upon her people she could not help but think of the number of lives that had fallen because she was still alive. Idle and weak, hiding behind the sword of her brother.

The cool air did not seem to pay heed to the battle it swept around, and it traveled up to Eowyn's balcony, sending a chill down her spine and made the hair on the back of her neck prickle up. She looked back out to the scene, noting that more torches had been lit and the red flags had been draped about the inner gates – signalling the closing of them. When the inner gates were sealed it protected the people inside but did not allow soldiers to reenter, and it only filled Eowyn with more dread.

She gave a curt nod as if to tell herself that her mind was made up, and briskly fisted her riding habit and threw it about her shoulders. Eowyn then knelt by her bed and removed a long silver dagger in a leather sheath from between the matresses, pulling of the tresses of her dress and strapping it about her calf – just incase she would need to defend herself. She knew she would never be allowed on the field of battle, but the Lady of Rohan at least wanted to go to the inner gates and see them opened; and then help the wounded that entered.

The doors were pushed open and she made her way down the stairs quickly, sure to avoid the large throne room on the other side of Theoden's house and making straight for the wide doors. She cursed under her breath upon seeing the guards posted there. They were not much of a threat to her, considering the fact that most soldiers that could pick up a sword had gone to defend the city, yet these still stood firmly and caught her with stares as she reached the doors.

'Let me pass,' she said breathlessly, briefly glancing behind her shoulder. The guards shifted uncomfortably, knowing her authority, but also not wanting to put a woman in danger. Eowyn turned back to them and waited a few seconds, then repeated urgently in a higher tone, 'Let me pass!'

'We cannot, Lady Eowyn. The inner gates have been sealed but there is still risk of anyone outside their homes –'

'That does not matter, I must aid the wounded with the others.' she replied impatiently, muscles tense and ready to leap forward as soon as the doors were to open. Still, the guards would not withdraw. Instead they stood firmer and straighter to the ground, silent. Tears of frusteration came to her eyes. 'You will not yield?'

'Nay, Lady, we cannot yield.' one answered, and she heard plain sympathy in his voice. 'It is for your safety.'

'My safety?!' she half-snarled, and it earned her a slight jump from both of them. The expression in her eyes and the anger that flared her cheeks with pink even made them move a bit closer to the door, and Eowyn advanced, 'Does the sun stop shining if a flower is crushed?! My safety is irrelevant. Protect your King and the children and women, and do not favor me because of my blood! I wish to aid my protectors as they are aiding me, now let me pass! Or do you wish to further challenge the authority of the White Lady of Rohan!?'

The taller guard slowly turned, defeated at last, and pulled on the large chains to open the wide, heavy doors; not all the way, just enough for the young woman to slip through. Before she did he momentarily forgot his place and caught her by the bicep. She froze and met his eyes intensly to stare him down, and saw him visibly shrink back, but he said as a last effort,

'I implore you this one last time to turn back to your suite, Lady of Rohan.' his voice was now a whisper. 'To lose you would break every heart in our land. You are our gem, you give us all hope.'

'To know I did not aid my soldiers would only break my heart.' she replied, giving him one last glance that ordered him to release her, and he did. Eowyn slipped passed the musky smelling wood and waited for it to close behind her, and heard the click and scrape of the chains returning to formation. Raw excitement rose in her chest and she readily flew to the stables on lightly booted feet, making sure her hood was over her golden head and hid her face in it's shadow.

--- --- ---

The hooves of Boromir's steed pounded away at the soft earth as he and his two companions watched from meters away from the wall what was taking place. Orcs, like large agile spiders with swords, were climbling up and over the wall, some getting shot and some actually attacking the archers. The gates were also being tested with the weight of several large bound trees that the stronger creatures had lifted as one, and while a battle had not quite begun on the ground yet, the soldiers waited in the gates for penetration.

The torches had been lit around the city but darkness still lurked and brought a gift of shadow to the enemy, and as Boromir still took all of this in some of the creatures made it to the very top of the wall and began to descend onto the inner fields. At his side Eomer threw a quick look over his shoulder at the sound of deep throated horns blowing, a signal to the city that the inner gates had been sealed off and closed, and relief washed over him. The Orcs, even if some passed the men in the gates, would not pass the inner gates. Or at least he hoped, with all of his heart, that they would not.

'This is no surviving rabble,' Boromir snarled over the pounding of the doors and the cries of men and Orcs to Eomer and his brother, who's faces appeared drawn but eager in the half light. He tightened his grip on the reins of his animal and forced down his own excitement. 'This is a full attack…there are more of them than I anticipated.'

'Aye, and we are foolish to group our men here.' Eomer put in, and his horse whistled shrilly alarm as several arrows whizzed by. The marshal cursed and scanned the high walls with keen eyes, snorting in disguist at what was now happening, 'They have brought archers as well.'

'I would advise withdrawing your archers from the outer gates!' Faramir pressed from Boromir's right over to Eomer, who immediately drew his attention to the older man. 'They require more distance – ' Faramir's horse flew to it's hinds as a great eruption at the gates wracked the walls and sent the stone and wood groaning in it's limits. A cry of surprise went through the men waiting by the gates, and as one unit they all drew back several meters. All three men regarded eachother in silent awe.

'What the devil – ?!' Eomer spouted, discarding his helm to get a better view of what just happened, and beside Boromir Faramir steadied his horse. 'What was that?!'

'They ignited something that nearly brough the gates down.' Boromir breathed, nearly inaudible, and Eomer demanded hotly of the Captain,

'How?! What?!'

'I do not know, Eomer, but the gates are to give way any second now!' he snarled, drawing his sword from his sheath and ginning broadly at the satisfying scrape of his weapon leaving it's safe haven of leather. The light of the flames left over from the explosion danced in the green of his eager eyes, and he watched the scene. The men were silent, but the Orcs still roared on. A single cry echoed from near the first line of men, and the marshal and captains saw it to be Theodred.

The heir of Theoden's horse reared, and he rose his sword to the darkened sky, crying out, 'Open the gates! Let them come!' Confusion rippled through the soldiers of Rohan but the command was obeyed, and Eomer had to jerk on the reins of his animal to steady it's head,

'Has he cracked?! They will charge into us – '

'Theodred knows the gates will not last forever, and to lose them completely would mean worse for us later in this game!' Boromir explained to the young soldier, unable to restrain feelings of sympathy toward him despite the setting. He knew what it was like to have a first large command, and to be completely green with little experience. 'It is better to face them now.'

Eomer was silent but nodded, and Boromir gave him one last glance of pure admiration – he thought very highly of the young man, whom he had watched grow in courage, temper and heart, and to see him now in yet another moment of accepting his duty like a soldier gave Boromir a stab of hope.

'Brace yourselves,' he said to his brothers. 'As I said, these are no rabble. They will hit hard.' The gates finally drew to either sides of the wall and the battering ram was dropped, weapons assumed their positions in the hands of their warriors, and the Orcs spilled into the swarm of Rohan soldiers. It only took seconds for the three men to be separated, each forced to take different roads into the midst of the fray.

Eomer rode swiftly past Orc and Man, occasionlly forced to slay a fell creature that would attempt to pull his horse over on it's side. When close enough to the wall he craned his neck back to try and see the archers that battled ferociously on the high wall, squinting against the brightness of the torches.

'Archers!' he cried above the roar of the battle, but his call went unheeded, and he cantered in a semi circle a moment, trying to back up to see if he could get a better view. One of the torches was suddenly knocked off of it's post and it fell down only inches from his horses side. The fire hungrily grasped the long dry grasses of Rohan and flared up, flames licking at his horse and at the bottom of his boots. He snarled at this new set back and forced his horse to settle down, siding away from the flames.

Once again he called hoarsly to the men that battled high on the wall, only somewhat aware of the Orc arrows that rained down around him and set his animal into it's panic again. 'Archers!' One of the archers that had just finished a brawl with one of the Orcs peered down at him with narrowed eyes, then saw it to be Eomer, calling back,

'What news, my Lord?!'

'Draw the men back!' he shouted. 'Post them further from this site! Draw back!'

The man nodded and bent his bow. 'Yes my lord!' Eomer distantly heard him ordering the other archers to draw back, and he was satisfied enough with that to focus his attention on the chaos around him. The fire was growing closer and closer, and his horse continued to nicker and whine in fear. He tightened his grip on the reins and dug his heels into the sides of the animal, giving a wordless cry and leaping into the battle with his sword drawn and his pale hair wild in the wind.

Across the enterance field that held the gates, Boromir had closed his eyes for a fraction of a second to blot out the smoke that stung his eyes and choked him, and the well-aimed arrow of one of the Orcs that had taken the high wall made solid contact with the muscle of his horses' shoulder. It shrieked in pain and reared, buckling under it's own weight and his upon coming back down on his forelegs and fell to his knees, forcing Boromir to sway to the side.

The animal landed heavily on it's side and brought Boromir down with it, still quivering and kicking in the blaring agony of the arrow being driven and twisted in further. Boromir struggled to free his leg from the heavy horse's side, and the saddle dug into his flesh. He clenched his teeth and gripped the saddle with one gloved hand, his other attempting to push the ribcage upward. His head whipped around, alert, to see anymore attackers coming. None as of yet.

The horse struggled as well, trying to get off of him as well as trying to lift itself off of the arrow. Everytime it jerked crimson gore splattered Boromir's pale face and clothing, but he paid it no mind, only set his jaw and pushed harder. The horse finally rolled up off of him, and he pulled his leg out quickly. It was neither broken nor sprained, but there would be a black bruise the next morning.

The Captain next came to fist a handful of the creature's main, dragging it's neck to the side so he could wrap gloved fingers about the shaft of the arrow. He pulled it out, hoping to save the animal's life. It was only a shoulder wound, and the horse was strong. Minutes later it found it's feet, and he quickly lead it to a dark spot against the wall.

Glancing over his shoulder once more, he tried to see if anything was watching him, or planning to spontaneously attack him, then he stroked the animal's forhead in comfort and whispered a few kind words to it. The horse quieted, and then stood still in the shadow, content to wait the battle out.

Boromir, however, readied his sword and charged headfirst into the confusion and bloodshed.