See part one for disclaimers and such.

Part 4

The messenger sank to one knee before the king's chair and presented the arrow to Théoden.

"Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, and friend of Gondor," he said. "Hirgon am I, errant-rider of Denethor, and I bring you this token of war.  Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all of your strength and your speed, lest Gondor fall at last."

Théoden took the arrow and held it, his expression grim. "The Red Arrow," he said softly, shaking his head. "The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years. Has it indeed come to that?"  He glanced at Lord Celeborn. "You spoke of it, yet I did not wish to believe you. Though, I fear in my heart I knew your words were true." He sighed, dropping his head a moment. Finally he looked up, fixing his gaze upon Hirgon. "What does the Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my speed may be?"

"That is best known to yourself, my Lord," Hirgon replied. "But it may well come to pass that Minas Tirith will be surrounded. Unless you have the strength to break up the siege of many powers, the Lord Denethor bids me to say that he judges that the strong arms of the Rohirrim would be better within his walls than without."  He looked briefly at Lord Celeborn and Haldir and did not bother to hide his surprise. "He did not know that the elves had joined their strength with yours, though he will be glad to hear of it."

"Indeed," Théoden replied. "But is it not true, Hirgon, that the Lord of Minas Tirith knows more than he has said in his message?  We are already at war, and as you have seen, you do not find us all unprepared."

"What the Lord Denethor may know or guess, I cannot say," Hirgon said respectfully. "But indeed, our case is most desperate. My lord does not issue any command to you. He begs you only to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken, and for your own good to do all that you may."  He took a deep breath, his expression taking a grimmer cast. "It is reported to us that many kings have ridden in from the East to the service of Mordor.  From the North to the plain of Dagorlad there is skirmish and rumor of war.  In the South, the Haradrim are moving, and fear has fallen on all our coast-lands, so little help can be expected from that quarter."  He shook his head, dark hair flying with the force of his movement. "Make haste, my Lord. For it is before the walls of Minas Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided, and if the tide is not stemmed there, then it will flow over all the fair fields of Rohan. There will be no refuge from it."  He glanced at Lord Celeborn. "Even the fair trees of your land will tremble and fall before the black tide of Mordor's armies."

Celeborn nodded. "It has been foreseen, Hirgon. It is why we have come."

Théoden's fingers curled tightly around the shaft of the arrow. "Dark tidings you have brought, yet they are not wholly unexpected. Tell your lord that even if Rohan itself felt no peril, we would still come to his aid. But we have suffered much loss in our own battles with Saruman the traitor, and we must think of our frontier to the north and east, as his own tidings make clear.  I will not leave my city and people wholly unguarded, but we will come. Six thousand spears I will send to his aid. I will come down to the land of Gondor, though maybe I will not ride back."

"To those six thousand spears, add twelve score elven bows and swords," Celeborn said. "The alliances forged long ago between men and elves will be honored, for I will ride with the King to the aid of Gondor."

Hirgon bowed with respect to Lord Celeborn. "Then I shall bear this great news to my Lord Denethor."  He rose to his feet and made to leave, when the king stopped him with a gesture.

"Rest this night," Théoden said. "On the morrow you shall see the great muster of Rohan and of the elves and ride away gladder for the sight and swifter for the rest."

"My thanks, gracious lord," Hirgon said. "For I am indeed weary of travel and could use the rest. Tomorrow I must return to my Lord Denethor."  He bowed a final time and left the hall, the captain of the guard following him.

The King turned to Merry. "I am going to war, Master Meriadoc," he said. "Tomorrow I shall take the road to Gondor. I release you from my service, but not from my friendship. You shall abide here. If you are willing, you shall serve the Lady Éowyn, who will govern the folk in my stead."

"But, my Lord," Merry stammered, "I offered you my sword. I do not wish to be parted from you like this. All my friends have already gone to the battle, and I would be ashamed to stay behind."

"We ride on horses both tall and swift," Théoden replied not unkindly. "And great though your heart may be, you cannot ride on such beasts."

"But I do not wish to be left behind and do nothing while others fight against the darkness. Why, my Lord, did you receive me as swordthain, if not to stay by your side?" Merry asked plaintively.

"I received you for your safe-keeping," Théoden reminded him. "And also to do as I might bid. It is one hundred leagues and more to Mundburg where Denethor is Lord, and none of my riders can bear you as burden." He sighed wearily. "Nay, Master Meriadoc. You must stay as I bid you. I will say no more of it."

The king rose from his seat and waited until the others had finished with their courtesies before speaking once more.   "I bid you all good evening," he said. "I go now to rest, for counsels are best taken in the morning."

Erin watched the King leave, her pleasure in the dessert before her lost. She pushed the plate away and sighed.  All her troubles seemed so very trivial compared to what was happening.  Nothing like a war to put things in perspective, I suppose.

She saw Éomer excuse himself to follow the king to his chambers, and her eyes followed him for a moment. Lord Celeborn and Haldir politely excused themselves as well, making their way out of the hall. After they left, she sat down again, and glanced at Merry. She could see by his expression that he was still troubled and unhappy.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Merry looked up and gave her a faint smile. "The King commands me to stay, and I do not wish to. Yet he is right. I cannot ride one of their great horses by myself, and they cannot be burdened with carrying me." He gave a bitter sigh and pushed his dessert plate away, unfinished.

"I'm sorry, Merry," Erin said quietly. "I wish there was something I could do." 

She saw Éowyn rise from the table, her fair face pensive and closed as she made her way out of the dining hall.  Saying goodnight to Merry, Erin rose to her feet and followed the lady, catching up to her at the foot of the long stairs.

Éowyn glanced at her before taking the steps, lifting the edge of her dress in one hand to keep from tripping on it.  Erin climbed beside her, stealing quick glances at her friend's face as they ascended the stairs. They reached the door to Erin's room and stopped.

"You're thinking about something, Éowyn," Erin said. "What is it?"

Éowyn lifted her head and met Erin's gaze evenly. "That I will not be left behind this time."

Erin's eyes widened. "You want to go with them?"

"My uncle and my brother go to war against the greatest evil this land has ever known," she said, stiffening her shoulders. "I will not remain here and be useless, not when I can fight with them. I am a Shield Maiden of the House of Eorl.  I can ride and wield a blade. I do not fear pain or death."

"I do," Erin said. "I fear them very much, thank you."  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But if you go, I'm going with you."  She crossed her arms and leaned against her door.

Éowyn looked at her in surprise. "But you cannot fight, Erin. You can barely sit a horse."

"Then I'll just have to learn, won't I?" Erin replied. "I'm not letting you go and do this by yourself."

"Why not?" Éowyn asked, honestly puzzled.

Erin's mouth curled into a grim smile. "Like you, I also want to be of some use, and not while away the days doing nothing while the good guys fight against the bad guys. I'm part of your world now, and I care very much what happens to it." 

Éowyn shook her head. "I should not allow it.  You could be killed."

"Possibly," Erin agreed with a wry chuckle. "But the good news is that if I am, I won't have to be the one to explain to Elladan how I let you jaunt off into danger, despite his wishes to the contrary."

Her friend stared at her a moment in consternation. "You are mad," she said finally, managing a small smile.

Erin nodded. "I'll follow you anyway, so you might as well take me along."

"I cannot talk you out of this, can I?" Éowyn said, sighing.

Erin grinned in triumph. "Not unless you stay behind with me. That's the only way you're going to keep me in Edoras."

"The same goes for me as well, Lady," a small voice interrupted the women and they drew apart in surprise, turning to look as Merry came to a stop beside them. "Though my Lord has commanded otherwise, I will not be left behind!" He crossed his arms and looked at them, his chin lifted stubbornly.

Éowyn frowned deeply. "It seems you are both determined," she said finally. "Very well. If I cannot convince you to remain here, in safety, then you shall both ride with me. Erin, you shall ride as one of the youths who are responsible for the horses. Merry shall ride with me on Windfola. He is small enough I doubt he will gain much attention until it is too late."

It was Erin's turn to frown. "I don't know if I'll be very convincing as a boy," she said, gesturing to her hair and chest.

The lady smiled briefly. "There are ways to fool those who do not look too closely.  Come to my room this night, at the twelfth hour. The rest of the house should be abed by then and what we do will be unobserved."

"What about me, Lady?" the hobbit asked eagerly. "I will need armor and weapons if I am to fight alongside you."

Éowyn nodded. "Aragorn asked that you be outfitted as befits your status in the House of Eorl. I shall see to it now."  She looked back at Erin and gave her a small smile. "I am glad that you are coming, though I fear for your safety. It will be good not to be alone in this. You should go and rest. I will see you at the twelfth hour."

Erin watched Éowyn and Merry take the stairs, before turning to her door. She opened it and hesitated just inside, looking at her bed. Though she knew she should do as Éowyn said and get some sleep, she wasn't the least bit tired. Instead, her body fairly hummed with excitement and dread for the days to come. She knew that there was no way she was going to get any sleep.

She closed the door behind her and swiftly made her way across the room, tugging at her dress. After several moments of struggling and cursing, she managed to get it off of her and laid it carefully on the bed. She dressed quickly, pulling on her jeans and one of the tunics Éowyn had given her. She slid her feet into her hiking boots and laced them.

Her feet found their way down the stairs to the main door of the hall and she stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. She had no particular destination in mind, though she realized, as she crossed the courtyard, that she was already headed for the stables.

"It is a bit late for a walk, is it not?"

"Éomer, what are you doing here?" Erin nearly stumbled in her surprise at seeing the rider step out of the shadows and into the torchlight that flickered along the perimeter of the courtyard.

Éomer raised an eyebrow as he came to a stop and looked down at her. "I could ask you the same, Lady. As for myself, I have just finished speaking with the King regarding tomorrow and thought I would enjoy the evening air. What brings you here?"

Erin shrugged to hide how flustered he made her. "I couldn't sleep. I thought I might go visit the horses."

"Would you object to my company, Lady?" he asked, smiling at her.

"No, not at all," Erin replied, her knees feeling a bit wobbly as she took the arm he offered. Stop that, she told her body firmly. He's done nothing since Helm's Deep that should cause me to react this way. She couldn't help it, though. She could feel the warmth of his body against her arm, and it did nothing to dispel the fluttering butterflies that danced madly in her stomach.

They walked down the path together, and Erin could see that torches were still lit by the barn, illuminating the doorway. Éomer pushed the door open for her and held it as she stepped through. He grabbed one of the torches from outside of the barn and used it to light several of the torches that hung on the walls inside. By the flickering light, Erin saw several horses poking their heads out of their stalls and look at them in curiosity. Probably wondering what we're doing here this late, she thought. She turned and saw that Éomer had returned the torch to its rightful place and closed the door.  He leaned against it, looking at her, and she flushed under his regard.

Desperate to have something to do besides stare back at him like a love-starved puppy, Erin walked down the aisle, pausing in front of Mearagar's stall to scratch the soft nose the horse nudged at her. The sweet smell of hay and horse wafted up at her and she smiled.  She glanced back and saw that Éomer had not moved from his position at the door, though he was smiling at her again.

"What?" she asked, more than a bit self-consciously. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shook his head with a soft laugh, moving away from the door to walk towards her. "I am alone in a stable with a lovely young woman, and suddenly I find myself at a loss for what to do next."

"Oh," she said, looking back at Mearagar so he wouldn't see the foolish smile on her face. He thinks I'm lovely. She heard him stop behind her and struggled to act normal, like her heart wasn't beating like a scared rabbit's.

"Erin."

It was the first time he'd called her by her name, and she couldn't suppress the thrill that went through her.  Gentle hands grasped her shoulders and turned her until she was facing him.  She couldn't keep pretending that his presence didn't affect her as his arms slowly encircled her and she froze, neither willing nor able to resist, as he slowly bent his head and kissed her.

Shock and desire flooded her body as his mouth covered hers. There was nothing gentle or tentative about his kiss. Rather, he took what she eagerly gave; plundering her mouth with his own until she was lightheaded and struggling to breathe.  His strong arms held her, pressing her small form against his body as he explored her mouth, and a soft sound of helpless pleasure escaped her.

He drew back, releasing her just as slowly as before, and it took her several moments before she could think coherently.  She took a deep and trembling breath. "Why did you do that?"

Éomer regarded her for a moment before speaking. "I have held the memory of a kiss within me for weeks now, and try as I might, I cannot forget it." He spoke slowly, as if measuring his words with great care. "You have cast some spell on me, Lady. I know you but little.  I hold no duty or right over your life and what you do with it, yet I find myself jealous at the thought of you with another."

She stared at him, startled by his words. "I didn't know you felt that way," she said finally. "You didn't act like you even remembered it."

"Remembered?" he repeated. "It was burned upon my mind like a brand." He paused, his expression suddenly uncertain. "Have you held no thought of it, Erin?  Is it forgotten?"

 "I haven't forgotten it, Éomer," she whispered, lifting her chin slightly. "How could I?"

He gave her a faint smile and reached for her hand. "Your words give me hope, Erin."  He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed the tips of them softly. "Hope that when the war has ended, we may find the reason why we are drawn to each other this way."

Erin drew a breath, the tips of her fingers tingling where his lips had touched them. "I don't know if that's going to work, Éomer," she said softly, and with no small amount of regret. "I'm not like the ladies of your world. I'm not of noble birth, gently bred and raised." She pulled her hand reluctantly away from his.

Éomer laughed quietly. "You are indeed different, I will agree." He reached for her hand again. "But I do not find your differences displeasing.  I would very much like to have the opportunity to discover each and every one of them, if you would permit me."

His hand engulfed her much smaller one, and she found herself smiling shyly up at him. "I will," she answered hesitantly, "If that's what you want."

"What I want," Éomer's mouth curved into a broad smile, "Is to kiss you again."

Oh my, Erin thought, letting him pull her into his arms once more. He looked down at her a moment before bending his head and brushing his lips softly against hers. Erin's knees went weak at their touch and she was grateful for his strength holding her as his mouth moved gently over hers. His kiss was slower this time, though every bit as thorough, and when he finally lifted his head, Erin felt as if all the bones had left her body.

He looked pleased at her reaction. "Come, Erin," he said softly. "I should escort you back to your room while I still am able."

She smiled what she was sure was a fairly foolish and giddy smile, but didn't care. His kisses had a way of stealing all her reason and rationality from her.  She accepted his arm and helped him to extinguish the torches, before they left the barn.   By the time they reached her room, Erin felt like she was floating on air. They paused in front of her door, and Éomer lifted her chin with his fingers.

"I am leaving tomorrow, you know this," he said softly. "You will not forget me while I am away?"

Erin blinked, reality crashing rudely down upon her with his words. God, how could I have forgotten?  She nodded slowly. "I know. I won't."

Éomer leaned forward and kissed her and she leaned into the touch, brief though it was.

"Will you think of me?" he asked, giving her a faint smile.

"Every day," she promised. Of course, she thought with an inward grin, he doesn't know I'll be coming along with him and the rest.

He nodded, pleased by her answer. "Sleep well, Erin," he said. "If I do not see you before we leave, fare well, also. Until I see you again."

She touched his arm, stopping him as he turned to leave. "Be safe, Éomer. Be careful."

He brought her hand to his lips briefly and then turned on his heel, leaving her to smile happily after him.

Théoden met with Hirgon in the courtyard, and though dawn was past, there was no sunlight to warm the day. The sky was cloudless, yet a shadow hung over the land, making it seem as if all color had washed out from it, leaving behind only shades of black and gray.

"It comes from Mordor, my Lord," Hirgon said uneasily, glancing at the sky. "It began last night at sunset. Now the great shadow hangs over all the land between here and Mordor, and it is deepening. War has already begun."

"So we come to it," Théoden said heavily. "The great battle of our time, in which many things shall pass away. At least there will be no need for hiding. We shall ride the straight and open road with all our speed."  He lifted his gaze and sought his sister's son, standing at the base of the steps. "Call the heralds, Éomer. Let the riders be marshalled."

Éomer bowed and left to do his King's bidding and Théoden turned to Hirgon once more.

"Take the arrow, Hirgon of Gondor, and return it to Lord Denethor. Ride swiftly, and tell your lord that Rohan and Lothlórien come," he said, offering the red arrow to Hirgon.

Hirgon bowed before taking the arrow from the king's hand. "I will tell him, Lord."  He took the reins of his horse from the groom and mounted, turning his mount towards the gates of the city. "Farewell, King of Rohan. May your horses be strong and swift."

Erin shivered in the cool morning air as she dressed. A fire had not yet been lit in the fireplace of her room, for she was awake before the maids normally came to tend to it. Though she knew it was morning, the sky outside the window was dim and gray, and did nothing to dispel the chill.

Clad in rough spun breeches and tunic, Erin glanced at her reflection in the small mirror and grimaced, before pulling on the leather cap Éowyn had given her to wear over her recently shorn hair. It disguised her features fairly well, and, along with the cloth that bound her breasts tightly against her chest, completed the guise of a young boy. Her shortness was of definite advantage as it added to the illusion of her youth - and Éowyn had been satisfied that the deception would work, so long as no one examined her too closely.

She ran her fingers over the chopped ends of her hair with a sigh. She hadn't really wanted to cut it, and neither had Éowyn, but Erin had finally insisted. It wouldn't fit with her disguise if she had long hair like a woman. Men and boys did wear their hair long, but Erin was afraid that her hair, which had grown past her shoulders, would give her away. So, with great reluctance, Éowyn had cut it for her, using her mending scissors to crop the length of her hair to just past Erin's ears.

It doesn't matter, she thought, dropping her hand away. It'll grow again. Quickly, I hope.  A soft knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts.

"Who is it?" she called nervously, hoping it wasn't one of the maids.

"It is time." Éowyn's voice came muffled through the door.

Checking that her knife was strapped to its place at her hip, Erin grabbed the cloak that Aragorn had lent her and swung it over her shoulders. Its ragged appearance went well with the rest of her outfit, and helped to hide the shape of her body. She had no doubts that sooner or later, she would be discovered. She just hoped that when the time came, it would be too late to do anything about it.

Opening the door, she stepped out into the hallway, and closed it firmly behind her. She turned and looked at Éowyn, and was impressed by the change in her friend.

Éowyn was dressed in the same armor that Erin had seen her in before, though she wore her helmet this time. Her disguise as the rider, Dernhelm, was very convincing, and Erin had to admit that if she didn't know it was Éowyn beneath the armor, she would never have suspected she was anything but the young rider she was supposed to be.

The sound of a horn blowing outside the great hall caught their attention.

"Come," Éowyn said softly. "It is time to go."

Théoden sat upon Snowmane, taking his helm from the young groom and tucking it beneath his arm. Turning his horse, he surveyed the riders assembled before him, feeling a brief surge of pride in the strength of his people.  A silver horn sounded and he turned his head, watching as Lord Celeborn led his elves to join the ranks of the Rohirrim. By agreement they would ride behind his men, and watch his rear flank. 

He turned his horse once more and looked to Éomer. His nephew gave him a nod, the signal that all was in readiness for his command. He lifted his helmet and placed it on his head, and drew his sword.

A single horn sounded, brass and harsh in the growing gloom of the day, and Théoden saw the lead riders move forward; twelve riders of his household, men of great renown, took their places in front of him. It was their duty to protect him.

He took his position behind them, with Éomer on his right, and lifted his sword.

"Forth, Eorlingas!" he cried, touching his heels to Snowmane's flanks. At his cry, the Riders of the Mark surged forward as one, and the elves of Lothlórien followed.

Erin clung to the saddle, grateful that the horse that Éowyn had chosen for her seemed more than willing to follow the rest as they galloped across the plains. The other riders of their group, or éored, surrounded her on all sides, so she didn't worry too much about steering the animal. She had nearly lost a stirrup when Ared had leapt forward with the rest of the riders, and it was all she could do to hang on.

Calling up everything Haldir and Éomer had told her about riding, she struggled to find her balance, keeping the pressure in the stirrups on the balls of her feet rather than the arches. To her surprise, and great relief, once the initial surge had passed, the riders settled into a steady gallop, and she managed to regain her equilibrium.

Éowyn rode on her left, carrying Merry in front of her like a small sack of apples. There had been a tense moment when Elfhelm, the leader of their éored, had looked at Éowyn and had seen Merry. To their relief, however, the tall rider had merely raised his eyebrows and rode ahead without saying a word.

"He is a good man," Merry had confided to them in a hushed voice. "He will not say anything unless he is questioned." 

It appeared the other riders of their éored were not inclined to reveal Merry's presence either, and Erin wondered at the reason for it. Perhaps, she thought, she would have the chance to ask Merry or Éowyn about it later.

For now, there was nothing to do but concentrate on staying on her horse.

They did not stop until night fell; though there was little difference between day and night the closer they drew to their destination. They made camp in the open, and set watches against any enemy that might come upon them as they took their rest.

Éowyn had helped her unsaddle their horses and groom them, before turning them loose with the others so that they could graze under the watchful eyes of the young men who, like Erin, were there to take care of them while their rider's rested. Erin knew from Elfhelm that she would have her turn watching sometime in the night, and hoped to get some sleep before then. The events of the previous night were catching up with her, and as she followed Éowyn to where their bedrolls had been laid, she stifled a yawn.

Merry was waiting for them, already eating his ration of bread and fruit, taking sips of water between bites. He nodded a greeting to Erin as she plopped down beside him.

"How are you faring?" Éowyn asked, passing the waterskin to her. She had removed her helmet, but left the hood to cover her hair. In the darkness, it was difficult to see her face beneath it.

Erin took a deep drink before handing it back to her. "I'm tired. I didn't get much sleep last night."  She resisted the urge to smile at the memory her words brought up, and took an apple from Merry. "I'm going to bed now," she said, after she had finished eating.  "Elfhelm said I have second watch." 

Her worry about her ability to keep watch on the herd must have shown on her face, for Éowyn managed a faint smile, barely visible beneath the shadow of her hood. "You will be fine. There are others who will be watching with you. Just remember what I told you, if anyone should speak to you," Éowyn said. "You are a refugee from Gondor, a distant cousin to Dernhelm on his mother's side. That is why you do not speak or understand anything but Westron."

Erin nodded, crawling to her bedroll and sliding beneath the blankets. She rolled onto her side and rested her head against her hands, squirming as she tried to find a comfortable spot on the hard ground. She closed her eyes, listening to the low murmuring voices of her companions, and tried to sleep.

Her watch had been, thankfully, uneventful so far. Erin could the other guards that shared her duty, their presence little more than human shaped shadows spaced some distance away from her, and the quiet had given her plenty of time to think about things.

She wondered how Haldir and Orophin were faring, and where Rúmil was. She hadn't seen hide or hair of him on the ride back to Edoras, and she hadn't had the opportunity to go and talk with her friends before they left. Now, of course, it was impossible to approach them, so long as she was still in disguise.

Her nocturnal musings turned, naturally, to Éomer, and she spent several moments just thinking about his kisses and how he made her feel. She tried to push past her physical reactions to him and think simply about how she felt about him. What did she know of him, really? She knew that he was honorable and brave, loyal, strong, and held a strong passion for horses. He also had this uncanny ability to turn her knees to goo whenever he kissed her, which was wonderful, but distracting her from the point of her thoughts.

Did she love him? Truthfully, not yet, but she had to admit she could easily see herself falling in love with him, if she had the chance. The question was would he love her, once he really knew her? Would he be able to accept her the way she was, or would he expect her to fall into the behaviors of the women of this world? Because, she thought, that would be asking the impossible.

How would he feel about the fact that she wasn't a maiden in the traditional sense of the word? She wasn't sure about how such things were viewed in his world, but she knew in the not so distant past of her own world, women were expected to be chaste until marriage. And that brought up yet another concern; what was he looking for, really? Was he just after a tumble with a willing woman, or was he looking for something more permanent, like a wife?  Try as she might, Erin couldn't envision herself as Éomer's wife.

It was probably a good thing, she thought ruefully, rubbing her arms to try to keep herself warm, that they had this time apart from one another.  She found it almost impossible to think rationally when he kissed her. And she most definitely needed the time to think about things.

She was relieved from her watch after a few hours, and she returned to her bedroll, stepping lightly around the sleeping forms of her companions. Snuggling down into the blankets, she closed her eyes tiredly, and let sleep claim her.

The next few days passed in a blur of sleep deprived repetition - wake, eat, ride, eat, sleep, wake, freeze her butt off for a few hours, sleep a bit more, and then start the whole process all over again in the morning. Erin was beginning to understand the meaning of the phrase 'burning the candle at both ends' by the fourth night as she stumbled across the camp, making her way to where Éowyn and Merry were.

The hobbit looked tired as well, but managed to give her a cheerful smile as he huddled close to their campfire.  Erin smiled in return as she took her place beside him, accepting the waterskin he offered her wordlessly.

"How are you?" Merry asked her, looking at her critically. "You look awful," he added.

"Thanks," she snorted, reaching for a piece of dried meat. "I feel awful."

Sleep beckoned but she couldn't seem to find it, no matter how she tossed and turned in her bedroll, trying to find a comfortable position on the ground. Finally she lay on her back, staring up at the night sky.  Something about the view bothered her, and it took her several moments of looking at the blackness above her before she realized what it was: there were no stars.  It was if a black curtain had been drawn over the sky, blocking out the moon and the stars completely, leaving only darkness behind.

Uneasy, Erin rolled onto her side, and watched Éowyn check her weapons and gear, trying to blot out the vision of the emptiness above her.  Gradually her eyes grew heavy and she closed them, feeling sleep finally begin to take hold of her.

A distant pounding sound woke her moments later and she sat up, all traces of sleepiness gone with the rush of fear that surged through her. She saw Éowyn rise from her seat and look anxiously around, and Merry rose to his feet as well, his small face pinched with worry.

"What is it?" he asked, looking up at the woman beside him. "Is it the enemy? Are we under attack?"

"Nay, Master Meriadoc," Elfhelm's deep voice startled them and the three of them turned to watch him approach. He stopped beside the hobbit, glancing at Éowyn, though he showed no sign that he recognized the lady of Rohan beneath her disguise. Turning his attention back to Merry, he continued. "The enemy is on the road, not in the hills. You hear the Woses, the Wild Men of the Woods, for that is how they talk to each other from afar."

Drum signals, Erin thought, pulling her blankets around her as she listened to the captain speak. Clever. I wonder what they are saying.

"They are troubled by the darkness and the coming of the orcs," Elfhelm said. "They fear the Dark Years are returning, and have come to offer their services to the King. Even now, one of their headmen has come to meet with Théoden, to offer what aid, I cannot say."  He drew his cloak closer around his tall frame. "Be ready, young Dernhelm, Master Holbytla. Orders may come for a sudden move." He turned on his heel and left them, making his way to the next campfire to give his news.

"Holbytla?" Erin asked, looking first at Merry, then at Éowyn.

Éowyn managed a faint smile. "It is what we call hobbits. I am grateful that Elfhelm has chosen not to reveal Merry's presence here."

Erin cleared her throat, rising from her bedroll. "How come? I mean, why go against the King's orders?"  She dropped to her knees and began rolling the bedding up into a small bundle, tying it closed with a length of rawhide. When Éowyn didn't answer, she looked at her friend.

The lady lifted her head slightly, and Erin could see her face clearly. It was pale, the shadows beneath her eyes looked like bruises against the whiteness of her skin.

"I believe it is because he knows that every strong arm that can wield a blade is needed for the battle to come," Éowyn answered finally, dropping her head once more, hiding her face in the shadows of her hood. "He was at Helm's Deep. The forces we faced there are but a taste of things to come."

Erin paled, remembering the fields after the battle. They had been littered with endless numbers of black corpses of the orcs and Uruk-hai. There had been thousands of them, possibly ten thousand or more; far too many for her to ever count. "A taste?" she whispered.

Éowyn nodded slowly. "Those were Saruman's alone. We have yet to face the forces of the armies of Mordor."

"Oh my God," Erin rasped weakly. She dropped her bedroll and sat on it, burying her face in her hands a moment. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Éowyn and Merry. "We're in deep shit, aren't we?"

Éowyn nodded once more. "Yes, Erin. We are."

The tent flap opened and Théoden watched as Éomer led the two representatives from the Woses inside. Halig and Gamling followed behind them and took positions on either side of the opening, standing guard against any interruptions.

The Wild Men, led by Éomer, came to a halt before him, and without a word, both creatures sat on the floor, the oldest-looking of the two sitting slightly in front of the other. Théoden observed his strange visitors with hooded eyes. Their squat, brown bodies were strange to him, as was their raiment. They were dressed only in grass, which had been woven and tied around their waists like a skirt. Of the two, only the oldest wore something that resembled a beard, though it was sparse and scraggly, like dry moss.

He lifted his eyes slightly and met the frank and canny gaze of the elder, and realized that he had been scrutinized just as keenly. 

"Why have you sought a council with me?" he asked abruptly. "Have you come to aid us in our fight?"

The eldest of the Wild Men shook his head. "No, father of Horse-men," he said, his words in the common tongue surprisingly understandable. "We fight not. Hunt only. Kill gorgûn in woods, hate orc-folk. You hate gorgûn too. We help as we can. Wild Men have long ears and eyes; know all paths. Wild Men live here before Stone houses; before Tall Men come up out of Water."

Éomer shifted slightly in his place beside them. "But our need is for aid in battle. How will you and your folk help us?"

"Bring news," the Wild Man said. "We look out from hills. We climb big mountain and look down. Stone-city is shut. Fire burns there outside, now inside too. You wish to come there?" He gazed at Théoden shrewdly. "You must be quick. Gorgûn and men sit on horse-road. Very many, more than Horse-men."

"How do you know that?" Éomer asked.

The Wild Man frowned at him. "Wild Men are wild, free, but not children. I am great headman, Ghân-buri-Ghân. I count many things: stars in sky, leaves on trees, men in the dark. You have a score of scores, counted ten times and five. They have more."

"You speak truly," Théoden said. "For our scouts say that the enemy has cast trenches and stakes across the road. We cannot sweep them away in a sudden onset."

"Father of Horse-men is wise," Ghân-buri-Ghân said, nodding his grizzled head. "That way only death for Horse-men. No help to Stone-city. Must go different way."

"What other way?" Éomer asked with a frown.

"Road where no pits are, no gorgûn walk, only Wild Men and beasts. Road that is forgotten by all but Wild Men." He turned his bright gaze to Théoden. "We will show you that road. Then you will kill gorgûn and drive away bad dark with bright iron. Then Wild Men can go back to sleep in the wild woods."

Théoden was silent a moment as he contemplated the headman's words. Little choice did he have, it seemed; to push onward and meet the forces waiting for them on the road, knowing that they were outnumbered, or to trust in the word of a Wild Man and take a road that none had heard of before. Finally he lifted his head and spoke.

"We will receive your offer. Though we leave a host of foes behind, what does it matter?  If the Stone-city falls, then we shall have no return. If it is saved, then the orc-host itself will be cut off."  He fixed his gaze upon Ghân-buri-Ghân. "If you are faithful, we will give you rich reward, and you shall have the friendship of the Mark forever."

The headman nodded once and rose to his feet, his bulky form oddly graceful.

"How long will it take to pass by the enemy and come back to the road?" asked Éomer. "We must go at foot-pace, if you guide us; and I doubt not the way is narrow."

Ghân-buri-Ghân shook his head. "The way is narrow at beginning and end, but way is wide for four horses in Stonewain Valley to south. Wild Men go on quick feet. Walk from here to Dîn between sunrise and noon."

Éomer thought for a moment, and looked at his king. "Count then some ten hours for the journey, for things unforeseen may hinder us, and if our host is strung out, it will be long before it can be set in order when we reach the end of the road.  What is the hour now?"

"Who knows?" Théoden replied, passing a hand tiredly over his face. "All is night now."

"It is all dark, but it is not all night," said the headman, shaking his head. "The sun has risen already and is climbing over the east-mountains. She is hidden, but we can feel her. The day has begun."

Read Chapter 5