Chapter 10

"Come on men, keep moving!" he shouted, his voice muffled by the thick foliage overhead.

The grumbling of the bedraggled soldiers brought a smile to Éoden's face as they trekked through the woods. Weeks of surveying the land had made them frustrated and lonely for home. Not to mention filthy.

"Sir?" Haled's voice was no longer crisp and formal as he approached Éoden.

"Yes, Haled?"

"Sir, I know you must have answered this question before, but why are we here? The men are weary of this wretched place, yet still we walk."

All Éoden could do was sigh and shake his head merrily. "You know our orders, Haled. King Éomer ordered that all the lands be scoured, completely cleared of all that remains of Saruman's horde. So, we will walk until the deed is done."

Seeing the obvious disappointment on the new soldier's face, Éoden clapped a hand on his back, the heavy clank of armor under his palm familiar and welcoming. "Do not be dismayed, my friend. Meduseld awaits our return. It will still be there, shining in the midst of Edoras, when this task is completed."

Smiling, he gave Haled a gentle shove in the direction of his waiting comrades. "Give them a message of hope, Haled. There is always hope."

His face brightening, Haled stumbled away from the jovial leader, carrying his message of hope to the weary Rohirrim.

Free, again, to his thoughts, Éoden was content to enjoy their assignment. Ever positive, he ignored the heat of his skin under leather and mail. He ignored the sitnk of his men, the stench of unwashed bodies. He ignored the call of home and the loneliness of being away from the Golden Hall.

The smooth scent of leaves washed over him, carried on a gentle, cooling breeze. The sun, no longer bothersome or heavy, became a soft kiss, a warm caress. The sounds of his men sank into the background as the beauty of the woods enveloped him like a blanket.

Each part of the forest was picturesque, perfect beyond description. Rohan was a beautiful land, to be sure, but most of it was open plains. Here, under the swaying arms of the trees, Éoden felt held, protected.

Still, he was a soldier above all else and was forced to examine every sight and sound with more than an appreciative glance. Though the heavy shadows hung from the branches like smooth curtains, lovely and soft, that serene darkness could easily mask an approaching Orc or Uruk-Hai. But, Orcs and Uruks were not known for their subtlety.

Inwardly, he questioned the importance of this assignment. The world would be a better place without the odious beasts of Saruman, to be sure, but these slaves of the darkness rarely entered the forests. Fangorn had taught them a lesson.

But, Éoden was loyal to a fault and carried out his beloved king's orders with no complaint. He had the best of men as his companions and an idyllic setting in which to abide. True, they'd not come upon an expanse of fresh water in days, but Éoden was used to such a life and was no simpering child, no primping woman. He could handle a little dirt.

No matter how capable of handling filth he may have felt, the sounds of rushing water and the gentle light peeking through the trees filled him with a sense of relief.

He held a hand up to stop his men and gain their attention.

"There is a clearing ahead, men. If all proves well, we may get a chance to wash the stench from our skin."

A chorus of pleased laughter answered his comment. He gestured to his friend, "Haled, come with me. We will make sure it is safe for all."

Side by side, they walked forward, bows drawn, arrows notched securely, waiting for release. Éoden stepped through the branches first, quickly scanning the breathtaking place. The sight of a wide river pleased him immensely, but he was not prepared for the woman standing next to it.

Startled to the point of disbelief, his grasp on the bow faltered so that it hung loose in his grip.

"Sir?!" shouted Haled, obviously equally surprised at the sight of the young woman.

The young soldier's voice brought him back to reality. Embarassed, he quickly gained his grip afresh and brought the arrow to bear so that it aimed at the woman's forehead. The gesture felt foolish. Nothing so beautiful could possibly be dangerous.

Clad in a thin, white shift, she stared at him, completely unafraid. Her thick black hair hung in lustrous, damp waves down her back, framing a moon-white face. Her arms were bare, the same pearl-color as her face. For a moment, he wondered why she was so thinly-clad and yet was not embarassed. The shift was soaked and clung to her body, but she made no move to cover herself. A quick glance toward the ground revealed where her dress lay. He must have surprised her in the midst of washing. But, why was she washing in the middle of the forest?

Lowering his bow, he stepped closer to her, slowly so as not to frighten her. Again, he felt foolish. Her fathomless, wid, grey eyes were completely fearless. She was no skittish colt, prepared to run at any moment.

"I will not harm you," he said, lowering the bow to the ground.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than she gasped, her full, wine-dark lips quivering as if she was on the verge of tears. Afraid that he had, at last, startled her, he searched her eyes for a sign of fright. But, her eyes were dancing with happiness, and the tears shimmering in them appeared to be tears of joy.

"I am Éoden, of Rohan. This is Haled, a soldier, loyal to the king. He will not harm you, either." He spoke softly, still walking closer to her. But his words, though carefully spoken, only served to renew her tears.

"Are you hurt, my lady?" he asked, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on her arm.

Surprised, her eyes left his to stare at his hand on her arm. The tears stopped falling from her eyes and her breaths slowed. She stared from his hand, to him, and back to his hand again, amazed or scared, he was unsure of which.

Her eyes danced back and forth once more and then abruptly rolled back in her head. He had time only to extend his arms to catch her as she fainted.