Chapter 17.

They reached Aldburg in a torrent of cold weather. The first of the fall's chill had left icicles on the ledges and statues of the city and left frost on every blade of grass. The fire inside the main hall roared merrily on the hearth and many people sat around it. They all looked up suddenly when the door opened and Éomer and his soldiers entered bringing with them a cold blast of air.

The lord Ceneleod rose with a smile followed close behind by Dengal. Éomer shook their hands and joined them at the fire, but remained standing. "My lord uncle, time is wasting here. I must relocate all the horse breeders and farmers near the gap of Rohan to this city before they are destroyed," all talking immediately ceased. The men looked at him curiously and a few rose and left. Ceneleod looked grave and led Éomer to another side room. They left the soldiers behind to warm by the fire, though Dengal followed them.

"You indeed have some grave news to speak. But it would have been better had you waited to tell me this news in private. From whence have you learned this? Does the king fear an attack?" his uncle asked guiding Éomer to a couple of chairs.

"No my lord, nor does he fear anything. He is held under the thumb of a conniving counselor, I have not dared to approach him on this matter. I will tell you this now, if we do not relocate those people before the week is out, ill things will come of it. If you will not help me than I will do this deed alone unless some of my men will hazard the task with me," he said heatedly, pacing the floor as he spoke.

"I do not doubt your sincerity, or your news. However, I cannot lend you any help but my own. My word I think will not be enough to persuade those people to leave their homes," he said shaking his head and stroking his beard.

"I will help you Éomer. Foul weather is coming down upon us and it will be dreary work in sleet and frozen mud," Dengal said putting a hand on his captain's shoulder.

"I thank you, but I fear we must set out immediately needless of the weather. There is not a minute to waste; I do not think the thick-skinned orcs of Saruman will wait for the sun to shine."

"Sit for a moment nephew and tell me your news, I will order the horses to be saddled immediately after, but they will need some rest after carrying you from Edoras," Ceneleod said and motioned to a chair.

Éomer nodded and told his uncle of all that had happened, of Gandalf's arrival and departure and of his news. Ceneleod listened with a darkening countenance. He ordered that food be brought to the new arrivals and they ate gratefully. Éomer was now glad that his uncle had talked him out of starting immediately. After they had finished talking and they were all quiet and the only noise was the chewing of food and the scraping of mugs across the table Leofwyn entered with Hild. They had come in to see to the men's cups and to take away the plates. Leofwyn danced around the room and kissed their cheeks and told Éomer that her horse had finally become old enough to ride and that they would have done so today but for the weather.

Éomergulped and continued to eat; his young cousin did not seem to mind in the least and left skipping after Hild who had ended up clearing all the plates herself. Ceneleod tried to persuade Éomer to wait until the morning now that it was only three hours until nightfall, but in the end he left with his soldiers. They planned to find shelter in a village nearby. The lord Ceneleod would join them in the morning with what men he could muster.

As Dengal had foreseen it was a cold and dreary ride. Mud splashed up on their horses and their armor, and by the time they reached the little village just west of Aldburg they were very grubby. The village, larger than most in the Folde had one inn, but only room enough for ten of the soldiers. The rest were welcomed into the homes of various people and settled down for the night with growling stomachs and not nearly enough blankets. The next morning they would ride further still to the land of a well-respected horse-breeder named Anborn who employed many of the men of the village they were staying in as stable-hands. Hopefully with his cooperation they would be able to persuade other horse breeders to come to the city.

Anborn was not impressed by Éomer's words or his "grungy looking soldiers" he would not leave his land until the king came himself and told him of the need. He was a gruff man in appearance and speech. He was nearing sixty and had keen green eyes that looked out beneath bushy grey eyebrows. His hair was shorn to his shoulders and like many men of Rohan braided in two plaits that rested on his shoulders. His beard was the only part of his face that looked trimmed and clean.

His property was impressive, though the stables looked like they were cared for more than the house itself. It was built of stones and by his invitation to them they assumed it had at least five spare rooms for them to sleep in that night. The horses were grazing outside, and Éomer saw at least twenty that were of good quality. Anborn offered them a midday meal, and they accepted, hoping to have some chance to persuade the man to leave his home.

Their horses were taken to the stables to be watered and fed. They entered the house and saw that it was tidy but run down. Anborn did not seem to be a man who cared about his own well being as much as his horses. They were joined by several men who worked there and one woman who they discovered was Anborn's only child.

"This is Déorwyn, my only child," he said brusquely and that seemed enough information though there seemed to be no wife or mother in the house. The girl was dressed in breeches and a tunic and her hair in a single golden braid. She was silent, and the only thing she seemed to inherit from her father was his green eyes. Éomer noticed that she listened to the whole conversation with interest, as he tried to persuade her father she watched him curiously but turned away when he met her eyes. Anborn took less notice of the conversation than she did.

"I am not leaving all my land so those filthy demons can burn it down. They have stolen enough horses in their raids to make any man poor," he said taking a large bite of bread.

"Horses?" Dengal asked curiously.

"Yes, they stole three last week, the only black horses we had among our lot," Anborn answered, "They only take the black ones, meant for some dark purpose I shouldn't wonder."

Éomer did not respond but ate his food pensively, "My lord Anborn, I thank you for your kindness, but if we cannot persuade you to leave than we must leave and try to move the other breeders," he paused, "If you come with us now I guarantee you that we will take all your horses to Aldburg, they will be well cared for."

Anborn brought his fist down on the table, his daughter flinched, "No! I will not take them to some foreign stable to be fed ill food and die of thirst at the hands of stupid, city, stable hands!"

Éomer nodded and stood, "Thank you for the meal, we will take our leave."

The men retrieved their horses and they left a few minutes later discouraged. Cold rain began to pour down on their heads gently until they were both wet and tired. They reached the small village of Dunwang looking even more disheveled than they had been before. They were stopped by suspicious men who held spears.

"What is your business in Dunwang strangers?"

"I am the third marshal of the Mark, Éomer, and nephew to the king. I am leading my men here to bear news and counsel," Éomer responded trying to sound impressive though his throat was becoming sore.

The men lowered their spears, their leader stepped forward, "I am sorry my lord, four days ago seven horsemen rode through our village. They were dressed in black and though we knew not why, the fear of everything dark and dreadful was put in our hearts when we saw them. The horses and dogs were put into a frenzy and we lost three of our mares."

Éomer listened half-heartedly, "I do not know of these riders, but I have no doubt they are in league with Saruman. New has reached us of the wizard's betrayal, he is massing companies of orcs to attack the border villages of Rohan. We come to help you move to Aldburg where you will find safety."

The men nodded and seemed to be more receptive to the idea of moving. The men showed them where the horses could be tied, and invited Éomer to come to each house with them to share his news. By the end of the day seven of the nine families had agreed to come with him if their horses would be kept safe in the city also. The two families watched them leave on heavily laden horses and carts. By this time Ceneleod had come with about twenty men to aid them. They had stayed many hours at the house of Anborn to persuade him to move into the city, but he ignored their advice.

Five soldiers went with the villagers to conduct them to the city in safety, though they did not fear an attack on such a small group of people. They settled down for the night and made ready a camp in the middle of the abandoned houses of Dunwang. The sun had barely set when the scouts cried out and hoof beats were heard on the road. One soldier that they had sent on rode into the camp his horse flecked with white foam. His right arm hung at his side uselessly, a large gash ran from his forehead to his chin.

He dismounted with help from other soldiers and spoke with a tired voice, "My lord Éomer, the settlement of Anborn was attacked, we tried to help to defend it but they were too many."

"And the villagers from Dunwang?" Éomer asked quietly.

"Three of their men and two women were killed when I departed to find help from you," Éomer nodded and immediately ordered food and medical attention for the man. He along with his men and Dengal left immediately. Ceneleod would stay with his men in order to protect Dunwang and its remaining occupants. By the man's report a group of only twenty orcs had attacked.

The settlement was burned to the ground. A few posts and stuck out of the ground like the bones of some huge animal, tattered pieces of cloth rippled in the wind like ruined flags and banners. The bodies of horses were being moved into a pile to burn, and another was already burning, presumably with the bodies of dead men. One of his soldiers approached with Anborn. Both had numerous bruises but neither seemed to have suffered anything beyond that. A strange look of humility seemed to adorn Anborn's face as he spoke.

"Welcome back marshal, I cannot offer you any food this time around, nor water for your horses," he said quietly, his voice quiet.

"We came as quickly as we could. How many live from the village of Dunwang and from your household?" he answered gently.

"Ten live from the village, four of the men, three women, and three children. Only two are alive from my household… myself and a horse hand… my daughter and the others are dead," He said his voice cracking with emotion as he struggled to keep a straight face.

"I am sorry," he said sincerely, and then added, "I assure you that the Lord Ceneleod will provide at least five horses to replace those you lost and give you fine lodgings in the city."

Anborn smirked in an odd, sad way, "It's not the horses I'll miss my lord."

Note: Hey guys, hope you liked this chapter, I'm working hard to finish up the last chapters so responses to reviewers will be included in the last chapter. In case nobody has guessed, the riders Grima met and who rode through Dunwang are the ringwraiths on their way to Isengard. The story of them coming across Grima is included in The Unfinished Tales.

Anborn- only born

Déorwyn- friend of the deer

Dunwang-hill/hilly place