A/N: I am going by a mix of movie verse and book verse, just so you know. I love the books, but the movies make it simpler. Sorry to all you book fans- I'll try to put as much book verse as I can in.

To all my reviewers: I love you all, and thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy the rest!

Chapter Six: Of Edoras and Acne

I first saw the city at sunset. I had spotted two people on horseback, and was trying to call to them when I reached the hill-top and beheld Edoras, more beautiful and breathtaking than any picture or movie would have been able to convey. The Golden Halls upon the top of that large hill shone in the reddish light of the sunset, looking like what I thought heaven must look like. It was the best thing I'd seen since I'd come here.

I stood still, simply admiring the city, no longer watching the solitary horse with it's two riders. It was just as I had imagined it- only a hundred times better.

The folks at TORC would get a kick out of this, I thought, suddenly remembering all my friends there. I wished they could've come, too. Maybe then I wouldn't've made so many mistakes- or lost those two boys. I felt a prickle of guilt, and looked down.

White flowers dotted the ground at the foot of the hill. There were small, irregular hills down there- burial mounds, I realized. Two men were standing amongst them, one before a mound and weeping, the other simply standing there, comforting the other with his presence.

I lost my breath, and my throat closed. I realized, with the excitement only a Lord of the Rings fan can get, that Théoden, king of Rohan, and Gandalf the White were below.

Thud! I turned to see what had made the sound. The horse I had been following had just lost one of it's riders, and the other, a little girl, clung to the saddle, looking fearfully over at the boy on the ground.

The two men looked up, and Gandalf hurried to them, with a swiftness that seemed odd for someone who was - or at least, appeared to be - so old. Tentatively I made my way down to them.

"Hwaet?" I said, using the Rohirric word for hello.

Théoden looked up. "Hwæt eart thu?"

"Allysandra," I said, hoping I understood him correctly, "Er- I was- attacked- by Wild men. Er... Wild Men," What had Blostma called them? "Wylde menne?" I guessed, knowing that most likely it was not right.

"Wilde ielde sucan!" the little girl had leapt off their mount and was sobbing into her brother's chest. He nodded, and spoke quickly to Théoden in rohirric, who answered equally fast.

Gandalf whispered something to Théoden, who looked at me and nodded. Gandalf then motioned for me to follow him. Suddenly I felt nervous. I hesitated, but decided to go anyways. The girl was placed back on the horse, and her brother led it by the reins behind him. Théoden strode forward and walked beside (and slightly ahead) of Gandalf. Thus I entered Edoras, the great city of Rohan.

They led us up through the main thoroughfare and into the Hall. I was almost trembling with excitement as the guards drew back the door and let us in.

Inside, sat four of the (in my opinion) best people in Middle Earth: the Three Hunters, and Éowyn. I touched my hand to my face, to make sure that I was here for sure.

A bump met my finger.

I blushed profusely as Legolas peered curiously at me, his fair face too much to bear. Acne! Now! In Middle Earth! I groaned, and tried to glare at my traitorous face, which, of course, was impossible.

They sat the four of us (the boy, girl, Lytling and I) down at one of the many wooden tables. Éowyn rushed forward, making sympathetic sounds as we sat. I realized that I must look a sight, all covered with ash and dirt and cuts and bruises. The other two sure did, though they were not coated with ash as I was.

Gandalf spoke, his rough and grumpy voice quickly forming the rohirric words. "Hie swelce secan, hie cweoan, be wilde ielde. Hwa faran ac fetian feorm!"

Éowyn hurried off, returning quickly with three bowls of soup. She looked questioningly at Lytling. "Eart thu hiere modor?" she asked me. I, supposing that she was asking me about Lytling's mother, shook my head, and she hurried back to what I supposed was the kitchens, returning with milk and an odd, soft gruel. I thanked her, and began to eat, gulping down the food like the two with me.

The others were talking. They were talking in a new language now, a complicated tounge that was totally different from Rohirric; more lyrical, and somehow less interesting. The first person to speak was Aragorn. The voice was Aragorn's, but it was deeper and more dangerous than Viggo Mortensen's. I found this Aragorn to be more frightening, more intimidating; terrible, but handsome and noble, too.

Gandalf answered in the tounge I assumed was Westron, gesturing at the boy.

Éowyn went and knelt down beside us, speaking softly to first the girl and her brother, then to me. Théoden sat down upon his throne with a great sigh, and Gandalf sat down on his right.

We told her our stories, (though she understood little of mine, thanks to my limited vocabulary), and she rose and spoke. I could not understand what she was saying, but as I watched her face and gestures, I knew what her words must mean. "They had no warning! They were unarmed! Now the wild men are moving through the West Fold, burning as they go, rick, cot, and tree."

"Hwider is Modor?" the little girl asked Éowyn.

"Shhh..." Éowyn put a blanket over the girl's shoulders, trying to comfort her.

Gandalf spoke to Théoden. Again, I (being the obsessive fan that I am) knew well what he said. "This is but a taste of the terror than Saruman will unleash. All the more potently, as he is driven now by fear of Sauron!"

Théoden drew a hand over his eyes, and Gandalf continued to speak. "Ride out and meet him head-on, " he said, placing a hand on the arm of Théoden's throne. "Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight!"

Théoden looked warily at Gandalf. I watched with a mix of awe and horror. Awe, because I was in a room full of the people I had been nuts about since the age of eight, and horror because I knew what would happen next, and was frightened more than ever.

"You have a thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king." Aragorn spoke earnestly, and his noble face was full with emotion.

Théoden stood, and I crossed my fingers, praying that Théoden would change his mind, or something, and listen to what the others said. Hang the canon! I did not want to be in a battle.

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now! " he paced before the throne, "Éomer cannot help us. "

So much for that.

"I know what it is you want of me," he continued, turning to face Gandalf, who had also risen, "But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not. " Aragorn spoke again. I resisted the urge to go "YEAH!" but I did sit up straighter at this.

Théoden angrily turned and walked to were Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli sat, his face darkening. "When last I looked," he said, the note of challenge clear in his voice, "Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan. "

"Then what is the King's decision?" Gandalf's voice was sharp, and a teensy bit sarcastic.

Théoden turned to him. "We go to Helm's Deep."

Dang it!