A/N: This multi-part story builds on characters introduced in my earlier one-shot Princes and Sisters, which is posted on ff.You don't have to read that story to understand this one, but it does provide some context and introduces the characters as younger children. For those who have not read it, Ethuniel is two years younger than Elboron. Elboron is twenty at the beginning of this story. For those who have read my other story, Aelwen is the child whose birth is predicted at the end of it. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: Emyn Arnen

Elboron, son of Faramir and Eowyn, heir to the Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor, nephew to the king of Rohan, and sworn brother to the future kings of both Rohan and Gondor, was living up to none of those titles as he sparred playfully (with wooden swords) with a ten-year-old girl on a hill overlooking his father's house and the surrounding lands. Particularly in view of the fact that Aelwen had landed a number of good shots that would probably bruise later. But then again, he was taking care not to injure her in any way. He reminded himself of this as she managed to poke him hard in the ribs with the end of her sword.

"Aelwen, I would have killed you," he pointed out patiently. "While you were stabbing me, I had a clear shot at your throat – or, in fact, at anything else I wished to hit."

"I know," his sister replied innocently, standing back and waving her sword in a ridiculous imitation of her brother's solitary practice sessions. "But you were winning and I wanted to stab you."

"I do not think that tactic would serve you well on the field of battle."

"Of course not," she said, managing to convey that she was saddled with the dimmest elder brother in the entire universe. "I do not plan to use it on Haradrim; only on you."

Whatever Elboron had planned to say was interrupted, for his other sister, who had been watching the proceedings for a moment with a barely hidden smile, had finally decided that her message was important enough to cut short Aelwen's "practice."

"Have you noticed?" Ethuniel asked as she joined them at the highest point of the rise. "Riders from the northwest. Not many, but riding hard."

"The guards will have seen them," Elboron responded automatically even as he turned to look behind him. His dark eyes narrowed as he spied the group of ten or so riders, galloping hard as his sister said, nearing the far gates of Emyn Arnen at an impressive speed. He had barely finished the words when the horn sounded that sent a cautious greeting from the guardhouse to their visitors.

The horn that sounded in reply was unlike any made by mortal Men, and even Aelwen dropped her sword and came to stand closer to her elder brother and sister. "Are they Elves?" she asked in subdued delight.

"No," Ethuniel replied at the same time that Elboron said, "Yes." With a quick glance at her brother, Ethuniel clarified, "Not all. If I do not mistake, they ride like the Rohirrim. But that was an elven horn."

"You are right," Elboron granted after watching for another moment. "Those in the rear are surely Rohirrim. But in front . . ."

"They will be close enough to see in a few minutes." Ethuniel placed calming hands on her young sister's shoulders. "Peace, Aelwen, when you hop like that I can scarce see past you."

"That's because I'm going to be tall like Mama," Aelwen replied, managing to boast and keep one eye on the approaching riders at the same time.

"I would not count on it," replied Ethuniel, who had also been a tall child but had turned into a disappointingly (to her mind) petite woman. "I was a handswidth taller than you when I was your age."

"You are a handswidth taller than me now!"

"Exactly." Something in the air of the lead rider – the one they could now clearly see was holding the horn, and preparing to blow it again in greeting – caught Ethuniel's attention, and she grabbed absently at her brother's sleeve. "Elboron – is it not Legolas?"

Her sense of urgency caught him and he frowned intently at the riders. "It – you are right!"

"Isn't it?"

"I think it must be."

"He said he would not likely be back for –"

"Something must be wrong." Elboron and Ethuniel had long ago learned the habit of speaking over one another and finishing each other's sentences, and rarely minded being interrupted. And in this case . . . Elboron watched for another moment as the riders pressed their horses to the limit, nearing the gates at a speed that should have been impossible. "Something must be very wrong. Aelwen, fetch Father."

"But I want to –"

"Aelwen, now!" her sister seconded. Aelwen did not hesitate another moment before running for the house, the wind catching the strands that had come loose from her tightly coiled braids. Ethuniel might not be very big, but she was occasionally very good at being obeyed.

The riders had been halted at the gates by the time their mother hurried up the rise to meet her children, lifting her skirts over her ankles in her haste. "I sent Aelwen on to find your father," she said by way of greeting. She sounded slightly out of breath, as though she had run all the way from the house. "She said it was Legolas, but that cannot be –"

"Look, Mother," Ethuniel said, pointing down toward the guardhouse. Elboron would never have interrupted his mother, but her daughters were not so bound. "We are certain it is he, with a number of Rohirrim."

"And three men of Gondor," Elboron added, now that the riders were close enough to make out the color of their tunics.

"Nay, two," Eowyn contradicted as soon as her sharp eyes had focused on the men. "That one has a Rohirric saddle – can it be your cousin? And – that is Legolas. You were right to fetch your father."

"It's only that he said he would be unlikely to return for some years," Elboron said. "If he is here . . ."

"There is some emergency that affects the Elves," Eowyn finished.

"And the Rohirrim as well, it would seem," Ethuniel said. "And that is Elfwine, Mother. Now I recognize the horse Uncle gave him last year when Wiglaf was retired."

"Your uncle would have sent a message, unless . . ." Eowyn pressed one hand to her forehead in thought. "Run down and meet them at the inner gate, both of you. I'm going back to the house."

They took the shortest way around the house and down into the inner streets, Elboron catching at his sister's hand to hurry her along. The inner gates were just opening to admit the small group of riders as they arrived. All of the men, especially the two in front, looked particularly enigmatic.

Their cousin Elfwine, heir to the throne of Rohan, leapt easily from his horse and warmly kissed Ethuniel when she came near, clapping Elboron on the back at the same time. In years he fell exactly between them, and although they did not see each other as often as they would have liked they had always been affectionate cousins. "Hello, you two," he said in his unaccented Westron (his mother, of course, hailing from Dol Amroth). "We have a lot to talk about."

"So we gathered," Elboron commented, nodding toward the other riders. Before he could say much else, the other leader had dismounted and come to greet them.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," Elboron said quickly, slightly ashamed that he had so far forgotten his manners. "We are pleased to see you so unexpectedly."

"And yet concerned, for you are neither of you slow of mind." Legolas embraced the son of his friends with good will. "I was your teacher for only a short time, but I remember that not much escaped you, son of Faramir." When he turned to Ethuniel he only gripped her shoulder gently and raised a brotherly hand to her hair, but murmured, "Cormamin lindua ele lle." In the confusion of their sudden and unannounced arrival, Ethuniel found time to be heartily ashamed of herself for the flush she could feel on her face.

She had grown up around Elves, however, and his effect on her was nearly broken by the time she found herself walking between him and Elfwine toward the great house. They had each comfortably taken an arm of hers, leaving Elboron to walk on the other side of his former teacher and continue to ask a lot of questions that were unlikely to be answered. They continued so until Elboron and Legolas were delayed by the need to give instructions on the stabling of the horses, leaving Ethuniel to escort her cousin to the house alone.

"I did not see you blush over our friend the elf back there, did I?" Elfwine asked teasingly as soon as they were out of earshot.

"No, you did not. Hush," she commanded, even as she laughed and allowed him to tuck her arm tighter within his.

"Because that would be an exceedingly clever way of disgracing the family, you know – running off with –"

"Stop it!" Ethuniel exclaimed, barely able to speak through her laughter. "First of all, you know that even had I the beauty of Galadriel – which I most certainly do not -"

"Some might disagree."

"And you are not one of them, Elfwine, so hush – you know very well that we are all near infants to their kind, and Legolas has merely lived among Men for a long time and learned that nearly anything he says can make a mortal woman blush."

"Which does not explain why he seems to save it for you, cousin."

"Because unlike most mortal women except for perhaps two others, I know he means nothing by it." She grinned. "And unlike the other two, I am not someone else's wife."

"Do you think he will stop when you are?"

Suddenly breaking the mood, Ethuniel laced the fingers of her free hand through her cousin's and asked seriously, "Elfwine, why have you all come?"

They both stopped walking, within short distance of the door to the house, as he pressed her hand and looked down into her upturned face. "You'll find out soon enough."

"It cannot be good news."

"No, it is not." He tugged at her hand. "Come on, your brother and your lover are catching us up."

She smiled at his attempt to return to their teasing, but it did not calm the nervous sinking in her stomach.

It was not good news.

"Haradrim in Rohan?" Faramir said in disbelief. It was the third time he had said those words, and the others had stopped replying.

"How far have they penetrated the borders?" Eowyn asked, glancing at her husband. In public she might show a bit more deference to his position, but in this small family council she did not trouble to curb her questioning tongue.

"Perhaps to the edges of the Eastemnet, my lady," replied the only one of the Riders to have come in to take council with them. He was Eoric, Eothain's son, and had been sent in his father's stead to accompany Elfwine to Ithilien.

His words brought the talk to a dead halt. It was after several moments of stunned silence that Faramir said, "No, that cannot be possible. That would take – how could they not have been noticed?"

"Forgive me, I did not speak plainly," Eoric said. His words in the common tongue were more laborious than his prince's. "They have reached the northern edges of the Eastemnet – traveling from the north."

There was another shocked pause. "The only way to come up north of Rohan from Harad – without being seen in Ithilien . . ." Eowyn trailed off, but her son finished her sentence.

". . . is to travel around Mordor."

Faramir shook his head absently. "We thought Mordor was cleared of any of the lingering Haradrim – or rather, it was so cleared, but that was . . . I do not think Ethuniel had been born yet. Beregond's men used to patrol around the other side of Mount Doom occasionally, but it was such a long journey . . ."

"We discontinued those patrols nigh fifteen year ago," said Beregond, whose relationship with his lord's family had long entitled him to inclusion in close councils. "We never found anything, and those lands would ill support life for any length of time."

"They would have to have swept far to the east indeed, to have avoided being spotted at all by our forces." Elboron spread his hands on the table. "I cannot see how they would have done it. The amount of time they would have to have been in the far wastes of Mordor . . ."

Elfwine shrugged as if to say, now you see the problem.

"Perhaps they did not go through Mordor," Ethuniel said, clearing her throat as she spoke for the first time since they had sat down. They all looked at her; Legolas rather sharply.

The silence that greeted her words was intimidating, but she continued, "Well – could they not have sailed west up the coast and come ashore north of Gondor? The corsairs have been doing it since time immemorial."

Elfwine looked at Legolas then before replying, "Legolas has been trying to convince us that the Haradrim indeed launched from below the Harnen, where they could not be seen from Belfalas, did not come ashore until they would have near reached the lands of the Holbytlan, and then marched across land, through the forests – somehow evading the notice of Mirkwood – all to descend on Rohan from the Wold."

Which explains why Legolas has come. Thinking out loud, Ethuniel asked, "How many did you estimate there were?"

Elfwine looked to Eoric, who replied, "Perhaps a thousand."

They all gasped, and Ethuniel continued, "That would take at least ten ships of Harad's building – where would they have been left?"

"Ethuniel, you cannot really believe the Haradrim would go so far out of their way just to sweep back around to the northeast," her brother said.

"Do you believe they journeyed three months in the eastern reaches of Mordor?" she countered. "If a thousand men survived that, the Haradrim have indeed become more fearsome than ever."

"Perhaps they left Harad with three thousand," Elboron suggested with a hint of teasing in his tone.

"That is the other question," Legolas said, drawing all attention to himself with his quietly intense words. "However they came, and however they managed to evade notice until now, it seems a great deal of effort just to bring a thousand men to Rohan's northern border. A thousand will give Eomer a great deal of trouble, but I think in the end they would be pressed back."

"Unless," Eowyn finished for him, dread plain in her voice, "there are more waiting to come from the eastern plains . . . or from west of Isengard."

Legolas held Eowyn's eyes as he nodded. "I think that is the logical conclusion."

A cold chill ran down Ethuniel's back as her father began to speak. "They have been left alone for nearly twenty years – long enough to learn to live in peace without Mordor inciting them, but – long enough to build a greater army as well. We did not decimate Harad itself, only those forces it sent to battle Gondor."

"And Harad has never committed its full strength to another's battle," Legolas said. "Summoned by Mordor with the promise of conquest, they sent many men and beasts, but they would not have left themselves open to attack at home. They kept an army in reserve."

"And they've had time for a new one to grow up." Faramir was now sounding faintly ill. "In the years before the War we had little to do with Harad. We had enough trouble with Orcs on our very doorstep, and my father – preferred to concentrate on the threat from Mordor. We have no idea what size army they may be able to command."

"Their plan can only be to use Rohan as a testing ground," Elfwine said. "If they triumph there, then –"

"Gondor," Eowyn finished. Elfwine nodded grimly at his aunt.

To be continued in Chapter 2.

My heart sings to see thee.