Eoden brought his horse around, looked back at his brother. Andric was coming up behind him, a look of pleasure on his face. Much to their delight, Breghelm had allowed them to exercise some of the horses that had not been ridden off to war that morning.

Short of actually going with the King to battle, Eoden figured that being able to ride over the plains just outside the walls of Edoras was an ideal way of spending an afternoon.

It was a source of great pride to him that the stablemaster had so quickly promoted them from just mucking out stalls to actually working with the horses. He liked the older man a great deal, liked hearing his stories of the King's childhood, liked knowing that he was working for someone who was so obviously respected by the King.

The horse shifted beneath him, and Eoden made a soothing noise. "Peace, Fleetfoot," he murmured. That was another source of pleasure this afternoon – of all the horses in the royal stables, this one was his favorite. The horse knew what he was thinking half the time, he was sure of it.

Fleetfoot pawed impatiently and Eoden laughed. He certainly knew what was on the horse's mind – the beast wanted to run.

In just a moment, he would indulge him with a race back to Edoras against his brother. He turned, watched Andric. The younger boy had taken his mount to the top of a slight rise where he sat, looking north. There was something in his pose that alerted Eoden even before his brother turned, looked back at him with an alarmed expression on his face.

Nerves settled into his stomach like rocks as he nudged Fleetfoot up the small hill. His brother pointed, but Eoden's eyes had already focused on the direction Andric was gazing in. A dark spot, low on the horizon. It took a moment for his mind to register what he was seeing, to push past the denial. Orcs. Coming towards Edoras.

For a terrifying moment, he was disoriented, confused enough to fear that it was somehow the same orcs the King had gone after and that both the kings and all their hosts had already met with defeat.

But no. The kings had ridden off in a southeasterly direction.

It was hard to tell how many orcs there were from this distance, but it was clear that it was no coincidence they were coming toward them even as the King rode away in the opposite direction.

But the King had not left Edoras undefended – the marshal Elfhelm and his eored were guarding the city.

He turned to Andric. "Raise the alarm. The more prepared we are, the better."

Startled, Andric looked at him. "What of you?"

"I'm going after the King."

"You'll never catch them in time!"

"One rider can ride faster than many, and they'll be on the lookout for the orcs as well. I will only have to follow them."

Andric still looked doubtful, and Eoden, turning Fleetfoot around, grew impatient. "They must be told – as must Lord Elfhelm. Go!" Without waiting to see if his brother obeyed, he kicked the horse, and Fleetfoot jumped forward.

Eoden leaned over him, thought of Lisswyn, of Brynwyn. Of all the others left in Edoras. "Prove your name true, Fleetfoot! Fly!"

The horse obeyed.

Lisswyn was at one of the tables in the main hall, enjoying a light meal with Eowyn, Betta, Hilde and Brynwyn when Elfhelm strode up.

His face was tight, but she was not familiar enough with the marshal to identify the emotion behind his tension. A glance at Eowyn confirmed that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

He bowed to the King's sister, then glanced at the rest of them, his gaze lingering on Lisswyn for a moment before moving back to Eowyn.

"My lady," he said urgently and without preamble, "orcs have been spotted. They're marching on Edoras from the north." Hilde gasped, and he spared her a glance before continuing. "We estimate that they'll be here by mid-afternoon."

Lisswyn looked down, into her sister's frightened eyes. She put her arm around her, pulled her close. Turned back to Eowyn.

"The opposite direction from where the herds are being attacked," Eowyn's voice was grim.

Elfhelm nodded. "It is not a coincidence, though it's remarkably well-coordinated for orcs."

"How many of them are there?"

"Hard to tell until they're closer, but it looks as if they number around two hundred."

For a moment, Eowyn was silent, her eyes narrowed in anger. "They're expecting Edoras to be undefended. They do not know my brother if they think he would ride out with all the riders, leaving no one but women and children here."

He nodded, spoke thoughtfully. "If their numbers really are not much greater than two hundred, we should be able to hold them even with a lesser number of men. The city walls are strong."

Eowyn frowned in thought, nodded. But before she could speak, Elfhelm spoke again. "And we might have another advantage."

His gaze once again came to rest on Lisswyn. "The orcs were spotted by the two new stableboys. The oldest one – Eoden?" he looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded, swallowing against a sudden foreboding. "—Eoden immediately took the initiative to ride after the King on what Breghelm assures me is one of our fastest young horses."

His voice was dry, and it was clear he was torn between annoyance and admiration at Eoden's action. But Lisswyn's stomach simply twitched with fear.

He continued speaking. "We cannot trust that he will return with the King in time – with the head start that Eomer had, I see no way for the boy the catch up to them and for them to return before the orcs attack. But it increases our chances if we can only hold them off."

Eowyn gave Lisswyn a compassionate glance, then looked back at Elfhelm. "My brother thinks very highly of the boy. I do not think his confidence will be misplaced."

Then she stood. "If the orcs will be here that soon, we have much to do."

Eowyn had been correct. There was a lot to do. Virtually the entire population of Edoras was evacuated into the great hall, and the smallest children – those too young to fight – along with their mothers, were sent to underground rooms beneath the main floor.

To Lisswyn's relief, Brynwyn went with Hilde without argument this time. When Lisswyn had bent to hug her, the little girl had looked up at her with a calm expression on her face. "Eoden is a very fast rider. The King will come back."

To Brynwyn, it was just that simple, and Lisswyn could only wish she had half as much confidence. But she was too aware of the distances involved, of how far ahead of Eoden the King must have been, of the distance they'd have to come back. No matter how slowly the orcs were moving, they were far too close to trust the kings for rescue.

Lord Elfhelm was obviously hoping that his men could hold off the orcs until the King returned, and due to the sturdy walls around Edoras, it was possible that he was right. But if he were not, if the number of orcs proved too much for his men, Meduseld would be where they'd make their last stand.

She kept herself busy helping to organize the crowds in the main hall, but always she remained aware of the approaching orcs. The entire situation was too reminiscent of the battle in the caves, of that last day they had spent waiting, knowing it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.

Taking a break, she went out to the front of the hall. Eowyn was standing there, staring out over the walls at the orcs. They were close now, marching, stamping. Just out of reach of the men's arrows. It looked to Lisswyn like there were more than two hundred of them.

She sensed Eowyn turning to look at her, but Lisswyn's eyes remained fixed on the orcs.

Battle. Orcs. Just the words caused her heart to pound unevenly as memories of the battle in the cave came back. When she had chosen to stay in the caves, she'd done what she believed she had to do. Had known there was no other choice. But she hadn't really understood what she was facing. Hadn't grasped what true battle was like, with the stink, the blood. The reality of being targeted by two orcs at once and knowing death was but a heartbeat away.

Now she did, and the thought of having to do it again, of once more watching orcs charging her, nearly paralyzed her with fear, and it was pride alone that kept her standing next to Eowyn instead of cowering somewhere in a corner of the cellar.

As before, she would do what she had to do. The only difference was that this time, she knew exactly how bad it could be.

And the King wouldn't be there. She hadn't realized at the time how much of her courage had come from his presence in the caves.

She took a breath, forced herself to look at the other woman. The King's sister turned to her, a frustrated expression on her face. "I want to be out there, with Elfhelm." Her tone turned wry. "But he has managed to convince me that he needs me here, should they not be able to hold the gate."

Lisswyn looked away, did not know how to respond. The desire to appear brave in front of Eowyn was strong, but her innate honesty wouldn't allow her to present herself as other than she was.

"How do you do it? How do they do it?" she finally wondered aloud.

"Do what?"

"It's hard enough finding the courage to fight your first battle." She turned again, looked fully at the other woman. "How do you find the strength to face another one, knowing what it's like?" She didn't give Eowyn a chance to respond. "I'm an able-bodied woman; if it comes to it, I will fight until the end. But the thought of doing so, of facing them again…" she faltered.

"…chills your blood. I know." There was compassion on Eowyn's face now. She went silent for a long moment, then said quietly, almost to herself, "perhaps it's easier for me because as bad as the orcs are, they're not him." She looked away, stared unseeing off towards the south. "The orcs can kill me, I never forget that." A shudder moved through her as she looked back at Lisswyn. "But as evil as they are, it's a more minor evil. A shadow." Her hands came up, rubbed her arms, as if trying to bring warmth back into them. "He was wholly evil."

Lisswyn slowly nodded. Perhaps once you'd faced the Witchking, other enemies might somehow seem less frightening, if no less deadly.

Eowyn spoke again. "Eomer told me of your courage in the caves, and also of how you faced the Dunlendings last spring. Do not doubt yourself just because you would rather not fight." Lisswyn's cheeks heated at the thought of the King speaking of her in such a fashion, but before she could find a response, his sister continued more slowly, "I no longer wish for battle for its own sake. But if there is to be a battle, I would rather be down there," she indicated toward the wall "facing it, than up here, waiting."

Lisswyn nodded again. "Waiting is hard." She looked again out to the plains beyond the wall, tried to look before the stamping, threatening orcs. Wished desperately to see the kings and their men charging up. But there was only grass.

Eomer was frustrated. They'd been riding for hours, and though they had seen evidence of orcs, they had not yet encountered any. At least none alive. And they'd found no sign of the endangered herds, either. Of course, the lack of dead horses and their keepers were a good thing. But it was difficult not knowing what was happening, or if the herds were somewhere nearby suffering attacks even as he and Aragorn wandered around looking for them.

Tracking took time, too. He was grateful for Aragorn and his rangers with their superior tracking skill, but was impatient with their speed, or lack thereof. He knew they couldn't risk missing evidence of which way the orcs and herds had gone, but the hours of riding without finding their quarry was trying his patience.

They'd just ridden down from a ridge when he heard someone shout from behind him. Glad for a diversion, he turned Firefoot, glanced up the line of riders behind him, now slowing in response to his checked movement.

From far back in the column, one of his men shouted, "A rider follows us, sire."

Aragorn rode up next to him, and they exchanged a glance as they nudged their horses back up the hill. A rider following them? Perhaps from the herds?

From the top of the hill, he looked north, back towards Edoras. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and when they did, he wanted desperately to deny what he was seeing. He knew the horse, had watched the lad working with him.

"Eoden." Riding too fast, dangerously so. He looked at Aragorn, saw the other man register his alarm before they both kicked their horses into a gallop, rode down to meet the boy.

It was clear even from a distance that Eoden had been riding hard, though Fleetfoot seemed barely winded.

Eomer dismounted as they rode up to him. Nodding to Thedhelm to take Fleetfoot and cool him down, he watched as the boy came off the horse with a stumble, then righted himself and started toward Eomer.

"Sire," his voice was high and a little frantic, "orcs are marching on Edoras from the north!"

The riders around them froze, stared at Eoden as the boy ran to him, tried to bow, stumbled again as he did so.

Eomer grabbed his arm, steadied him. "What? When?"

"Andric and I were out exercising the horses and spotted them mid-day."

"How many?"

Eoden shook his head. "I don't know. I couldn't tell." He looked around at the riders, "less than this number I think. But it seemed a large group."

Eomer frowned, looked over at Aragorn. Tried to understand what he was hearing. "The attacks on the herds were a diversion? Their real goal is Edoras?"

"Their real goal is weaken Rohan however possible. No doubt the herds are under attack. But how better to do the most damage than to call us away from the city?"

"Do they assume then, that the city is left without defenses?" He turned back to Eoden. "What did Lord Elfhelm think of the numbers?"

Eoden turned red, ducked his head. "I don't know, sire," he muttered. "I did not wait for permission, but just rode out. I sent Andric back to warn them." He looked up, obviously wondering if a reprimand was coming.

Eomer squeezed his shoulder in answer, then looked up at the sky. Late afternoon. The boy had been riding hard for most of the afternoon to catch up with them. He was grateful now that they'd been forced to go as slowly as they had earlier. They might yet make it back to Edoras before the situation became critical.

He glanced at Aragorn, and then turned to one of the riders. "Get Swedhelm for me. Hurry!"

"You think to have him continue on after the orcs which are attacking the herds?"

"Yes. His eored numbers nearly seventy men. Hopefully, it will be a sufficient number to deal with the ones here while the rest of us return to Edoras. It seems unlikely that there can be more in this area than what Penda originally reported, not if a good sized host is marching on Edoras."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully. "Nothing we've seen or heard indicates their numbers were ever much greater than five hundred, and many of them have already died, either fighting amongst themselves or in the battle in front of the caves."

Eomer turned to find Penda watching him and wondered if the boy would understand why he was returning to Edoras.

"You thought the orcs going after the herds might be an ambush. I heard you say so." Penda said, then flushed. "Forgive me, sire," he muttered.

"The orcs are attacking the herds and must be stopped," Eomer replied, his voice firm. "But if a sizeable group is marching on Edoras, Swedhelm's eored should be sufficient to defend the herds. They are seasoned warriors." He gentled his tone. "Edoras must be protected, too, Penda."

The boy ducked his dead. "Yes, sire."

Eomer turned back to Eoden. The boy was steadier, was standing quietly next to him.

"You have ridden hard and far already," Eomer said. "Will you be able to ride back?"

Eoden's chin came up, and pride was in his tired eyes. "Yes, sire. And Fleetfoot will willingly carry me."

Eomer squeezed his shoulder again. "We will make it back in time, Eoden." He hoped. "Thanks to you."

The boy flushed again, then looked around as if impatient to be off. Eomer sympathized. Although he'd spoken confidently to Eoden, anxiety was riding on him. Elfhelm was …well, Elfhelm, and no one could protect Edoras better with only a single eored. But a hundred men could still be overmatched if Eoden had guessed the numbers right, at least if the orcs succeeded in breaching the gate.

He heard a noise, looked up to see Swedhelm riding toward him. Around him, his men were already preparing for the ride back, and the horses were catching their mood.

They were all eager to be off. Too many days had passed with the orcs taunting and threatening them in one way or another. It was good to be preparing to ride to battle.

"We will leave as soon as I apprise Swedhelm of the change in plans. And then we'll ride fast and hard, and finish the orcs for good." He gave them a feral grin at the thought of the surprise the orcs had coming.

A/N: Another short chapter! The next one is longer, and I hope to have it up this weekend, or early next week at the latest. My life is very complicated at the moment, both by the holidays and a family medical situation. But since, as I've said, the story is entirely written, I'm hoping to be able to continue the editing and revision that needs to be done so as to keep to at least a one-chapter-a-week schedule, if not more. In the meantime, thanks again for your comments. They've been a great encouragement to me over the past few days.