"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." - Norman Cousins

Chapter 6

"Wait...what?"

"Mallory, please, lie back down."

"Eothain is dead?"

"Mallory, your head-"

"I don't care about my fucking head!"

Ouch. That hurt. I tried to look around the room, but I had tunnel vision, and bad. Probably a concussion. Go figure. I wanted to stay sitting up, but the dizziness was too much and I had to put my head back on the pillow. Eomer's eyes were red and his blond braids were dripping wet. "Where is Frieda?" I asked.

"Frieda is home with his...with the body." He stood, walking over to Frieda's work table and grabbing something. It was a cup. "You should drink some water."

"I don't want water."

"By Bema, you are stubborn. Drink the water, Mallory. I'm not asking."

I took the cup, maneuvering the water from inside to my mouth. It was cool and clean. Not like this room. Not like the tension between us. "Why are you here?"

"Pardon?"

"Why aren't you out doing Marshal things? I would think taking care of me is beneath you."

That was not the right thing to say. "Beneath me? You would think cleaning up the mess of a friend's death beneath me? A friend I have known since childhood! What kind of person do you think I am?"

"I don't know. I don't really know you."

"Then perhaps you should think over your insensitive comments before you make them."

"You still didn't answer my question."

He let out a sigh, sinking back into his chair. "I am here because Frieda refuses to be and you shouldn't be alone in your condition."

"Frieda...blames me? But I didn't do anything. This isn't my fault."

"I never said it was. But Mallory, please. You must calm down and you mustn't blame Frieda. Give her some time."

He looked so tired. He always looked tired. But this time, he was also sad. Mourning for his friend. And I was sad too, but not in the way I probably should have been. Eothain was a nice boy. He took care of me, gave me a place to live when I had nothing. But I also barely knew him. Eomer knew him. Knew him as a friend and a comrade in whatever battle they were fighting. And though I was sad, I wasn't and would never be as sad as him.

"He took me riding," I muttered. "Neidr, the mare, he wanted me to ride her out on the planes. He told me about the Orcs and why they attack Rohan."

Eomer didn't look up. "And what did he tell you?"

"He told me about their creation. That they attack because they hate men."

He made no sound, but I saw his shoulders move slightly, as if he were chuckling. "Eothain was always ignorant. Not because he was stupid, but because he wanted to do his job with little interference from fear."

"What do you mean?"

"The Orcs do not attack simply to attack, Mallory," he said, looking up for the first time. "They are being sent here."

"Sent here? By who?"

Eomer reached into his pocket, pulling out a black, dirty shred of cloth. But it wasn't completely black. It was also plastered with white paint. "Saruman the White."

"The Wizard?" I said, jolting my head upward and immediately regretting it as the pain flowed through my temples.

"I tried to tell Eothain to stop filling your head with false hope. The Orcs some from the west, from the Gap of Rohan. The closest inhabitant that possesses the power to control Orcs is the White Wizard, residing in Isengard." He lay the cloth on the edge of my bed. A white hand was painted there. "Saruman's sigil. The White Hand."

And without meaning to, tears started falling from my face. Breathing became hard and I became ashamed. I turned away from him, burying my head in the wool pillow.

"Mallory, it...it will be alright," he said. I could tell by his tone that he meant to comfort me but was unsure of how. "Eothain's soul will pass and he will rest in peace."

And I wanted that to be why I was sad. I really wanted to grieve for the young man who had rescued me and been so kind to me, but I couldn't. All I could feel was sadness and shame. Sadness that the one solution that had been presented to me as a way to get me back home was now the enemy. Shame that I felt very little for Eothain and that it was his friend that sat beside me.

"I...I want to be alone," I squeeked out through the tears.

He hesitated, but eventually rose from his chair and left me there, my head in pain, homesick, and guilty.

Things were different after that. Frieda was unwilling to talk to me after Eothain's death and I was sentenced to live in the Barracks with Eomer's permission. I didn't like venturing into town because everyone would stare at me. Around here, it was normal for a soldier to die at the hands of an enemy, but dying from nature was another thing. Eothain's death was an anomaly to these people and I got the impression that they weren't very willing to forgive me as the one who had been his companion on the tiny journey that had ended his life. And so, I didn't go out much after that.

They had a funeral. I didn't go, but I watched from the window of one of the sick rooms in the Barracks infirmary. A woman sang a song as he was buried in a field outside of Aldburg's walls, a field covered in white flowers. To pass the time, I helped with the injured, using the few techniques I had managed to pick up from Frieda before she had cast me aside.

The one thing that changed the most was that I saw Eomer almost every day. He came up from training or whatever it was that he did with his time to see me. We didn't talk of much. He brought me maps and I grazed over them, trying to make sense of the foreign geography. Rohvannan, Gondor, Mordor…I asked him once for a book, breaking our usual silence. He said books were rare in Rohan but if he found one in the common tongue he would bring it to me.

He brought me food. Small portions of vegetables, bread, and meat, but that wasn't unusual. That was the local cuisine. What was unusual was that he had paid zero attention to me in a month and now spent nearly every day with me and we barely even shared words.

But one day, he did. "You look pale."

"Huh?" I said, looking up from the rabbit he had brought me today.

"Your skin. It is pale. You should leave the Barracks. Get fresh air. See the sun shine."

I thought of how the people would stare. They already stared because I was the strange girl who didn't speak their language. But now they stared because Eothain was dead and I had been the one with him. I suspected they thought I had suggested a ride in a thunderstorm, even though it had been Eothain that had suggested it. Either way, I had no interest in defending myself to these people, nor did I want their judgement.

"Sun is overrated," I said, putting another bite of meat and popping it into my mouth.

"Sun is healthy. Rohirrim were not meant to sit behind walls."

"I'm not Rohirrim."

"You were not meant to sit behind walls either, Mallory."

I stood up, setting my unfinished plate of food on the table in front of him. Thanks for lunch. You probably have stuff to do this afternoon."

"Mallory, I just-,"

"I probably won't be hungry for dinner. I'm so full I can't even finish this plate. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mallory, enough!" He raised his voice at me. Three weeks of near silence and now, he yelled. "Enough of this nonsense. This is what it means to live in this world. People die, friends and family die. But we mourn them and we move on. That is what we do, or we do not survive. And you are not surviving, Mallory. You are giving up and I will not have it."

"Maybe I don't want to survive!" I yelled back at him. "Maybe, if there's no hope of me getting back home, then there's no hope in trying to continue. I hate it here. I hate eating wild game and chunky bread. I hate not bathing and not brushing my teeth. I miss my friends, my school, my job! I just want to go home!" And with that, I grabbed hold of the door to this room that had started to become my self-induced prison. I ran through the halls of the Barracks that had become my refuge. I broke that refuge now, running out of the building and through the town. I realized that the weather had grown much colder since I had taken my refuge. I hadn't grabbed anything more than the shawl that was already on my back. The cold alerted me to the tears that had started streaming down my face.

They stared at me as I ran. I mean, I had tears in my eyes, clouding my vision, but I knew. I could feel it. Eomer had not left Aldburg since Eothain's death. That meant the Orc attacks were low. The gates were open and I ran out of them. The cold air cut through my lungs, burning my insides. Stitches grew and made it ever harder to breathe. But I panted through it until the small city was out of my sight over the ridge of the planes.

I collapsed in the middle of those ridges. It was cold and the wind was shap outside the walls, but the sun was high in the sky, bringing warmth with it's rays. I didn't know the exact date. Eomer had told me that dates were not given great attention in Rohan, but he knew it was mid-October. Odd, that in this world of different creatures and places, that mine and theirs shared a calendar.

The stitches in my stomach calmed, but the tears continued. I thought of the Kindergartners on the first day of school back home. How they would cling to Mom or Dad's leg, not wanting to leave their safe environment for the fear of school. Leaving them to be taken care of by a stranger. Homesickness would come after parents left. Crying and wanting to go home.

I was them. A scared five-year-old. Except, like those five-year-olds, I would never adapt. I tried and I had failed.

I don't know how long I was out on the planes. I was about seventy percent sure I could make it back to Aldburg, but I also wasn't sure that I wanted to.

But I couldn't stay forever. And it seemed this universe wouldn't let me. Over the ridge to my right, figures began to emerge on horseback. I squinted to try and make them out. As they moved closer, I could tell that they hadn't come from Aldburg. Their horses were not those of Rohan, that was the easiest thing to tell. They were much smaller and didn't have that...something that Rohan's horses had. These were normal horses. Their armor was shiny made of some kind of silver metal, very different from the bronze and leather of the Rohirrim. Their armor was also encrested with a sigil. A white tree. One of the riders carried the sigil on a flag. There were maybe ten of them. A small party headed by a large man with dark brown hair. They all had dark brown hair, actually. Something definitely rare around here. Nearly everyone in Aldburg was blond, some rare redheads. But dark brown…

"Greetings!" The man heading the group called to me. He was adorned with the shiniest armor of the group with a velvet cape around his shoulders, a large sword at his hip, and, curiously, what looked like a horn strapped across his chest with a leather belt. "I am afraid my party and I do not speak your language, young maiden. Perhaps luck is on my side and you speak mine?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, standing and rubbing my sleeve over my face, trying to wipe the dried tear lines away.

"We hail from Gondor," he said, dismounting his horse and walking over to me. "So we are ghastly unfamiliar with the territory of your land. Mayhaps you could point us in the direction of Edoras? I have need to speak with Theoden, your king."

Eomer's uncle. Edoras was the capital of Rohan, but I didn't know how to get there. "Um...no. I could bring you to Aldburg. Theoden's nephew is the Third Marshal of Rohan and is the caretaker of its fortress. But I don't know how to get to Edoras."

"Alas, I suppose Theoden's nephew will do. You have been helpful, miss." He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly. "I am Boromir, Son of Denethor. Who do I have the pleasure?"

"Mallory Gilmore," I said, fighting the urge to yank my hand back. I got the feeling he wouldn't respond well to that.

"My lord Boromir," one of the riders called. "Time is of the essence."

"Ah, yes," he said, dropping my hand. "I notice you have no steed, might you ride with me upon mine and lead us to the house of your master Marshal?"

"Eomer's not my master," I snapped, but regretted it immediately.

"Yes, well," Boromir muttered, uncomfortable now. "To my steed."

Great, another chance to ride on a horse with one of these chauvinistic Middle-earth dudes. He would probably try to help me onto the horse. What made me think of Eothain, which made me want to start crying again. I walked to his black horse and he followed. I expected him to try and lift me onto the horse, but he simply offered me a gloved hand. I took it out of courtesy and mounted the steed and he followed swiftly. "Which way to Aldburg, miss?"

"Over there." I pointed towards the direction I had run from. "Can't be more than a few minutes on horseback since I ran here."

"Yes, he said. I felt his arm wave forward. "I do wonder what might bring a young maiden out to the middle of the planes by herself in these troubled times."

"I just wanted to be alone for a while. That's hard to do in that fortress."

"Solitude," he muttered. "I understand it's value, but I would certainly advise against it in this current climate. We heard from the last village we stopped at that Rohan is frequently under siege from Orc attacks. Be this true?"

"It is, but they haven't attacked in some weeks. The gates to Aldburg have been open."

"Yes, I see it now." Aldburg was indeed in sight. "Gates are open and welcome to visitors, I assume?"

"Um, I don't know, actually. Since I've been here, there haven't really been any visitors."

"'Since you have been here'?" he repeated. "Do you not live here?"

"Only for the last two months or so."

"And where do you hail from, Miss Mallory?"

"That, Lord Boromir, is a complicated story."

"I should like to hear it over ale and food, if it fancy you."

"I thought you wanted to talk to Eomer?"

"And you will be there, yes?"

"What makes you think that?" Why would I be in any meeting with him and Eomer? I wasn't important. Especially when it came to a conversation that was probably meant for the king.

"One who would refer to your Marshal as simply 'Eomer' certainly knows him better than your everyday commoner."

"Right," i said, cursing my inability to bite my tongue.

"Hwa aut þær?" A guard called from atop the pillar. Ugh my Rohirric was rusty being cooped up in the Barracks, but I could understand his basic question. Who goes there?

I did my best mangled Rohirric response. "It is Mallory Gilmore. This is Lord Boromir and his traveling party from Gondor. They wish speak to Eomer."

The guard narrowed his eyes. "Lord Eomer," he snapped. "Was about to send out a search party for you."

"I am sorry," I called up. "But these travelers found me on planes instead. Are they good to come inside?"

"Mallory!" And angry voice shouted, causing me to jump. Boromir's hands grabbed my shoulders, keeping me from falling off the horse. It was Eomer, and he was fuming. "That is not what I meant by going outside," he shouted in the common tongue. "You were gone almost an hour!"

"I thought I wasn't a prisoner," I snapped back, yanking my shoulders out of Boromir's grip and sliding off the horse, stomping toward him. "You wanted me to leave the Barracks, so I left."

"I meant go into town. Visit shops, talk to someone other than me."

"If you weren't so dense, you'd realise that that is the last thing on the planet I want to do right now."

"What you want and what you need are two very different things, you impossible woman!"

"Ugh!" I yelled, exasperated. "That's it. I'm done."

"Done? You can't be done."

"Nope, I'm done. At least until I can stomach looking at your face again." And with that, I stomped off back to the Barracks, ignoring, as always, the stares that followed be from the townspeople of Aldburg.