The days passed slowly in Edoras. The world seemed poised on the brink of a great precipitous; one from which there could be no turning back from. When he was not busy with his Uncle's affairs, Éomer found himself spending his time with Aldwen. The pair had taken to walking outside the gates of Edoras in the tall grasses. Wild irises were starting to bloom upon the Mark and the rivers were roaring at their banks with runoff. Only the growing darkness in the East would mar such days of their beauty. Presently, Aldwen had been in the stables with Maon since before the sun had broken over the horizon. The world was still and quiet during the early hours, a time which she had always cherished. Nestled deep in Moan's saddle blanket, Aldwen lay in the fresh straw next to her mare's side.
"Where will the world take us now, dear friend," Aldwen asked mostly to her herself. She knew she could not stay in Edoras. Théoden's offer to her to stay was kind, but this could not be her home. She wondered how others who had lost everything, just as she had, started over. The task seemed insurmountable to as she lay watching the sun come up. She heard rustling in the stable then; the town was beginning to wake up. She did not stir, too peaceful at that moment to be bothered.
"This is the second morning I have found you here," Éomer's voice sounded from around the corner. "Do you find your own accommodations that terrible?" He stood in front of her then. He was fully clad in his armor, holding a single saddlebag over his shoulder.
"I was meaning to tell you, My Lord. The feather bed and fine linens are simply deplorable," Aldwen joked as Éomer offered her a hand off the ground. "Truthfully, sleep eludes me as of late; and I missed Maon."
"Sleep can be a luxury to those with troubled minds. You have been through much, but I do not think it will linger," Éomer said. He looked down at Aldwen, whose hand was still in his. She indeed looked tired. Her green eyes had sunken slightly in the hollows of her face. Her skin had paled since he had met her. The freckles that dappled her face, which at their meeting were hard to notice, now stood boldly against the milkiness of her skin. Bringing a hand to her face, he traced his thumb along a faint pink scar Aldwen now bore on her jaw since the attack at Broadacres. It did nothing to take away from her beauty.
"What is your errand this morning," Aldwen asked. She closed the space between them and willingly let Éomer wrap a gentle hand around her waist. He sighed heavily, placing a small kiss atop her head. She smelled of sweet earth and woodsmoke.
"The King has business in Isengard." He began reluctantly. It had weighed heavily on Éomer's mind that their parting would be swift and inescapable. "I ride with him, and twenty men of his household. From Isengard is it likely we will travel through Harrowdale under the shadow of the White Mountains towards Dunharrow. There we will await word of our fate from Gondor."
"This where you intend our paths to split in two."
"For now. Though it is my wish that we should meet again and know more of each other." He paused, breathing deeply again the scent of her hair. "If the battle were to go ill, I fear greatly we shall not meet again under this Sun." A lengthy silence fell upon the stable.
"I would ride with you if Théoden would have me," Aldwen said, looking up at him.
"You will do no such thing," Éomer quickly took a step back. His eyes grew dark and a deep crease formed on his brow.
"And why is that, because I am a woman?" Aldwen felt her cheeks flush red. "Why should I be left behind when I am able to stand and fight just as you are. My cause is just as noble as yours, Éomer. My sex does not dictate what men think I can and cannot do!"
"You know that it not the reason. I should not have to discuss this further with you Aldwen, be reasonable," Éomer replied, turning his back on her.
"I am not the one being unreasonable! Long have I been cast aside with no regard to my abilities or desires. There is nothing left for me here, something which I know you are not blind to. I have the right to strive for my own sense of valor and honor. I refuse to be cast aside any longer, least of all by you."
Éomer dropped his saddle on Firefoot's back. He spun around, his hands clenched at his sides. "You speak of valor and honor, yet you have seen neither! Have the memories of what happened to you at Broadacres already escaped your memory? There is no honor in dying in a war that is not yours to fight. You would not stand as bravely as you think in the grip of battle. You would not have my men for your protection. This is beyond you, Aldwen, and I will not bear you as a burden through this battle. If you truly believe you have nothing left here, then go, and do as you wish. But I will not have you."
Aldwen seethed in silent rage.
"If you need more clarity in the matter, I suggest you seek it elsewhere. I will speak no more," Éomer concluded as he walked Firefoot out of his paddock.
"No, it seems quite clear to me. I suppose, in the end, a horsemaster's daughter would just be another notch in your bedpost," she spat back at him. "Forgive me, for being so foolish as to think I had your respect." She pushed gruffly past Éomer.
"Aldwen-"
"And do not just throw your saddle on your horse's back!" she yelled over her shoulder.
She did not look back as she stormed up the steps to the Golden Hall. Men were busy mustering and little heed as paid to her fury. Slamming the door of her chambers closed, she fumed with anger. Frustration clawed at her chest. She paced the room furiously, hastily throwing her belongings together. Outside, she heard the sounds of many men making ready their horses. Aldwen wondered what had possessed her to speak so openly to Éomer. She should have been wise enough to keep her desires to ride into battle a secret to him. She silently cursed herself for her carelessness. Sinking down in a chair next to the hearth, Aldwen bowing her head into her hands.
There was a light knock on the door. Without waiting for a reply Éowyn appeared in the doorway. "The King and his company have made ready to leave for Isengard, Aldwen. I am going down to the gates to bid them farewell. Do you wish to come with me?"
"I do not, My Lady," Aldwen said, lifting her head from her hands. Éowyn stood at her side then, putting a gentle hand on Aldwen's shoulder.
"Do not grieve, my friend. I have no doubt about our people's skill in battle. The men will return victorious."
Aldwen let out a mocking laugh. "I do not grieve at their parting, only that I have been forbidden to ride by their sides," Aldwen rose and continued to gather her belongings. "I naively expressed this wish to your brother, who mocked my frustration. He would not have me, and I have been a fool to think otherwise. I will burden your house no longer, tomorrow I shall take my leave of Edoras."
Éowyn sighed, "My brother can be quick to anger, but he does care for you, Aldwen. You are not alone in your frustration, for I know it well. I do hope that you would change your mind and stay with us, at least, a little while longer to recover your full strength."
"Thank you for your kindness, Éowyn. Please, go and bid your men farewell."
Outside the gates of Edoras, the wind whipped at the faces in the King's company. Their leaving was a quiet affair, for they needed haste to reach Isengard by the day's end. Éomer said little in parting, with the exception of bidding his sister farewell. He glanced back only once towards the Golden Hall. Seeing nothing but the banners of Rohan blowing in the wind, he turned Firefoot and spurred him into a steady lope.
Aldwen rose the next morning with the dawn and prepared for her departure. Éowyn had also risen early for her journey to Dunharrow to greet the men of the King's company before their final trek into battle. The two women found each other in the King's stable, where they saddled their horses in silence. The morning was grey and cheerless, the clouds looked laden with rain. A steady wind blew through the stables from the snow-capped mountains in the West.
"Where will you go," Éowyn finally asked.
"Along the West Road, for a time," Aldwen finished fastening her saddlebags and synching Maon's girth. "My Uncle had friends of his business in the lands North of Edoras. If I am lucky, I may find work with them." She had decided to don her mother's armor for her journey, if for no other reason than her saddlebags were already laden with provisions. She was not used to the weight, nor the biting cold that seemed to linger in the links of the hauberk. Éowyn had helped her earlier that morning, for she found the clasps cumbersome to fasten on her own.
"And if you are unlucky?"
Aldwen turned to her friend, wrapping her in a parting embrace. "I have not the time to think of such things," she said before climbing atop Maon's back.
"A gift for you," Éowyn said while thrusting a folded garment into Aldwen' hands. "Something to remember your time spent with us.
Aldwen smiled as she donned the green and gold cloak of the Rohirrim. It was a generous gift that she would cherish. She nudged Maon into an easy walk out of the stables. She was filling with uncertainty as she trotted out of the gates of the city. She stopped once on the West Road, turning Maon about towards Dunharrow. She paused only for a moment before she wheeled Maon back around on her original path, shaking her had at her moment of weakness. She was determined to set her own path. Where it would lead her, she did not entirely know. She gave Maon her head and started down the Great West Road as a light rain started to fall.