Summer was well upon Eastern Rohan as an éored of men crossed the Entwade bound for Snowbourn. The banks of the river had already diminished from their spring torrents. The currents now formed gentle eddies before they flowed into irrigation canals to water the many fields of Sutcrofts. The once green fields which had been dotted with wildflowers were beginning to succumb to the brown tint of summer. High above the fields, the mountains of the East Wall loomed; their heights still crowned in snow.
It was not uncommon for Riders to pass through Sutcrofts since the ending of the war. Most times Aldwen could not help but try and peer under their helms for familiar faces. She briefly looked up from her saddle to watch the éored pass along the road. The stallion underneath her was still young, requiring her diligence. She let her attention lapse for a moment too long and she was quickly thrown upon her back into the dust.
"If only I could hold your attention like the men in those saddles," she heard Guthdor gruffly laugh behind her. Aldwen grimaced, still sprawled flat upon the earth.
Finishing her work for the day, Aldwen retired to her small dwelling. She picked some vegetables from the small garden she kept for her dinner that night. The summer had been difficult for growing in East Rohan, food had been scarce after the war. While her cooking pot bubbled warmly over a small fire, she was startled by a heavy knock. Muttering under her breath, she threw open the door. Before her stood a tall Rider, his light hair wild from days in the saddle. A devilish smirk was upon his face.
"Éothain?" Aldwen's brow was pinched quizzically together. "How-"
"I knew that was you," he interrupted; a smile beaming from ear to ear. Aldwen whisked him quickly inside, tripping over herself as she scurried to find a spare mug. Éothain waved his hand dismissively when she came up empty-handed; settling himself down in the only chair available. Aldwen shifted uncomfortably as Éothain looked around. The floor was dirt and the hearth small; Aldwen's only belongings were still kept in her saddlebags. She had carefully hidden away her mother's armor; only a sword lay next to her tidy bed. "It seems you are doing well," he said as his smile faded.
"You are a terrible liar," Aldwen hugged him. She was glad, for it had been long since she had seen a familiar face in East Rohan. "Tell me, what brings you to Sutcrofts."
"Snowbourn has asked for our aid. Many of their men have been lost in battle, King Éomer sent us with many wagons of grain and seed." Aldwen eyes flickered quickly up to meet his. "I saw a woman upon the back of a great dappled horse while on the road. From the talk in the alehouse, it was not difficult to guess that it was you. I hope you do not find my coming uncivil."
"The talk in the alehouse," Aldwen shook with laughter. "I cannot say that I have ever been the talk of the alehouse. Please, you must tell me what they say."
Éothain cleared his throat conspicuously. "When a woman rides up with a string of fine horses in tow and lives alone on another man's property, I suppose it raises some questions." From the blush that spread across his face, Aldwen could tell he was sparing her dignity. "Guthdor's wild woman, I believe, was the name used."
The evening passed easily. Aldwen was able to serve only a meager dinner to her guest. Éothain did not lack manners, he cleared his bowl and set a kettle on the fire for them. Before twilight, Aldwen walked him out to the road. She was delighted to see Éothain had taken such diligent care of a familiar Roan who was obediently waiting for him. Aldwen kissed Artair's velveteen nose.
"Éomer looks for you," he said before climbing into his saddle.
"I have not made my life here some great secret, Éothain," Aldwen sighed and cast her eyes to the ground. "I was glad to hear he returned from battle and was victorious; that is enough for me. I am under no disillusion of my place in this world."
"You think too little of yourself, Aldwen. He would be glad to see you again." He leaped easily into his saddle, turning north towards Snowbourn.
The King's éored departed two days hence from Sutcrofts. Aldwen looked up from the fence she was repairing to watch as they departed. She saw Éothain stand tall in his stirrups atop Artair's back, hand raised to the sky in parting. They rode swiftly through the day and into the evening, reluctant to spend any more nights sleeping upon the hard earth. Back in Edoras, the night had grown late when Éothain left the King's Stables. He had taken his time tending to Artair, hoping most of the men had drifted off to sleep. Éomer was waiting for him in the privacy of his chambers for a report.
"The Lord of Snowbourn is a stubborn man, he was unwilling to accept much outside aid. I can see why his people suffer." Éothain took a long draught from his ale. Night had deepened around them, fair and starlit. The gentle summer breeze drifted in from the West through an open window. The city had long fallen asleep as the men held counsel together. Éomer's attention had waned from doings of Lords and Ladies of his lands as the night dragged on.
"I supped with Aldwen."
Éomer looked up from his scattered papers, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. "In Snowbourn?"
"In Sutcrofts, just north of the crossing of the Entwade." Éothain laughed. "My eye caught when I saw a dark haired woman being thrown from the back of a stallion. I rode back after our business in Snowbourn was finished. There was little question who I would find."
Éomer smiled as he leaned back in his seat, taking up his own mug of ale. "Is she well?"
Éothain hesitated for a moment too long, Éomer shot him a dangerous look. "She has a roof over her head," he started reluctantly. "She has work, and some good horses to her name."
"Our parting was not pleasant. I spoke harshly to her, which she did not deserve. I have long desired to ride out and find her; to make amends. Time seems to always escape me." Éomer dragged a tired hand through his hair. "I miss the wind of the Mark upon my face, dear friend. My Uncle surely was a stronger man than I; for I cannot bear another piece of parchment brought to my attention."
"I would pity any man under Aldwen's ire," Éothain chuckled. "If you miss the wind, Sutcrofts is not but twelve leagues from here. I am sure the Lord of Snowbourn would bend more easily under the words of their King." Éothain drained the rest of his ale, excusing himself for the evening with a bow. "Aldwen did not make her whereabouts a secret either, My Lord. Nor her feelings."
AN: A thousand thousand thanks yous, dear readers, for your patience with this story. My work and school have been chaotic, to say the least, as of late. Thank you for your kind reviews, they keep me motivated to write late into the night. Stay tuned for more!