A/N: lig, in Old English, means 'flame'. And on a totally different note, Monty Python is Teh Bomb.

To Cearo's disappointment, Tellan didn't know anything more than Kenric, Aelfrid, and Helm were home. "He's in trouble?" Tellan asked eagerly, eyes large with excitement, as they walked down the hill to the house.

"I don't know," Cearo said. "All I know is whatever he said, he didn't want Helm telling me."

"I bet he's in trouble!" Tellan was grinning now. "He probably did something like put horse poop in someone's boots and then said he did it!"

"That's something you'd do, brat," Cearo chided with a laugh, wishing she could swat him but her hands were full carrying Wilone. He was so much like-Cearo shook her head and swallowed hard to dislodge the lump which had suddenly formed there. She wasn't going to think about her real brothers. She'd already cried enough over the family she'd lost. More tears wouldn't bring them back to her, or her to them, any more than the ones already spilled. This was her family now, Tellan was her younger brother now (one of several, actually), this was her home. She'd cried out to Bema and the other Valar repeatedly, asking why such a thing had happened, but she'd received no answer and, three years on, she'd given up thinking she'd ever receive any. "They don't care," she muttered angrily, remembering their promise to her. "They forgot all about me and left me here. If I ever see them again, I'm going to tell them where they can stick it and demand-"

"C'ro?" Wilone asked, putting a hand on Cearo's cheek and breaking into her thoughts. "What you saying? Are you sad?"

With a start, Cearo realized she'd lapsed into English. 'Not hard to do from Rohirric,' she mused wryly. The two weren't so horribly different, which had been nice

when she was learning it. And there she went, getting lost in her memories again. Wilone was still studying her face with concern. "I'm remembering where I used to live," she told the little girl. "I miss my ma and pa and brothers."

Wilone looked confused. "We have the same ma, Cearo," she rebuked confidently.

"No, little one, your ma is not my ma. Not my real ma, the one who gave birth to me."

"You're not my sister?" Wilone looked ready to cry.

"Of course I am! You remember Aunt Freda?" Wilone nodded. "Remember how she took Hilda in when Hilda's parents died of the cough?" Wilone nodded again. "You ma took me in like Aunt Freda took in Hilda." Tellan ran ahead, his grumbling stomach taking precedence over hearing Cearo tell Wilone what he'd known since he was seven and Cearo had come home with his mother one night. "You're my sister in my heart." Cearo lightly kissed the tip of the little girl's nose. "And you always will be."

Wilone giggled. "I'm glad. Put me down."

Brego and Kenric, egged on by their brothers, were doing an excellent job of

beating each other senseless with practice swords in front of the barn as Cearo came down the hill behind the house. She shook her head and sighed quietly, wondering what it was about violence boys found so irresistible. Violence and food. She shook her head again. What did one have to do with the other? There had to be some link there to explain why boys loved both so much. She smirked. They did like their meat rather raw, or at least her brothers here did, so maybe it was the blood. But what was it about blood they liked so much? It was messy, it stank, it attracted flies, and it was a nightmare to wash out of clothing. If it i was /i a love of blood, then, she decided, it was that much more proof to support what she'd known for a long time: boys were absolutely crazy.

"I thought you were hungry," she remarked casually as she came to stand next to Aelfrid.

His eyes didn't leave the fight before him. "I am."

"You don't seem to be in any hurry, that's all."

He glanced at her this time. "What are you talking about?"

"Brego and Kenric. You know Ma's going to make them wash up before any of us eat."

"Yeah, so?" He looked irritated she was still talking and distracting him from watching his brothers pummel each other.

She looked up at him, trying not to smile too smugly. "The longer they fight, the longer before we eat, and the longer they fight, the dirtier they get and the longer it takes them to wash up and we'll all have to wait for them." She silently counted how long it took Aelfrid to realize what she was saying. 'Four seconds,' she gloated silently when a look of comprehension settled over his face. "Have fun breaking it up."

When all of the brothers were finally washed up and inside Cearo was ready to undo all their efforts at cleaning up by smashing their faces in for making her, Wilone, and their parents wait Eru only knew how long to eat and they'd been ravenous enough before the idiots decided before dinner was a great time for a fight. She wasn't the only one upset, however. Rheda was pulling at her belt, a sure sign she was highly agitated, and glancing frequently between the food growing cold on the table and the doorway. She didn't say anything when the boys entered, only glared at them. "Your father, Helm, and Aelfrid eat first," she said tersely. "The rest of you will wait." Cearo was sure if the meal had been delayed on any other night, and Helm and Aelfrid weren't two-thirds of the reason the meal was a special one, Rheda would've filled bowls for Algar, herself, Cearo, and Wilone and forced all the brothers to watch the four of them eat, allowing the boys to eat only when all the food was cold. She'd done it before.

To Cearo's surprise, after Helm, Algar, and Aelfrid filled their bowls, Rheda told her to fill her bowl. Cearo looked at her quizzically. "Your brothers obviously don't care when they eat so they can wait."

"Of course, Ma." Cearo bit her lip to keep from laughing at the chorus of protests that arose from her brothers and took pleasure in not having to grab and snatch and fill her bowl at a frantic pace before all the food was gone. Wilone didn't have to face the fierce competition yet; Algar would fill her bowl for her when he filled his.

Cearo nearly dropped the water buckets she was carrying when Helm asked her to come with him that night. "Why me?" she asked, suspicious. "Isn't her brother going to be there? Are you trying to match us up?" Helm laughed loudly-a little too loudly for her liking. "I'm almost old enough to marry and so is he," she snapped. "It's not that funny of an idea."

"I'm sorry, it's not that. Okay, it is," he admitted a moment later. "You and he are nothing alike and you'd be absolutely miserable together. I can almost hear the arguments you two would have."

Cearo smiled in spite of herself. "I don't think he gets dressed in the morning unless his mother tells him what to wear," she said dryly. "I hope Elfhild doesn't turn out anything like her mother."

"She won't," Helm said firmly. "I'm asking you now because I forgot to ask earlier. Elfhild said she'd like to see you."

"You could've told me that before you left for patrol."

"I told you, I forgot."

'And Brego has learned to cook,' she thought sarcastically. Helm never forgot. The truth was probably that Elfhild's brother wasn't actually going to be there and he knew full well what their parents would say if it got back to them no one had been there with Elfhild and Helm. "Have you told Pa and Ma?" Helm nodded. "And Ma doesn't mind me leaving before chores are done?"

"She said bring the water in and you can go."

Cearo started walking toward the house again. "I love you, Helm, but you're a terrible liar. You know as well as me Ma would never-"

"So ask her yourself. Meet me at the pasture." He turned and walked away

before she could say anything else.

"Fine, I will!" she shouted after him.

"I said you could," Rheda told Cearo when she asked if it was okay to leave with Helm.

"Thank you." Cearo was shocked. Rheda never let anyone not do their chores unless they were physically unable to do them.

"Just this once," Rheda teased with a sly smile. Cearo laughed and promised to

do all the cleanup herself the next night.

Out at the pasture, Cearo was surprised to see Aelfrid putting a saddle on Osric. Or she thought it was Aelfrid. The newly-full moon was directly in front of her as she walked and it was hard to tell which brother, exactly, was out there with Helm but none of the other brothers had horses in the pasture tonight besides Helm and Aelfrid so he was the only other one who had any reason to be saddling his horse in the pasture. Which begged another question: why was he saddling his horse? Unless…Cearo giggled. So that's what he was in trouble with Father over. Aelfrid had a sweetheart. And if he was in trouble with Father over her, he'd be in even more trouble if Father knew he was going to see her. 'Oh, this is great!' Cearo gloated silently. 'He's going to owe me for this one! Both of them are!'

Taking a tip from 'Dan and 'Ro, she stopped walking, knelt, and took off her shoes so she could sneak up on Aelfrid quietly and surprise him. Helm had probably already told him she was coming, but they were already going to be mad at her for threatening to tell on Aelfrid so she was going to go for broke and give them plenty of reasons to pound her the next time they practiced fighting. She knew she'd regret giving them all the reasons but, for now, it would be fun.

Her plan worked perfectly and she was able to slip right up behind Aelfrid without him noticing and she'd later swear to the fact she saw air between his feet and the ground when, standing directly behind him, she said, "Who's the girl?" Her triumph was short-lived because, a moment later, she found herself flat on her back, pinned down by an upset older brother who was breathing rather heavily for someone only tacking up his horse a moment before.

"What girl?" he asked.

"Quit kneeling on my legs."

"You didn't answer my question."

"The one you're sneaking off to see, stupid. Now get off my legs!"

He smiled widely, shifting his weight only slightly. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, it feels great," she said sarcastically. "You know I love this kind of thing. Would you mind getting totally off my legs before you break them?"

"And get kicked?"

"You'll have to eventually."

"What, get kicked?"

"That'll happen, too, if you don't get off my legs." She glared at him for added effect.

"If I stay on your legs, how can you kick me?" He laughed when she glared at him harder.

"Get off my legs now or I promise, I will kick you later. Repeatedly. In very painful places." He shifted his weight slightly. "AELFRID!"

Helm appeared behind Aelfrid and pulled him off Cearo. "Do you want Ma and

Pa coming up here, you moron?" Helm barked in a low voice. "Finish with Osric and let's go."

"Thanks," Cearo said to Helm as she followed him back to Sherwyn. "Who's Aelfrid meeting?"

"You'll have to ask him. You're riding with him."

"I am not riding with him."

"You can't ride with me."

"Why not?"

"Because Elfhild will be." He mounted Sherwyn.

"Can't I ride with you until we meet up with her?" She knew she was whining but she didn't care.

"No."

She grabbed Sherwyn's bridle. "Helm-" The sensation of suddenly being lifted up off the ground at a high rate of speed pushed every coherent thought from her mind. Only when, after an endless few seconds, she felt her bottom connect with something solid and firm (and moving, but she'd consider that in a moment) did she regain enough of her senses to look around her shakily. She was on a horse, which was walking, and there was an arm around her waist. And the person behind her was laughing. "Aelfrid," she said, her voice cracking, "I am going to kill you later. But not before I maim you and pull off your sensitive bits with my bare hands." To her ire, he only laughed louder. "You're lucky I didn't piss myself with fright."

"It didn't seem likely you'd ride with me any other way," he quipped, "and I know Helm is eager to see Elfhild."

"That doesn't mean you have to scare me to death."

"Like you did to me?"

"You're a poor Rider if your sister can sneak up on you and surprise you. Eru help you if an enemy ever does."

He tugged gently on the end of her braid. "No enemy is going to be sneaking up

on me barefoot in the middle of a pasture, Lig."

"I told you not to call me that!"

"What else would I do?"

"Not scare me, not pull my hair, and not call me 'lig'?" she suggested. "Be nice to me?"

He snickered. "You deserved to be scared, Lig, for doing it to me." He tugged her braid again.

"Stop!" she demanded. "Keep doing it and I'll tell Ma you pinned me to the ground tonight!"

"You deserved it." His voice cracked. She'd rattled him.

"So who are you meeting tonight?" she asked again. "And why can't Ma and Pa know?"

"I'm not meeting anyone."

She smirked. "I don't believe you. You said you missed someone and you got real upset when Helm threatened to tell me and he didn't mention you were going with him tonight and the only reason I can think he wouldn't tell me that is because he didn't want me mentioning it to Ma when I talked to her so you're not supposed to be gone tonight. So who are you meeting?" She studied his face and tried to find some indication of what was going on, some hint that would tell her what she wanted to know.

"I'm not meeting anyone."

His voice remained steady. The boy was a good liar. "I'll find out soon enough who it is. And I'll tell Ma and Pa you went tonight."

"You can't." And there went his voice, cracking again.

It was all Cearo could do not to break out in a huge grin. Blackmail goldmine! "Why not?"

"Because," Helm said, riding up next to them, "it would cause trouble for more people than just Aelfrid. You can't tell Ma and Pa."

"What's the big deal? So Aelfrid has a sweetheart."

"You're assuming that's it," Helm said evenly.

"So what's going on, if that's not it?"

"You'll find out when you need to, Lig." Cearo's eyes narrowed when Helm used that horrid name and his lips twitched as he tried not to smile. "If you won't keep quiet because Aelfrid is asking you to, keep quiet because I am."

"For a price."

"Do you like things remaining calm?" Helm asked. Cearo nodded. "Then you'll be quiet."

"If you tell me what's going on, I will."

"It's not my place to say anything," Helm said. "That's for Aelfrid to do." Cearo looked at the man she was riding with.

"Later," was all he said.

"You're red!" she exclaimed. "You're blushing about something!"

"Cearo, leave it," Helm said.

Cearo glanced at Helm, who gave her a hard look. "For now. I want to know what's going on, though."

"We're getting married next weekend," Aelfrid said. "That's the secret. You and me are getting married next weekend."

Cearo twisted around so fast she was sured she pulled a muscle in her side. "WHAT are you talking about?" Only after a moment did she realize he was laughing and he hadn't been serious. She smacked him. "Aelfrid! That's not funny!"

"Actually, it is," Helm said.

"Maybe to you," she grumbled, turning back around to face forward. "Since

you're not going to tell me what's going on, tell me what patrol was like. All the stuff you can't say in front of Ma and Pa and the brats."

The rest of the ride to meet Elfhild was filled with Aelfrid and Helm telling all the good stuff about patrol, like the night they snuck a squirrel into Gamling's bedroll and when someone put too many onions into Brecca's stew after he said he hated them. Among other stories. She could read between the lines when they talked about the inns they'd come across on occasion and understood what Aelfrid had been talking about earlier when he threatened to tell Pa about the women he'd seen Helm with. She wondered if Elfhild wouldn't be more upset to find out but she kept that to herself. What Elfhild didn't know wouldn't hurt any of them. As long as Helm stopped with the women after he married, no one ever needed to find out.

At the tree, Elfhild and her brother were waiting. Aelfrid slowed Osric, letting Helm get ahead of them, and kept Osric at a slow walk, which allowed Cearo to get a clear view of Helm pulling Sherwyn to a stop, almost vaulting off the horse, and running to Elfhild, sweeping her up into a tight, passionate embrace. Cearo watched the whole thing silently, wondering if she'd ever find anyone who'd act like that after three months on patrol. 'Since I'm stuck here' she groused silently. 'Never going home'. Damn the Valar straight to Angband via Mordor for that. She'd long since stopped crying herself to sleep at night over being forgotten and left in this forsaken, primitive place. It wasn't all bad, but…she sighed. She didn't want to end up like Rheda, worn to a nub after years of near-endless childbearing and hard, grueling work. When she gave birth to children, she wanted see them grow up and bear children of their own and she knew the odds against that happening here. Rheda had buried more than half her children, most of them dying before the age of five.

Aelfrid calling her name pulled her out of her thoughts. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong? You're never quiet."

"Are you saying I talk all the time?"

"Did I say that?"

"In as many words."

"You're not making fun of Helm and Elfhild. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"When it's my turn to marry."

"You don't sound happy about that."

"I was thinking how so many of the children I'll give birth to will die. That wouldn't happen at home-where I come from."

He gave her a squeeze with the arm he had around her waist. "They may still find you."

"It's been three years. If they were going to find me, they would by now. If they even knew where to look." Which they wouldn't. The police would have written her off as a runaway and her family would-she didn't know, but they'd be wondering how she could've walked right off the face of the planet, for all intents and purposes. She wondered if she'd left any tracks in the woods and if people had wondered how her steps had just vanished into thin air, just stopped mid-path. "You're stuck with me now."

"What, we'll never get rid of you?" he said with mock horror. "We'll always have to see your hair glowing in the dark?"

"Haha," she said dryly, a smile tugging at her lips. "I don't know what I'd do if I went back home now anyway. I'm used to living here and I don't know what I'd do if I had to lose another family. It was bad enough the first time."

"Does that mean you like us?" he teased.

"I don't know why but I do. I'm crazy, I know."

"Not crazy, smart. You see what a great bunch of guys we are and you're glad to do whatever you can for us."

"Right. And you beat me up and tease me in return. Yeah, a real great reason to stick around. I'm here for your mother. The rest of you can go fend for yourselves for all I care. You're Riders. You all know how."

"We need you and Ma to sew our clothes and cook for us!"

"You all can cook for yourselves. What do you do on patrol?"

"You cook better than we do. Much better."

"Get yourself a slave if that's all you want," she shot back.

"Slaves cost money." She jabbed an elbow into his gut and was rewarded with a grunt. "You also make great clothes," he said a moment later, sounding a bit out of breath. "You do those really nice designs on them, too."

She blushed at the unexpected compliment. "Thank you." Among the things in her backpack that day, she'd had an embroidery project she'd been working on during study hall and she'd used some of her threads on the chemise Rheda gave her not long after she'd arrived. The others had seen that and wanted her to make their clothes look good. She used wool thread now and more primitive needles so the designs weren't as intricate or nice now, or at least what she called 'nice'. Everyone else had liked them and she'd begun embroidering on clothes to trade for things we needed each spring in town. For next year, there was talk of taking some things to Edoras to sell and trade.

"Everyone loves the desgins you put on our cloaks."

"So I've been told. Speaking of the cloaks, do any of your clothes need repair from patrol?" To her horror, Aelfrid immediately began to give her a list of repairs that needed to be made. "Tell me later," she interrupted. "I didn't realize you wanted me to make you new clothing."

"It's just a few things."

"You're not the one who has to repair them all!"

"What do you think we did while we were on patrol?"

"All I know is you're asking me to repair rips and tears and sew sleeves back on and between the three of you it's not going to be a small amount of work." She sighed. "Bring me your things tomorrow. I'll talk to Helm and Pa and get what they need repaired."

Elfhild's brother, Haleth, came over then, much to Cearo's annoyance. The boy was nice enough but she doubted if a duller person had ever lived. His idea of fun was to watch sheep graze. Or something like that. He'd told her once but the idea of doing something so mind-numbingly boring was horrifying so she'd changed the subject so she didn't have to think about it anymore. He even looked dull, with lank white-blonde hair and flat slate-blue eyes and was tall and gangly. She said the socially appropriate things when he greeted her and tried to make an excuse for why she and Aelfrid couldn't stay and talk but before she could Aelfrid started talking with him about that year's crops and she had to dismount because Aelfrid wanted to and she was forced to follow along with the two guys while they talked about incredibly boring things. 'Just my luck,' she thought to herself petulently, 'I get stuck listening to oral sleeping pills. If I fall asleep mid-step I won't be surprised." If Helm wouldn't have killed her later for interrupting him and Elfhild, she'd have ditched Aelfrid and Mr. Boredom.

To entertain herself, she began humming and, to her surprise, found she was humming Monty Python's 'The Lumberjack Song'. She grinned and tried not to start laughing. "I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay," she sang under her breath. "I wish I'd been girlie, just like my dear Papa."

"Did you say something, Cearo?" Haleth asked, looking back at her.

"No, nothing," she said, trying to keep a straight face and failing, the memory of Eric Idle singing away proudly about dressing in women's clothing and hanging around in bars just too funny. "It's nothing," she managed to choke out. "Really."

"What's so funny?" Aelfrid asked when she stopped laughing.

"Just a song I used to know."

"Really?" Aelfrid stopped walking and turned to face her. She rarely talked about where she'd come from, other than to say it was a long way away and very different from Rohan. The family had tried to find out more but had given up when she hadn't given any details and said she'd rather not talk about it.

Cearo shrugged nervously. "I don't know why I started humming it. Strange what you remember."

Aelfrid wasn't going to let it go. "Will you sing it for us? It has a nice tune."

"You won't understand any of it. It would be hard to translate." If there was a

Rohirric word for 'lumberjack', she didn't know it and there definitely weren't words for 'high heels', 'suspenders', and 'bra'. Especially not 'bra'.

"That's okay," Haleth spoke up. "You have a nice voice. Sing it anyway."

"I'd rather not." She started walking again, quickly, to get away from the guys. Even if it would've been easy to translate, she didn't want to sing it. She hadn't really thought about her old life for a while and she liked it that way. She didn't want to remember because remembering hurt and she'd had enough of the hurting. That part of her life, the one in America, was over. She wasn't Luthien, spoiled teenager whose only worries were getting a date to the prom and her brothers hacking her computer (something which seemed very strange and foreign now), anymore. She was Cearo, adopted older daughter of Rheda and Algar, who had seven brothers and one adorable younger sister and a good, if hard, life somewhere in northwest Rohan two days from Fangorn.

Aelfrid grabbed her arm as she passed him. "Cearo."

She looked up at him, annoyed. "What? I don't want to sing."

"Please? You do have a nice voice."

"I-okay," she conceeded with a sigh. 'What?' her mind screamed. 'Why, for the love of all that's green and grassy, did you say you would? You want to forget all that, remember?' She couldn't explain why she'd agreed, either, other than Aelfrid really wanted her to. It had to be the puppy eyes. He was good with those.