Disclaimer: If you really want to know what I mean about this, you can look at the previous chapters... damn! I still don't own Éomer!

Things Worth Fighting For

Chapter 4

"Warrior with power along the path
A hammerheart his gallantry to last
Rhythm of sirens enemies take heed
For in this war laws are in silent sleep"

"Nightquest" by Nightwish

It was not only Déorl who had chosen to go to Aldburg to defend Rohan in service of the Third Marshal. From the small village it was at least fifteen others, but Déorl's brother was not one of them.

Lothíriel however was one of those riding out of the village. None of the men knew who she was. They did not even know she was a girl, since her hood was covering her face and her black hair. Her cloak was blue while most of the other's were green. They did not cover their faces as she did, and if anyone were to think about it, they would believe the 'boy' had a scar in his face or that perhaps he was just ugly.

During the journey, Lothíriel kept to herself, away from the farmers. As she observed the people she travelled with, she saw most of them were young men, the oldest perhaps 30. None were older and no one behaved as the soldiers she had seen in Gondor, or the soldiers she knew at home.

They reached Aldburg at dusk. Lothíriel was not sure what she had expected, but Aldburg seemed different from what she had imagined. She had believed the fortress to be made of stone, that it was larger than this. The fortress was of timber and it seemed just as strong as stone. It was guards at the watchtowers, and guards in towers above the gate.

As they closed in on the gate, a man shouted to them from one of the towers. "Hwa cuman to Aldburg? Are ge freound oþþe andsaca?"

A man rode forth and called back in Common Speech; "We are friends! We come from a village further south and wish to ride with the Marshal and his men. We wish to defend the Mark against our enemies. Word has come that the Marshal wishes to train more men in defence of our land. May we enter?"

The gates opened and three soldiers rode against them. Their leader was an elder man, perhaps in his sixties. "My name is Helmling and I take you to the great hall of Aldburg where you may sign in if you wish to defend the Mark."

So Helmling lead them in andLothíriel gave herself time to take a look around. There were many houses there, so she thought that perhaps the soldiers' families lived here as well. It was a huge stable near the gates, and in the centre of Aldburg a large building was. Helmling lead them there, so Liriel figured it had to be the great hall he had spoken of. What she noticed most were the carved horses you could see on every building. Mostly only heads of horses. And the banner she saw was of a white horse upon green. She concluded it had to be the banner of Rohan.

Lothíriel had only heard little about Rohan, but she had heard they valued horses above all else. She had heard they were a people of warriors and some had even said barbarians. But the only difference she had seen from the Rohirrim to the Gondorians was the fact that these men were fairer than people in Gondor.

The dismounted and went inside.

The hall was larger inside than it seemed on the outside. A fireplace was in the middle and long tables stood next to the wall. Torches on the walls lit up the large room a bit, but Lothíriel had a feeling it was this dark because it would make an effect of this to be graver than it perhaps could be.

A table was sat up ahead of them and two men were seated behind it. The man standing behind the table was the one who caught Lothíriel's eye.

He was wearing armour and a sword was at his side, but he had no helmet on his head. His hair was golden, but it seemed darker than what Liriel had seen on other men. It reached him below his broad shoulders. Or they appeared broad underneath his armour, however Lothíriel didn't believe it was only because of his armour he seemed so magnificent. He had the most incredible eyes. They were dark, but shining in the light of the torches. He was tall, taller than any man she had ever seen, even taller than her brother, Elphir, whom Lothíriel had believed towered over most men.

Not only was this man tall, had unbelievable hair, eyes, face, and shoulders, he was handsome beyond explanation and it was something about him that demanded respect, even if he had not said a word.

Somehow,Lothíriel had become last in line as the farmers signed in and was showed to where they could sleep and where to put their horses.

Suddenly Lothíriel was standing before the three men, but she couldn't take her eyes away from the man standing next to the two others, and she was grateful her hood prevented them from seeing where her eyes were.

Éomer, Éothain and Héothen, the scout of Éomer's éored, eyed the last boy carefully. He was smaller than most Rohirrim, but not much. He was dressed in a blue cloak instead of green, and Éomer did not know how to describe it, but something felt strange about this last boy.

"Who are you, lad, and why do you wish to ride with the soldiers of Aldburg?" Éothain asked, but the boy didn't answer. Éothain and Éomer exchanged glances. "Well?"

"Have you lost your tongue?" Éomer asked and only then did Lothíriel hear them, since she had been too busy to look at the most handsome man she had ever seen.

By the Valar, even his voice... She stopped the thought before it could go any further. Had she not ran away to make sure she would not have to marry? And yet here you are, admiring a different man! Then she realized she would have to say something, because the men were staring at her. "Hm... what did you..?"

"I asked you about your name, lad," Éothain said.

"My name?" Lothíriel repeated, but her eyes would not leave the tall handsome man.

"You have a name, do you not?" Éomer asked her.

"Yes, of course," Lothíriel said trying to make her voice to sound more like a man's than a woman's.

Éomer started to lose his patience. "Well? What is it then?"

"It is... Lo... Li..."Lothíriel thought desperately for an answer. She could not give her own name, for then they would know who she was and send her back home. Besides, they thought she was a boy, why not play along with it? What better way did she have of hiding than being in a faraway country dressed as a boy? "It is..."

"Yes?" Éomer asked. He looked over at Éothain, both wondering how this would turn out.

"It is Barr..."Lothíriel needed a name.

"Barr?" Éothain asked.

"No, I mean it is Boro... Farabor." Farabor? She asked herself. Well, I hope Faramir and Boromir don't mind me borrowing the beginning of their names. "My name is Farabor, son of Imra... Imral." Imral? That sounds like a woman! Sorry, Ada.

"That does not sound Rohirric," Héothen commented.

"Rohirric?" Think, Lothíriel! "Well, of course it does not sound Rohirric. I am Gondorian." Great, the next thing she said would probably be she was a princess from Dol Amroth. Or perhaps from Mordor, to make things even more complicated.

"Gondorian?" Éomer asked. "What are you doing in Rohan?"

"I... Well, in Gondor, wom... men as young as me are not... allowed to fight... against the enemy... and I wanted to do my share against the dark forces,"Lothíriel said, praying they would believe her.

"But why come here?" Éomer asked.

"I... I thought that perhaps it was not so in Rohan... that young men, such as myself, would be allowed to train to be soldiers. And when I heard that the Marshal would train more men to fight against our enemies, I came here,"Lothíriel said.

Éomer glanced at Éothain again. He turned at Lothíriel. "Can you fight?"

"I know how to wield a sword,"Lothíriel answered. It was true she knew how. She had begged her brothers to teach her so she could play with them when they played warriors when they were younger. And after what seemed like an eternity, they had agreed to teach her. During the years they had taught her archery, how to throw daggers, and how to fight with her bare hands, although they did not have enough time to teach her properly how to fight without weapons.

Éomer turned at Éothain. "Hwa don ge hicgan?"

Éothain looked at his friend then at the boy before them. He had a strange feeling about this boy, that he would be the cause of something in the future, and that Éomer would be in the middle of this. Éothain could not explain this, nor could he say what would happen. "We beþurfan ma ælde, butan it is oð to ge."

Éomer nodded and looked at the boy. They needed more men, and if this boy could fight he might be useful. He wanted to fight, so could he stop him? Not really. If this boy wanted to fight, he would find a way. "Show him where to put his horse and where he can sleep."

Helmling bowed. "Yes, my lord."

So Lothíriel followed Helmling out while she wondered how she had gotten into this mess, and most importantly; who was the handsome man? He was in a high position, she could tell, but she wanted to know who he was.

Helmling took her outside and she took Thalion to the stable.

"You can put him here," Helmling said.

Lothíriel did so. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course," Helmling answered.

"Who was that tall man?" Lothíriel asked. "The one standing."

"That was Lord Éomer, Third Marshal of Riddermark. He is in charge of the east marches," Helmling answered.

Lothírielnodded, trying to seem uninterested, but to know his name made her feel like she never had before. What was this man doing to her? What was it about him that interested her so?

Why did a Gondorian want to fight with the Rohirrim? That made no sense to Éomer. Himself he would never consider to fight for another country. He would always fight for Rohan, and would never have gone to Gondor if he wasn't allowed to fight for Rohan.

But he had to agree he would have been angry if anyone told him he was too young to fight for his country if he were the same age as the boy.

But it was something about this boy he could not quite place. Was it the fact that he was Gondorian? It could be. Or maybe Éomer was just being paranoid. There was probably nothing strange with this boy, it was just Éomer's imagination playing tricks on him.

Footsteps ended his thoughts and he turned to see Éothain coming. "All is ready?"

Éothain nodded. "The men will be up early to give these farmers their first training."

Éomer nodded. "What do you think about this Gondorian?"

"Farabor? I am not certain. He seems willing to fight if he travelled all the way from Gondor to do so, but we have yet to see how he wields a sword," Éothain said and Éomer nodded.

Lothíriel rolled over in her bed, her face against the wall, pulling the covers over her head. She could hear a distant voice shouting something, but she couldn't hear what it said.

The night before Helmling had shown her where she could sleep. It was a small room she shared with three others, one of them was Déorl.

She was still sleeping when something woke her or rather shocked her out of sleep. She gasped for air and was looking into the eyes of Déorl, who was grinning and holding an empty bucket; the water that had been in it was making her freeze under the covers. The room was still dark so he couldn't see her face very well.

"What in the name of the Valar do you think you're doing?"Lothíriel stayed safely under the covers.

"The Marshal wants us ready right now, Gondorian,"Déorl said, still grinning like a fool. "Get dressed. Now."

Lothírielglared at him. What right did he have to tell her what to do? Then she remembered what she had done. What her foolishness had made her do. She was pretending to be a man in Rohan. Really clever, Lothíriel! She told herself. Not only do you dress up like a man, you join the Riders of Rohan, pretending to be a soldier, which you're not, and you will probably not manage to pretend to be a great warrior. What am I going to do? There was always the option of telling them she was a girl, but the princess dismissed that idea as soon as it presented itself. If there were one thing Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil were known for, then it was her stubbornness. She had gotten into this mess; she might as well stay and fight. Who said a woman couldn't fight?

When the day was finally over, Lothíriel had no idea whether to laugh or cry. Every bone in her body hurt. She had never been so exhausted in her entire life.

The day had been one of the longest in her entire life, longer than the most boring dinner with the nobilities of Dol Amroth, and she did not care much for long, boring dinners where the men spoke of politics and the ruling of Gondor and the women spoke of the latest gossip at the court. She could only imagine what they said about her now, running away from a suitor most women would find attractive and could only wish to wed.

But Lothíriel was not like most women anyway, so she did not think much what they would say about her home at her father's court.

And what were the chances she would return home?

When she had first gotten out of bed, she had not even had the chance to eat anything. Déorl had told her the Marshal wanted them out immediately, so she had taken on the armour she had been given the night before, when they all had been given the equipment needed for battle. She already had weapons, so she had not been given a sword.

They had assembled outside the stables, mounted and ready for what seemed to be a long ride. But no matter how much she wished it had only been a ride, it had not been. After observing their skills in the saddle the Marshal made them spar against each other, on the horses. And Lothíriel were the worst rider of them all, but what else could you expect? She wasn't a Rohirrim. She was a good rider, but not that good. She was not born atop a horse as she had heard some of the court women say about the people from Rohan. Of course they did not talk about them in a good way, but after seeing how they handled their horses, Lothíriel had no problem believing there actually was slightly truth in that saying.

So, the sparring contests at horse. It sounded easier than it was. It took Lothíriel two times to fall off her horse before she could end a match and still be in the saddle. And after achieving that, it took her another two times to manage to use one hand for guiding the horse, and manage to spar against her opponent. Luckily for her, she was not the only one having a bit of a problem at first. Both Déorl and Galrim had difficulties at first, and so did many of the others.

And after sparring against the other farmers came the difficult task of holding ones ground against one of the men in the éored. Éomer had taken ten men with him to help him train these new recruits. It was not easy to manage against one of the riders, but at least they did not have to be mounted, which was much easier and even though she did not win, Lothíriel did not do too bad.

Looking forward to jumping into her bed, perhaps have something to eat,Lothíriel rode back to Aldburg with the men, very pleased with herself. But once they were back, Éomer had arranged for them to clean the stables. Helmling explained that true soldiers thought of their horses before their own comfort. And so the wearied farmers that wanted to become soldiers, stood in the stables for three hours, before they took their horses in and gave them a throughout brushing and fed them, and then they finally could go to sleep.

And the princess fell asleep before her head touched the pillow.

Translations:

Hwa cuman to Aldburg? – Who come to Aldburg?
Are ge freound oþþe andsaca? – Are you friend or enemy?
Hwa don ge hicgan? -What do you think?
We beþurfan ma ælde, butan it is oð to ge – We need more men, but it is up to you

Author's note: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry for updating sooo late! I've not been home for about two weeks, so I haven't had the chance to update any sooner. But since I haven't been home, it gave me some time to write and explore my crazy ideas! Really, I'm nuts when it comes to this.

Please don't kill me after this. I've told you I'm nuts! Don't blame it on me. Blame it on my parents... he he... only they knew they're my excuse for everything I do...

By the way, Nightwish is my favourite metal band from my neighbour country Finland.

So, no more boring details, but since I haven't had access to Internett, I'll read some of the stuff on and I'll write some more, so maybe you won't have to wait so long for the next chapter...

AND THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! I LOVE TO GET THEM!