This chapter may seem a little out-of-nowhere, but it was something I wanted to add in for reasons unknown lol. I just got the idea, and kind of liked how it played out. Let me know what you all think.

Disclaimer: I own none of LOTR - it is entirely Tolkien's genius. And any dialogue and such from the movies are credit to P. Jackson and Co.

Morning eventually came, and the hobbits woke at the sound of people moving about the Hall. Alandria knew them well and led them to a table, pulling aside a serving girl and asking for some breakfast for the little Halflings. Both were thrilled for a meal, and thanked the lady graciously when they received left-over plates of warmed meats and cheeses, fresh breads, fruits, and cold mugs of ale. Alandria watched over their eating patiently, taking only an apple and cup of watered-down mead for herself. Both Merry and Pippin were nearly done with a second serving of their breakfast when Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Théoden arrived, together and at the same time.

Alandria spotted the men in surprise and, out of long years' habit, quickly stood. Théoden smiled faintly and gestured vaguely at her, dismissing her formality.

"At ease, Alandria. Your father isn't lurking about, making sure you pay your King respects." She flushed slightly, but obeyed and sat back down. "Clear the Hall!" Théoden demanded, his voice raised slightly but not yelling, yet the firm authority it held was heard and obeyed by all. Any that had been mingling pointlessly in the Great Hall now disappeared, leaving only a few soldiers and maids moving about on business.

All eyes turned expectantly to the White Wizard, and he took their stares in even stride, relaying to them all the encounter of Pippin and the Seeing Stone. "There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool, but an honest fool, he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring. We've been stranglely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantír a glimpse of the Enemy's plan." Here he met the gazes of both Aragorn and Théoden firmly. "Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith." Alandria felt oddly worried, remembering the pride and love Boromir spoke of his city with. "His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our Enemy one thing - he knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still - strength, perhaps enough to challenge him. Sauron fears this." He turned from Aragorn to Théoden now. "He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of men! If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me," Théoden started softly, and Alandria observed his distanced expression carefully. "why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?" All stared at the King for a silent moment, surprised by his reply and unsure whether or not to challenge him.

"We cannot simply leave them for their own defenses!" Alandria exclaimed, frustrated and unnerved by her King's words. "And this isn't just for Gondor, my lord, it's for all of Middle-earth! We cannot remain here."

"I will go." Aragorn replied softly, before Théoden could make any remark to Alandria.

"No." Gandalf argued, still gazing at Théoden.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn debated.

"They will be." The Wizard assured the Ranger, taking a few slow steps closer to him, before he leaned in a spoke softly with the Man. Alandria could not hear and did not try, she rather studied the expressions on Aragorn's face; they were limited merely to thoughfulness and obedience. "Understand this - things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith." He turned then, facing Alandria and the two hobbits at her side - one hobbit in particular. "And I won't be going alone."

"M-Me?" Pippin squeaked.

"Yes, Peregrin Took. You got yourself into this, now for the consequence." Gandalf turned back to face the rest of his audience. "Any further actions are up to you Théoden. I urge you - prepare to ride to aid for Gondor! Now is not the time for grudges. And to the rest of you - fare thee well!" He whirled away then, and swept past Alandria and Merry, taking with him the hobbit at their side. Only a few stutters of complaint could be heard from Pippin as he was taken by the Wizard.

"Go, Meriadoc." Alandria urged. "Say goodbye." The little hobbit hesitated, looking afraid, then with a nod quickly scurried after his friend.

She stayed seated for a moment, then suddenly stood in unease. "I should go with, to retrieve Merry when..when Pippin leaves."

"I'll do it, my lady." Aragorn stepped forward. "You've taken enough care of them throughout the night." The Man slipped past her quietly, and strode purposefully out of the Hall to fetch the blonde hobbit.

Alandria stayed standing hesitantly, debating whether or not to still run after the hobbit. She then glanced around the room, and saw all eyes watching her carefully. Each of them seemed to be waiting for her next move, and almost appeared as if they were afraid of it. Unnerved, she turned her attentions to her King again. Her brow furrowed as the quick exchange between him and Gandalf came back to her. "If the beacons are lit, will you really leave Gondor without an ally?"

Théoden seemed caught off-guard with her question and his stern features blanked in surprise for a moment, before considering her words. "I cannot say. Now, after all the lives we have just lost, I feel enough anger to deny them aid. Yet who knows what the morrow may bring?"

His answer did not satisfy her, and her eyes hardened. "Have you no thought for what may result if you do not aid them? Or do you only think with rash anger?"

"Alandria I will ask you to hold your tounge," Théoden's hard voice snapped suddenly, his dark eyes harder than hers. "and think of what you say before it passes your lips. Do not speak to me of 'rash anger' my dear, you of all people. My decisions are for me to make, and you to obey. I am the King - I will ask you to remember that." He glared once more in her direction, before turning quickly on his heel and striding back towards his chambers.

Alandria stared after him, seething in silence, both furious and ashamed as she knew he spoke true. Footsteps summoned her attention then, and she turned back to the great, open doors of Meduseld. Aragorn entered, with little Merry beneath his hand, head down and feet shuffling slowly. Alandria softened upon seeing the morose hobbit. She stepped forward, and silently took her friend from Aragorn's care, into hers. Merry did not seem to care, in fact he barely noticed. He took Alandria's hand in his, and followed her out onto the steps of the Golden Hall silently. They sat down for a moment, both staring out in the beautiful golden grasslands of Rohan.

"He's gone, milady." Merry was the first to break their somber silence.

"I know, Merry."

"I don't know if I'll ever see 'im again."

"I know."

"Do you know what's gonna happen next?"

"No." She sighed. "I don't. Gandalf and Pippin will presumably find a way to light the beacons of Minas Tirith, and then...then we wait for the King's decision. War or no."

"How long does it take for the beacons to reach us?"

"I'm not sure; they've never been lit in my lifetime here. Perhaps an hour, I believe?"

"And three days for them to even get to Gondor...that's a long wait."

"Aye. It is."

"What do we do while we wait, m'lady?"

She smiled slightly. "I haven't the faintest idea."

Merry chewed his lip, glancing about the town below them. "I don't like this, Alandria. All this war and waitin' and such. I miss the Shire."

Alandria felt her heart soften, even ache. She grasped the hobbit's shoulder warmly. "I know, Merry. But we can't change things now. We can only do our best."

The hobbit sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest and then resting his chin on them. "I think I'm just gonna stay 'ere for a while, milady. Think and such, y'know. You're welcome to do as you'd like." Alandria hesitated, glancing down at the little man. He returned her look, reflecting it upwards with a soft smile. "I'll be fine, no worries."

Alandria hated to admit it, but she did want to move somewhere else. In all truth, she had the itch to move a lot. And she knew how to get rid of it, knew just what she truly was longing to do. So, having the hobbit's leave, she stood. "Keep your heart up, Merry. You'll see Pip again." Her words seemed lost on the hobtyla, as he merely nodded, dark blue eyes never leaving the landscape laid out before him. She sighed softly, then turned and quietly strode down the stone steps leading away from Meduseld.

As of that morning, and for the next two mornings, Alandria escaped from the quiet, waiting town just as the sun rose, and wasn't to be found until it had nearly reached it's highest point in the sky. Of course, the four other members of the Fellowship panicked with fear the first morning she disappeared, after leaving little Merry on the steps. But she assured them she hadn't been in any danger, only keeping her mind busy with helping some of the women of the town. Her friends accepted the lie so easily she felt almost guilty. The second morning she got up to disappear, she neglected to hear the hoofbeats faintly echoing her own. As did she on the third morning. Instead, she galloped an eager Dustling out of Edoras in the earliest shine of morning, flying out across the plains of Rohan for nearly half of an hour, before coming to halt at a small patch of dark trees that looked out of place in the golden landscape.

She would dismount, tethering Dustling or leaving him to roam freely for a while, trusting him well, and then walk a few short steps into the mini-forest, until she came upon a fair-sized clearing, round, and perhaps twenty five feet across. She would unsheath the light sword from her hip, and work at fending off imaginary foes, twisting and turning and slicing and thrusting until sweat poured, and still more, fighting to rid herself of the pent-up energy and emotions inside. It was an odd habit she had acquired a couple years ago, when the Orc attacks became more common and others had not the time to bother with teaching her or helping her with a sword. It was a tiring, near-pointless exercise, but always left her feeling greatly relieved. With nothing to do with her days other than anxiously wait around Meduseld for some sign from Gandalf and Pippin, she was quick to realize the exercise would be helpful. But she never thought of anyone following her.

"So this is where you've been running off to?" Alandria whirled at the voice from the trees, her blade immediately at the ready. The voice chuckled deeply. "Calm down, my lady.."

"Show yourself!" She snapped in reply, her green eyes darting through the forest surrounding her. There was a rustle of branches to her left and she turned sharply, blade pointing into the shadows. The deep chuckle came again, and then the leafed branches moved for a moment, before parting and letting a tall, broad-shouldered, golden-haired Man step through. Alandria relaxed, her sword drooping slightly. "How did you find me?"

Éomer's handsome face held a slight smile, and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Just decided to see where you were really off to."

"I told the others I was helping the women."

"And yet, I seemed to the be only one paying enough attention to not believe you." He smirked good-naturedly, but Alandria was watching him warily. "Don't worry," he assured her, "I didn't - and won't - tell."

She stared at him for another moment, before deciding he meant no harm, and dropped her weapon to her side with a sigh. "Shouldn't you be..planning something? With your uncle?"

"Why should I? He hasn't made any decision yet."

"He's still debating whether or not to aid Gondor?" Éomer didn't answer, but she found one in his silence and growled in aggravation. "He can't honestly even be considering leaving them to fend for themselves!"

"It is not my place to question my uncle's decisions." She glanced at him sharply, and saw his troubled face decieved his words. He spoke before she could though, changing the subject. "You really should be more careful when you decide to go riding off this like, you know." Alandria strode into the forest again, heading back to Dustling and ignoring the Lord. "I followed you yesterday and today, and you never knew - and it's not like I can hide very well, riding behind you at a gallop across miles of empty land. You're lucky it was only me."

"I'm sure I would have been fine." She answered dismissively, whistling for her horse. The gelding raised his head from his hiding place behind some low trees, and then plodded slowly and obediently to her.

"You're leaving already?" Éomer asked, seeming surprised.

"Yes. You found me - shouldn't you be telling me to 'go back to Edoras, it's not safe here'?"

He shrugged slightly, and shook dark gold locks of hair out of his face. "I hadn't planned on it."

Alandria eyed him curiously. "Then what?"

He shrugged again, and rested his hand on the sword-hilt at his hip. "Honestly, I'd been wondering if you would mind a partner. A duel, maybe, or even just some...whatever you were doing. Practicing?" His dark eyes danced almost eagerly.

Alandria hesitated, debating whether she really wanted to duel the young lord or not. But then again, why not? Although she did feel awkward around him, after the night out on the steps of Meduseld, and certainly more so alone with him. But the lord himself seemed unswayed, and her body was itching for a proper sword-fight - he had cut her exercising short.

"...alright then." She finally agreed, and patted Dustling's neck, then pushed him back towards where he'd been grazing, and quickly stalked back to the clearing. Éomer followed quietly, and when they came to the small clearing, stood several paces away from her.

Alandria didn't take time to start dueling with the Rider, played no games, performed no time-wasting warm-ups. She stood across from him for a moment, narrowed emerald eyes holding his taunting hazel ones. He waited for her to make the first move - and she did, not waiting for the anticipation in the air to thicken. She leapt forward quickly, smoothly bringing her sword up from her lower left, swinging towards his head. Éomer waited a heartbeat, and in a flash had his own blade raised, blocking her blow with a sharp clang. Smoothly accepting his block, she forced her sword to slide along his, then turned her hands to strike quickly from the right. He blocked again. Alandria pulled away, glancing into his dark eyes, seeing how calmly he was accepting her advances, and was spurred on by aggravation. Her first blow came from above - blocked; second from the direct left - blocked; third from underneath - blocked. She finally growled in annoyance and stepped back, panting slightly.

"Fight back, damn you! You wanted a duel, now come on!"

Éomer merely smiled slightly, and inclined his head curtly. His gaze fell to her sword, and she could see the focus suddenly shine in his dark eyes. He said nothing, so his sudden attack caught her off-guard. He took only a long step forward, and swung smoothly from the right, slicing down. Alandria only just lowered her blade in time. She felt the surprising force of his blow shake her arm, and glanced up at him in alarm. But his face revealed nothing, for his sight was focused where their swords joined. She followed his example, and became less concerned about him and more concerned with where her blows were going and his were coming from, as the Lord turned out be a rather adept swordsman. It made sense, of course, for him to have such extreme skill with a blade, but somehow it still surprised her. Perhaps she had expected him to go easy on her, a woman. This certainly was not the case, as the golden-haired man seemed to easily block her swings, and strike back with surprising force. He was light on his feet, scuffling and shifting and jumping to and away. Alandria was angry to find him winning all of their short matches - his blade would come to stop just at her throat, or stomach, or chest, and he'd pause, then lower his weapon with a small smile. The anger did not subside when he stepped back for a breath, a prominent grin stretched across his rugged face.

"Are you still so sure you would've been fine if it hadn't been I who followed you, riding from Edoras?" He chuckled, wiping the faint sheen of sweat from his brow. Alandria launched herself forward with a curl of her lip, but he blocked her again with a smile. "Come now, not this again?" She swung towards his shoulder, and he pivoted on one foot, dodging the blow. "All this talk of your great journey with the Fellowship, and The Ring. With sword-work like this, it's no wonder the Fellowship didn't last!"

The anger was gone. Aggravation dissolved. A hot, fiery fury burst instead, devouring Alandria's senses. Her vision seemed red with the hate and outrage she felt - how dare he insult her so? Insult them all so? This damned spoiled idiot! She launched herself at Éomer with a feral snarl, the silver of her blade flashing in the sun. She didn't register his expression at her attack, focused only on paying him back for his cruel remark. He blocked her once, twice, but she was rushing him harder than before. Her smaller body was nearly pressed into his, and although he was stronger and could not be forced back, the sharp metal she held helped to her advantage. She swung wildly at his left side, and he danced lightly backwards to avoid it, but didn't anticipate her quick swerving of the blade, bringing it around from it's sideways curve to slice down. A hole tore down the front of his shirt, and cut open his thigh, but the man barely had time to register this before Alandria spun, getting momentum, and launched a furious fist into his mouth once, twice. The impact knocked him a shocked step backward, but still she came. He was barely able to block her easy blow from above, and in doing so revealed his stomach free to a swift up-thrust knee. A cough, and he doubled over. Alandria merely pushed him over to the ground at that point, a snarl etched into her features.

The handsome man lay on his back, breathing heavily and staring up at her with intense eyes. Dark blood trickled from his mouth, and could be seen gleaming in droplets down his thigh. His dark eyes were rather steady, on-guard and patient. But Alandria thought she saw, as the fury faded with her opponent submissive to her will, the faintest flicker of fear in the dark depths, quickly obscured by defiance. It struck her though, the brief fear. Fear of her? Only then did she register that the sharp point of her sword lay snugged threateningly into the man's throat, only just keeping from breaking the skin. Shock shook her, and she jerked her blade away, stepping back.

"I'm sorry, my lord.. I didn't mean... I was just so..angry..." Her words seemed weak, and a defiant part of her protested her apologies. Had she already forgotten his insults? His mockery? No, but he was of much higher authority than her. It was just a duel. She should've controlled herself. But the Lord was shaking his head as he rose, dusting off the back of his pants and spitting a dribble of blood.

"No, no I asked for it. I knew what I said would make you angry." He winced for a moment, a hand on his side. "In truth, it's what I wanted."

She panted for several seconds, processing what he said, and then speaking the only words she could find, "What?"

"You were holding back." He wiped away more blood with the back of his hand, glancing at it carelessly. "I could tell." He shrugged, picking up his sword from when it'd fallen. "So I did what I knew would force you into using all your power."

Alandria stared for a long moment, not sure she was understanding. He'd wanted her to attack him? "But...why, m'lord?"

Éomer sighed, staring at her for a moment tiredly, then shook his head. "Why is it now you call me 'lord'? Before you were cursing at me." He seemed amused by the thought. Alandria blushed, and he continued. "Wasn't it clear, Alandria? If you could barely cause me trouble when I was hardly trying, how can you expect to survive if it all comes to a battle against Mordor's forces? I was simply trying to help you see what you needed to feel and do, should such a situation come."

Anger sparked again, and her eyes narrowed. "You think I wouldn't be able to handle myself in a battle?"

"I didn't say-"

"Did Helm's Deep not prove to you I know what I'm doing?"

"I didn't-"

"Or are you just basing this off the fact that I'm a woman?" She was practically snarling now, unexplainable fury rising inside her again.

"Alandria, I meant no-"

"Be quiet, my lord, please!" She snapped. She felt like an idiot for being shown weak in battle with him, and even further more for spilling her thoughts to him those nights ago on the porch of the Golden Hall. Why she did any of it, she could not be sure, but now anger was claiming her embarrasment. "Now, unless you'd like me to push my sword further than the skin of your throat, I advise we return to Edoras. Someone may have noticed our absence." She knew this was doubtful, but wanted to be rid of the man's unnerving presence. So she turned sharply and hurried to her horse, without a thought of him, as he stood watching her leave, trying to determine what he had done wrong.

NOTE: If anyone finds it a little strange that Alandria's anger gets flared so easily - and it will happen more - I assure you, there's a reason :)