Hey everyone, sorry for such a delay only to give you such a - may I say 'dull'? - update, but you know how life can be sometimes :S But trust me, the next chapter will have much more to it! As it is, I hope this is good enough for now...
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.
Alandria made her way moodily back to Edoras, and into the Golden Hall. Théoden, Éowyn, Merry, Legolas, Gimli, and a couple of Théoden's guard stood or sat idly around, talking quietly. Théoden and his men only glanced at her as she came in, and she turned to disappear down a hallway before anyone else saw her. She took several long minutes in her chamber to clean off what sweat was on her face and arms, then changed begrudgingly into a plain cream-colored shift and dark brown, simple dress. She left her hair down and loose, then returned to the Hall. Théoden and his men did not notice her return, Legolas and Gimli only nodded to her silently, but Éowyn watched her with concern as she fell heavily onto a stool before a table, beside Merry.
"Alandria?" The White Lady asked curiously, and her friend only glanced at her in reply. "Is something the matter?"
"No." The dark-haired woman answered shortly, watching a group of advisers whispering across the Hall from Théoden and his men.
"You seem agitated." Alandria ignored her. "Where have you been?"
"Helping some of the women." She muttered carelessly.
Éowyn obviously didn't believe her, and opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted as the doors opened again. Éomer strode in, back straight and head high, now in his intricate armor rather then riding clothes, and appearing much more collected than he had been when Alandria left him in the clearing. Éowyn glanced from her brother, to Alandria, and back, her brow crumpled. "Éomer-"
"I took Firefoot out for a quick ride around the walls, Éowyn." He answered her question before she spoke it. "You know he gets restless." Alandria wondered why he was still hiding her disappearances from the others, especially after she had insulted him so. But the man would not meet her eye, straightening his clothes and then looking over at his uncle and advisers. "Have they made any decision?" He murmured quietly.
"No." Éowyn sighed. "They are still pouring over maps, debating which routes to take for if they go to battle, and if they flee." She sighed again and paced slowly, her arms crossed. "It's been the same thing for three days."
Alandria turned her attention then from the two gold-haired people, to the little man she only just remembered was at her side. "G'morning Merry. How've you been?" She tried to ask in a relatively cheerful voice, but wasn't sure the hobbit was convinced.
He shrugged, chewing on a heel of bread. "Same as always, Alandria. Waiting to see what's going to happen. Like all of you."
"Where is Aragorn?" She asked, realizing the Ranger was missing from their company in the Golden Hall.
"Outside, somewhere. Not real sure."
As if he had been summoned, the heavy wooden doors of Meduseld burst open to allow the dark-haired man they spoke of to rush through. "The beacons of Minas Tirith!" He cried, and Alandria's chest clenched. "The beacons are lit!" He dashed across the space of the Hall, stumbling to a surprisingly undignified halt several paces from the alarmed Théoden, and gasped for breath. "Gondor calls for aid!"
Immediately, the room fell silent and still, and the air seemed to weigh like boulders upon them all as they waited for the King's reaction. All eyes turned to him in expectation, half-fearing what he would say. The weathered face of Théoden seemed taken aback, rapidly weighing his duties and thoughts, finally coming to a hasty decision, his voice firm: "And Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!"
Relief and pleasure flooded through Alandria and she turned to Éowyn, her face lit with her delight at the King's answer. But she saw the tall man standing beside her pale friend, and was sobered. Éomer bowed firmly to his king at the order to muster, and glanced at Éowyn, turning away and touching her arm gently. He then glanced at Alandria, and his dark eyes were emotionless, hard and already prepared for his upcoming journey. He said and did nothing, only lowered his face and strode away.
Alandria leapt to her feet anyway, excited despite the dangerous mission. "Finally!" She cried to Éowyn, whom stood still. "Come on, my lady, we must get ready!" The bell summoning all Riders had already begun to echo about the city, into the depths of the Hall.
Éowyn stared at her friend in disbelief. "Why now are you so joyous, Alandria?"
"Because now we go to battle, of course! We are doing right, in aiding Gondor. Don't you think so?"
"Of course I do. But it is the men who battle, Alandria, not us." Alandria's pleased expression vanished. "Surely you did not think they would let us fight?"
Alandria suddenly felt a fool, and stuttered weakly, "I thought...after Helm's Deep...they can't... But this is not an average battle, my lady!" She finally protested.
Éowyn shook her head. "Do you think it matters?"
"They can't just leave us behind!"
"Of course they can." Éowyn answered calmly. "And they will. We travel with them to Dunharrow, and then they go their own way."
Alandria spluttered unintelligably in anger, but found no more counterargument. Éomer had just given her that humiliating and enraging sword practice in order to prepare her for the battle - he said so himself! He at least would not expect her to stay behind. He would know she needed to fight. But, as she strode with Éowyn and Merry out to the steps of Meduseld, she could not locate the tall Rider in the midst of all the other warriors.
"Come, Alandria. We need to be ready when the men are, so quickly. Pack a few things - clothes, blankets, food, is all - and set them on your horse. Then meet me over there," she pointed to a small house just below the Golden Hall, "and we will ride out together. Understood?"
Alandria nodded obediently, still sore from the idea of being left behind. Éowyn had already bustled off though, and Alandria figured she might as well do the same, forgetting in her brooding about the confused little hobbit left standing behind her.
Alandria did as she was told quickly, even though Dustling was fidgety with all that was happening around him. She led him to beside the house her lady had pointed out, and came across Éowyn and Aragorn talking.
"...it's tradition for women of the court to farewell the men."
Aragorn seemed to be looking at the Lady's saddle. He reached out, and lifted something, a reproving look in his eyes. Éowyn jerked back down whatever he had lifted, hiding what caused the amused look in his eye. "The men have their captain." She said softly, watching him. "They will follow you into battle, even to death. You have given us hope." Alandria focused intently on Dustling's perfectly-tight girth as Éowyn turned back away from the Ranger, and chewed her lip in curiosity at what the man had seen hidden beneath Éowyn's saddle.
"Are you ready then, Alandria?" The Lady asked over her saddle.
Alandria glanced up, then past the lady at Aragorn, and back. She nodded. "Think so, m'lady."
"Mount up, then." Éowyn pulled herself smoothly into her saddle, her left foot in the stirrup and the right perched slightly above it, resting nearer to the pommel. Alandria didn't mount, merely stared at Dustling nervously. "Alandria? What's wrong?"
Alandria shifted. "Uhm, I'm wearing a dress my lady." Éowyn stared blankly. "I'm...I usually wear trousers."
"Oh!" Éowyn chuckled. "You don't know how to ride in a dress?"
"Ride, yes, although it has been years. I just..."
"Don't know how to mount?"
"Aye." She answered weakly, but Éowyn smiled good-naturedly.
"Here, Alandria, I'll help you." Aragorn was at her side, appearing to have overheard her problem. Alandria flushed deeply, but he paid no attention. He guided her left foot into the stirrup, and then helped lift her up to the saddle, where she sat uncomfortably sideways.
"Thank you." She muttered, and he only smiled softly before turning away to mount himself.
"Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan!" Éomer's deep, thick voice sounded across the lines of Riders. "Oaths you have taken, now, fulfill them all! To Lord, and land! Hah!" He urged his tall steed on, and led with Théoden the first Riders out of the great city of Edoras.
Her left leg was numb once they arrived, and her right throbbed stiffly. Théoden led them quickly through the hundreds of horsemen already gathered, asking for news of who had arrived and with how many warriors.
"Grimbold, how many?"
"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my lord!"
"We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Théoden King!"
"Where are the Riders from Snowbourn?"
"None have come my lord."
Alandria glanced around nervously, and Dustling slowed from his sharp trot. She was no scholar when it came to numbers, but she knew enough to tell that not nearly enough Riders had yet arrived. Perhaps more will come, she told herself uneasily, but found it hard to believe. Instead she observed the other people already gathered in tents around her, their horses tethered or in large corrals, as they waited for the King to lead them on. But Théoden was riding towards the great stone wall that rose over a hundred feet above the encampment of Dunharrow, intent on reaching his personal camp at it's top. Alandria winced as Dustling lapsed back into his quick trot to keep up with Éowyn and Aragorn, who were in front of her, and they began their ascend to the top of the stone perch.
The sloping path that led up the rock wall cut back and forth across it's width, and at each end, where they turned and walked up the other direction, sat an ominous stone figure, watching their procession. The figures were so worn they could hardly be discerned as anything at all, other than a stooped grey figure with black holes where the eyes and mouth should have been. Pukel-men. Alandria felt watched by them, and shivered slightly every time they were passed.
Soon they reached the top of the climb, however, and were allowed to spread out, dismount, and make camp, much to Alandria's relief. She followed Éowyn slowly away from the line of men, towards a post where a couple other horses were tethered. She dismounted with a wince and a sigh, her legs stiff and sore. Once she landed on her feet, her right leg groaned in sensitive protest, and her left began to tingle unnaturally. She grumbled sourly, vowing never to ride side-saddle again, no matter what, and began to un-tack her horse. She removed the saddle and saddle blanket, lifting them both in her arms, and stepped away to rest them on the post. She had barely taken a step though, when her left leg seemed to vanish from underneath her, throwing her body awkwardly sideways. The weight of the tack in her arms pulled her further down, and her stiff right leg refused to help. A hand caught her underneath the arm then, and lifted her roughly up. Another hand helped balance the saddle and blanket in her arms, then, once satisfied she was standing decently on her own two feet, took the tack from her. Alandria glanced uncomfortably into the man's dark hazel eyes, and flushed in embarrassment.
"Thanks." She muttered, and then glanced up at the chuckling of other men. She saw a small group of passing Riders nudge each other and glance at her, snickering quietly at what they had just witnessed, but not quietly enough.
"Silence!" Éomer barked, eyes darkening upon the passing men. "Or d'you want me to knock you fools on your arses for laughs as well?"
The men jumped in alarm, and quickly stalked off, muttering as they did. Alandria flushed deeper.
"Are you alright?" The Lord then asked, turning on her kindly, dark eyes lightening.
"Fine. Just, uhm," Alandria shifted nervously, "not used to side-saddle."
The tall man smiled faintly, obviously understanding. "Your leg gave out, huh? That happens. I've seen Éowyn go down plenty of times."
Alandria smiled back nervously, imagining such a thing. "I feel like a fool, though."
"Nah." He picked up her horse's tack again with ease. "It happens to every woman. I must say, I'm rather thankful we don't have to ride like that." He chuckled faintly. "Where do you want this?"
Alandria glanced at the bulky saddle in his arms. "Oh no, no, I'll get it. It's alright."
"Really, let me help." He insisted, moving his arms out of her reach. "Where are you camping?"
"I'm, uhm..." She glanced around then, "not actually sure. Presumably with Éowyn, but I don't know where she is."
Éomer nodded firmly, and then adjusted the saddle and blanket so he was holding them with one arm, and raised the free hand to his lips. A sharp, splitting whistle cracked the air. "Éowyn!" He bellowed, and the gold-haired lady burst out of a white tent four tents down from them. Her eyes were wide in alarm as she rushed out, and then narrowed as she spotted her older brother. He just grinned in reply, and Alandria found the cheerful smile forced her own upon her face. Éowyn however did not seem amused, and merely shot another glare at her brother, before striding off across the camp, apparently intent on some other mission.
"Do you do that to her often?" Alandria asked, still smiling faintly as they headed towards the tent she had just come from.
"I used to, when we were younger. The whistle usually just scared her, and whenever I yelled for her like that she'd be sure something was wrong." He chuckled again, obviously having enjoyed himself. "She was a very paranoid child."
"I can't imagine why, having someone like you around."
Alandria had meant it as a joke, but realized it came out wrong just as his warm, brown-green eyes lowered to meet her gaze. He sobered, gazing at her for a moment.
"Uh, I didn't mean it like- Not that you- That..." She stuttered, searching for an excuse, as Éomer set down her saddle and saddle blanket just inside the tent, then straightened and gazed at her again. "..came out wrong."
He sighed, glancing towards her tent and then back at her nervously. "I mean to apologize, my lady, for what offense I caused before." He paused, then added, "At the..duel, in the clearing."
She had begun, at this point, to associate his more formal speech with guilt on the man's part, and flushed slightly at it. "It is quite alright. I'm sorry I lost my temper. I just didn't expect to lose to you." She smiled slightly, and he chuckled warmly.
"I am the Third Marshall, Alandria. You must give me some credit."
"That is true." She replied, and then her smile slowly faded. "I'm not go into battle again. Did you know this?"
He appeared confused for a moment, and then quickly turned guilty. "I...I would have assumed it, yes."
The spontaneous anger he had been expecting flared inside her. "You assumed it? What about all your talk of my 'holding back' and needing to know how to fight if we should come to battle with Mordor? Was that not the point of your ridiculous duel?"
"Alandria, I thought perhaps my uncle would allow you in the battle. And so, I thought it would be...decent, to help prepare you for it."
"Well you have prepared me for nothing!" She snapped, her temper quickly taking over the gentle words that had just exchanged, boiling the blood in her veins. "You only managed to cruelly raise false hopes, lord." She scoffed the title, eyes as hard as emeralds, and then spun on her heel and stalked away. She had barely taken five steps when she realized a handful of Riders had paused in their duties, overhearing her anger at the Lord, and now muttered as she walked past:
"She's angry enough to challenge even Lord Éomer's wrath..
"What was that about? It's like an avalanche coming out of nowhere.."
"With their tempers around, it'll be surprising if anyone survives to even make it to Gondor.."
"Haven't you dogs anything better to do?!" She snarled at the last commentator, and they flinched before muttering again and quickly dispersing.
The fury that had shocked her system faded slowly, her blood lowering to a simmer and the muscles in her jaw eventually going slack as she walked around the camp. She paid little attention to anything she passed, seeing white tent after white tent being raised, horse after horse untacked and tethered, and Rider after Rider walk by. Then she came to the edge of the cliff, and glanced down nervously. The height made her stomach clench, and she took a couple steps back uncomfortably. Her eyes roved on the ground below her then, careful still, and she took in all the tents and horses and people below. Several thousand, it appeared, but certainly not enough. Her attention was claimed then by a horse shrieking, and she turned sharply, praying it wasn't Dustling. Then she saw it was merely a couple horses shying away from a dark crevice broken into the rock they stood near, and their Riders fighting to move them past. Legolas shifted into view, and Alandria stepped forward to talk to him for the first time since they left Edoras, but Éomer had appeared already. He carried his own tack now, and appeared to be speaking to the Elf, and Dwarf, as Gimli had just arrived. Alandria could only catch fragments of what they were discussing, but knew it was focused on the break in rock that the horses feared so much.
"..that mountain is evil." Éomer stated in a grave voice, glancing at the Elf, Dwarf, and now-present Ranger, before lowering his head and walking away.
Legolas seemed to lose interest in the path quickly, and Gimli followed suit. But Aragorn remained frozen where he stood, staring fixedly into the dark crevice. He looked frightened, and pained, and Alandria rushed forward.
"Aragorn?" She called, but he didn't seem to hear her. A gust of wind blew then, spooking the already nervous horses, and the dark-haired man winced as he stared down the path in horror. "Aragorn!" She grabbed his arm and he jumped, jerking away before seeing her. "Are you alright?" He snuck a careful look back over to the break in the stone that had transfixed him so. His soft turqoise eyes were wide and unnerved, but he was able to look away this time, and nodded feebly, then stumbled away without a word.
Alandria stood, frozen, and watched the man retreat in confusion. She wanted to ask him about their plan for battle, and if he might let her come along, as part of his company. But the man clearly did not wish to be spoken to, and so she left him alone, choosing instead to search out Éowyn and see what could be done to prepare for the ride to war.