AN: Sorry people, it's a long one! Thanks to everyone for reading this, and all the followers, reviewers etc! :)
"Tell me, are we really still in Rohan?" Éomer joked as he lead his horsemen on. One of the younger lads gave him a lazy grin.
"Aye, milord! The Wold stretches for many leagues, all the way to the Limlight," he said.
"Does it always play mind tricks like this? I could have sworn that the Fortress seems no closer," someone else grumbled.
"What do we do when we arrive there? Just ride up to the gate and demand to see Lord Ailred?" a third asked.
"We ride under the King's banner! And even if we didn't, I am a friend of Lord Ailred's daughter. She wouldn't turn us away," Éomer said. The last was said with doubt, making his men glance at him.
It had been eight years since Ailith had left Edoras. Eight years, and no word had come from the North. That wasn't unusual but both Éomer and his sister, especially Éowyn, would have liked a letter every now and then. However, there was only silence from the Wold. It was like she had vanished from the face of Middle Earth.
"I don't think there is any worry of them not knowing us," the one who seemed to know the most about the Wold was saying.
"Why do you say that?" Éomer asked. The Rider rose in his stirrups and pointed.
"Because they are riding out to meet us," he said.
Sure enough, a small group of Riders was galloping towards them. As the two groups met, the leader of the Riders from the Fortress raised his fist and they slowed. Éomer did the same and the two groups of horsemen drew to a halt, their horses prancing nervously.
"Who are you who rides under the King's banner?" the leader proclaimed. Éomer recognised him as the Captain who had escorted Ailith away.
"We ride from Edoras," he replied.
"That much is obvious. We know every man on the Wold and your faces are not familiar to us. Besides, you hide behind your helms. How are we to know if you are friend or foe?" the Captain replied coldly.
Éomer removed his helmet angrily.
"Now you look upon my face clearly! I am the Third Marshall of the Riddermark, I am the nephew of the King! Friend or foe?" he spat.
"Friend, I think!" a voice called.
One of the horsemen behind the Captain twitched his horse's reins and walked forward. He had a clean-shaven face and bright blue eyes and was strangely familiar to Éomer. He too removed his helmet and, with shock, Éomer found himself looking at someone dirty, dusty but definitely familiar.
"Ailith?" he spluttered. She grinned wickedly.
"It's good to see you again, Éomer," she said. "Come, let us ride for the Fortress. Night is approaching and the Wold is not always safe when darkness falls."
She turned her horse and spurred it back towards the Fortress. Her Riders turned with her and left the Edoras Riders sitting stunned on their horses.
"A female Rider?" one of them said.
"Maybe she just rides with them. Ailith was always eager to learn how to ride a horse and handle a sword," Éomer explained. He watched her billowing cloak in the distance. What trouble had she gotten herself into now, he wondered.
Ailith and her Riders had already dismounted when they reached the safety of the Fortress.
"I think we have enough room to stable all the horses," Ailith said as Éomer brought his horse alongside her. He passed the reins to a stable lad and dismounted.
"So. Eight years. Why didn't you write?" he asked, turning towards her. She shrugged and pulled her gloves off.
"I wasn't aware that you wanted me to. I've been busy. I've had a lot of duties and responsibilities since I came home."
She looked up at him and for the first time, the old friends studied each other's faces properly. Éomer was surprised to see how much Ailith had changed. Her blue eyes sparkled against her sun-beaten face, her freckles spiralling across her nose and cheeks. His eyes drifted from the shadows under her eyes to the thin white scar above her left eyebrow.
"Orc blade," she said cheerfully. "It's not that bad. I have three down my side from a Warg."
She spread her arms wide.
"Are you going to give me a proper greeting now?" she asked, her mouth curving into its familiar mischievous smile. He glanced around at the watching men and then looked back at her. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. He looked around again and then stepped towards her.
Next thing he knew, she had wrapped an arm around his neck and had him doubled over in a headlock.
"You've grown a beard!" she hollered over the laughter of the Riders. "By Béma, that is the funniest thing I have seen in many a year!"
She released him but managed to tug his whiskers playfully before she skipped backwards out of his reach.
"You wildcat!" he laughed whilst rubbing his chin. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"
She grinned, her eyes still raking across his features. Her smile faded slightly.
"It's good to see you again," she said sincerely. "Speak to my steward. You and your men shall have anything you desire while you stay here."
"Fill the bath for me, Hala. Léonere is organising a feast for our guests and I will be hung from the battlements if I am not clean," Ailith joked, striding into her chambers. Her maid curtseyed and fetched the large bronze bath tub from its hook.
"He's very handsome," Hala gushed as she poured some of the pre-heated water into the tub. Ailith stopped peeling off her riding boots and looked at her maid with confusion. Hala blushed hotly. "Lord Éomer," she explained. "Do you not find him handsome, my lady?"
Ailith kicked off one of her boots. She thought about his hazel eyes, his kind smile. Yes, she could see it.
"I suppose he is," she admitted. "He is like a brother to me. I find it difficult to think of him in that way."
She stripped off the rest of her clothes and climbed into the hot water. With a luxuriant sigh, she started to scrub her arms and legs. Hala tipped some water and scented oil over her head and began to comb the strawberry-blonde locks. Merewald slipped into the room, blue cloth folded over her arm.
"No!" Ailith said when she saw it.
"Hush, child. It will look beautiful on you," the older woman said, laying the dress on Ailith's bed.
"Merewald, I have not worn a dress in seven years; why should I stop now because an old friend has come to visit," Ailith said as she stood up. Hala helped her into her robe and she crossed to her bed to scrutinise the dress.
"There is an old story about a stallion and a mare," Merewald said. "When they were merely a filly and a colt, they played together every day in a river by their herd's grazing grounds."
"I know this story," Ailith said. "One day, a neighbouring stallion took over their herd and drove all the young colts away. When the mare and the stallion were fully grown, they met again by the river where they once played. By the end of the day, they were mates for life. The stallion even forsook all other mares for her. It's a fairy story. It would never happen in reality. Why did you bring it up?"
"We have a mare. We have a stallion. We need a foal for our herd to continue," Merewald said matter-of-factly.
Ailith took a step back.
"No. Definitely not, not Éomer," she said shakily. "I can't."
"You can and you will. You serve the Wold, remember. Now, put that dress on," said Merewald. She pulled some wet hair off Ailith's cheek. "You will look beautiful tonight, my lady," she murmured.
Éomer shifted uneasily in Grimfast's shadow. The Beorning took a long drink of ale, one of his dark eyes fixed upon the younger man.
"So, you let the Lady Ailith ride with you?" Éomer asked.
"She has earned the right to," Grimfast replied. "She has taken the Oath and we need every blade we can gather."
"Are women allowed to take the Oath?"
"It was once done. The Shieldmaidens defended our land alongside the Eorlingas. The Lady has the blood and the skill; there is no reason why she shouldn't be a Rider," Léonere said. Éomer shifted again. He felt uncomfortable around Grimfast due to the man's threatening appearance and growling voice, that was only natural. It was Léonere's peculiar quavering voice and piercing blue eyes that were more unsettling. The Steward seemed to know exactly what Éomer was thinking. He was also simply the oldest man Éomer had ever seen. He could have easily seen at least ninety winters, no mean feat at all, and from the looks of him, he could quite comfortably welcome a few more.
"Good evening my lords," Ailith called from behind him. He half-turned and stared at her. She was garbed in a dress of the same deep blue as her eyes, her hair pulled off her face in an intricate braid. Ailith was not a naturally pretty girl. She was pleasant on the eye, that was certain, but it took extra effort to make her look as beautiful as she did this night.
"I have to thank you on behalf on my maid," she said jokingly. "Hala has been itching to braid my hair since she came into my service and you have finally given her the opportunity."
"One of your mother's dresses, I believe?" Léonere said. "It suits you well, my lady. You look the image of her."
"Thank you, Léonere," she smiled and took Éomer's offered arm. "I must thank you again for giving Léonere a chance to exercise the old etiquettes and protocols. He will be beside himself with glee," she muttered as they walked away. "I believe they have fetched some of the Mirkwood venison for us to eat."
"How old is he?" Éomer asked, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. His drinking companions had now been joined by two others, Folcred the Captain and a middle-aged woman who watched the old friends move up the hall with cool eyes.
"Old enough to remember the Necromancer of Dol Gurdur and the darkness he spread across the land," Ailith replied. "He has also memorised nearly every law of Rohan and he is training the cook's son so when he dies, we may still benefit from his knowledge."
"You have a scholar, a Rider and a warrior," Éomer noted, a small smile playing across his face. "And the woman?"
Ailith bit her lip. She thought about her conversation in her chambers with Merewald and Hala; Merewald's persistence, Hala's attempt to bring her around, her own adamant stance.
"Merewald keeps the wheels turning. She thinks only of the future of the Fortress," she said curtly.
She suppressed a groan when she saw the seating arrangements. Clearly Merewald and Léonere were conspiring together. Three places had been laid at the High Table, the currently ceremonious place of the Lord, Ailith's own place to his left and another to her own left for Éomer. She knew perfectly well that over the noise of the Hall it would be impossible to be overheard. They could speak about whatever they pleased.
"Will your father be joining us tonight?" Éomer asked as he pulled out her chair.
"No. My father has been dead for almost seven years," she replied, taking her seat. Around the Hall, their Riders slid onto benches and servants scurried forward with platters and tankards.
"I am sorry to hear that. So, you are the Lord?" he said doubtfully, his gaze lingering on the ring around her finger. She smiled.
"I am merely governing until my son has reached an age where he can take up the lordship himself," she said.
"You have a son!" he exclaimed.
"Forgive me. My son who is still yet to be conceived," she explained. He raised his eyebrows and she looked away bashfully.
"And do you have a father in mind for this child or will he magically appear out of a hole in the ground?"
She didn't have to take this; old friend he may be but she would not let him speak to her in that way. This plot of Merewald's was completely idiotic. There was no way she could see him as anything but a friend.
"What makes you think I want to have a child?" she spat. "I am a Rider; my place is on horseback not by a cradle!"
He smiled.
"There is Ailith's tongue, I wondered which dark corner of the Fortress it had retreated to," he said mockingly.
"Ailith's tongue is like Ailith's sword; she has learned when best to use them," she retorted. She picked up her goblet and sipped her drink angrily. No, she would never be able to take him to her bed.
Across the hall, Merewald raised her head and looked straight at her. She raised her eyebrows and glanced pointedly towards Éomer. Ailith placed her goblet back on the table and took a deep, calming breath. He was a friend, there was no excuse for her to blame him for something he did not know about.
"So, speaking of children, how many does your sister have?" she said politely. Now it was Éomer's turn to be furtive.
"Éowyn has no children. She has not married, in fact," he said hesitantly.
"Oh. What about Théodred? Has he married?"
"No. Théodred has not married either."
"Éomer, has something happened?" she asked. His eyes met hers and then moved down to her hand stretching across the wooden table towards him. His lips parted, ready to speak.
"My lady, there is something you should see," a third voice said. She turned to see a guardsman standing at the foot of the dais. She glanced back at Éomer. He was fixated on his food, the moment between them was lost.
"Excuse me," she said to him, standing up. He stood as well.
"Oh no you don't. I want to see whatever this is too" he said.
"I will meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes," she said to the guardsman. "I just want a few words with Lord Éomer."
The guardsman nodded and turned smartly. Ailith swept towards the spiral stairs to the map room, Éomer following her. She climbed the steps and leant against the map.
"See this?" she asked Éomer when he joined her. She laid a finger on the Wold. "This is my family's holdings. From the Eastemnet to the Limlight, from Fangorn to the Anduin. We are the least-populated area of Rohan and we are the most remote. Edoras is four days ride away. When I came North, I had never seen a Warg or an orc. Now I have killed plenty of both. Life is hard but we manage. Everyone plays their part."
Éomer folded his arms. "We have skirmishes with orcs from the White Mountains back home. Don't act so hard done by," he said grimly.
"Two months ago, my scouts saw a party of dwarves crossing the lands to the North of us. They walked up the Dimrill Dale and vanished into the depths of Moria. Ever since then, the raids on the Wold have doubled, in retaliation or spite I do not know. What I do know is that if the dwarves are successful in retaking Moria, it will be Grimbeorn and me who will bear the brunt of the anger of the goblins," she replied. "The Fortress has been held by my family since the first brick was laid on this hill-top; I won't be the one to lose it."
Éomer met her steady gaze across the map. "You have grown into a formidable woman. Théodred was right to try to court you," he said softly.
Ailith's throat closed up. She choked and thumped her chest to try to clear her airways, violets swimming in front of her eyes.
"That was Théodred?" she spluttered. His brow furrowed but he nodded.
"I'm sorry, I thought you knew?" he said. She bit her lip and shook her head.
Outside was a sight that was all too common; a body in a cart. Ailith stepped closer, mindful of her beautiful dress.
"What is it?" she gasped.
"I am afraid I do not know, my lady," Léonere confessed. She stared at him.
"But you know every dark creature! How can you not know this one?" she asked. He spread his arms wide in protest.
"I swear to you, my lady, I do not know this creature. What do your eyes tell you?"
She turned back to the body.
"Well, it looks like an orc," she said carefully. "Except it is much larger. This is about the height of a Man; orcs are shorter."
"It is an Uruk," Éomer said shortly. Ailith glanced at him. He paused and then continued. "Things are not as green and idyllic in the South as you seem to think. We have been raided repeatedly by the Uruk-hai in the past year and reports from Gondor suggest that they are in a similar situation. Boromir, Lord Denethor's eldest, thinks the Uruks were bred in Mordor."
"Mordor?" Ailith said shakily. "Aye, and the fires of Barad-dûr shall burn once more and the Nine shall be seen riding in the night!"
Léonere gasped and hurriedly made an ancient sign against evil.
"You should not say such things!" he said.
Éomer chuckled. They both turned to glare at him and he raised his hands defensively.
"What?" she snapped.
"You. Giving orders and analyzing the enemy like an army commander. Formidable," he grinned. He strode off, shaking his head. Ailith watched him go and then turned her attention back to the dead Uruk.
"Like a Shieldmaiden," she said softly, stroking the scar on her palm. "I want to know more about these Uruk-hai," she added to Léonere. "And I think a report to the King is long over-due. When Lord Éomer returns South, I will travel with him and discover what I can. Will you manage without me for a while?"
"Of course. However, I fear Merewald won't like it," Léonere warned her.
"Merewald is not the Lady of the Fortress!" she replied sharply.
"Very well, my lady. I shall make the necessary arrangements," he said wearily and hobbled back inside.
Ailith tapped her foot, thinking. Old enemies stirring, new ones making themselves known. Could these be the shadows stirring that Beleg had warned her about?