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Broken - Chapter IV

Théodred's Decision

Sweat was pouring down Èomer's face and his shoulder-long blond hair was glued to his neck as he and Théodred sparred in the warm spring day. Èomer swung his sword widely at his older cousin, who blocked it with ease and locked his own blade so that Èomer went spinning down to the ground. Loud giggles could be heard a few yards away as Èowyn was sitting on the ground laughing at her brother.

Èomer was almost sixteen, four years younger than Théodred, and the Prince always managed to surprise him. Of course, Èomer had had his own moments of glory, but most times it was he who ended up headfirst in the dirt, and Èowyn did her best to remind him of that.

"Èowyn, stop it. I stepped on a stone…"

Théodred chuckled at his cousin and helped him up. "I think we'll end our workout here, Èomer. You did well. Maybe one day you will have me pay for all the embarrassment I have caused you during practice."

Théodred took up Èomer's sword and handed it to him. "Just be mindful. I may decide to attack you when you least expect it."

Èomer shook off the dirt and flushed. "Next time, she will not be watching." He gave Èowyn an angry look and Èowyn grinned.

"I will always be watching you, brother."

Théodred shook his head at his cousins. "Èomer, you'd better head up to the Hall and take a bath. I'll be up in a few moments. I just have a few things to take care of first."

Èomer was too tired and angry, not to mention dirty, to argue and headed off towards the Hall without another word.

When he was out of sight, Théodred motioned for Èowyn to follow him and they made their way into an abandoned barn packed with hay and gears.

Èowyn was boiling with enthusiasm, as she did every time Théodred taught her secretly how to fight. Théo handed her a wooden sword and took one for him self. He had taught Èowyn for over a month now and she was getting really good.

Èowyn positioned herself with a good balance and raised the blunt blade in front of her as Théodred had instructed. She then moved to attack and swung the sword at her cousin. Théodred blocked it and went on to bring his sword on Èowyn, who blocked it with surprising accuracy.

They went on like that for almost half an hour before Théodred stopped. "Good, Èowyn. You are becoming quite a challenge."

Èowyn smiled. "I have a good teacher."

Théodred answered the compliment with a smile and suddenly brought the sword towards a surprised Èowyn. She managed to block it, but like her brother only half an hour before, she lost her balance and fell down into the hay.

Usually she would have crawled up again and fiercely started to bring Théodred down in revenge, but she had learned to control her emotions and accept her mistakes. Instead she began to laugh and Théodred looked a bit nervously around, hoping that no one had heard them.

"We'd better head up to the Hall now, before we'll get caught. I'd hate to have to put an end to our little workouts."

Èowyn nodded and rose up. Théodred put the wooden swords back to their places and followed Èowyn out of the barn. Èowyn glanced longingly at the stables as they passed them, but Théodred put a firm hand on her shoulder.

"One day, perhaps. But, you are only twelve. Father would throw a tantrum if he found you on one of the war horses."

Èowyn sighed. "I'm growing too big for Faéla."

Théodred chuckled. "As are those colts for you. Sparring with your cousin is one thing, but riding one of those horses is a whole new challenge. It took me a long while to break Brego… and that was when I was seventeen."

"He's an exception."

"Why so, dearest cousin?"

"That horse is as stubborn and wild as his rider…" She muttered under her breath, stealing a glance at the Prince.

Théodred chuckled. "Bema forbid me then to ever choose a mount for you, cousin."

Edoras, the end of February, 3018 T.A.

Èowyn was kneeling in front of a big wooden chest in her chambers, working on opening the lock. As it swung open she lifted the heavy lid and took out her sword. When she had turned sixteen, the King had allowed her to take lessons to become a shield maiden and he had been amazed of her skills.

He had looked suspiciously at Théodred, but the Prince had remained expressionless. That day she had been given a real sword. The sword she was now holding.

Èowyn caressed the cool hilt and drew the shimmering blade out from its sheath. She hadn't touched it in several months and found it soothing to feel the cold steel in her hands. A knock on the door, however, interrupted her and she quickly put the sword back to its place and opened the door.

A young handmaiden stood outside. "Lady Èowyn, the riders are leaving now."

Èowyn quickly moved past her and made her way down to the courtyard, where Èomer's eored was gathering. Many of the riders were already mounted, but Èomer was still standing beside Firefoot, talking to Èlfhelm. When he saw Èowyn he handed the reins to the other man and hugged his sister.

"We are leaving now, Èowyn. I hope we can return within a few weeks."

Èowyn forced a smile. "You've never made it faster than three."

"I hope you are not angry with me, sister… of what I said before."

Èowyn sighed. "I'm not angry. I was just a little surprised and disappointed to hear it from you."

Èomer took back the reins from Èlfhelm and mounted. "Take good care of yourself and Edoras while I'm gone… and Èowyn, take care of Théodred." He leaned forward so that only Èowyn and Èlfhelm could hear. "He might be right after all."

Èomer gathered the reins and spoke to his riders. "We ride to Aldburg."

"Have a safe ride, Lord Èomer." Èlfhelm said with a smile and took Èowyn to the side.

Èomer and his eored rode out of the city and from the stairs of Meduseld, a pale man in black robes watched them leave with a self-satisfied smile on his twisted lips.

-0-0-0-

It was now four days since Èomer had left and Théodred was up and out of bed again. By now, the companies of Helm's Deep would be halfway across Rohan, having left Westfold in the hands of just a few eoreds.

Théodred had avoided Wormtongue as much as he had been able to, but somehow he always managed to stumble into Théodred's way, and when he did, he was always wearing that same wretched smile. Thédored might had given up fighting against his own chains, but if the snake touched Èowyn, Théodred would kill him right on the spot. He didn't even care about the consequences.

When February changed into March it was more than a week since Èomer's departure and for the first time in a long while, Théodred was not in open quarrel with his father. The King had ordered him to stay inside the walls of Meduseld for another week, even though he had 'showed some progress in healing', but now Théodred was finally making his way down to the stables where Brego was standing impatiently in his stall.

The steed's usually shining dark coat was dirty and shaggy and his eyes were blank. When the horse saw its master, it lifted up its proud head and neighed demandingly as if to ask why on earth Théodred hadn't visited him for such a long time.

Théodred put a calming hand on the horse's neck and sighed. "Brego, look at you. You could at least have let the stable hands tend to you."

Brego snorted and put his head on Théodred's shoulder. The bond between the two of them was unusually strong and even the King had been surprised when his son had chosen the wild Westfold-bred steed ahead of all the other horses that certainly were more suitable. But, in Brego there had been a spark that Théodred had found in no other horse.

Knowing that the steed would never let him go before having groomed him, Théodred took up a brush and slowly started to work his way along the stallion's neck and down his sides and the back. Half an hour later, Brego was almost perfectly clean and Théodred was leaning on the steed's back, when Èlfhelm's voice interrupted him.

"My lord, may I speak with you?" The man was about to enter the stall, but a grim look from Brego stopped him. Théodred, who had known Èlfhelm since he was a boy, didn't want the man to feel unwelcome and forced a smile.

"Of course, Èlfhelm." He gave Brego one final pat and followed Èlfhelm to his quarters.

Once inside, Èlfhelm walked straight to a wooden table that lay in the middle of the small hall and invited the Prince to follow. Théodred looked down and saw a map of Rohan spread across the table.

"My lord…" Èlfhelm began. "I thought it best if we could discuss this out of reach from a certain royal advisor." He looked down at the map and ran his fingers across the Westfold. "My scouts have reported bands of Orcs on the other side of the river Isen, but also very close to Isengard. According to the reports, the Orcs have grouped quickly and are moving with great speed over the river and towards the western villages."

"It is as if they knew that the men were leaving for Eastfold." Théodred muttered in almost a whisper.

"Sorry, my lord?"

Théodred shook his head. "Nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

Èlfhelm looked at his Prince for a moment, pondering his words. "Do you mean, my lord, that this is not a coincidence?"

Théodred met Èlfhelm's gaze. "I don't mean anything, Lord Èlfhelm. But it certainly is odd. Westfold is in the hands of only a few eoreds, where of most of them are stationed far away from Helm's Deep. Erkenbrand's men are the only ones even fairly close to the Fords."

Èlfhelm nodded. "Lord Èomer was right then…"

"What do you mean?"

"We had a talk a few hours before he left and he said that you had warned him of Grima Wormtongue."

Théodred moved a bit uncomfortably, but Èlfhelm placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, my lord. No one knows... and I'm most certainly on your side. Anyway, he ordered me to stay watchful and as weird as it sounds, someone did leave Edoras the following night."

"A courier?"

"Yes, one of the King's… or rather Grima's men."

Théodred slammed a fist in the table and Èlfhelm jumped slightly at the sudden outburst.

"That snake. Now Westfold is without defense and the enemy knows it." He swept the map with his gaze, his eyes lingering at the small string that marked the Fords of Isen. After a moment he said, "How long will it take to summon all the remaining riders in Westfold?"

"If deftly done, you could have all in Helm's Deep in about two or three weeks."

"Yes, and if I do that the enemy will have an even easier job with their raiding." He fell down in the nearby chair so quickly that Èlfhelm instinctively ran to his side.

"My lord, aren't you feeling well?"

"I haven't felt well in a long while, Èlfhelm… as I'm sure you know."

The older man sighed. "No, I know you too well, my Prince. But, if I have done anything wrong regarding the past events here in Edoras, I apologize."

Théodred raised his hand to wave off the apology. "You have done nothing wrong, Èlfhelm. Besides, it's true. I'm not feeling very well."

"My lord...?"

"At least I can't be since I'm actually planning on disobeying my father again. I will ride to Helm's Deep and gather what few riders I can still find... and I don't think I will return for a while."

Èlfhelm nodded. He wasn't exactly surprised about Théodred's decision, but it worried him. Disobeying the King again would make all hell break loose in Edoras once he was gone. And still, Èlfhelm knew that he would have to let him go.

"When are you leaving, my lord?"

Théodred glanced thoughtfully at the map before saying, "At dawn."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I know it's kind of short, but I find it easier to update shorter chapters more often than longer chapters more seldom! I will update as fast as I can again! As long as the ideas keep coming, there will be no problems... and when they don't... well, let's take that problem when and if it happens.